#their friendship needs more content period

[bnpd]

❛❛ the bed's getting cold and you're not here ❜❜

now playing : the heart wants what it wants by selena gomez ♫⋆.˚

SYNOPSIS: your boyfriend left to travel the world for a press tour that'll last months. the distance between you causes a rift. however much it hurts, you love him and you'll choose what your heart wants above all else. will you soon regret your decision?

DRABBLE WORD COUNT: 1.2k tags: angst pairing: jungkook x reader

author's note: not proofread, I wrote this after I saw this jungkook edit. i miss jungkook so bad </3

It’s been weeks since he left for his press tour. And the ache in your heart remains. 

Long periods of time where he’d leave you cold and wanting. Days gone without contacting one another. 

Every other week you’d schedule a video or voice call, and those 30 to 60 minutes would feel amazing. Until he’d get pulled away for a meeting, or a responsibility in his heavily packed schedule. 

He'd send you endless pictures and videos of his favorite sights, but it only stung more. Not being able to be there for him or experience these new sights with him. How could you? You had a life back home.

A life full of work and personal responsibilities. Maybe you could leave it behind for just a moment, but you had already gave up so much for him.

You had so much to lose while he had an inch. You lost so much in the process of it all.

Secrets about your relationship ruined your friendships. No one could know you were dating Jungkook, sneaking around created mistrust within your friendships.

You had to be cautious or else word would get around and suddenly everything would get blown out of proportion. The pinch of privacy would diminish in a heartbeat. 

You began to put him above your friends. How could you not? The way he made you feel was electrifying. It was him or no one. 

He didn’t treat you wrong, never disrespected you or made you feel less of who you were as a person. He completed you. But his work as an idol meant so much more to him. It consumed him and his time. 

You understood. You met him as someone who was dedicated to his craft. Somebody who spent day and night proving himself in a dance studio or a record booth. 

You sigh as you watch your call go to voicemail. Your throat tightens, and tears begin to blur your vision. 

You swallow the lump in your throat before setting your phone face down on the table. Too much of a coward to antagonize yourself over a possible message from him. 

He promised. And he broke it.

Lately, he’d been blowing you off. You knew how much this press tour meant to him. How much time and dedication he put into this. How content he would feel after finishing. How he needed this to feel more worthy of his role as a singer. 

This time it felt a little different. He’d always make it to your scheduled calls. He’d never miss a date or a detail. You were beyond worried. 

Some say it’s a weakness, staying, but it takes so much of you everyday. It’s a strength in itself, although some say it’s a weakness. Like today. 

Today, it feels like your heart pounds against your chest at the thought of him, yearning for him. 

Sometimes you weaken—sometimes days feel never ending and you find yourself wondering what the future holds. It’s during days like these where the ache feels too uncertain, and the unknown renders you helpless. 

It pains you to watch him all over your social media, smiling and content. While you curl up on his side of the shared bed on most nights, watching him from the other side of the world, waiting to even hear from him directly. 

You met him 7 years ago. You were working as a tattoo artist–still are–and he came in with his friend, looking for a sentimental tattoo—something that would stick with him. 

So, you drafted up some pieces for him based on what he shared with you. Shockingly, he only wanted a four letter word on his knuckles. You happily obliged. 

Then, he kept coming for more tattoos. And more, and more.

As a tattoo artist, sometimes you get close to a client. Especially when said client appreciates art, and an outside perspective on his thoughts through another artist's point of view. 

Then two years down, he asked you out. 

You should have known better than to involve yourself with a lifestyle like Jungkook’s. You had dealt with quite a few semi-popular clients throughout your years of working. But Jungkook? He was by far, the most special one.

The media had begun to speculate about your relationship, but Jungkook never made a comment on it and soon they forgot about it. Or they buried it under the rest of the endless theories. 

Soon though, things began to get a little hectic. With how fast BTS was rising to fame his time for you began to dwindle. 

You wish you were strong enough to leave and find better. But you don’t want to. Your heart is content in being where it is. With him. Where it belongs. 

Even as he takes it with him far away. 

You smile pitifully before blowing out your birthday candles. A pain in your chest explodes and it begins to invade your insides, suffocating you. It leaves you breathless and winded. It wounds you so strongly that you rub your chest in a futile attempt to ease the pain. 

It hurts more when you recall the last conversation you two had. Was he still upset?

“Baby…come on, don’t be like that.”

“Don’t be like what?” You frown, knowing he won’t see it, but the yearning in your chest makes you ache all over. 

“Like that.” You can hear the slight frustration in his tone and it almost makes you burst out in tears. You try your best to keep your composure. For his sake and yours.

“I’m not trying to be like anything,” you murmur, “I just miss you. It’s been several days where I haven't heard from you.” 

He sighs on the other end of the phone before speaking, “I miss you too, and I know. I’m sorry for that. But hearing you like this isn’t making it any easier for me.” 

You feel incredibly annoying. It hurts to miss him everyday.

Maybe expressing your feelings about it may not have helped. 

But in the end, you're just as hurt and sometimes the emotions bottled up come out unwarranted. “And you think it’s any easier for me?” 

Now you’re just peeved at his reaction. When you told him about the ache in your chest from his absence you didn’t mean to offend him. You simply wanted to find safety in his reassurance. 

