#that's not the book's fault that's very much a me problem

[al-luviec]

still haven't moved on from zane in this episode (aka I hit tag limit again and am unhappy about it)

[biddy-biddy-biddy]

maybe i should talk/show more about my oc now that i’m thinking… idk! everyone is doing something for their ocs/self inserts idfkkkk…

like i just made her for funsies like haha what if i’m eltingville also everyone is eltingville/northwest why not do it…

[hamilando]

ੈ✩ daddy playlist (smau) ੈ✩

pairing : f1 gird x leclerc! reader ( platonic )

summary: the leclerc sister causing havoc in the f1 driver’s life

tw : fluff; chaos, VERY SUGGESTIVE

fc : emma chamberlain

a/n : this was requested anonymously by an anon! I hope you like it and thank you so much for supporting me ! lysm 🫶🏻 the reader is gay, so don’t like it, don’t read it 🫶🏻 also, there are a lot of suggestive jokes, so please don’t read if you are uncomfortable

·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ

liked by norriz, albono, georgey and 78 others

babyn daddy's home chauffeuring these Lil girls

view comments

lordperceval wtf are you driving a Mercedes !?

lordperceval haven't I bought like 10 ferrari's for you ?

lordperceval even Lewis is leaving Mercedes

babyn calm down, brother dearest, it's georgey's

georgey shame on all of you for catfishing in my car

albono I AS WELL also own a Mercedes 🙏

albono norris, you better be careful in track, the fuck are you sending my ugliest pictures on the net

norizz oh come on, if you are ugly, you are going to be ugly

max1 and not like you don't crash every now and then

colawithice it's the Williams' fault

chillijr that's why I am replacing you

colawithice and that's why I am replacing checko ✅

babyn YOU ARE GOING TO REDBULL!?

babyn OH MY GOD

babyn REDBULL WILL HAVE MILFS

babyn BOTH OF THE DRIVERS ARE DATING MILFS

norizz or they just have mummy issues

max1 and you have height issues

colawithice height does not matter, it's the girth

hamsandwich it's the looks 💪🏻

georgey why do you follow yn?

babyn WHY WONT HE!?

kikagnome the whole grid follows her

babyn except the drivers without talent and daddy issues

peirreneedsgas then why is Lando following you ?

norriz mate, last time I checked, I WAS THE ONE COMPETING FOR THE CHAMPIONSHIP

babyn and it was all too much for little Lando Norris

pastry we still are winning then constructors💪🏻

chillijr Ferrari will cover up

babyn only if they pass the radio in spanish from now on

georgey 😶

albono 😶

pastry 😶

lilyhye 😶

babyn LILY WHY WERE YOU OFFLINE

carmenvroom 😶

liked by lilyhye, kikagnome, alexmieux and 104 others

babyn the only man I would ever spread my legs for -

view comments

lordperceval you are not getting out of my sight anymore

lordperceval dare you leave the Ferrari garage

babyn I will go the McLaren garage

pastry oh fuck no, BIANCA IS NOT THERE FOR EVERY RACE

babyn 😔

max1 I will join you

babyn turning people gay since 01 💪🏻

babyn but before, give me Kelly

max1 you can very much take toto, thank you

kikagnome yn, babe stick to one person yeah ?

babyn stop flaunting your relationship with pierre

pierreneedsgas SHE DIDNT EVEN SAY ANYTHING !

babyn your existence is enough

kikagnome why do I have you as my best friend again ?

babyn idk, sounds like a you problem

liked by norizz, kikagnome and 84 others

babyn SHE FUCKING LOOKED AT ME !?

view comments

norizz was it necessary to use me ?

babyn well yes, you are confused everytime

max1 thank God you will stay off Kelly now

babyn NEVER FROM MY FAV MILF

ollibear Bianca gave me her number

babyn TO YOU !?

olliebear what's so surprising ?

babyn YOU ARE WHITE AND YOUNG AND WELL A KID

olliebear YOU ARE WHITE TOO !?

babyn I AM MONEGASQUE

kingarthur sorry ollie, she failed her middle school

norizz she just looked

babyn itz the start of our marriage book, I have already made like 10 playlists

colawithice tell me you're gay without telling me you are gay

babyn you are LaTiNa

colawithice I WAS TALKING ABOUT YOU

lordperceval every week, you tell me some other girl is going to my sister in law

babyn I WANT TO BECOME A WAG

kikagnomes ITS FRIENDSHIP GOALS CHARLES

pierreneedsgas wait what

babyn calm down french fry, you both only met because of me

hamsandwich please don't, we don't need another person on the grid with an age gap

chillijr I think being in the f1 world has a mandatory check of having an age gap relationship

albono ME AND LILY are very happy 😊

georgey so are we Carlos

rebecamour Carlos, I AM ONLY ELDER TO YOU BY ONE YEAR

chillijr I didn't mean it about us !!

rebecamour Aren't you an f1 driver !?

babyn he is not, he is unemployed

chillijr I am!! But we love each other and Y/N, STOP

babyn no one tells me to stop, I LOVE BEING IN COMMAND

chillijr Charles, control your sister

lordperceval Arthur, please do

kingarthur only maman can

hamsandwich well you could show this account to her ?

babyn ALL GOOD

babyn NO NEED

babyn I AM GAY AND HAPPY

babyn NOT SHARING ANYMORE

lordperceval I love maman

kingarthur so do I 😊

liked by pierreneedgas, kikagnome and 92 others

babyn Kika, the first girl who I fell in love with, the girl who taught me how to wear heels, the girl who taught me how to make my boobs look big ( you kind of catfished pierre..?) and girl who has been with me since we were thirteen. happy 21 my love 😗😗

view comments

kikagnomes finally I get some appreciation 🫶🏻😊

pierreneedsgas the only post I ever liked on this account

babyn says the man who got catfished

kikagnomes I AM NOT THAT FLAT

babyn OH PLEASE

kikagnomes WELL I HAVE A BOYFRIEND

babyn who will gladly lick the plate

kikagnomes PLATE !?

norizz this is the first time I have seen boobs being compared to plates

pierreneedsgas shut up norris

kikagnomes shut up lando !!

babyn love let's just continue on the gc ?

kikagnomes yes, I need to debrief as well !

pierreneedsgas debrief what ?

babyn how you only last like 3 rounds !?

pierreneedsgas HOW THE FUCK DO YOU KNOW !? FRANSISCA !?

lordperceval 3 rounds is impressive !!

babyn not for an athlete

kingarthur sister, what more do you expect from a human ?

babyn like minimum 5 rounds ?

max1 Y/N, this is not a formula 1 race where you go for rounds with pitstops

babyn y'all are just old

hamsandwich it's not about being old !!!

babyn forgot there were 40 year olds who can't even do one round

colawithice you women don't know how hard is it to keep the hip movements going

georgey EXACLTY, WE HAVE MORE FLEXIBLE HIPS THAN SHAKIRA

carmenvroom ....

lordoerceval the silence says a lot more my mate

babyn Colapinto beans, I am more dominant in bed than you are begging to be rode

lordperceval EVERYONE TAKE THIS ON YOUR CHATS, Y/N, SISTER I HAVE NO INTEREST IN YOUR SEX LIFE

babyn also Charles, work on your stamina mate, can't even go 2 rounds without panting

lordoerceval !? ALEXANDRA !?

alexmieux ... yn, love meet me NOW

liked by kikagnome, norriz, colawithice and 134 others

babyn when mom asks what me and that girl are going to do on a sleepover

view comments

norriz at this point, you should sign up this account for onlyfans

lordperceval Lando, stop giving my BABY SISTER such ideas

babyn what makes you think I am not already there

kingarthur excuse me !?

babyn don't worry, I just sell your feet pics 😺😊

lordperceval the best investment from my money would be getting you a psychiatrist

colawithice give me some tongue tips

babyn milf not getting satisfied ?

colawithice you wish

chillijr telling your mom for future sleepovers

babyn telling reb about your Italy escapade

rebecamour Italy what !?

babyn nothing 🤭

rebecamour Carlos !?!?

chillijr nothing my love, she is just joking

chilijr STOP TRYING TO MAKE ME FIGHT WITH HER !

babyn sorry, I just thought you liked mariella

rebecamour MARIELLA !?

norizz just informing that Carlos won't be online for some time because I saw him run after her in the paddock

pastry why are you so mean yn ?

lilyhye Mena in What?

lilyhye exposing an affair !?

alexmieux as she should !?

babyn loves, there was no affair

kikagnomes you nasty -

lilyhye those are some damn long fingers ...

babyn someone just expressed their desire @ albono

albono thank you very much and I can work on it without your interference

lordperceval why in the world have you put me there !?

babyn Alex is lucky you know ?

lordperceval what did mom even eat before giving birth to you !?

babyn dad

kingarthur Y/N !!!

[alexlwrites]

𝑭𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒎𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒕

✿𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: Jungkook x Reader

✿ 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚:  The one where everytime you get dumped you pretend that you never met the guy before to mess with their heads. To the point that if you run into them somewhere you reintroduce yourself and act like you’ve never seen each other before.

Enters fuckboy Jungkook who disappears after your night together, not knowing how much he was about to regret that choice.

✿ 𝑻𝒂𝒈𝒔:  Romance, Humor, Fluff, Angst, College AU

✿ 𝑨/𝑵: I’m truly sorry for this sad excuse of an update.

(Fanfic masterlist)

(support me on my ko-fi)

°•. ✿ .•°

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨 - 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐲, 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬

(<<< part one)

“I can’t believe you’re doing this again” Jane’s voice rang through the phone as you walked down the streets towards your desired coffee spot.

You also couldn’t believe you were doing that again. You tried your best to live your life with no regrets, but men made it very hard.

“Have you seen him since he fled the crime scene?”

“Stop calling it a crime scene” you snapped.

“Well, have you?”

Your silence was enough of an answer. No, you had not seen or heard from Jungkook since he ran away from your bedroom in the dead of night, leaving behind only the smell of cologne and, funnily enough, a single sock. When you woke up that day to an empty bed, sheets crumbled and a mattress indented on the side where he had slept, all you could muster was a tired sigh of disappointment. 

And to be completely honest, you were disappointed with yourself, not Jungkook. You expected nothing less than a quick escape of him. But you should’ve known better than to hope for anything. Despite everything, you were still an idealist at heart and you thought that maybe just this once…

You shook your head obstinately. You had learned early on that no good would come from moping around for men who would never once feel any regret for their thoughtless actions and if your pain were to be always one sided, then it was better not to feel any at all. Not to dwell on it, move on, learn from it and be better. Or be worse, sometimes, as self-improvement was not always your goal.

Sometimes, you chose to listen to the tiny revengeful angel on your shoulder - who kind of sounded like Taylor Swift - that screamed for violence and vindication.

As your failed relationships started to pile up, you did reach a point where you had to wonder if you were the problem, as it was the canonical event of all 20 something women. But observation, therapy, critical thinking and hereditary pettiness brought you to the decision that it was not, in fact, your fault. At least not all of it. 

With that in mind, you left only the smallest of time slots in your booked and busy schedule to ponder and grieve over the fickle nature of boys’ interests. You had better, more important things to do, such as mindlessly scroll through Minecraft/AITA videos and save pilates routines that you were never gonna do. 

Still, in an experience intrinsically feminine, you allowed yourself a little treat to cope with the slight burn of despondency in the back of your mind. 

And so you directed yourself to the bougie coffee house near campus, hoping to drown your sorrows with an aggressively sweet and overly caffeinated drink. 

“You should slash his tires”

“Jane, please, we have talked about this.”

“You should totally slash his fucking tires!"

"Saying it louder is not gonna make me agree with you! Jane…"

Suddenly your eyes found Jungkook's across the room filled to the brim with depressed, financially irresponsible students, making you pause and hold back the urge to curl your lips in distaste. It bothered you that even with scared eyes as big as saucers and hunched shoulders to appear smaller, Jungkook still managed to look good. 

But you knew better than to let him know how much his presence and pretty face annoyed you. Boys like Jungkook only cared about having an impact on people’s life, very rarely caring if it was good or bad. He wanted a reaction out of you and you learned better than to give those away so carelessly.

So you frowned and looked away, the words practiced on your lips as you said “Some guy is staring at me.”

Jane laughed loudly on the phone “You’re a psycho, you know that?”

“I don’t know who it is, Jane, some dude” you stole a quick glance at him, finding vengeful glee at his shocked expression.

“Send me a pic of his reaction, I’m posting it on TikTok.”

You continued playing your part, ignoring your sister’s interruptions as you usually did “Of course I’m carrying a taser, Jane, I’m not an animal…”

“I’ll give you 5 bucks to tase him.”

“You know what, this coffee is not even worth the visual harassment, God I hate men…”

You walked out of the coffee house, hand empty but with a fulfilled sick sense of accomplishment as you stepped out into the street with a shit-eating grin.

“I hope you know what you’re doing” Jane said and you could hear the smile in her voice. Out of your two sisters, Jane was never the one to tell you to not do something, preferring to let you make your own mistakes.

And boy, did you. 

You left your big, beautiful, tattooed mistake behind you, ready to move on to something less prone to disappointment, such as fictional men and your Stardew Valley husband “Dont worry” you told your sister “I don’t.”.

—

“What are you doing?” Jungkook asked, left eye twitching slightly at your unbothered expression.

After your confusing exit from the coffee shop and a good amount of jabs from his friends, Jungkook had to hunt you down across campus, finding you sitting under a tree with a book in your hands, looking way too peaceful for someone who just had humiliated him.

You looked down at your book with an arched eyebrow “Kegels, clearly. Why?”

“No, I mean…” Jungkook’s frustration was rising by the second, the vein on his neck jumping out “Why are you acting like you don’t know me?”

You frowned.

 “Do I know you?” you asked, face doubtful.

“We have classes together?”

You blinked, impassive.

“We went on a date?”

A head shake.

“We slept together!”

“Nope, can’t say it rings any bells.”

That’s it. Jungkook was actually convinced you were clinically insane. 

“How can you not remember?”

“How can I remember something that never happened?”

“But it did! You’re crazy! I chased you for weeks!”

You smiled, a trap.

“So, you're, like, in love with me?” you ask, tone condescending. 