So, you continue to push a little more, “Is it so wrong to miss my boyfriend? I’m sorry if my tone doesn’t sound like the happiest person in the world. I just miss you.”

“Well, I’m trying to have a conversation with you and you’re just bringing my mood down with all this shit.”

His rough tone laced in annoyance stuns you to silence. 

“Okay. Then, I’ll just take it somewhere else.”

“Wait–” You hang up the phone before the tears begin to fall freely. 

Truthfully you felt guilty after your conversation with Jungkook. After you cried out, you reflected and realized that his words held some truth. Would you have felt good if your partner called you and they sounded a bit dejected? Of course. 

So you texted him an apology, acknowledging his feelings and your mistakes. 

Unfortunately for you, he never replied. 

The next phone call never acknowledged the incident. But you did—countless times in your cage of a mind. 

Jungkook was, by no means, awful to you. Before he left on his press tour, he was the most amazing boyfriend. Which is why you give him some leeway.

He’s a busy man, an honest and loyal one. You trust him with your life. He’s worth the ache, you convince yourself. He’s worth the sleepless nights full of sadness and endless insecurities. A man like Jungkook is rare to come by. 

So, you’ll hold onto him until you can’t—until your arms ache and they physically can no longer withstand the strain. 

You’ll wait for him, for as long as you must. You just hope you’re still worth coming home to when he returns. Then, you hope tomorrow goes easier on your hopelessly devoted heart. 

NOTES: ngl might make a part 2 of jungkooks pov, using a JB song that fits this exact scenario. and I AM CURRENTLY ACTIVELY WORKING ON GOJO FIC, ITS LONG ASF !

feel more than welcome to submit a request <3 ᥫ᭡ join my tag list : join my girlypop disc: link ‹𝟹

©2025 bnpd. All rights reserved to the copyrights owner. Do not share, plagiarize, or translate.

[vibelladonna]

✑ 𝓈𝑜𝓊𝓁𝓂𝒶𝓉𝑒 𝜗𝜚 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒, 𝓈𝑜𝓁 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑔𝑒𝑜

𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: The TKATB men ache for you with an intensity that borders on obsession, while the men remain oblivious that you’ve been 'the one' until now.

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's intentions. 

I wanted to share something sweet for Valentine's Day—a little glimpse into love and longing to celebrate the occasion.

[ 𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ]

✑ 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒

For over two years and counting, Crowe has been haunted by the memory of your touch.

Crowe would never deny that he enjoys having you around. But if you don’t see him that way—if you never do—he’ll live with it. He’ll push it down, bury it deep, because losing you entirely is something he refuses to accept. If friendship is all you can offer, then he’ll take it, no matter how much it eats at him.  

After all, it was him that day. The day those bullies cornered you, their words sharp and cruel, their intentions worse. He was the one who stepped in without hesitation, who made it clear that they’d have to go through him first. He didn’t do it for gratitude or recognition. He did it because it was you.  

It’s always been about you.  

He doesn’t just want you in his life—he needs you there. He wants you around his friends, wants you to feel safe, to feel at home wherever he is. He wants to see you smile, wants to be the reason for it, even if you never look at him the way he looks at you. It doesn’t matter. Because Crowe loves everything about you.  

The way your laughter sounds—effortless, bright, like something he could get addicted to. The way you wsolkle your nose when you’re annoyed, the way your eyes soften when you talk about something you love. The way your presence alone makes everything feel a little less heavy.  

And it scares him. 

The way he aches for you. 

The way he yearns for more.  

But if being close to you means keeping his feelings locked away, then he’ll do it. He’ll endure it. He’ll hold himself back, bite his tongue, force himself to be content with whatever piece of you he’s allowed to have. Because even if it’s not everything he wants, at least it’s something. At least it’s you.

Crowe lets out a slow breath, stasolg at the pile of papers in front of him, but his mind is elsewhere.  

You’re sprawled across the floor, cross-legged among scattered documents, your back against a pile of pillows as you skim through a paper in your hands. The soft glow of the evening light filters through the curtains, casting a golden hue over you, making you look almost unreal. He should be focused—should be sorting through the paperwork like he said he would. Instead, all he can focus on is you.  

You—who insisted on helping despite him telling you he could handle it.  

You—who sits there with that small, content smile, completely unaware of how you consume him.  

“Crowe, you need to file these by date,” you murmur, tapping a few papers into a neat stack. “You’re making this more complicated than it needs to be.”  

He huffs, running a hand through his loose braid. “I never asked for help.”  

“You never ask for help, period,” you counter easily, throwing him a glance before looking back at the papers. “Besides, I don’t mind. This way, you won’t end up buried under a mess of your own making.”  

He watches as you shift, your knee bumping against his, and his whole body tenses. It’s nothing. Just a touch. But his mind lingers on it, the warmth spreading, sinking into his skin like ink on paper. He clenches his jaw, flipping through the stack in his hands without really reading anything.  

“Crowe?”  

Your voice snaps him back, and he blinks at you.  

“You okay?” you ask, tilting your head slightly.  

He exhales through his nose, forcing a smirk. “Yeah. Just wondering why you’re still here when you could be doing something better with your time.”  

You roll your eyes, shifting again—brushing against him again. “And miss watching you suffer through basic organization? Never.”  

He scoffs, shaking his head, but his grip on the papers tightens. It’s not fair. How easily you get under his skin, how effortlessly you settle into his space, into his life. He wonders if you even realize it—how much of him you consume, how much he aches for you in ways he has no right to.  

Crowe doesn’t know when it started, this need, this craving that’s carved itself into his ribs. But he knows it’s always been you. The realization sits heavy in his chest, like a secret too dangerous to let slip.  

His fingers twitch as he watches you. He wants to touch you, to reach out, to thread his fingers through your hair and trace the curve of your jaw. To pull you closer, to feel the warmth of you against him.  

But you’re his friend. Closest Friend.

And if that’s all you’ll ever be—if that’s all you can give—then he’ll endure it.  

Even if it kills him.

The silence between you stretches, filled only with the occasional rustle of paper and the rhythmic tick of the clock on the wall. Crowe exhales, a slow and controlled breath, as if that alone will steady the wildfire spreading in his chest. It doesn’t.  

You’re still here, still close enough that he can feel the faint heat radiating off your skin, and he can’t focus—not on the papers, not on anything other than the phantom sensation of your touch line side on his jaw. His resolve is slipping, unraveling thread by thread, and it’s all your fault.  

He tells himself to let it go. 

To push it down, bury it deep where it belongs.  

But then you shift, stretching your arms above your head with a quiet sigh, before letting yourself fall back against the pillows behind you. “I think we deserve a break,” you say, staring up at the ceiling. “Your filing system is a disaster, by the way.”  

Crowe lets out a breathy chuckle. “I don’t have a system.”  

“Exactly.”  

You turn your head to look at him, that lazy, contented smile still playing on your lips, and something inside him caves.  

Without thinking, he moves, shifting onto his side until he’s lying next to you. The papers don’t matter. The mess on the floor doesn’t matter. Nothing does—except this moment.  

You don’t react, at least not in the way he expects. There’s no teasing remark, no raised brow questioning why he’s suddenly this close. Instead, you just glance at him as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.  

“I thought you didn’t take breaks,” you murmur.  

“Maybe you’re a bad influence.” His voice is quieter now, softer.  

You gsol, amused. “Maybe.”  

Crowe watches as your fingers absently play with the hem of your sleeve, and he wants to reach out. Wants to take your hand in his, wants to thread his fingers between yours just to see how it feels. The temptation is maddening.  

“Do you ever get tired of this?” he asks suddenly.  

You blink, tilting your head. “Tired of what?”  

His throat is dry. He swallows, pretending that the words aren’t sticking in his chest. “Of… being around me all the time.”  

It’s a stupid question. He doesn’t know why he asked it. Maybe he just needs reassurance—something to hold onto before he completely loses himself to this feeling that he refuses to name.  

Your expression softens. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.”  

The answer should be enough. It should satisfy him and quiet the restlessness inside him.  

It doesn’t.  

Because there’s something about the way you say it—so effortlessly, like it’s obvious. Like, it’s simple. And for you, maybe it is. Maybe you don’t see the weight behind it, the way your words settle into his bones, warm and suffocating all at once, like they were always meant to be there.  

Crowe barely has a second to react before you move—quick, decisive, and utterly reckless with his personal space. His body tenses, muscles coiled tight, but he doesn’t stop you. He doesn’t even try.  

One moment, you’re standing beside him, your usual teasing lilt laced in your voice. The next, he’s flat on his back, breath knocked from his lungs as you press him into the floor. His pulse jumps, sharp and immediate, but it has nothing to do with the impact.  

Your legs cage around his waist, your hands planted firmly against his chest, pinning him in place. And worst of all? You look amused. Like this isn’t something that should have him gripping at the last shreds of his self-control.  

His fingers twitch at his sides, aching to do something—grab your hips, push you off, pull you closer—but he forces himself to stay still. His chest rises and falls beneath your touch, each breath shallower than the last as his mind races to catch up with what the hell just happened.  

Crowe narrows his eyes, lips parting like he’s about to throw out some sharp remark, something cool and dismissive, to mask the way his body reacts to you. But when he meets your gaze—playful, expectant, entirely unbothered—his words die before they even form.  

And that’s when it hits him.  

You know. 

You know exactly what you’re doing. 

And worse? 

You’re enjoying this.

“What the—?!” He instinctively tries to push himself up, but you’re already pressing your palms into his shoulders, effectively trapping him.  

“Oh, relax,” you huff, gazing down at him. “You looked like you were spiraling. I had to do something before you started brooding so hard you set the house on fire.”  

Crowe glares. “I don’t brood.”  

“You totally brood.”  

“I don’t.”  

You raise a brow. “You’re literally doing it right now.”  

Crowe opens his mouth, then closes it, then just scowls. He hates that you might be right. He hates even more that you’re looking at him like this, all smug and unbothered, completely unaware of the absolute chaos you’re causing in his head.  

This is normal to you, isn’t it? Sitting on top of him like it’s no big deal, pinning him down like you aren’t single-handedly wrecking his sanity.  

Crowe groans, throwing his head back against the pillows. “You’re actually gonna kill me one day.”  

“You’re being dramatic.”  

“Oh, am I?” His voice is dry, but there’s a flicker of something else beneath it—something dangerously close to unsteady. His hands slide onto your hips, firm yet hesitant, like he’s caught between pushing you away and pulling you closer. His fingers press just enough to make you aware of his grip, of the fact that you could move away if you wanted to.  

Not that you would.  