Jungkook scoffed and you weren’t sure if it was at the idea of love or loving you. “No, of course not.”

“So in this dream scenario of yours, we had sex but we weren’t together?”

“Trust me, this” he gestured between the two of you “is no dream scenario.”

“Well, aren’t you a charmer” you crossed your arms in front you, defensive “Let me get this straight. You, allegedly, chased me for weeks, but don’t really like me. Then, we had casual, out-of-relationship sex and then what? You banged my head against the headboard so hard I completely forgot about it? Your story is full of holes, my dude.”

You had to fight back the urge to smirk, energy spiking from feeding off of Jungkook’s stupefied confusion.

Nail in the coffin, you shrugged, turning your eyes back to your book “Maybe you weren’t that memorable and my mind deleted you like a childhood trauma.”

A slight left eye spasm was all the reaction you got at first, evolving to the pursing of pouty lips and the clenching of fists.

“You are insane” he said at last after seconds of turning clogs in his barely filled mind.

“Finally you said something true.”

Jungkook was equally bewildered and furious. He didn’t know what your deal was or what you were getting out of this, but your refusal to admit you had sex pissed him off deeply considering how much time and effort he put into getting you together.

“Also, I have to ask” you continued, clearly not done with your pursuit of driving him up the wall “what was your goal with this conversation? Chasing me for weeks to then sleep with me and then come here and tell me you’re not actually interested in me, but being upset when I don’t remember something that didn’t happen… What’s the point?”

Jungkook paused. Truly, he didn’t have much of an end goal in mind, actions fueled only by a bruised ego and a childish, borderline pathological need to prove himself.

When he didn’t answer, you stood up and gathered your things, keeping your head down to hide your poorly concealed satisfaction “I’ll let you ponder on that” you said “Don’t worry about reaching out with an answer, though.”

Finally, you looked up at him, face masked with faux awkwardness. “Anyway. Nice to meet you, I guess? No, actually, not really, this was weird as shit. You seem to have some things to figure out. Get help and take care, my dude.”

And so you left, leaving behind only a cloud of your bergamot perfume and a perplexed Jungkook blinking owlishly. 

There was a sudden influx of thoughts rushing through his usually much less busy mind, the general tone of confusion ringing amongst humiliation and frustration.

When Jungkook first set his greedy eyes on you, he had an inkling that you’d be a handful and in the beginning, you truly were. You took pleasure in making everything much more difficult for him, running from his presence like the plague and approaching the whole subject of him like one would the subject of warts - reluctantly and with caution.

And if he were honest, he wasn’t too sure on why he insisted, but one would be surprised at how far Jungkook would escalate things out of spite and resentment.

It was that same sick combination of flavors that drove him insane for weeks, moving him to pester you until you gave him a chance. And he took it, lord, did he take it.

That night, he made every possible effort to please you, cloaked in his best, non-ranch stained clothes and best non-arrogant behavior.

And when morning came and he opened up his eyes before you did, tired out from the epitome of his bestest behavior, there was a moment of quiet as he watched you eyelids flutter delicately, soft arm draped lightly over his waist.

The night before had been… Fun, he thought, even before you had reached your bedroom. You were weird and used a bunch of words he didn’t know, but you also made him laugh and listened to him babbling about his interest without once looking bored, even going as far as asking questions about his farfetched MCU theories.

And despite your many (too many to count, insurmountable really) differences, you had… Chemistry, one could call it. Thick chemistry, palpable tension, pushing you towards each other despite your previous attempts to go the other way.

But no amount of chemistry could break Jungkook’s routine as inertia pushed him out of your bed, practiced steps light as feathers as he escaped your apartment with one last look to your sleeping form and somehow one less sock on his feet.

And as he left, there was an undiagnosed pounding in his heart he tried to chalk off as the result of his Dorito and monster drink based diet, but his eyes kept flashing back to where you rested even when he was miles away.

He tried to make sense of your persistent presence in the back of his mind. You were cool, he’d give you that. Hot too. But it didn’t matter how your body fit his like they were manufactured together or how your passive aggressive way of flirting (or insulting, he had a hard time telling them apart with you) never failed to steal a snort from his lips. And yeah, it was kind of nice when you called him cute everytime he didn’t understand something you said. It brought a blush to his cheeks and wild butterflies to his stomach, because… Well, no one had ever called him cute after middle school. Hot? Yes. Sexy? Once a week. Biggest dick ever? Yes, both meanings.

But not cute. And deep down, under layers of aggressively oversized shirts and muscles… Jungkook kind of liked being cute.

Jungkook shook that thought away. Despite all that, you were a point he had to make.

And he did! Point proven and undisputed, up until you looked at him like he was a silly little kid throwing a tantrum (which he kind of was) and questioned him and his sanity,

But Jungkook was obstinate and, even more, the sorest of losers. He had proven himself once and would again! He was a man on a mission, he decided, watching you walk away from him while mouthing the words “I’ll pray for you!”. And the mission was to either send you into a psychiatric hospital or get you back into his bed.

And if the butterflies in his stomach fluttered excitedly at that second prospect, he didn’t allow himself to ponder on it for a single second.

°•. ✿ .•°

[Taglist: @artsxpe ; @010op10 ; @ladysandy ; @707sblog ; @notvantaes ; @borahaeb1ch ; @akshstudios ; @beautyiisterror ; @lovelycammy ; @mushysunrise-deactivated2022030 ; @hani0407]

My taglists are open! Click here to be added <3

[Permanent taglist: @imknewattis ; @dreamamubarak ; @onlythebest-106 ;@betysotelo18 ; @havetaeminforbreakfast ; @uno7 ; @chimchimmarie ; @anaya123world ; @junecat18 ]

[writingsbychlo]

KNOW YOU LIKE I DO | tom riddle

summary; love letters are tom's way of communicating. unfortunately, he's not as good with his actions.

word count; 7036

notes; another one that I said was gonna be short and it wasn’t. I think I’m physically incapable of writing short fics, actually.

Dear Tom,

Tommy. 

My Tom. 

Do you still have that first letter I wrote to you, back in summer? No, I suppose you don’t, that’s not very like you. 

I’m drunk. Just a little bit (a lot), and I can’t take it anymore. Mattheo told me to tell you how I feel, and that is exactly what I’m going to do. He’s asleep on my bed right now, drooling into my favourite pillow waiting for me to write this. 

So here it is. 

I’m angry. I’m hurt. I’m confused. I’m in love. And it’s all your fault.

Staring across the crowded room, your eyes fixed back onto that of Tom Riddle. It wasn’t hard to spot him, not as he was the only man who came to a Christmas party dressed in all black and sat alone, brooding. His lips were pressed into a line, the lights bouncing off of those shiny curls, green and red splashed across his pale skin as he sipped at his drink, listening to the conversation Draco and Blaise were having, but never participating. 

Your heart lurched a little in your chest, just the mere sight of him had a thousand different feelings rearing their heads, and you sighed to yourself. Shaking your head, your attention was redirected to the drinks table, pouring yourself an extra strong helping of Giggle Gin and topping it off. The urge to look back over was strong, and you steadfastly ignored it, suppressing the urge and instead, turning your back to his direction, walking towards the group of girls giggling in the opposite corner. 

Taking your seat back in the comfy corner of the sofa, Pansy offered you a smile, her arm looped over Luna’s shoulders as the blonde cuddled into her side. Astoria was currently recounting the intimate details of her latest night with Draco, and you hid a smile in your cup as you tuned back into the conversation. 

You lost the battle with your will, however, gaze moving directly back across the room to Tom. He had a slight smirk on his face now as he watched Draco speak, and you did not doubt that he was receiving a tale of the exact same encounter Astoria was currently telling, only from a different point of view. 

Blonde cut across your vision, the perfect smile of Daphne blocking your view as she sat in front of you, severing any sights of Tom you might have had. “You know,” She started, grinning as she took a sip of your drink cheekily, before handing it back. “If you stare at him any harder, you’re gonna’ drill holes in the side of his head.”

You could only scoff, but no argument formed. Lately, all you’d been able to do was stare longingly at him across any room. You weren’t subtle, and you’d never been much good at hiding your feelings. Which seemed fitting, since you’d fallen for someone who was like a blank slate, permanently. 

Tom Riddle was a harder book to read than a tablet written in a never-before-discovered language. 

“He looks so… miserable, Daph.”

She glances over her shoulder at him, snorting a laugh, and turning her attention back to you. “Because Tom Riddle doesn’t go to parties, and he’s probably counting the minutes until he can leave.” She smirked a little, shuffling closer, perched on the edge of her seat as she leaned in, “At least, he didn’t go to parties. Until you, that is.”

Your cheeks flushed, a subtle hint at the running joke your friendship group had taken on. They’d all become convinced that Tom attended parties for you, ever since he’d been a willing guest for the first time at Draco’s end-of-summer bonfire bash, and spent the majority of the night talking with you. They refused to let it go. 

“You should go over there and cheer him up. I bet he’d be smiling in no time if you gave him a little attention.”

That was exactly the problem. You’d been giving him a little too much attention, and now, everyone was painfully aware of your feelings for him. Except for him, maybe. Either that, or he was just very good at pretending he didn’t notice, in a chance to let you down gently. You didn’t know which option was worse. “Don’t be ridiculous, Daph.”

“No, you don’t be ridiculous! You and him are… something else.” She took your free hand in hers, squeezing tightly. All amusement melted from her face, and she gave you a serious look. The expression she wore when advising her sister on Draco, or comforting Pansy after a panic attack. “Are you ever going to tell me what happened over the summer, or are you just going to keep acting like it wasn’t some cataclysmic shift?”

“So dramatic.” You hummed to your roommate.

“Still pretending, I see.” She teases lightly, but her brows are still furrowed. She waited a few more seconds, to see if you’ll crack. All you do is hold her steady gaze, and take a sip of your drink. With a sigh, she released your hand, and leans back in her chair. “Well, whatever. We can all see it, see how you two pine for one another, and how perfect you’d be together. Just go and talk to him! He’s probably sat over there waiting for you anyway. He had that exact same kicked-puppy expression on at the summer party, until you walked in.”

“He did not…” You murmur, the very thought making you blush. 

“I think that’s the first time I ever saw Tom Riddle smile. A real smile, not the smile he gets when threatening someone, or when Mattheo falls over. A good smile.” 

“Now you’re just making him out like some kind of sulky villain.” You retort, and she only raises a brow at you.

“Here, take him this box, and go talk to him. The poor boy looks lost over there without you.” Reaching under her chair, Daphne produces a familiar box, wrapped neatly in black paper with dark green ribbon, and your jaw drops. 

“Daphne!—” Reaching out to snatch it from her, your brows furrow. “Did you go through my things?”

“I didn’t exactly go through your things,” She grins, watching you turn over the label with his name written on neatly. “I just watched you hide it under your bed and got curious… it smells good. Is it cookies? Can I have one?”

When she reaches for the box, you slap the back of her hand, and she sticks her tongue out at you in return. “No! You cannot, you little snoop!”

“Fine! If you won’t let me have a cookie, then you have to go over there. You either give me a cookie, or you give me the satisfaction of seeing you and him smile.” Her arms crossed, her tone annoyed but her words caring, and love shone in her gaze as she stared at you. “Go on. Go over to him. Please.”

It wasn’t like you didn’t already want to, and with her encouragement, you were a weak woman to say no. Downing the rest of your drink for a little liquid courage, you hop to your feet, present clutched in your hands.

Weaving through the room, the bass notes of Mattheo’s custom-made playlist pumped through the room from the speakers, a playlist you might have slightly altered a few days ago to add a couple of songs, just to mix up his usual tastes. Your stomach was twisting nervously, but the alcohol in your veins made for a pleasant buzz as the distance between you both closed. 

After almost taking a ping-pong ball to the eye, courtesy of Theo on the beer-pong table, you cleared the games and settled into the pleasant atmosphere surrounding where the boys had set themselves up for the evening by the fire. When you approached, Tom looked up, frown melting away as the crease between his brows disappeared, and he sat up a little straighter as you approached. 

“Hi, doll,” He murmured, shifting his arm from the armrest of the chair, so that you could take a seat on it instead. That same arm soon wrapped around your waist, his head falling to rest on your shoulder, and your heart skipped a beat within your chest. “Where’ve you been?”

“Over there, with Daph and the girls.” You whisper in reply, balancing the box on your thighs, and pointing through the crowds to the barely visible patch of chairs and sofas you’d all been occupying. He only hummed, squeezing you a little closer. 

“Stay here with me for a while?”

“Sure,” Your voice hardly worked as you spoke, emotions clogging up, and you reached for the gift in your lap. “I have this for you, anyway. I made you those cookies you like so much.”

“You did?” His head lifted, and one of those pretty smiles that made your heart stop clean in your chest was adorning his lips. “The ones with the orange peel and the dark chocolate?”

“Those very ones.” You handed it to him, and he tugged at the ribbon covering the box, fingers flipping under the seals of the paper until it fell openly neatly. Flicking open the catch on the cardboard box, the smell of freshly baked treats filled the air, and he made a rumbling noise of happiness as he plucked on up, and took a bite. As you laughed at him, he took another, pushing it between your lips with a smirk while he chewed. 

He resealed the box, savouring them, as he did all things, and putting them on the table in front of himself. You held the cookie now, eating it slowly, as Draco and Blaise finally seemed to become aware of your presence. 

“I have a question.” Draco started, and your gaze moved to him, brow raising as you took the final bite. “Is Astoria over there talking about me?”

The blond smirked, and you twisted, lifting your legs to sit over Tom, ankles crossing on the opposite arm. “No, no. She’s been recounting a scene from a book.”

“What?”

“Yeah. You know, the fun books. It was really, really hot.” You teased, fanning yourself, and Tom chuckled, reaching over you for his drink, and taking a sip. Instead of putting it back down, he rested the cool glass on your thigh, his free hand coming to sit on your calf, rubbing lightly as you shivered at the touch. “Why? You think you’re better than a good spicy romance?”

“I know I am!” Draco huffed, and Blaise rolled his eyes, watching you wind his best friend up with barely a few words at all. “What book is this?”

“Oh, you don’t want to know…”

“I do want to know! Tell me!” His cheeks were turning pink, all the way up to the tips of his ears. In the spirit of Christmas, you took pity on him, rolling your eyes. 