“Because last I checked, you’re literally on top of me right now,” he continues, a sharp exhale leaving his lips, “and I’m pretty sure I’m experiencing cardiac arrest.”  

You snort, unfazed. “Please. If I wanted to kill you, I’d at least make it more interesting.”  

His deep blue eyes flick up to yours, something flickering behind them—amusement and frustration—but before he can bite back with some witty retort, you lean in closer.  

Your weight shifts slightly, pressing down in a way that makes his fingers tighten on your hips, his knuckles paling for just a second. The movement knocks a few strands of his long brown hair over his forehead, but he doesn’t dare lift a hand to fix it. Not when you’re this close.  

“Y’know…” Your voice is softer now, teasing, thoughtful, like you’re genuinely contemplating something. “You’re weirdly warm.”  

Crowe stiffens when your hands leave his shoulders, fingers trailing up the column of his neck, slow and deliberate. His pulse betrays him, hammering beneath your touch.  

Then your palms frame his jaw, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones, and he knows he’s done for.  

He swallows hard, his throat bobbing beneath your fingers. His breath stutters, his mind screaming at him to say something—anything—before you realizes the effect you have on him. But his mouth refuses to work, completely useless as you study him like you’ve just uncovered something interesting. 

Your grin barely has a second to register in Crowe’s mind before he moves.

With a swift, effortless motion, your world flips—air rushing past you as your back meets the ground, cool earth pressing against your skin. A startled gasp barely escapes your lips before you feel it—him.

Crowe’s body cages yours, his knees planted firmly between your legs, his hands pinning yours above your head. His long brown hair falls forward, strands grazing your face like a ghost of a touch, teasing and torturous all at once. His deep blue eyes lock onto yours; the corner of his lips twitches. “Not so funny now, is it?”  

Your breath catches, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of looking flustered. “Oh? Did I strike a nerve?”  

His grip on your wrists tightens—not painful, just commanding. Enough to remind you of the sudden shift in power between you.  

Then, without warning, he leans down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as his voice drops to something low, almost gravelly.

“You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”  

A shiver bolts down your spine, but you refuse to react, refuse to let him see how much his proximity affects you. Two can play this game.

“Oh, I know when to quit,” you whisper back, tilting your head ever so slightly, your lips just inches from his. “I just don’t want to.”  

And then it happens—so fast, so unexpected—you barely have time to process.  

Crowe’s lips crash against yours, hot and unrelenting, stealing the very breath from your lungs. It’s not slow, not gentle—it’s every bit as competitive as the both of you, as if he’s trying to prove something.  

Your fingers twitch in his grasp, the need to grab him, to pull him even closer overwhelming every thought in your head. But he keeps you pinned, controlling the moment, teasing you with the maddening way his lips move against yours.  

Then, just as quickly as he kissed you, he pulls back, hovering above you, his breath warm against your swollen lips. His expression is unreadable, but his eyes—oh, his eyes—they’re gleaming with something smug, something victorious.  

“Still think this is fun?”  

You blink, still reeling, heart hammering so hard it might burst out of your chest.  

And then, in the most infuriatingly casual voice, you breathe out, “...Kinda,”  

Crowe groans, head dropping to your shoulder as he mutters, “You’re actually going to kill me.” he mutters, barely audible.

And that’s the real problem, isn’t it?

✑ 𝓈𝑜𝓁

Sol says three months. Honestly, it’s like one week. Every moment of it, you’re there.

Understand that Sol has always been the quiet one, the guy who blends into the background until he doesn’t. He’s the type that hardly stands out, sitting at the back of the room, hidden behind his own little world. It’s easy for people to forget he’s even there, especially when he doesn’t really give them a reason to look. He’s cold, distant, and usually wrapped up in the space between the pages of a book or the strokes of a paintbrush. A lone figure in the corner, always studying, always creating, always alone.  

But then… you came along.  

He remembers the first time he saw you, your laugh like a melody that somehow cut through the haze of his own isolation. You didn’t ask him anything, didn’t try to crack his shell like everyone else did. You didn’t even seem to notice the way his eyes followed you, the way his heart skipped a beat every time you came near. Instead, you just *were*—existing in the same space, offering him something different: peace.  

And, slowly, things began to change.  

Sol became more aware of the way your smile lit up the room. The way your laughter stuck with him long after it had faded. He started paying attention to you in a way he never did anyone else. Your presence seemed to be magnetic, drawing him in like a force he couldn’t resist. And with every passing day, the intensity of his thoughts about you only grew. 

It wasn’t just your smile, though—no. It was the way you interacted with him. The way your eyes lingered on his work, the way you’d ask him about his day as if it mattered. And when you spoke to him, there was a warmth in your voice, an unspoken invitation to be more than the quiet kid at the back of the room. It made him feel something, something deep in his chest that he couldn’t quite explain.  

That’s when the obsession started.

Every time Sol closed his eyes, you were there. His mind wouldn’t let him rest, and no matter how hard he tried to push you away, you kept slipping in. You were there in the sketches he couldn’t stop drawing, the paintings that came to life in ways he didn’t intend. You were the muse behind every piece, every stroke, every line. He found himself lost in the idea of you, consumed by the thought of you.  

You had become his art. You were the subject that filled his pages, the image he couldn’t get enough of. The way you moved, the way you smiled, the way you lingered in his thoughts long after he’d seen you.

Every brushstroke he made in his art book brought you to life, even if just for a moment. He painted you in every way—your hands, your eyes, the soft curve of your smile—all the details that stayed with him, making his heart race and his hands tremble as he worked.

You were in every sketch. He couldn’t escape you, not even on paper. You had taken over his mind completely, and now, you were becoming a part of his creations. The more he drew you, the more real you felt. The more your presence seeped into his soul, until there was nothing else that mattered. 

And as he sat there, pencil in hand, gaze focused intently on the page in front of him, he found himself lost again. He wasn’t just sketching anymore. He was memorizing every little detail of you—every little thing he hadn’t quite captured yet, like the way your hair would fall when you tilted your head or the way your fingers would idly trace along the edges of the paper when you were distracted. It wasn’t just art now—it was obsession.

The thought of you lingered even as he set his pencil down, staring at the half-finished drawing of you, and he could hear your voice in his mind. A voice, soft and warm, saying, “I knew you could do it.”

And just like that, it didn’t matter how tired he was, how much he wanted to just collapse from exhaustion. The only thing that made his heart race now was the idea of you—you in his world. 

You in his art. And even though he couldn’t quite reach you yet, he was determined to make you his, on paper if nowhere else. 

Because of this feeling? 

This feeling of wanting you, craving you? 

He wasn’t sure he’d ever stop.

Sol likes to think of himself as someone who takes his time—someone slow and deliberate when it comes to relationships. He’s not the type to let someone in easily, to open up to someone so quickly. After all, he’s spent years building up a wall around his heart, carefully maintaining a distance to protect himself from the potential sting of rejection or loss. It’s worked for him. He’s always been cautious, weighing every connection with a cool, measured approach.

You, who had slipped past his defenses in ways he never expected. You, who made everything feel real. And despite his doubts—his constant questioning of whether this would last, whether you’d want to stick around—Sol found himself unable to ignore the way you made him feel. The way you looked at him, the way you cared so easily, so genuinely. He couldn't deny that he’d been falling for you for months now.

It had been three months since you’d entered his life, but it felt like a lifetime in all the best ways. You were always there—patient, kind, steady in a way that soothed the nervous parts of him that he’d hidden for so long. But still, he told himself it was too soon. He couldn’t be this vulnerable.  

Until that one moment.  

The words slipped out so casually, so innocently.  

“You’re so good at this; I’m so proud of you, Sol.”  

It felt like the ground beneath him had shifted. The world suddenly tilted off its axis. Those words—those words, coming from you—sent a shockwave through him, rattling something deep inside him he hadn’t realized was there. The way you said it, with such sincerity, the way your eyes held his, soft and full of admiration—it changed everything.

He tried to brush it off. He told himself it was nothing. He’d been complimented before, praised by others countless times. It was just a simple phrase. Nothing special.

But it was different. It was you.

You made it feel special. Your words were like a thread that wove into the very fabric of his being, pulling him closer to you, to this feeling that he couldn’t name but knew was consuming him.  

Now, nothing else felt as important. Those praises from others? They didn’t matter. They were just words, empty and shallow. They didn’t stir something in him the way your words did. 

He wanted more of it. He needed more of it.  

He had spent months convincing himself that he was just inspired by you—yeah, that was it. You were his muse, his favorite subject, the reason his sketchbooks were filled to the brim with your face. It wasn’t that deep.  

And then, one day, as he stood in his studio apartment, paint staining his fingers, a half-finished portrait of you staring back at him from the canvas, he realized something terrifying.  

He wasn’t just painting you. He was worshiping you.  

The way your lips curled when you teased him, the way your eyes softened when you looked at him like he was worth something—it was all captured in every brushstroke, every tiny detail. He wasn’t just an artist anymore. He was a man possessed.  

And before he could stop himself, he was standing in front of you.  

Before you could process what was happening, Sol was already moving. His strong hands found your waist, and in one swift motion, he pulled you into his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. The half-dried paint on his fingers smeared against your skin, marking you as his, but he didn’t seem to care.  

His grip was firm, almost possessive, keeping you locked in place as he gazed up at you, eyes dark and unreadable. His chest rose and fell heavily, the intensity in his expression making your breath hitch.  

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmured, voice rough, like he was holding himself back from something reckless. His fingers flexed against your hips, grounding himself—or maybe keeping you from getting away. 

Sol’s fingers dug into your waist, his grip firm but not enough to hurt—just enough to make sure you weren’t going anywhere. His chest rose and fell against yours, breaths uneven, like he was trying to hold himself back—Trying, but failing miserably.  

Your hands pressed into his shoulders instinctively, steadying yourself, but that only made it worse—made him want you closer, made him crave the feeling of you melting against him. His fingers flexed, sliding up your back, slow and deliberate, his warmth seeping through your clothes, leaving a burning trail in its wake.  

“Please,” he murmured, his voice rough, dangerously low, his lips hovering just beneath your ear. “Say it again.”

It wasn’t a request.  

You shivered, your heartbeat hammering, knowing exactly what you were doing when you leaned in just a little, your breath teasing against his skin, close enough that your lips nearly brushed his.  

“…You’re so good, Sol.” 

His breath hitched, a sharp inhale like your words had physically hit him. His jaw tensed, his fingers tightening their hold as if he was afraid that if he let go, you’d slip right through his grasp.  