“I think it was called… Astoria’s Diary.” 

It took a few seconds for it to register in Draco’s mind, and the furious pink turned to an embarrassed red, and he shook his head, eyes narrowed at you. “I despise you.”

“You love me.” You fired back, and he scoffed, but the edges of his lips pulled at a smile, and he looked away to cover it. Settling back a little more, you leaned into the cushion, feeling Tom roll his head across the cushion to lean in your direction. 

“I feel like I’ve barely seen you all week.” He says, voice low for only you to hear, and your head twists towards him You were close, close enough to pick out the different coloured flecks of colour in his eyes as he looked at you, and the hardly visible steaks of lighter brown that trailed naturally through his dark curls.

“Well, I’ve had detention all week, thanks to a certain someone.” You poked his chest, and he only smirked a little bit, shuffling his head a fraction closer. 

“I needed you, what can I say?”

“You needed someone to keep a lookout while you snuck into the restricted section again. Why did it have to be me?” You scoffed, working to keep the smile on your face as the answer to your own question flickered through your mind. He chose you because he knew you’d drop everything and come, the voice taunted; you buried it under the song playing and the laughter in the room so you didn’t have to think about it...

“Don’t act like you didn’t have fun when we ran.” He chuckled, hand sliding up your leg again, fingers lacing with your own. The same way they had when you’d been caught, and he’d grabbed your hand, the two of you ducking and weaving between stacks, fleeing through the corridors. Laughing and out of breath, he’d clutched your hand, thumb rubbing over your knuckles just like he was doing now, staring at you with those pretty eyes.

You hadn't been caught, but you had gotten detention for skipping class to go with him, and so you’d spent all five nights of your final week in detention, writing lines. You lifted your free hand, sighing with a nod, and running it through his curls. His eyes fluttered, head tipping back to follow your hand, and a content smile took over his lips. 

You loved to see him like this, to see him so carefree and happy, to see him relax at just your touch. You’d never seen him like this before. The thought that only you could do it to him sent a thrill down your spine, made your thoughts feel hazy and slow, like treacle in your mind, and your nerves tingled. So, why had he never made a move to make it anything more? You’d given him a dozen chances, a dozen more opportunities…

“I don’t know what I’m going to do without you this holiday.” He broke your train of thought, eyes opening again to peer up at you, and his lips became a frown as he thought about it. “My father is going to pile on the pressure not that I’m in my graduating year. I can already feel the headache forming right between my eyes.”

“Oh..” You coo, hand slipping down from his hair to rub your thumb over his forehead, the space you know him to get stress headaches the worst, when he works too hard or gets wound up. He just chuckled, eyes sliding shut once again. 

The song changed, and his body tensed underneath you for just a second, before his eyes snapped open, gaze locked on you. “This is my favourite song.”

“Is it?” You mumble, finger still tracing lightly over his skin, and he nods.

“I didn’t think Mattheo put it on the playlist. I asked him, and he very emphatically said no.” 

“Maybe he changed his mind.” Your shrug doesn’t convince him, not as you both hear Mattheo question the song with a stream of curses somewhere in the distance. His lips twitched at the edges, a small smile, but he said nothing else. Instead, he leaned in, your arm going around his shoulders, rubbing softly as his head nestled onto your shoulder, a sigh on his lips. 

It was perfect, just like this. If he could just open his eyes and see, he’d know how wonderful it could be. Nobody knew him like you did, he’d made sure to keep his secrets locked up tight. But over the months of exchanging letters, and candle-lit nights in the library, he’d bore so much of his soul to you. 

Deep, wounded parts, that you’d tried to put back together. 

Soft, tender parts that he protected so valiantly, but trusted you with. 

Sweet, loving parts, that never saw the light of day, unless you were together.

It was impossible, surely, that he didn’t know. He might keep his feelings locked up tight, but you didn’t hide yours very well at all. As you sat here now, fingers weaving through his hair, lips tracing his temple as you whispered nonsense to him about your day, his head on your shoulder, that he didn’t know. Even a man like Tom Riddle couldn't miss it, right?

You just wanted to make him happy, but he didn’t feel the same. 

With a heart-aching sigh, you ran your fingers through his curls one more time. Unrequited love wasn’t going to ruin your night. Unrequited love wasn’t going to ruin your Christmas. You would not be one of those girls who gave in to their feelings, and crumbled at the feet of a man who didn’t return her affections. 

Sitting up some more, he grumbled at the disruption, blinking his eyes back open as he lifted his head again. “I’m… I’m going to go dance, and play some games, okay?”

“Alright,” He smiled, patting your thigh and lifting his drink away. “Have fun. I’ll probably leave soon. If I don’t see you again, just know I’ll be thinking of you over these holidays. We’ll write again.”

His words send a rush of heat to your cheeks, a tumble of nerves through your stomach, and you could only nod. One more chance, one more chance to make a move…

“Merry Christmas, Tommy,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss his cheek. A kiss that was purposefully close to the edge of his mouth, a kiss that purposefully lingered just a second too long as you pulled away slowly, giving him a chance to turn his head, to close the gap, to kiss you—

But he didn’t, he only smiled. “Merry Christmas, doll.”

So, you stand. You brush it off. You brush off the moment, and the feelings, and all the disappointment and heartbreak that came with it. 

But I can’t do it anymore. 

We’ve been housemates for seven years, we’ve been friends for half of those, and I’ve been in love with you for months. 

But you don’t love me. Mattheo says you do, says you’re just stupid when it comes to feelings. But, even you couldn't miss how I feel about you.

So, I’m letting you go. 

New Year, New Me, New Heart.

“No, your dorm is that way.” You giggle, Mattheo’s arm over your shoulder, pushing him in the direction of the boy’s dorms and pointing. “My dorm is this way!”

“No, you’re wrong!” He mutters, shaking his head dramatically. “Boys to the left,” He says, pointing right, “Girls to the right, because girls are always right!”

“Well, I won’t argue with you there.” You grin, spinning him around. “Wait, now I’m confused. Who’s dorm were we going to again?”

A few too many shots, a few more drinks than your limit at the beer-pong table, and as the last of the party was dying down, you and Mattheo were attempting to stumble back to your dorms. “Theo’s.”

“Right. But why are we going to Theo’s dorm?”

“Because he’s my friend,” Mattheo said. “And also, his bed is next to mine.” Another fit of laughter, drunken giggles melting away, and the two of you collapsed down against the wall, heads tipped back to the stone as amusement took over. When you finally caught your breaths once again, he was smiling, eyes sparkling in that unique Matty-way. Kicking his legs out before himself, he sighed. “Maybe I will just sleep here.”

“You can’t sleep here.”

“Why?” He pouted, and you searched through your foggy mind for a reason. 

“Because you have to sleep in a bed.” Is what you settled on, shrugging your shoulders, even if you were getting a little bit too comfy against the stone too. 

“Can I sleep in your bed?” He wiggled his brows, smirking, before burping, and you giggled again. 

“No, you may not.”

“Why?” He whined, kicking one leg like a toddler in a tantrum. “You have fluffy pillows.”

“And you have sheets that haven’t been washed in months.” Your nose screwed up, and he let out a dramatic, wounded sound, like a soldier who had just been shot in a war movie. 

“That was cold.” He muttered, shaking his head. “Not as cold as the frozen Earth Tom would bury my wee little body in if I spent the night at your dorm.”

You didn’t respond, the mention of his name was like a bucket of ice over your head. Not exactly sobering, but shocking. 

“I’m saying he would murder me.”

“Yes, I understood.”

“You didn’t laugh.” He pouted, and you chuckled for his benefit. “No, it’s not real. Now I feel like I begged for it.”

“You did.”

“You suck.”

“You swallow.” You sighed, and he groaned once again, another argument lost. His head rolled to your shoulder, his body slumping into relaxation. 

“So… what is the deal with you and my brother?” His lips twisted as he thought about it, but he looked up at you curiously, frown only deepening at the sad look on your face. 

“There is no deal.” You shrug, “He doesn’t want me like that. We’re just friends.”

“Yeah,” He snorts, “And the sky isn’t blue.”

“I’m serious, Matty. I’ve given him a hundred chances. He could’ve made a move anytime. I haven’t exactly kept my feelings to myself, all you fools can see my heart dripping and bleeding on my sleeve. He knows, he just didn’t want to acknowledge it.” Your lungs burned for air at the end of your speech, and you took a deep breath, staring ahead at the chipping bricks in an attempt to avoid tears. “Why doesn’t he want me, Matty?”

“He does,” Mattheo mumbled, taking your hand in his and squeezing. “He’s just a fucking moron. But, he’s also scared. You know, you’re pretty much all he talks about? And, I never saw him smile so much as he did during the summer, when he’d receive your letters. He’d get all anxious and fidgety every day, waiting for the mail owl to arrive. He’s never going to make the first move. He’d rather suffer for all his life but have you like this, than risk losing you entirely.”

The words felt like a warming blanket and an ice-cold lake. Comforting and terrifying, sweet and burning, all at the same time. 

Mattheo huffed a laugh, “Maybe you should write him a love letter.”

“Maybe I should…” You whisper, drunken thoughts taking over, and his head snapped up. 

“I was joking.”

“I’m not. That’s a good idea. I should write him a letter, and tell him that I’m moving on.” You brushed your legs off as you stood, taking his hands and pulling him to his feet, determined.

“Okay, that’s not what a love letter is. That’s so far from what I said—”

“Let’s go!” You grabbed his wrist, tugging him along behind you as you made your way through the halls. 

“Now? Why are we doing it now? We should be sleeping now!” His protests fell on deaf ears as you dragged him along. Throwing open the door to your room, Daphne was already asleep, still in her party dress, face down on her pillow, out cold from the night’s festivities and snoring.

Mattheo collapsed onto your bed, rolling onto his side and clutching a fluffy cushion to his chest as he curled into a ball. 

“I’ll just wait here, then.” He yawned through his words, but you were too busy to care, scrambling for a pot of ink and some new parchment. Taking a seat at your desk, you stared at the paper, quill hovering, ready to write.

So, I will spend the end of this year away from you. You say we’ll write, but I don’t want to. 

Only write to me, Tom, if you feel the same.  If not, don’t. Let me heal, and when we come back in the New Year, I promise, nothing will change except for my heart. 

We will still be friends, best friends, and we’ll never talk about it again.

I will wait for you.

Finishing the letter, you sighed at it, the ink drying and immortalising your words onto the page. Sitting before you was the sum total of what sat in your heart, and your mind. Laid out and ready to go, your hands trembled a little as you read it over, and over, to be sure. 

But you had to do this, you had to give this letter to him, to alleviate the strain on your heart, to finally have some closure. Whether he felt the same or not, you’d have relief. Folding it carefully, you searched a strip of wax seal lighting the end and waiting for it to get hot, drips of Slytherin green filling into a pool that overlapped the edge of your paper. When there was enough, you stamped it carefully, sealing it shut as the wax cooled. 

Taking a look behind you, you caught sight of a sleeping Mattheo, his jaw hanging open, drooling onto your favourite throw pillow, half tucked under your blankets from where he’s only bothered to cover his legs. Peeling away the wax seal, you walked over to him, shaking his shoulder, until he awoke with a huff and a groan, whining as he sat up. 

“I was dreaming.”

“I wrote the letter.” You show him the proof, and he rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands, glancing from it, to you, and back. “You have to give it to him.”

“Now?”

“No! Not now. Tomorrow. After we get off the train.” He blinked a little more, waking up from his power nap and taking the paper from you. Flipping it over in his hands, he inspected Tom’s name across the front, no address, and raised his brows. 

“Why don’t you mail it?”

“That’ll take days, and I don’t want to leave it up to chance. I need you to give it to him, tomorrow. I know you’ll be swamped with everything your father expects of you both this time of year, events and frivolities and all, but you have to. I don’t want it getting lost amongst other letters and Christmas cards, and such.” Your hands clasped together before you, blinking at him pleadingly, and hoping your puppy-dog eyes were half as good as his.

He sighed, rolling his eyes and muttering to himself as he stood.

“Please, Matty.”

“Fine. I’ll give it to him.” He caved, and you threw your arms around him, hugging him tightly. 

“Tomorrow? After you get off the train?”

“Yes. I will give Tom the letter… tomorrow.”

Yours,

If you want me, 

(y/n) x

Tom double-checked his bags, sighing as he zipped up the piece of luggage he’d actually have access to on the train, everything he needed to survive a six-hour train journey. A knock sounded from the door, a signature one that only Mattheo ever used, excessively long and irritating, and the door swung open a second later to reveal his brother. 

Placing his carry-on down on the bed beside his own, Mattheo slumped out on his freshly-stripped bed. “You took your bags to the carriage already?”

“I got up early.”

“Surprising, I thought I’d have to drag you out of your bed this morning considering how much you drank last night.” He gave his brother a look, a single brow raised, and Mattheo just huffed. 

“It’s called having fun, you should try it sometime.”

Tom only rolled his eyes, gaze scanning across the bag Mattheo had abandoned, snagging on the letter sticking out of one pocket. T— was all that was visible. It might have been a card, that someone had addressed it to ‘Theo’ instead of Mattheo, but everyone called him ‘Matt’ if they wanted a nickname, to avoid confusion with Nott.

Curiosity ate at him, and nudging the bag subtly revealed just enough more to show an ‘O’. 

Definitely Tom, then. Mattheo was carrying a letter for him, and had not delivered it. Before he could pluck it from the pocket, his brother was sitting up, reaching for his bag and getting to his feet, swinging the letter out of his reach inadvertently. 

“Ready to go?”

“Is that letter for me?” Tom burst instead, making another move for the bag. His suspicions were only confirmed when Mattheo shifted his body, pulling the arm carrying the bag away from him, behind his body and out of Tom’s reach. “Why do you have it? When did it arrive?”

Mattheo turned casually, looking down at it, patting it and pushing it back into the bag, deeper. Tom recognised that handwriting now, though, and the urgency swelled. “Uh… last night, I think. But I was a little drunk, so…”

“Why didn’t you give it to me?” Tom pressed, biting his tongue from yelling at his brother, and Mattheo just shrugged. 