And then—he broke.  

His mouth was on your throat in an instant, teeth grazing your skin before he bit down—not hard enough to bruise, but enough to make you gasp, enough to leave his mark. His other hand tangled into your hair, tilting your head just so, giving him more access, more you. 

A low, satisfied sound rumbled in his chest when he felt you shudder against him, your fingers clutching at his shirt. He soothed the bite with a slow, open-mouthed kiss, his lips lingering, savoring.  

“You drive me insane,” he murmured against your skin, his voice strained, almost helpless. His nose brushed along your jaw as he exhaled, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down your spine.  

His hands tightened around you, possessive, like he was trying to pull you into him, like having you in his lap wasn’t enough.  

“Again,” he whispered, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.  “Please.”

And this time, it wasn’t a plea. 

It was a demand.

✑ 𝑔𝑒𝑜

bro... honsety, it took QUITE SOME TIME FOR HIS ASS to even like you; he spent almost all that time starting at you.

Geo was never meant for this to happen. He didn’t plan on it, didn’t think it was even possible. He wasn’t the type to fall for people—let alone someone like you. 

His life had always been straightforward, filled with precision, discipline, and control. Best in archery with enough wealth to make people respect him without having to ask. That’s how things worked for him. No one dared to challenge him. No one dared to get too close. 

Except, somehow, you. 

You were Crowe's friend. It had started innocently enough—nothing more than tolerating your presence because Crowe trusted you and because you seemed to enjoy spending time with him. But the more time passed, the harder it was for Geo to ignore you. 

Your laughter, your smile, the way your eyes lit up when you spoke. It wasn’t anything spectacular—he tried to convince himself—but it was... enough to make him curious. 

He liked to think of it as curiosity. 

But the more he tried to convince himself of that, the more it became something else entirely. It wasn’t just curiosity, and it wasn’t just the way you seemed to blend seamlessly into his life, leaving an imprint without even trying. It was something deeper, something he couldn’t explain, something he didn’t want to acknowledge. 

It was the way you wore that soft lip with that shiny gloss. That was the first thing he noticed. You probably never realized how you applied it, but to Geo, it became the only thing he could focus on whenever you were nearby. How it caught the light, the way the gloss made your lips look fuller, more inviting. 

He hated how distracted he got by it, but he couldn't help himself. He'd watch as you smiled and delicately applied the gloss, not realizing that each time you did, his eyes would flicker to your lips, unable to look away.

It wasn’t just about the gloss—he hated to admit it, but it was the way your lips moved, the way they curved up when you spoke to him. Every smile felt like an invitation, and it made his heart race every time he saw it.

And the worst part? 

He couldn’t stop thinking about it. 

His mind ran wild, imagining what it would be like to kiss you, to taste that gloss. Would it be sweet? Fruity? Would it be like strawberry or maybe something more decadent, like cake? Geo didn’t know, but the mere thought drove him crazy.

Yet, every time you caught him staring, you would smile, the same playful glint in your eyes, and then push away from him. It was maddening. 

“It was nice talking to you,” you’d say, and just like that, you were gone, leaving him standing there with the weight of his thoughts.

It wasn’t the way you left that bothered him—it was how you left him wanting more. 

He couldn’t help but wonder, when you left, if you knew how much power you had over him. Did you know how much he craved the taste of you, how much he longed to be the one you smiled at like that? And every time you walked away, it felt like you were pulling something from him, something he couldn't get back. 

Geo wasn’t used to feeling like this—unsure, obsessed, craving something that was just out of reach. He never thought he’d be the type of person to feel like this, but here he was, and it made him desperate. 

He couldn't keep pretending he didn't want you, even though he knew better. He couldn’t deny how much he wanted to be the one to kiss you, to taste the sweetness you wore on your lips. But you’d never give him that satisfaction. 

And that, more than anything, pulled him in even deeper.

Even during one of his archery competitions, it was all background noise. His eyes, always sharp and calculating, found you almost immediately—despite the sea of people around, despite the chaos of the competition unfolding before him. There you were, standing off to the side, caught up in the frenzy, but somehow, your presence always felt like it anchored him. 

Geo’s focus sharpened, his usual stone-cold expression becoming intense, almost feral, the moment he locked eyes with you. His heart skipped in a way he couldn't explain, and for the briefest second, the noise of the crowd, the frantic cheers, the tension in the air—all of it seemed to fade into nothing. 

There was something in the way you looked at him, that same fire in your eyes. It sent a shock of electricity through his veins, tightening his chest. It wasn’t just admiration. No, it was something deeper. Something possessive. Geo didn't want to admit it, but the way you looked at him, unwavering, made his ego swell in a way he had never known. 

The satisfaction of knowing you were watching him, that you were his to look at, made his body hum with need.

It was this feeling that had him doing something uncharacteristic for him: walking over to you before the competition even started, pushing through the crowd as if he had a claim on you. His movements were deliberate, as though the world had momentarily paused just for him to take that step toward you.

And as the competition wore on, Geo found his gaze kept darting to where you stood at the edge, just beyond their reach. When he wasn’t actively participating, his attention would always wander back to you. 

It was like an anchor, something he couldn’t shake off. 

Geo had never been one to linger—at least, not without reason. He was efficient, calculated, and never one to waste time where it wasn’t necessary. And yet, here he was, standing just a little behind his group, hovering just enough to be near them but not quite *with* them.  

And then you appeared.  

“What are you doing here, all by your lonesome?”  

Your voice was light, teasing, and when he turned his gaze downward, there you were, standing just slightly apart from the others—just like him.  

Geo had always found idle conversation tedious, a waste of time. But with you? It never felt like that. Even when you were talking his ear off, rambling about things he barely understood or had no real interest in, he listened. 

Normally, he would’ve found it grating. Normally, he would have shut it down with a deadpan stare and a clipped response.  

But with you…  

His ever-present frown softened, the tension in his shoulders easing in a way he didn’t quite notice. He wasn’t even irritated that you were talking. If anything, he found himself waiting for the next thing you’d say, some stupid remark or observation that would somehow make him want to keep this—whatever this was—going.  

“They’re loud,” he muttered, nodding toward his friends.   

You scoffed, rolling your eyes with exaggerated flair. “And you’ve decided to, what? Hide in the shadows, all broody and mysterious? Go, girl, give us nothing.”  

A breath of a laugh—not quite full, not quite deliberate—escaped his lips before he could stop it. It wasn’t loud, wasn’t obvious, but it was there.  

When his gaze flicked back to yours, you were already smiling, your eyes alight with something effortless. Effervescent.

Geo’s stomach twisted, but not unpleasantly. It was unfamiliar, unsettling in its quiet intensity. He didn’t yearn for people—he never had. He never needed anyone. But then why did his pulse kick up when you tilted your head at him like that? Why did his body seem to lean ever so slightly toward you, like some invisible force was tugging him closer?  

He swallowed, barely aware of the way his fingers twitched at his sides.  

It was ridiculous. 

You were ridiculous.  

Geo wasn’t one for impulse—he was sharp, calculated, always in control. But with you? That control slipped too easily, unraveling before he even realized what was happening.  

Your teasing words hung in the air between you, your smile playful, taunting. “You know I can see you always looking at me, right?”  

His jaw tightened, his mind already preparing a sarcastic reply—something to keep the moment light, to keep his defenses up. But before he could think twice, his body moved on instinct.  

“Yeah.”

The single word left his lips smoother than he expected, like it belonged there. But then he took it a step further, voice dropping just slightly—just enough to make your breath hitch.  

“I love it.”

Your expression shifted instantly, amusement flickering into something softer, something unsure. Your lips parted, a small, stunned noise escaping before you stumbled over your words. “What—huh?”  

Geo smirked, watching the blush creep up your neck, your wide eyes blinking up at him in disbelief. And damn it, the sight sent a rush of satisfaction straight through him, settling deep in his chest.  

Before you could think of backing away, before he could second-guess himself, he reached out. His fingers wrapped around your wrist—gentle, firm—as he tugged you toward him in one smooth pull.  

The space between you disappeared in an instant, your breath mixing with his as you steadied yourself against his chest. His other hand ghosted along your waist, his touch featherlight but possessive, like he wasn’t willing to let go just yet.  

“Wha—?” The protest barely left your lips before he leaned in, lowering his head, his breath hot against your skin as his lips brushed against your forehead—slow, deliberate, like he was savoring the moment.  

You froze.  

He felt it—the way your breath caught, the way your fingers curled ever so slightly against his shirt like you were trying to ground yourself.  

Geo smirked against your skin before pulling back just enough to meet your gaze again. His aquamarine eyes burned into yours, filled with something unreadable, something dangerous.  

“You were saying?” His voice was smooth, teasing, but there was no mistaking the edge beneath it—the quiet claim, the unspoken you’re mine.

And just like that, he let his fingers slip away, leaving you standing there, flushed and breathless.  

His smirk deepened.  

Yeah.  

He definitely loved it.

[ceruark]

somebody's supposed to fall in love

[yan! alexis ness x gn! reader x yan! michael kaiser]  synopsis: your boyfriend’s best friend is an oddly prominent figure in your relationship. [university au. implied poly.] cw: yandere themes - implied stalking and obsessive behavior. wc: 1.4k a/n: if you ever find me caught between these two, don’t help me… i’m exactly where i need to be

you’re not fond of how… involved michael is in your relationship.

he’s studying abroad the year you and alexis get together, but even so, you’re aware of how important the man is to your boyfriend; it’s hard not to, given that michael draws attention every time he enters a room, and before you entered the picture, alexis followed him around like a second shadow. you know about their close friendship going into the relationship, but it proves to be a problem in a much different way than you expect. 

alexis's friends warn you that he tends to be a pushover where michael is concerned, and that you’ll always be second to the blonde, even if it’s you alexis is actually dating. of course, you don’t pay their words any mind in the beginning, given that michael is on the other side of the world, both out of sight and out of mind while you and alexis get cozy with each other.

when michael returns to campus the following year, both your and alexis’s friends joke that he’ll drop you now that his real lover is back. at first, there’s some truth to what they’re saying; alexis spends so much of his free time catching up with michael, which means he isn’t really seeing you, since you make a point to avoid the blonde like the plague. 

at some point, alexis must realize you’re pulling away from him, texting him less frequently and not bothering to ask if he’ll be at your apartment that night— no, you already know where he’ll be. so roughly a month after michael’s return, alexis rushes back into your arms, apologizing for neglecting your relationship and swearing to make it up to you.