“Figured I’d give it to you on the train, or something. Or when we got home. It’s just a letter.”

“Yeah…” Tom could only hum in response, his mind spinning a little. Everyone had exchanged gifts and goodbyes last night, before the party. For exactly this reason, to avoid the morning rush to the train, to avoid the hassle in the morning. “But— I saw her last night. Why wouldn't she just give it to me then? Or mail it to me?” 

The questions were ceaseless, almost making Tom dizzy as he tried to think them through, and Mattheo could only shrug, biting the inside of his cheek to keep his smile to himself. 

“I don’t know, Tom. She just came to me, and asked me to give you that letter because she didn’t want it to get lost amongst other letters, or take too long, or something like that.” It was a small lie, really, fabricated from aspects of the truth.

“So, it’s important, then! It’s obviously important if she couldn't risk it getting lost, if it had to be hand-delivered! I should read it.” Just like that, Tom stepped right into Mattheo’s trap. Now all he had to do was pull the pin, and let the steel jaws snap shut. Yes, it could potentially backfire hugely, but Mattheo was looking on the positive side for this. 

“We have to go, Tom. Everyone else has probably already left for the train.” Mattheo swung his bag again, making his point, and kicked Tom’s suitcase from where it sat beside the door towards him to pick up. “Let’s go.”

Tom sighed, grabbing his bags and taking a few steps after him, and didn’t even make it over the threshold of the door before he gave in. His bags dropped from his hands, and planted on his hips instead. “I’m going to read it.”

“Tom—”

“Give me the letter.” He held out his pal, and Mattheo tipped his head to the side, but pressed his lips together to hide a grin. “I’ll catch up, you go. I’ll read it and I’ll catch up, it’s only a letter, can’t take that long.”

He lunged for Mattheo's bag, snatching the crisply pressed paper from the pocket before his brother could stop him. As he turned away, he missed Mattheo’s victorious smile. “Alright, I’ll take your trunk down. Don’t be long, or you’ll miss the train.” And you’ll miss her, were Mattheo’s unspoken words, as he grabbed Tom’s suitcase and disappeared, leaving him alone. 

Sitting on the edge of his bed, Tom’s hand shook a little. The paper felt like it weighed a thousand tons. There was so much unspoken mystery behind it that Tom was sure whatever this letter said, it was not their usual correspondence. Not the chatty, friendly, borderline flirty letters they’d send each other when apart, this was more. 

Sliding his thumb neatly under the wax seal he was so familiar with, Tom popped open the letter, unfolding it carefully and flipping it around to read. 

His gaze scanned over the paper, lips flicking up at the use of the nickname he only allowed you to use, the swirl of your handwriting that he loved so much. The smile didn’t last long, however, and neither did the breath in his lungs as his chest seized. He read it.

Over and over again, he read the letter. 

The minutes melted past as he absorbed what it said, until he could read the letter word for word without looking at it, tattooed into his mind now like a brand. With trembling fingers, he folded the letter back up carefully, lifting the paper to his lips as his eyes slid shut. 

His heart was pounding, more so than he’d ever felt. Tom was not one for rash decisions and sudden jumps, everything was calculated and thought through and planned. But this, this was you. This is just what you did, forced him to let go of routine and be spontaneous, forced him to be carefree, to loosen the grip he had on the reigns, to show him he wouldn't fall apart at the slightest breeze. 

He smiled against the letter, thoughts of you flicking through his mind. 

And then a clock chimed, and he jumped violently within as he was rushed back to reality in a split second. The clock in the common room chimed loudly, echoing through the empty dorms and halls. 

Rushing to his feet, Tom opened his bag, tucking the letter safely inside one of his books to preserve it, to tuck it inside the box of letters from you that was tucked under his bed at home. You doubted him, his feelings, unsure he’d kept that first letter, when in reality, he’d kept every single one.

Every letter, every note, even the silly little joke you scribbled on torn-off pieces of paper and threw at him in class, he kept them all.

Zipping his bag back up and grabbing it, he had no time to spare, racing to the chimes of the clock through the castle, to the front gates where the final carriage was leaving. 

It felt too long. Too long as the horses plodded through the snow, too long as the wheel scrolled slowly, and his foot tapped agitatedly on the floor in a way he never allowed himself to do. His thumbnail was between his teeth, flicking between the frost-covered ground and his bag, wondering if it would actually be faster to run there himself. 

Ahead, the train sounded its horn. The final warning for all students to begin boarding and settling in, because they’d be departing soon. 

You watched as the trunks were beginning loaded onto the train, all to be collected when you arrived in London, only letting out a breath of relief as Mattheo rounded the corner, finally joining your group. 

“Matty! About time, we were worried you’d miss the train.” Your arms wrapped around his shoulders as he sighed, a little out of breath, and hugged you back once he dropped the two bags in his hands. Nobody followed him, and your brows furrowed, pulling back, “Where’s Tom?”

“He’s probably already on the train, sulking somewhere. He’s never late.” Theo snickered, and you rolled your eyes, smacking him across the shoulder for his joke. 

“Blaise is inside holding a cabin for us, is Tom not sitting with us?” Enzo questioned, and you turned to Mattheo, waiting for answers. 

“He’ll be here, trust me.”

“He’s late?” Draco asked, quickly followed by Enzo and Theo, all discussing it. Regulus stayed quiet, smoking and trying to hide it from being seen, but his expression was just as concerned as everyone else’s. 

The chatter continued on, by your worry didn’t cease, checking up and down the platform as people bustled and crowded it. Saying their final goodbyes and giving out hugs, climbing on and off the train as they all wished one another Merry Christmas, and being unable to see either end was causing your anxiety to rocket higher. 

The train horn blared again, and students began to board. “Mattheo, seriously, where is he—” Just like that, you saw him, the busy platform parting to let him through, the look on his face as terrifying as ever, and people moved out of his way as he made his way towards your group. 

“Told you he’d be here,” Mattheo smirked, and you raised a brow. 

“The hell did you say to him this morning, Matt?” Regulus questions. 

“He looks mad,” Draco murmured. 

“He looks like he’s plotting.” Enzo corrected.

Every step closer rose the tension as Tom finally looked up, his sights setting on you, and his jaw clenched. Brows drawn in, he did look like he was plotting, like a thousand thoughts were racing through his mind that he couldn't sort through. 

“Hey, man. We thought you were gonna’ miss the—” Draco’s words cut off at your squeak, as Tom stepped closer, never stopping the movements of his body until he was cupping your cheeks, his mouth descending upon your own. 

You were almost knocked backwards from the force of it, your hands gripping at his shoulders as he bent you over backwards, a kiss so intense your knees almost went weak. 

It was desperate, you could barely keep up, kissing back as best you could through your shock, until it wore off enough to reciprocate. Wrapping one arm around his neck, your other slipped to his face, his own hands making their way down, to band around your waist and pull you in closer, until your bodies were flush. 

His tongue licked into your mouth, a sigh escaping you as he did, and your heart pounded against your heart, the same way he was doing, felt through his jumper and layers. The boys were whistling, cheering and hooting, and if you weren’t so happy you’d have been embarrassed by the show they were making, and the attention they were no doubt drawing. 

When he finally pulled back, you panted softly, his forehead resting on your own, blinking his eyes open to meet your gaze. 

“Can I write to you regardless?” He mumbled, voice rough and tense with emotion, and your brows furrowed. 

“Wh— What?” 

He leaned in, not helping you clear your dazed mind at all as he kissed you again, and again, until you were smiling, fingers clenched so tight in his coat that your knuckles were white, just to stay upright. 

You pecked his lips once more, chasing him as he pulled back, and the train horn sounded, a final warning, but you didn’t care. “You know how I feel now. You don’t have to wait for my reply. You can be assured that I will miss you dearly over these two weeks, and I am already counting the minutes until I see you again. But can I write to you, still?”

As the realisation set in, your face flamed, jaw dropping a little bit, and he wasted no opportunity, kissing you softly. “You read my letter.”

He only nodded, a gentle chuckle onto your mouth as your lips brushed. “You’d leave it to Mattheo to deliver? He’d probably lose it at a McDonalds, trying to get a Big Mac before my father saw him, on the way home. 

Your laughter was sweet, a puffed-out sound as his hands smoothed up and down your back. “I’d love to get more letters from you, Tommy. I’m sorry I didn’t give it to you in person, but I was scared. I thought I’d made my feelings for you obvious, and you didn’t reciprocate, so I had to write that letter. To get it out, to finalise it all.”

“I like to consider myself a smart man, you know. When it comes to you, clearly, I’m a fool. You leave me speechless, and without proper thoughts, every time. All I can think about is how pretty you are, and how much I like you, despite my best efforts not to.” 

The declaration was so utterly Tom, to hate being in love even if he loved it. 

“For Salazar’s sake, what have you done, Matt?” Theo cussed, and you twisted your head to look at him. “Shakespeare over here is going to be writing sonnets for the rest of the year. None of us will stand a chance with any other girls when he’s showing us up, standing under windows, yelling his love to the moon.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring their nonsense. Tom did the same, nuzzling his nose against your cheek, and leaving a kiss there.

“I’ll look forward to your letters, just as I did in the summer.” You whisper, pulling away from him as the platform clears, most students already aboard now.

“And after?” Tom questions, “May I still write you letters if I, too, find myself struggling to confess my feelings in person?”

“Oh, God,” Enzo muttered. “He’s going to be writing love letters all year. He’s making the rest of us sound like cavemen. Me, you, bed, now.” He grunted, smacking a fist in his chest. You giggled as Tom rolled his eyes. 

“We should get on the train.” You whisper, taking pity on the others and untangling yourself from his arms. 

Tom took his bag again, and your own. With a final kiss on your cheek, he walked away to the door of the carriage, letting the rest of you follow behind. Mattheo fell into step beside you, smirking as he bumped your hips with his own.

“So, should I tell my mother and father that they have a new daughter-in-law this holiday, or wait ‘til the next.”

His teasing made you blush again, cheeks already red in the cold, warming you under all those layers. “You’re a filthy traitor. You gave him my letter early.”

“I said I’d give it to him ‘tomorrow’. Never agreed to the after the train part.” He tutted, proud of himself. “Always pay attention to the words of a contract. My dear brother taught me that. You never have to break a promise, if you’re smart with your words.”

That sounded exactly like something your man would say, your eyes rolling to the Heavens. 

Mattheo leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper as the pair of you climbed the steps. “You never have to break your heart either, if you’re smart about who you give it to.”

[princesssarisa]

I still can't get over that once, I saw someone write that they disliked Elizabeth Bennet because she was an "author avatar Mary Sue."

I understand taking that viewpoint if you only read the first half of Pride and Prejudice, before Darcy's letter. The impression the first half creates is "Most of these people are silly, obnoxious, or both. Witty, sensible, charming Elizabeth, who's usually the smartest person in the room, cleverly judges and mocks them all, while giving warm affection and esteem to the few who really deserve it." This is more or less the way she views herself and the narrative plays along with it. If you stop reading before Darcy's letter, then she might indeed come across as an "author avatar Mary Sue."

But then all of the above is deconstructed by Darcy's letter.

Elizabeth realizes – and we realize – that she hasn't been such a good judge of character or the cleverest person in the room after all. Her cynical, witty judgments have been just as faulty as her sister Jane's naïve idealism. She's been full of herself, and she's judged Darcy more negatively than he ever deserved (not that he hasn't been at fault too, but still...) because he stung her personal vanity, while letting herself be charmed and misled by Wickham because he flattered her. She's been very much at fault and she learns a lesson, just like we later learn that Darcy did after she rejected him.

A similar arc applies to Mr. Bennet, the person who has clearly influenced Elizabeth the most throughout her life. At first we're set up to like him for his wit, and to view him as the good, sensible Bennet parent in contrast to his silly, obnoxious wife. But then we realize – and Elizabeth is forced to realize – that no, he hasn't been a good parent, he's been irresponsible and mean-spirited toward his wife and younger daughters, and he's just as much to blame as Mrs. Bennet for all their problems.

How anyone can call Elizabeth a Mary Sue after reading the entire book is beyond me. Some people can't seem to let go of their first impression of her, even though the faultiness of first impressions is one of the novel's main themes.

[anneapocalypse]

One thing that really gets me about Urianger comforting Minfilia in Amh Araeng is that when she says Thancred hates her, Urianger never actually says, no, he doesn't. He says instead, none of this is your fault, and the original Minfilia wouldn't hold anything against you, and in typical Urianger form he says some things about fate and faith, and his words are kind and beautiful--but he also completely sidesteps the question of how Thancred feels about her.

And I think this moment is very reflective of Urianger's relationship to Thancred and child!Minfilia as a whole. It reflects what we see when we first see all of them together in Il Mheg.

Urianger knows that the way Thancred behaves toward the girl is hurting her. He's spent enough time around the two of them to see that plainly. Theoretically, he could say something to Thancred about it; they're obviously close friends, and if Thancred was going to value anyone's opinion, it would be his. But he doesn't say anything, because he still feels guilty and responsible for all of it: about their Minfilia going to the First and what happened to her there, and thus for what both Thancred and child!Minfilia are going through now. Even though Thancred has never outright blamed him for it (however he may feel privately, which I think is hard to say), it seems like Urianger still feels like he has no right to say anything.

So he tries to compensate instead. He's kind to Minfilia, connects with her in his own way and gives her books, and by the time we see them together he's obviously become something of a familial figure to her. I would say that he and Thancred aren't so much raising her together as they're doing it... around one another. Thancred is gruff and cold and holds Minfilia at arm's length emotionally so that his protectiveness comes off harshly even when it's well-meant, and Urianger dotes on her and tries to make up for it all while avoiding the actual problem.

So that conversation in Amh Araeng is both touching and maddening to me, and it really drives home what's maddening about it when, upon overhearing it, the Warrior of Light turns to Thancred to ask him if he has anything to say to Minfilia--who has just said, out loud, that she thinks Thancred wishes she was dead--and Thancred just says, "Not today."

And so they both go on avoiding the actual problem, for just a little longer.

[coolshadowtwins]

Scumplane friendship (or maybe more?) concept where Shen Jiu is so ridiculously close to figuring out SQH’s deal with MBJ.

And SQH knows it! He knows that SQQ knows, but does SQQ know that SQH know that SQQ knows???? How far down does this go? How complicated is this situation and how much of it is specifically SQH’s fault?

And SQH can’t see a way out of it. He’s about to just jump ship, even if he has years before the main plot starts, but ultimately decides to try… something. He has a talisman/enchanted jewel or something to teleport him straight to MBJ if need be, so he decides to do something incredibly stupid for once.

He acts like it was a story.

Oh, he’s been doing that for years, technically. He knows where he is, and the plot, and his role. But he has been acting in accordance to PIDW. But now, with his back to the wall and the only option he can really see for himself is running from the sect, he takes this scenario and treats it like it’s the main plot of a book.

SQH would never be the main character! So this story is following SQQ. So you have a Shixiong who suspects his Shidi to be making deals with demons? The story can only go two ways- the Shidi is indeed suspicious or the Shidi has some other shit going on. And SQH may be indeed suspicious, but by god does he need SQQ to think he just has other shit going on.

Which is why he shows up to the Bamboo house one day, is served tea by a glaring SQQ, and then blurts out, “This Shidi would like some advice!”

SQQ: …advice. For what?

SQH, having not thought this far but always doing better in the heat of the moment:….. romantic struggles.

SQQ:………… you came to me for this?

And then something something, SQQ is a little touched that he was the one SQH came to for help, even if he now has to deal with an obviously abusive demon boyfriend. Jeez Shang-Shidi, what do you get yourself into?

(It doesn’t hurt that SQH seems to know everything that happens on the peaks and isn’t afraid to gossip with SQQ. It makes very enjoyable hangout times. And if the scum villain wants to verbally tear down someone based on that information, it is so not SQH problem)

[penny-anna]

email this morning from someone in a different department like:

employee in other department: hi colleague Nis it okay for me to join the celebratory meal tomorrow evening their manager: colleague N is off, Katie can you confirm?

sitting there like hm ok this is the first I've heard about any celebratory meal. N is out of the office till wednesday. i guess i can call the restaurant. can i get some more details on that please.

manager: it's a 20 year anniversary celebration with the CEO

ok but where??

get the restaurant name and google it to find their number. turns out they have 3 locations, 2 of which are on George Street and George IV Bridge respectively (this will be important later)

email manager back and ask which of the 3 restaurants it is. he says George Street.

call the restaurant. give them the time & date and say I'm not sure of the name. they suggest various names. i give them N's name and the name of the CEO. they say we'll need to pay a deposit if we want to make a booking

I'm certain that if co-worker N said she booked this before she went on leave them she did in fact book it before she went on leave

restaurant confirms that hypothetically yes adding an extra person won't be a problem

email the manager back to pass this on and also to let him know that they couldn't find the booking. ask if he's 100% certain about the time and date

he sends me a copy of the outlook invitation w the time and date. notice that the location on the invite is actually George IV Bridge

suggests that i should just make another booking (fair) and that if we've made 2 deposits which can ask for a refund

person I spoke to earlier said she'd checked all 3 locations but decide to call the George IV Bridge restaurant anyway

'oh yes I spoke to N this morning'

im pretty sure this is a different person than I spoke to earlier but can't be sure so its possible she's mixing up my name and the name i gave for the booking, esp as N isn't working today. we go back and forth on this for a while

'N called and changed the name on the booking to her name bcos she thought people might get confused'

realise N must have either been alerted to the fact that Confusion was happening or pre-empted this situation

'thank you very much now is it at George IV Bridge or George Street'

its at George Street. do we want to change it to George IV Bridge.

'i will check'

manager confirms that it 100% was supposed to be George Street.

mystery solved. this is all the fucking Georgians fault.

[shadowkoo]

love me softly

→ Summary: When your long-distance boyfriend's visit falls through, you decide to make the most of your free time. But after a day out, you're in for an unexpected surprise when you get home.

↠ taeyong x f.reader | 1.9k words | 18+ ↠ genre: angst, fluff, smut, established relationship, idol au, long distance au

→ Warnings: lots of pet names, a touch of sad vibes in the beginning but that turns around pretty quickly, the sweetest softest smut i’ve written in a while, praise kink, the lightest hair pulling idk if it really counts lol, body worship (yong really really love his girl okay), creampie, unprotected & explicit sex, if i’m missing any lemme know

→ Networks: @k-vanity @ksmutsociety

→ Author Note: happy october :) this is just a lil shortie oneshot (which was supposed to be a drabble skldjfa;lksdfj) to get me back on writing track, i’ve got a big spooky fic coming in the next few weeks!! divider credit

“I know, baby, I’m sorry,” Taeyong mumbles through his phone. “It’s taking us longer to film than we anticipated, so I’m gonna be delayed another day at least.”

Your boyfriend had initially set aside time in his very busy schedule to come visit you after he finished filming his newest music video in LA; which should’ve wrapped up a few days ago. Since you live on opposite sides of the world, he wanted to take advantage of being only a few states apart instead continents apart. You’re just a quick three hour flight away and he’s been thinking about seeing you ever since he planned this break in his schedule.

Except his plans keep changing; first it was production problems and now it’s the weather. They just can’t catch a break. And all of this is cutting into the time he is supposed to spend with you.

“Is it even worth visiting now? We’ll only have a day or two left from the week we planned together."

Taeyong’s brows furrow, “It’s worth it to me, you’re worth it. I know it’s not ideal, baby, but I miss you so much. Even if we only have a couple of hours together, I’ll still come to you when this is finished.”

Hearing the film crew calling his name through the phone, you sigh, letting the welled up tears fall down your cheeks. They’re ready to start filming the next scene and he has to go, again. You won’t be seeing him today, again.

“Honey, I’m so sorry. I have to get back on set. I’ll text you later, okay?” Taeyong’s heart rips into pieces when he hears you sniffle.

“Okay, I love you,” you whisper.

“I love you so much, Y/N.” He hangs up and takes a couple of deep breathes, blinking back his own tears. He hates when you’re hurt, especially when it’s his fault. Taeyong lets out a puff of air, time to pull it together. The faster he perfects this scene and those to follow, the faster he can be on his way to you.

It’s the next day, and you wake up with swollen eyes from crying all night. You push back the blankets and force yourself to get up. Sitting at home and being sad all day won’t do you any good.

You know that it’s not Taeyong’s fault he keeps getting delayed, everything that’s happened has just been an unfortunate string of events. You’ll admit that going to see him had crossed your mind last night, but then you thought better of it.

Girlfriends at work can cause problems, you don’t want to distract him or be in the way of the crew. Plus, you two haven’t fully gone public with your relationship yet. His management team has been informed for a while now, and other NCT member’s know too.

But the millions of fans? That’s a daunting step that you two haven’t taken yet. You’re not necessarily hiding your relationship, but you’re not flaunting it out in front of the world either.

As you get dressed, you shoot a quick text to your friend Fia to confirm your plans for coffee and a trip to the bookstore. Running on little sleep, you're in serious need of caffeine, and you've been eagerly waiting for your favorite author’s new book to drop.

She replies almost instantly, saying she’s in and excited to see you. You skip your usual makeup routine and throw your hair into a loose ponytail before heading out the door.

Stepping outside onto the leaf-littered sidewalk, you can’t help but smile—it’s finally October, your favorite time of year. The air feels crisp, and everything has that warm, cozy vibe that you love, from now until the end of the year. It’s the perfect season for coffee dates, soft sweaters, and losing yourself in a good book.

Fia is saving you a window seat inside her favorite cafe, “Hi! It’s been too long, I got you an Iced Pumpkin Chai.” She cheerfully hands you the drink, “So, how have you been? I thought Taeyong would be coming with you?”

“Ahh, right,” you say, before taking your first sip. “He’s stuck in LA unfortunately, but I still wanted to catch up you.”

“Oh no, that’s a bummer,” she says, resting a hand on your arm. “How are you handling it?”

“Better than last time, but it’s still not fun.”

“I bet, well if you get lonely you’re always welcome to come stay with me. I don’t think James will mind.” James is Fia’s elderly cat, who takes his naps on the windowsill quite seriously. He’s to sleepy to care when Fia has visitors, as you’ve witnessed.

“I might take you up on that offer.”

Meeting up with Fia completely turned your day around. The two of you sipped coffee, chatted about your latest reads, and vented about the upcoming book-to-movie adaptations that are sure to fall short. Then, you made your way to the bookstore, continuing the conversation.

After each grabbing a few books, Fia convinces you to go thrift shopping with her next. By the time you finally make it home, your arms are loaded with the day’s haul.

You set down the bags so you can punch in your door key code, letting yourself in. The afternoon sunlight shines through your windows, illuminating the beautiful bouquet of marigolds on your table with a warm glow.

‘Hmm, that’s weird,’ you think to yourself as you set the bags down next to them, ‘Did I buy these earlier this week and forget about them? That would be just like me with everything that’s been on my mind.’

You think nothing of it and head to your bedroom, ready to change into comfier clothes for the rest of the night. Earlier, on the walk home you decided you’d spend the rest of your night by making your favorite soup for dinner, and then settling in for a Halloweentown movie marathon.

Just inside your bedroom door, you see a hoodie drapped over a suitcase. Your heart swells as your eyes drift over to the bed, where your boyfriend is peacefully sleeping. Not wanting to wake him, you change quietly and climb into bed and wrap yourself around him, you need to make sure this is real and not a figment of your imagination.

He rolls over and envelops you in his arms, kissing you softly. “Mmm, I was wondering when you’d get back.”

It’s really him.

“How are you here right now?” you ask, pulling back to scan his face.

“We finished filming late last night. Well technically this morning around 3am, and I got on the first available flight.”

“How long have you been here?” you ask next.

“Not long, just enough for me to change out of airport clothes and climb in bed,” he chuckles, pulling you back in for another sweet kiss. His lips gently press against yours and a hand reached around to the back of your head, letting down your hair so his fingers could run through the loose strands.

Taeyong tugs your hair with the lightest touch, but enough for you to let out a soft gasp. He uses the opportunity to push his tongue in past your parted lips.

Your hands rub up his solid chest, and you moan into his mouth as his kisses get a little more rough, a little more desperate.

“Did you like your flowers?” he asks when your lips are just barely touching.

“They’re beautiful,” you giggle, “I couldn’t figure out where they came from. I thought I might have gone crazy.”

“I saw them at the market just down the street and they reminded me of how radiant you always are.” His eyes gaze into yours and you can see that he really means that. Your heart melts.

“Ugh, I missed you,” you murmur before pulling him in for another long kiss, only separating when you need air.

He admires how swollen and wet your lips are while he hovers over you, looking down with desire-filled eyes.

“I missed you so much. I missed kissing you. I missed the way you taste. The way you mewl when I touch you right here,” he whispers, his hand slipping in between your legs, sliding them under your panties until his fingers find their way home.

Tossing your head back into the pillows, you squeeze your eyes shut as one finger, and then two, dip inside your slick heat.

“God, so wet already.” His fingers pump into you again and they curl at the right moment, lighting your body on fire. He keeps a leisurely pace, wanting to savor every second of this. He can take you from behind later. Right now he wants to prove how much he missed you. How much he loves you.

“Mmm, yes,” you moan, having longed for this so much over the past few months. He knows you so well, your body is so in tune with his. “Let me touch you too,” you breath as your fingers find his waistband. You stroke his growing length. Feeling the weight of him in your palm has always makes your mouth water for what is to come.

Rough Taeyong is devilishly hot, but soft and sensual Taeyong is a whole other breed of demon. He’ll worship you until you’re a dripping mess.

He watches intently as your eyes flutter shut, knowing very well that you’re close. He strategically presses his thumb up against your aching clit, rubbing in dangerous circles until he feels your walls start to tense. “Come for me, babe. Come all over my fingers like the good girl I know you are.”

His words are enough to send you over the edge. He swallows your loud moans while you clench around his fingers, coming beautifully undone and writhing underneath him.

Taeyong lets you ride out the waves, completely captivated by how ethereal you look in that moment. “You’re a goddess,” he breathes, bending down to meet your mouth once again. He pulls back, only to remove your clothing before removing his own.

“Love me, ‘Yongie,” you beg, needing to feel him inside you, just needing him.

“Always.” He moves a hand to cup your cheek while he slowly sinks into your wet slit. No matter how many times he’s with you, he’ll never get over how perfect you are. He bites back a moan when he hits your cervix. A perfect fucking fit, every single time.

He moves with a pace so slow it feels like divine torture. “I’ll never get tired of this,” he groans, pulling out until just his tip is held between your folds, then rolling his hips back inward.

“OH my god,” you moan, your nails digging into his bare back, “You feel so good.”

Taeyong nestles his head into your neck, bringing you closer and closer to the release that you crave.

“I’m close, baby, so close,” you whine. “Come in me,” you beg, pleading for him to release into you. 

Taeyong hisses, his movements becoming more jerky. “I love you,” he groans as the coil snaps inside you. Waves of pleasure wash over your body, the sparks tingling through your veins. He follows your suit, tensing as your inner walls writhe around his length, milking him of his creamy seed.

He collapses next to you, whispering I love you’s into your ear as you both catch your breath.

“So,” you begin once you finally remember how to speak, “Wanna help me make dinner?”

“In a bit,” he sighs, pulling your limp body on top of his to kiss you lazily, “I’m not done loving you yet.”

→ Taglist: @beomcoups @mar-lo @starsrens (join here)

©shadowkoo 2024. All rights reserved.

[saetoru]

[ SILENT TREATMENT ] ALHAITHAM.

alhaitham is a smart man—he likes to think it’s one of his best strengths. in fact, he likes to take pride in his capacity to come up with a quick solution to most of the things life throws at him…except maybe this.

you’re mad—livid, actually—and for the first time in what feels like his entire life, his brain fails him on how to fix the issue at hand. perhaps that’s largely because he doesn’t quite know why you’re mad (you insist he should know), but there’s also the fact that you refuse to be rational and discuss the problem, and that’s not his fault.

but expressing as much lands him on the couch for the night, and now not only are you even more upset with him, but his back hurts too. it’s only added insult to injury that kaveh finds this ordeal thoroughly amusing, and alhaitham thinks it’s times like these that throwing out the leech of his roommate is his best option—the guest room could be his right now if not for a certain irritating blonde, and the bed would be much better for his back too.

“still getting the silent treatment, i see,” kaveh grins, a little too enthused for alhaitham’s liking at his predicament. he glowers, taking a sip of his much too bitter coffee—usually you make it for him, but between the sharp look you send him when he approaches and your insistence to avoid him, he safely assumes coffee is out of the question to ask of you for now.

and because he doesn’t need kaveh to have more leverage to laugh at him, he forces himself not to make a face as he swallows the bitter drink in his mug.

“and i don’t see how it’s any of your business,” alhaitham grumbles, watching as kaveh rummages through his fridge with his food in his home.

“it’s not,” kaveh hums, pulling out ingredients that he most certainly has not paid for with his own wallet, “but it’s undoubtedly entertaining to witness. if i were you, i’d have definitely figured out why i’m on the couch by now.”

“you have to actually date someone before you can be sent to the couch,” alhaitham raises a brow, feeling the slightest bit of satisfaction as he watches kaveh’s features twist into anger, “but seeing as you have no love life—”

“well, i know why you’re on the couch,” kaveh interrupts, crossing his arms as he glares down the scribe.

now that—that catches alhaitham’s attention. why does kaveh know why you’re mad at him? why have you told kaveh and not him? and why hasn’t kaveh told him by now? how dare kaveh eat his food and sleep on the bed that could be his right now and keep this information from him?

“you do?” he blinks, staring at the blonde in bewilderment before scowling, “so then tell me, why have i been sent—”

“that’s for you to figure out, and him to keep to himself,” you interrupt, making both heads turn to you as you enter the kitchen.

and truthfully, as pathetic as it might be, alhaitham is slightly relieved you’ve spoken to him after days for the first time—even if it’s not exactly the words he hopes to hear. he eyes you as you walk into the kitchen, watches as you pull out two mugs and walk to the coffee machine. and then he pauses—why do you need two mugs?

“kaveh,” you say a little too sweetly, “would you like a cup of coffee?”

almost like he knows—and alhaitham is sure he does because of the amused glance he spares—kaveh nods with an appreciative smile.

“i would love one,” kaveh grins, and alhaitham glares daggers at his roommate, tightening his grip on his own coffee mug.

“okay,” alhaitham sets down his drink, staring intensely at the back of your head as you pretend not to hear him, “what’s got you mad? it’s been days, and it’s very counterproductive to avoid the—”

“you’ll have to figure that one out on your own,” you say coldly, “you should know what you’ve done wrong. i’m not spelling it out for you.”

“you should be quite a spelling expert with how long you keep that nose buried in books,” kaveh adds, and there’s enough mirth lacing his tone that it takes alhaitham everything from splashing his (awful) coffee at his roommate’s face.

“perhaps you’ll find value in reading some romantic novels here and there,” alhaitham shoots back, “since that’s your only experience with romance anyway.”

“maybe you can take your own advice,” you huff, “you need some romance pointers yourself.”

at that, kaveh snickers and alhaitham turns to look at you with slight betrayal in his features, watching as you slide what he’s sure is a delicious and not bitter mug of freshly brewed coffee to the blonde. you’re not supposed to side with kaveh—and you’re certainly not supposed to make kaveh coffee in the mornings, yet here you are, doing everything in your power to remind alhaitham that you’re still angry. it’s been days, and he’s is still as clueless today as he was the first day, still just as confused with what it is exactly he’s done to upset you this thoroughly.

and then, like the gods have blessed him through a certain big mouth, he hears kaveh’s loud voice, “you could certainly take a few notes how not to forget about dates—”

oh. right. he was supposed to take you for a date—the first date since he’s become acting grand sage, the first date since his schedule’s effectively become a lot less flexible and a lot more difficult to squeeze in a moment with you outside of collapsing in bed beside you after a long day. alhaitham watches as you shoot a sharp look at kaveh, shutting him up with just one look as he rubs the back of his neck.

“kaveh,” you hiss, cutting him off and glaring at him as he shoots you an apologetic look once he realizes he’s accidentally spoken too much. but it’s too late—alhaitham seems to blink in realization, slowly rising to walk over to you across the kitchen.

“so that’s why you’re mad,” he mumbles, “i didn’t mean to forget our date. i’ll take you on one tonight,” he says, making you raise a brow unimpressed.

“and?” you press, making alhaitham’s brows furrow.

“and…i won’t forget again,” he nods slowly, as if sure of himself and his ability to finally fix the situation.

you, however, only scoff, rolling your eyes before shoving past him, making him blink in surprise as you hiss, “you can stay on the couch in that case.”

“but—”

“you’re supposed to say i’m sorry, genius,” kaveh calls from the side, and only because alhaitham doesn’t want to sleep on the couch anymore (and definitely not because he realizes kaveh is right), he grabs your wrist and pulls you against his chest.

“i’m sorry,” he says—and it’s awkward, it’s a little stiff and almost sounds forced, but it’s gentle all the same and sincere as he presses a kiss against your forehead. and much to your dismay, you can’t stay mad no matter how hard you try—because it’s alhaitham, and he’s difficult and in a world of his own, but he’s your alhaitham, somehow lovable under all that irritating know-it-all attitude of his. “i won’t forget again. i guess being acting grand sage takes its toll even on me.”

“you better not,” you grumble, letting him wrap his arms around your waist, reluctantly letting yours snake around his neck. “it won’t be the couch next time if you do—i’ll make you sleep outside.”

“honestly, it’s what he deserves for taking my keys—” and after days of tolerating kaveh’s amusement at his expense, alhaitham thinks it’s sufficiently satisfying watching his roommate go silent after the harsh look you send him over your shoulder, quickly leaving the kitchen with an excuse to finish work mumbled under his breath.

“can’t we send him outside instead?” alhaitham mumbles, burying his face into your neck.

you only hum, threading your fingers through his hair and pressing a soft kiss to the side of his head, “if anything, i should send both of you.”

thank you miss bub my luv for reading over this and helping me figure out this mediocre idea of mine jfjdfs

© hanmas do not plagiarize, repost, translate to other sites, or recommend on platforms outside tumblr such as tik

[jamil-s-wifey]

If you're taking any scenario request. Maybe could I request funny/silly one where Leona and his S/O are married and live in the Royal Palace. Leona's S/O has gotten lost somehow in their own home and when found their response is "This place is too damn big I'm sorry!"

You have NO idea how much I love these types of fics! Wholesome crackheadedness at its finest✨ We love a spouse with 0 orientation skills. (I'd know, I get lost in supermarkets) This was ONE OF THE FUNNIEST THINGS I've EVER written. I hope you enjoy!

"What the actual fuck."

A turn here. A turn there.

Oh, would you look at that - the exact same vase you passed 5 minutes ago. But was that really the same vase? Or was it its evil twin, trying to further confuse you, only for you to get lost even more and die of starvation, eventually BECOMING ONE WITH THE PALACE...

God, whoever built this palace should have their head on a stake. Haha, that sounded a lot like the Red Queen of Hearts. Perhaps Riddle was rubbing off on you. You two did text occasionally since graduating from NRC.

Speaking of graduation, you married Leona. (yay!) And it's not like you weren't happy. Life was relatively peaceful. You two moved back to the palace. Arrangements had begun for you two to take over a certain part of Sunset Savannah, as something akin to a *Peerage. (They had their own name for it, you are currently far too annoyed to remember.) A lot of (semi-forced) communication set the road to reconciliation between the two brothers. (Admittedly a very long road. A road that puts Gulliver's travels to shame.) The Royal Family™️ accepted you with open hearts. (albeit a tad wary at first)

Really there was only one major problem.

The ROYAL PALACE IS LIKE A GODDAMN LABYRINTH. And that's rich, given your history of painting the white roses with Ace and Deuce in Heartsabyul's maze. So here you are, lost.

Scratch that.

Lost: again.

And all you wanted to do was find Cheka's room. You had a gift for the little cub.

"An architectural masterpiece, my ass. This is an architectural disaster. A disaster with a capital D. D for Vitamin D - what I won't be getting, because I'm trapped within these walls, where the SUN CAN'T REACH ME-"

Okay. Calm down. It's not that bad, sure there isn't a soul in sight, but you're bound to stumble upon somebody at some point, right? There had to be servants, or guards, or somebody! UNLESS! This is all an elaborate plan to get rid of you.

Aha! That must be it. The Royal Family wants you dead and they intend to make it seem like an accident! But Leona wouldn't allow that, right? He loves you! Dearly! You're his spouse, his one and only! Ah, cruel fate.

Is it just you...or are these walls moving in on each other. So this IS an assassination attempt! And you presented yourself on a silver platter. Good job, s/o. Splendid work. A royal for a few months and you're already about to be assassinated. Your name shall remain the book of "Dumbest ways to die." Goodbye cruel world-

"S/o."

Leona's voice rang through the empty hallway, "What are you doing out here."

Ah! And so tragedy was avoided once more!

"Leona, my LOVE! Thank God."

"Did you just- get lost in the palace... again?", his eyes read annoyance but his tone was teasing.

"It's not MY fault this place is so damn big, what do you need all this space for anyways? Indoor badminton? Hide and Seek or Die?"

"Definitely that last one. That's how we get rid of our enemies."

"AHA! I knew it! So this IS an assassination attempt!"

He simply rolled his eyes, pulling you towards him to wrap an arm around your waist and kiss you on the forehead.

"This isn't an assassination attempt. You did this yourself. It's called idiocy."

"You should build a better palace."

"What I should do is put a collar on you. With a tracking device on it. Like a pet."

"Oh, Leona~ Who knew you were into that~"

"Next time I'm leaving you here to rot."

"Then I'll haunt you to Hell and back."

He smirked, pinching your cheek as you were both making your way far from the cursed looping corridor.

"At least you won't be able to get lost."

"I told you, it's not my fault."

"Nah, of course not. The Palace is just cursed."

"EVIDENTLY."

You both knew this isn't the last time you'll be getting lost. And Leona was seriously considering the tracking device.

Perhaps he'd already ordered it too.

You were about to find out.

*Peerage - collective noun for titles like Duke, Duchess, Count, Earl etc. Comes from "Peers of the Realm" where one could hold one or more of these titles. It differs from monarchy to monarchy. THAT'S YOUR WORD FOR THE DAY FOLKS!

[sensei-venus]

don't get me wrong i love robby's tiny baby girl but the idea of robby's gf having a big fat 10lb baby and being so big during the pregnancy and robby constantly apologizing to her because he feels bad because he "did this to her"

and she's just so cute about it like "stop no, this isn't ur fault babe"

and when their baby girl is born she's just so big and chubby cheeked and sweet and uncle miggy teases robby because he did that, good for you man, kind of thing

The news of Reader being pregnant was a huge surprise to everyone, even Reader and Robby. For Robby he is already feeling bad about even getting her pregnant. Not that he is upset about her having the baby, just at himself for getting her knocked up.

They both talked about having kids before but it was always lukewarm. Both had issues with their childhood and needed to work those problems out first before even thinking about having kids.

But here they are having to speed run now that they where pregnant.

But that by no means makes Robby not love his baby, and later known to be baby girl.

Robby fully admits to not knowing jack squat about baby's and pregnancy in general. He buys a book or two from the store and even lends one from Miguel. He reads them a lot, more then you would think he would. He starts to get a little nervous when he reads about the pregnancy growth stuff. It isn't like he really cares to much about Reader's body changing. He loves her at any weight, hes more worried about her health and comfortable.

His mom assures him that he was a pretty small baby and she hardly had any issues during her pregnancy with him. Her bump was really tiny. Besides the normal aches and pains of a regular pregnancy she was fine. Johnny sticks up for her saying he barley could tell she was pregnant even by the end. In some weird way he feels a little better after hearing that. Thinking maybe his poor pregnant wife wouldn't end up being to uncomfortable.

With in months of the first few appointments with the ob Reader is showing, big time.

Her belly is round and heavy, pushing her poor shirts out of the way no matter how many she trys on. She has to go out almost every month to get a new set of meturity shirts and pants. There is just no way she is fitting into any of her old stuff, even if she had just bought it a few weeks ago.

She is so uterly in love with her bump though. Cant keep her hands off her belly no matter how much she try’s. Always trying to hold and cradel it even when she doesn’t exactly have to. She’s all smiles and laughs during the pregnancy.

While Robby is just holding her and saying how sorry he is that he made her GET this way. But she cant care less about that. She just laughs at his constant comments and tells him that she loves her bump and their baby.

When she finally gives birth, she’s not surprised when the nurse hands her their baby and is told in a very happy voice “You have a healthy 10 pound 3 oz baby girl!” Which as Reader crying. She’s perfect in every way possible.

Robby is in love from the moment he catches a glimpse of her tiny chubby cheeks, wrapped up in a perfect blanket.

But of course the minute Miguel sees the little girl he's poking a little fun at the guy.

“This is your uncle Miguel, your going to be seeing a lot of him now that your out.” Robby whispers as he hands off the girl to a waiting Miguel. Miguel makes a tease when holding the girl, acting like she weighs a ton. Robby is rolling his eyes and Miguel shoulder bumps his side. He chuckles and bounces the bundle holding the new Keene girl. He says in a low voice “Wow look at her man! She's adorable dude. I can't believe you finally did it, you have a baby now.” Robby can't help but let a small smile slip into his lips. Looking down at his daughter in Miguel’s arm.

“Yeah well I can't believe it either, but I already love her so much.”

I actually really like this idea, I don't know why I made this so short. If anyone has any more ideas To go along with this please leave them in my inbox because I would love to make something a little longer with this idea in mind.

[melodyartist-blog]

I started reading House of Odysseus by Claire North again, which I had dropped a long time ago, since the characters where really annoying and the way it was written bothered me too much, maybe it's the adaptation's fault idk, but you really have to turn off your brain to make it even minimally enjoyable... that's not even true !Because they still find a way to make me hate everyone, there is a big ass problem if I find Antinous less annoying than Helen and she is one of the "protagonists"

I gave it the benefit of the doubt several times but it's really not my cup of tea 😭(I'm halfway through it though...). But I must say that since I'm very biased I wanted to try and draw Menelaus from the book, based on the awful descriptions, that are not even coherent since in the first chapter he is described in such a way that he looks like a Minecraft character with big ass hands and in 10 chapters later he is described having a thin neck, so I took on some creative liberties

We are not gonna talk about the blacksmith comment... And the whole paragraph beneath that is all about his hands and piercing gaze

What can I say... there are parts where I like him for how he is portrayed but it's like 10% of the time. He's loud, arrogant, mean, hot headed and he is trying too hard to get Penelope's favour, a red flag who walks on legs that are thick as logs...sigh I guessed that's fine...

But there are scenes that he is in that have a nice comedic effect especially when he is serious... I think that those are not meant to be funny so that's an other issue

[fen-luciel]

Jealousy part 2

Part 1 here part 3 here

Warnings: age gap/toxic behavior

Vernestra-Padawan reader/jedi Qimir

I lied. Or rather, I had some ideas while I was writing, so instead of three parts, there will probably be four. Nothing is certain, but... you have been warned.

Leave a comment and share if you are enjoying the story.

I can't say exactly when things started to change. Maybe they were never normal from the beginning, but I was too distracted to see it, blinded by this lie that I childishly told myself.

The more comfortable I felt with Qimir, the worse his relationship with Vernestra became, to the point where in the naivety of my young age, I thought it was my fault, but in truth, I couldn't even see the problem.

I had learned to recognize my master's moods very early on. I understood before even talking to her if she was nervous because of some diplomatic mission or worse. Sometimes I was left to myself for entire days, i knew her missions were very important and that I would only slow her down, but all I could do was read and train with other padawans and read again and... do nothing.

So, while I daydreamed about the magnificent future missions with my master... I spent time with Qimir.

Of course, he was busy too, but I eagerly awaited his return each time. He would tell me what he did, who he met on his travels, the fights to the last breath, and, he was good at narrating them. He often came to see me in the library, where he would put on a silent show due to the librarian's constant admonishments, using books as pieces of the story and his lightsaber to represent himself. I laughed so much that my cheeks hurt, I used my hands to muffle the louder sounds, and Qimir seemed to love every moment of it. Sometimes, I wondered if he didn't deliberately behave insanely on missions just to tell me about it when we would meet.

The months passed quickly. After about a year as a padawan, I began to distinguish between what I was good at and what I was terrible at. For example, I was great at controlling the Force, but terrible at using the sword. Not because I wasn't good from a technical standpoint, but more for a mental reason, the idea of hurting someone paralyzed me. I wanted to be a Jedi who protected the weak, but I had missed the part where, if you're protecting them, it's because someone is hurting them, someone who probably should be stopped even with the use of force.

Worse still, I was terrified of my master's weapon, the whip seemed so unpredictable to control, yet she used it with deadly precision and wanted me to try it too. She believed my fear was natural for a young mind, that I just needed to unlock myself, but for me, it wasn't like that.

And it got worse when I sought comfort in Qimir.

Maybe, in hindsight, I should have realized something, but it's easy to talk when the worst has already happened. I remember very well what happened that evening, I was exhausted after all the sword training. Vernestra didn't seem particularly happy with my outburst a few hours earlier when I tried to say that maybe I wasn't suited to be a knight, that I could have pushed myself into the medical field or even just be an assistant, maybe a volunteer in war zones. She thought I was speaking without knowing anything, pushing me all afternoon to train in various forms. My hands hurt from calluses, but instead of running to the infirmary, I decided to knock on Qimir's room.

"I don't understand why she doesn't want to accept it. I... don't want to hurt anyone." I broke the tense silence that had formed while Qimir wrapped my fingers with the bandages he had in the bathroom.

"No one said you have to. You're a Jedi, our job is to fight for those in need." He was focused on looking at my fingers, so he didn't notice the grimace I gave him, "And I understand that. But I don't feel suited for that role. Many Jedi perform different duties, fighting isn't essential for everyone." He sighed a laugh.

"I think Vernestra is worried about your safety, it's okay to seek your vocation elsewhere, but our faith leads us to interact with dangerous environments, even the most peaceful mission could hide a terrible evil." He finished the bandaging, then gently took my hands in his, the warmth of his palms a pleasant consolation to the painful throbbing of the blisters that filled my fingers.

He looked at me again with a sad smile on his lips, "I understand that you feel sure of what you want. But, flower, you're still a child. And you have many years ahead of you before you face the final exam, you don't know what will happen or if you will change your mind, don't take what you feel for granted." I blushed foolishly at the nickname he had started calling me some time ago, something about how "I seemed delicate like a flower".

"I know, but... don't you think lightsabers are terrifying?" I stuttered uncertainly, looking into his eyes.

And that moment. That single instant when he gave me that sweet smile, I shivered.

"That's what makes them so beautiful, right?"

I didn't have an answer, maybe yes, but I wouldn't have had the courage to tell him at the moment. I only know that I swallowed a bitter bite and freed myself from his grip, a heavy breath escaping my mouth, "I have to go, thanks for the bandages," I got up quickly and fled from that room as if I had someone on my heels.

That shiver down my spine, that rancid smell at my nose, I couldn't imagine it at the time, but that was the first time I felt fear.

Of course, I blamed myself entirely, I was exaggerating, everyone said so, I was terrified of violence in a way not suitable for the role I was supposed to fill in the future, I should have recovered quickly and restarted my training. I tried to forget that evening, as I had gradually forgotten that conversation on Hoth, but that was just the beginning.

The missions with Qimir keeping us company decreased over time, sometimes he just stopped by for a greeting or joined us more to keep me company if he had a free moment. I really appreciated the time together, I liked that we could remain silent without making it seem strange, once on Naboo he showed me almost the whole city since he had already visited it before. We got ice cream overlooking a lake in complete silence, the sunset was spectacular, and with the light sounds of the forest accompanying us, I fell asleep with my face pressed against his side.

The next morning, I found myself in my room with his cloak as a blanket since I was still dressed. When I tried to return it, he teased me, saying I had slipped on the ground when I pressed against him. I yelled at him that he was rude to tell me that, but only because I didn't have the courage to admit that I found it hilarious. If I had given him rope, he would have teased me about it for months.

When I was finally old enough to accompany the master on some of her more dangerous missions, my opinion on weapons had not changed, but I had made peace with myself and decided to find my combat style.

I was proud of how I built my lightsaber, but I had to modify it when I implemented the double-sided exit to have a double-bladed saber. It made me feel safer using it, more protected, and it was a more versatile weapon, especially for more enemies. So, once I got used to using it combined with a defensive fighting style, I finally felt complete.

On the field, I rarely used the lightsaber, trusting more in my control of the Force to block my opponents and stun them. I knew Vernestra was not entirely happy with how I restrained myself, but I tried to excel in everything else, hoping it was enough.

On a return trip to Coruscant, both wounded and tired, we talked once again about the problem that had arisen when it was needed.

What was supposed to be a quiet afternoon defending senators had turned into a nightmare when a bomb exploded at the meeting place, civilians fleeing in terror, and only a Jedi and a padawan handling the dozen terrorists shooting at the crowd.

The situation obviously got out of hand, and we survived by a miracle. Before calling the council to let them know what had happened, seeing me still so shaken, Vernestra hugged me.

I clung to her robe, barely holding back tears, the memory of all the wounded passing under my eyes still fresh, but she grabbed my shoulders, and looking at me with a determined face, she said, "You did well. I am proud of you."

A few minutes later, when we could finally sit down, I had the courage to speak.

"I killed them. It was so..." I was looking at the blue of hyperspace around us, lost in my thoughts, I don't know if I was talking more to myself or to her.

"You did what was necessary. On other occasions, we could have captured them, but we were at a disadvantage. Sometimes, to save lives, you have to make drastic choices," her tone always confident, as if it were all normal, and technically it was, for her.

I no longer knew what I was doing at that point.

"I know, but... my hands..." were shaking. They shaking even then, in the peace of our shuttle. I held onto the armrests tightly as if I were afraid of falling.

"Maybe Qimir is right."

I turned suddenly, confused, hearing his name mentioned out of nowhere. She sighed before looking at me again, "He thinks it would do you good to train with him a bit. He has been suggesting it to me for a while..." she cleared her throat before looking away.

"Maybe dealing with a more aggressive combat style like his would help you unlock. I know you two have become friends, and... he is much better than me at making you feel comfortable. He might be more helpful than I am."

I was taken aback, more by the fact that Qimir had suggested something like that without letting me know anything. It gave me a strange, somewhat unpleasant feeling that I couldn't quite identify.

But still, my problems at the moment were different, so I nodded. I already felt guilty enough for hesitating in the face of danger. Despite the comforting words, I couldn't shake off the feeling that I had failed.

“Just… be careful, okay?”

The look he gave me is one I would never forget. That… knowing glint deep in his eyes, like a warning bell. But I ignored it.

I nodded, but I ignored it.

When we got home, she headed towards the council room to submit her report. She advised me to go rest since it was already evening, but after saying goodbye to her, I quickly walked down the Jedi corridor. I had been injured and was limping slightly, the next day, I could get myself healed quickly by a healer using the Force, but at that moment, it was a different kind of pain tormenting me.

I knocked hard on Qimir's door without even thinking about it, two, three times before I heard some commotion on the other side, bare footsteps approaching the door before it opened.

“I hope you have a good reason for knocking on my door at this hour—” he mumbled sleepily, his hair messy and wearing only a pair of sweatpants. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, confused, when I jumped into his arms.

My face pressed against his warm chest, and the tears I had been holding back until then started to fall relentlessly, accompanied by a few sobs.

He woke up suddenly, understanding what was happening. He effortlessly picked me up before entering the room and shutting the door behind him. “Hey, hey, my sweet flower, what's wrong?” he whispered in my ear, now fully awake.

I hid my face in his neck while he hugged me tightly, my legs hanging down the sides of his hips, my tears wetting the skin of his chest as I tried to stammer out coherent words.

I had never felt so small until that night, hidden in his arms. Although his cheerful personality made him seem childish at times, I tended to forget that we were a little over ten years apart, we didn’t really share anything except our loyalty to the Order and the same master, but we weren’t the same age, and we didn’t even have similar hobbies. We… he treated me like a little sister with absent parents.

I had run off to seek the safest comfort I knew, and he had given it to me without a second's protest.

He listened to my tear-flavored words without saying anything, his fingers brushing through my hair, partly caressing my scalp. He held me against his chest tighter when my sobs were too much to utter even a single syllable. He didn’t say anything when I was done, had me take off my shoes and most of my dirty tunic, and then lay down in bed with me.

I was pressed between the wall and his warm body, one arm on my side, and the covers wrapped around me like a cocoon.

The next day, still comfortably pressed against his chest, I took a moment to sort out my thoughts. I was ashamed of having lost my composure like that, i shouldn’t have fallen victim to fear, so I slipped away at dawn to avoid facing him. We never talked about what happened, I didn’t have much to say anyway and went back to focusing on my studies.

A few days later, Vernestra came to tell me she would be away to resolve the conflict that had arisen after that attack and that I was entrusted to Qimir as she had mentioned. I had already forgotten about that story, but it all came flooding back when we said goodbye on the platform. Her hesitant look as she stopped halfway up the ramp. I saw her sigh, maintaining a stoic expression before coming back to me one last time. “Trust your instincts, Padawan. If something makes you uncomfortable or… you just leave, got it? You’re still too young for certain matters.”

I didn’t have time to ask her what she was referring to, she boarded the ship right after and left, leaving me there with questions on the tip of my tongue.

Qimir sought me out soon after. I was hiding in the library every afternoon, hoping not to run into him and avoid training, but of course, it didn’t last long. With his usual light smile and calm demeanor, he approached me one morning, “Are you perhaps skipping your training, Padawan?” he asked, mimicking an authoritative tone.

I couldn’t even laugh. In the end, I gave in. I had promised my master, and the fear I felt that afternoon still gave me nightmares, so I followed him into the training room.

Fighting Qimir was like facing a hurricane, seemingly chaotic but, in reality, a perfectly concentrated deadly force of nature. I was used to exhausting rhythms, so I didn’t find it difficult, but what destabilized me was his gaze. It seemed like he really wanted to kill me.

Fast and lethal with his double violet lightsabers, he often aimed at my legs to make me fall and gain an advantage over me. I squirmed uneasily under that assault, of course, that was the goal of that training, but… there was a cold wind behind him. A suffocating sensation, a chill on my skin that made me doubt who or what I was facing.

Vernestra was away for just under a month, during which I trained with Qimir when I wasn’t studying. One of the last training sessions was grueling. I began to doubt he wanted to take it easy on me from the beginning, we clashed forcefully -with our lightsabers- because “it’s needed to keep you sharp ” as if the strikes he aimed at me weren’t enough to keep me alert.

A particularly painful strike to the thigh made me fall heavily to the ground, the fabric of my robe smoking from the slash. When I looked up at him, now disarmed, I almost vomited. Those eyes… now I could recognize them. The eyes of a killer. The same as those men that afternoon weeks before who had charged into the crowd.

I fled the room, took a shower, and went to bed without dinner. I was sure I was going insane. I was tired and nervous and seeing things that weren’t there. I tried to shake off that voice in my head that screamed at me to be careful with Qimir, the guilt clashing with the fear. I tried to bury it all once again, deeper and further away.

And so my routine returned to normal once everything was back to how it was before, and the master had returned, although… I had started to avoid Qimir. It wasn’t that I was running away from him, it was more like a need for personal space, let’s say. Luckily, he was sent on a mission, but he wrote to me almost every evening with messages about his goals, to which I replied with monosyllables. He realized something was wrong, but when he asked me how I was or if something had happened, I dodged the question.

During a mission in the Outer Rim, I was able to indirectly spy on a call between Vernestra and Qimir. She was scolding him for some unspecified decision, but it was the final warning that made me waver. “You’re losing your composure lately. Leave the mission and return to Coruscant to meditate on your choices.” My breath stopped when I heard him shouting through the holopad. I couldn’t quite make out the words, but he was complaining about the poor results of the missions or something like that. I swallowed down that memory too. It had been an outburst due to a tense situation, it could happen. I had to stop thinking about it.

Shared missions completely disappeared. Qimir and I only saw each other to spend time together. One evening, he took me to dinner in a somewhat shabby place with the promise that I could bring my fellow Padawans there when we were older. The light conversation at the table was pleasant before silence surrounded us.

“I’m sorry we see each other less lately,” he finally sighed after dessert.

I shrugged, relaxed. “Well, we have our duties. And I need to keep studying.” I thought I had given a satisfactory answer, but he looked more frowned than before. “It’s unfair. I want a Padawan too.”

I chuckled at the thought. “I think you need a few more years for that.” But he didn’t laugh, instead, he… stared at me in a way I couldn’t decipher. “Why do you say that? You’re growing well.”

I frowned at the answer. “Qimir, I’m Vernestra’s Padawan. No offense, but it’s she who’s raising me,” I maintained a smile that he didn’t share. “You spend more time with me than with her.”

I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. I wanted to tell him that it was normal since we were friends, but that had little to do with the conversation we had started. To tell him that, as good as he was, he still struggled to act like a real authoritative figure suitable for a young boy who needs to learn the Jedi way, but… of course, I said nothing.

I didn’t feel like it. That conversation died just as it had begun.

It seemed that as time went by, that cheerful air around him faded. Maybe it was the maturity I was gaining that woke me up from that waking dream I was living. I recognized certain expressions or glances better, those smiles that once warmed my heart now had a bitter aftertaste. I began to wonder if something had been wrong from the start. Sometimes those strange warnings from Vernestra or those fragments of memories where I had seen him in a different light, more sinister, would come back to me.

So, I made a decision.

It was better to put some distance between the two of us, maybe growing up, I would be able to face him better, understand what was going through his head, and once matured, I would be able to help him as he helped me.

I don’t know if that decision was the straw that broke the camel’s back, if it was something inevitable that had already begun, or if there was no escape. Looking back at everything that happened, the mistakes had started much earlier, but how much blame did I truly deserve?

I was young, naive, it wasn’t my job to see beyond the veil of lies, beyond the Jedi, beyond the Force.

I wouldn’t have been able to recognize the dark side under those circumstances.

And in fact, I didn’t recognize it until it was too late.

And there it was, right in front of me, taking my breath away.

[yuukiiqwq]

Dandelions: Sukuna Ryomen x Reader

His heart beats only for you while yours beats for someone else, so he made a wish on a dandelion, hoping it would come true.

Context/Warnings: Fem!Reader, Soft!Sukuna, swearing, unrequited love, flower language, a bit suggestive

Wc: 2.7k

Part 2

It's not like he wanted to fall in love with you. It was actually your fault. You weaseled your way into his life and then his heart. If only you had left him alone, then none of this would have happened. But you were too god damn stubborn to leave him alone. It was all your fault.

It was so stupid how he fell in love with you. Sukuna absolutely hated cliché stuff. And here he is going through the stereotypical cliché plot. He even told you how much he hated it. He remembers telling you how he rather die than read those stupid romance books you like to read. They were full of stupid plot with disgusting mushy feelings. Basically, it's the same thing in every story. He always felt like his ears were going to fall off listening to you talk about those stories. Recently, you started to read this one-shot called Dandelion. Something about a guy having unrequited feelings for a girl for years and the girl liking someone else.

Absolutely fucking ridiculous.

Sukuna remembers how he met you. It was a few years ago, back when they were still in school. He was minding his own business and then you fucking popped out of nowhere. He wouldn't tell you but you scared the shit out of him when you suddenly appeared.

"Yknow, smoking is bad for you."

He turned around to see you at the door smiling.

"Y'know, not minding your own fucking business is bad for you," he scoffed. "Get out of here. This is my spot."

You walked up to him and snatched the cigarette away. You tossed it onto the ground and put out the light.

"They can cause many health problems," you say as you crossed your arms. "And I don’t see your name anywhere on this rooftop."

He glared at you– "Listen here, you brat. What I do has absolutely nothing to do with you. So skip along to your friends and go bother them instead."

"What if you are my friend?" You said smugly. Your eyes were shining with mischief. "And since you said to go bother my friends, that's what I'm doing."

"You must think you're so fucking funny," he snarled at you.

You put your hands on your waist– "I am actually very funny."

He took a step towards you and towered over you. "Leave."

You looked up at him with a deadpan expression.

"No."

"Last warning. Leave."

"Make me."

News flash – He wasn’t able to get rid of you. He was unsuccessful no matter what he did.

You decided to bother him every single god damn day. Somehow, you always showed up at the rooftop whenever he was there. You just wouldn't leave him alone, so he decided to ditch the rooftop. To say he failed was something he didn’t want to admit. He didn't fail. He just decided to ignore you. But then you showed up in front of his classroom. You somehow found his classroom.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance and quickly tried to leave before you could catch up to him.

Mission escaping the brat– failed.

You were a fast little thing. You immediately caught up to him and were now walking side by side with him. This caused a lot of people in the hallway to stare at both of you. You two were an unexpected duo to see together.

"Sukunaaaaaaa"

Great. You even found out his name. Amazing. Whoever told you his information is dead. He's going to kill them.

"Sukuna, if you keep looking like that, you'll end up being super ugly. No wonder you don't have a girlfriend."

Sukuna turned around to face you– "You trying to pick a fucking figh–"

He wasn’t able to finish his sentence as you stuffed a mochi in his mouth. Where the fuck did that mochi come from?!

He quickly chewed the mochi and swallowed.

"Did you fu–"

"Was it good?" You quickly interrupted. "It's a new flavor that came out recently. A friend gave me some to try."

"I don't car–"

"It was a limited edition sale. My friend camped outside the shop for a whole day just to buy all the stocks."

You continued talking about it, and Sukuna wanted to just smack you. You were so annoying.

"I am going to smack you if you keep talking."

You immediately stopped talking and walking. You looked up at him and grinned mischievously.

"Wow, Sukuna. Didn't know you were kinky like that. It's ok, though! I like it rough, but take me out to dinner first. Bedroom activities can come later~"

This caused him to explode in anger. You were teasing him. He immediately stomped away from you. He could hear you laughing as you tried to catch up to him. Fuck. You were annoying as hell. Sassy and challenging him in every way.

Your eyes were gleaming with mischief. Did you have to say that? Now he wanted to put you in your place. Bend you over under him and–

Oh fuck. Now you implanted a curse in his head. Fucking minx.

After months of you constantly pestering him, he grew used to your presence. He started to enjoy it. Wait, no. He meant he was just tolerating you.

Yeah. That's right. He's just tolerating you.

"Sukuna! Stop!!!"

Sukuna immediately halted– "What's goin–"

"You almost stepped on some dandelions," you say as you knelt down to the floor.

Sukuna felt like he was going to pop a vein. He can't believe you stopped him for a weed. Can you let he walk to a restaurant in peace?! It was fucking Saturday. He should have never allowed you to follow him home back then.

"Are you fucking joking with me right now?" He looked down at you as you pluck the dandelion. "You stopped me for a fucking weed?"

"First of all, it's a flow–"

"It's a fucking weed."

"It's a flower!" You huffed. "And it's a wishing flower! You make a wish and then blow away the seeds!"

"Great, now you've gone crazy. Just the thing I need from you. As if you're not annoying enough."

"I have not gone crazy! People make wishes on dandelions!"

"And do you know if any of them got fulfilled?" He raised his eyebrow at you. "And I'm sure the people you talk of are kids."

"Well um–" You try to think of something to say as a comeback but come up with nothing.

He smiled smugly– "That's what I thought."

"That's not the point!" You quickly shoved a dandelion in front of his face.

"Get that weed away from my face. I'm starving for food, and you're stopping me for a weed."

"Geez, stop being a party pooper," you sulked. "Make a wish! Maybe it will come true and prove you wrong!"

"I am not going to do something so childish," he said as he pushed your hand away.

"I'll buy lunch!"

Sukuna stopped and thought about it for a second before saying– "And dinner."

If he was going to indulge in your childish antics and look like an idiot, he better get something out of it.

You reluctantly agreed, and he snatched the dandelion out of your hands. He made a wish and then blew the dandelion seeds away.

"There. Made my wish. Now I hope your wallet is ready."

"Whatever, you glutton! What did you wish for?"

"None of your fucking business brat."

The two of you spent a lot of time together. You eventually introduced Sukuna to your other friends. Which surprised Sukuna because at this point, with the amount of time you came and bothered him, he believed that your friends were imaginary.

A girl named Shoko Ieiri, who looks like she's sleep deprived. A guy named Suguru Geto, who, in his opinion, looks weird. Why is he smiling like that!? And finally, a guy named Satoru Gojo. He was the worst out of all your friends. He didn't do anything to him, but just looking at him makes Sukuna want to get rid of him. Cut him in half. Sukuna didn't understand exactly why until he looked at you, looking at him.

Although Sukuna personally knew nothing about love, he knew what he saw. He seen enough people do what they do when in love. He heard enough about the stupid love stories you like to read. He can see it in your eyes when you look at your friend. You liked him.

The way your eyes light up whenever he comes toward you. The way your cheeks start to turn red with a small blush. The way you nervously play with your hands. The smile you give whenever you're around him. A smile that can rival the sun. He felt a pain blossom in his chest as he clenched his fist. These are things he has never seen or gotten from you before.

He hated everything that was going on right now. He hated the way you would sneak glances at him when you think no one was looking. The way you lean into his touch. The way you looked at him with pure adoration and love.

He absolutely hated it.

It took a while for Sukuna to understand why he hated Gojo so much. Why just the sight of Gojo annoyed him. And it's all your fault.

He didn't even know when these feelings started. Was it when you guys first met and you stood your ground with him? Was it when you teased him? Was it when you kept bothering him? Was it when you guys would go out for lunch or dinner together? Was it when he took care of you when you were sick? Did he fall for your looks? Your personality? Was it because of the times you've spent together?

Fuck. He was pissed. Here he is, catching those disgusting mushy feelings for you. Something he sweared would have never happened, and he doesn’t even know how it even happened.

"Fucking hell," Sukuna sighs as he run his hand through his hair.

It should be fine, right? He'll just ignore this. Move on like he didn't realize he fell in love with you somewhere along this journey. These feelings won't last anyway. It will disappear soon. You liked someone else, too, so it should be easy to move on. Right?

Fucking wrong. He's never been more wrong in his life.

All of you have graduated and are now doing your own thing. You all meet up regularly to hang out. Although Sukuna made an effort to see you daily as much as possible–

Wait, no. Correction: He sees you daily because he knows you'll do something stupid if he wasn't watching over you. Nothing else, really.

It's not like Sukuna had trouble moving on. He's not dreaming about you daily. He doesn't want you. It's not like that at all. He obviously moved on from you while you still liked Gojo. No point in these feelings since they're a nuisance.

Deep down, even if he ignores it, he knows he still likes you. But it's not like you'll ever look his way like the way you look at Gojo. Unless an opportunity arrives and it just so happens to arrive. That opportunity came knocking at his door, and he isn't going to let it slip away.

After years watching you love someone else, now he is watching you get your heart broken by that same person. Honestly, he never understood why you fell in love with this guy. That guy was a child in a man's body. Like, who even drinks those sugary, coma-inducing drinks??

But here you are smiling through the pain. He saw small tears forming in your eyes before you quickly wiped them away and said there was dust in your eyes. Others may not notice it, but he does. He saw the hurt in your eyes when Gojo told them that he fell in love at first sight with someone.

Great. Now he wants to murder Gojo even more now for hurting you.

However, he can't help but feel happy? Relief? He doesn't know what he felt. He just knew that an opportunity was given. But he isn't going to be a shitty person and confess to you right when you got your heart broken. He'll wait until you heal. If you ever will. After all, he had already kept his feelings to himself for years. What's wrong with waiting a bit more?

He could make you happy. He would give it his god damn all to make you happy. He would never hurt you. He wouldn't make you cry. At least not cry in a sad way. You crying under him, though, is a different story–

He quickly shakes his head to get rid of that thought. He's getting distracted. You got him wrapped around your fingers, and you don't even know it. He couldn't help but sigh. He really is still in love with you.

He watches as you and Geto try to give Gojo advice on how to win over the person he likes.

"You're an idiot," he interrupted.

He stared at Gojo as he said it, but it was meant for you and himself, really. Both of you two are idiots. Both of you have unrequited love, like in those shitty stories you read. He really is living in the stupid cliché plot he hates. And it's all your fault.

A few months have passed since then. He knew you had mostly moved on. He can still see the hurt sometimes, but it's fading. He knew he should make a move soon. After all, if he doesn't, what if someone else approaches you? But he also knows that just because you moved on doesn't mean you'll see him as he sees you. So he's willing to wait for that day. The day you look at him the way he looks at you.

So here he is. Standing in front of a flower shop. Looking extremely out of place. If you told his past self that he fell in love with you and is now trying to pursue you, he can see his past self attempting murder. He really can't believe he's going to order flowers.

He took a few deep breaths and walked in.

The minute he walked in, a florist greets him– "Hello sir! How may we help you today?"

"Can you make me a boutique?"

"Of course, sir! What type of flowers would you like for the boutique?"

He wanted something to convey his feelings and message. He's done some research about flowers and their meaning. Many websites showed different things, but he eventually settled for one.

"I want..."

When he finally finished ordering the flowers, he went home. On his way back home, he noticed a dandelion.

"...it's a wishing flower! You make a wish and then blow away the seeds! ...People make wishes on dandelions!"

He stared at the dandelion for a few minutes before he clicked his tongue. He bent down and plucked it. He then made a wish and blew the seeds away. He didn't know why he did it. It's not like the dandelion would make his wish come true.

"Tsk. Can't believe I did this. It's fucking stupid."

You really made him a god damn softie so it's about fucking time you take responsibility.

A few days later, he asked you to meet him at your usual spot. A place that only the two of you knew. When he arrived with the boutique, you were already there. You were sitting on the bench, looking over the city.

He quietly stared at you for a while. You were so beautiful sitting there. If angels did exist, you'll be one of them. But then again, your personality was more like a devil. You cast a curse on his heart, and honestly, he didn't mind it. You can curse him for his entire lifetime as long as you accept him.

"Hey, brat. Look behind you."

When you heard the sound of his voice, you quickly turned around. You looked at him and smiled until you noticed the boutique in his hand. You gasped as your eyes widened.

Red chrysanthemum and astilbe. I love you and I will be waiting for you.