and he does… kind of. he splits his time more evenly between you and michael, and though it aggravates you that the other is as much of a priority to your boyfriend as you are, you give him some grace— it’s his best friend who was away for a year. for a blissful two months, you accept this delicate balance alexis is managing as the new norm, and eventually any irritation you feel over the matter has dissipated altogether by the time your lovely boyfriend decides to knock you off your axis once again.

he wants you to meet michael. after all, who doesn’t want their best friend and significant other, the two people most important to them, to get along?

the thing is, you’ve met michael already— in freshman year, and you think it’s odd that michael hasn’t mentioned this to alexis. you sat next to him during an introductory writing course you both took to fulfill a general graduation requirement, and unfortunately for you, it was a class where the professor forced you to discuss the content with your neighbor on the daily. only half way into week two, you’d snapped at him, fed up with his holier-than-thou attitude and calling him out on how his condescension did little to mask his apparent insecurities with himself.

perhaps you should have known that someone like him would only view your words as a challenge. you’d dug your own grave at that point, and michael only got worse after that, using every class period as an opportunity to get under your skin and discover what makes you tick. he seemed far too gleeful every time you bit back an insult in the name of keeping your cool, and by the time the semester ended, you wanted absolutely nothing to do with him— a sentiment you conceded when you got with his best friend, but the point still stands.

even after that wretched semester, though, you’d still notice michael in the peripheral of your life. sometimes you’d catch him staring at you when you were in one of the dining halls laughing with your friends, or in the library slogging through your mountain of assignments. you always met his blank stare with one of your own, never giving him the satisfaction of a reaction.

your hatred may have simmered down over time, but you still want to keep him as far away from you as possible. you cannot fathom how someone so loathsome could keep the company of someone so sweet, but there were still facets of alexis’s mind that you were working at comprehending.

so you agree to meet michael, and to your surprise and suspicion, it’s fine. you don’t know if he’s just playing nice because you’re with alexis and it’s going on a year now, but you’re not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. you allow this delicate civility to settle between yourself and michael and agree to spend more time in his presence, more for alexis’s sake than for your own.

but by the time your decision to let him in catches up to you, it’s far too late. give him an inch, and he’ll take a mile; it hits you like cold water one random day in the second semester of the year that you and alexis haven’t really had a moment alone together in months. save for the bedroom, every second you’ve spent with your boyfriend has also been spent in michael’s company. you don’t even know how it happened, just that you had somehow gotten so used to him being around that this little fact managed to slip under your radar.

the minor detail nagging at the back of your mind evolves into a loud, blaring siren the weekend after midterms. you got together with alexis and some of his friends for a celebratory drinking session following a slew of exams and essays, and now, you sit slumped over the table in one of alexis’s hoodies, a delightful buzz making you feel lighter, but not bumbling. alexis is making sure a very drunken erik makes it back to his dorm safely, leaving you alone with michael in their shared apartment.

the blonde is reclined in the seat across from you, eyes half-lidded as he fumbles with a deck of cards left out from the night’s events. he’s had more to drink tonight than both you and alexis, and it’s evident in the way his guard seemed to be lower than you’ve ever seen it. he laughed more— openly and warmly, with his friends rather than at them— and he was even, dare you say it, pleasant to be around.

so naturally, your guard is down, too, when he looks at you with a hint of a smirk on his face and asks, "you know you’re wearing my hoodie, right?"

you snort at him. “what are you talking about? i got this out of alexis’s closet.”

“i’m sure,” he agrees. there’s a glint in his eyes, one that reminds of why you wanted to keep your distance from him in the first place.

“alexis and i share everything.”

something about the way he holds your gaze with such intensity has your stomach flipping over. you haven’t felt like this around him in a while— uneasy, uncertain— but maybe the alcohol has him acting bolder, or rather, has him forgetting to put on the carefully crafted mask that he’s had on around you for the past few months.

the suffocating tension snaps when you hear the sound of the front door clicking shut and alexis kicking off his shoes at the entrance. you quickly spring up from your seat, heading into the other room to ask if erik’s alright, and then get ready for bed. you don’t step out of alexis’s room to bid michael good night, the lingering feeling of his gaze still sending icy pinpricks down your spine.

he starts flirting with you after that. he starts flirting with you in front of alexis, who does absolutely nothing about it. alexis, who just laughs at michael’s antics like his best friend isn’t actively hitting on his significant other. alexis, who doesn’t bat an eye when michael’s touch on your shoulder lingers just a little too long. alexis, who starts forcing you into the middle of couch between him and michael when it’s the spot that he usually takes.

alexis, who approached you first. alexis, who seemed to already know everything about you when you first started dating, who always knew exactly what to say or do to make you head over heels for him. alexis, undoubtedly in love with you, but undeniably devoted and loyal to michael. alexis, prancing around in sheep’s clothing and leading you directly into the jaws of the wolf.

it’s far too late to even try to untangle yourself from their web, and that makes the realization all the more awful; from the start, you were never meant to be just alexis’s.

[hgfictionwriter]

Revelations: Part Seven

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: The distance between you and Jessie wears on you. There are layers to grief and loss. It's hard to keep moving forward, especially amidst flashes of your old life and what could've been.

Warnings: Angst. Language.

A/N: It’s a long one! Rest of the series is here.

Removing yourself from your relationship - and friendship - with Jessie, brought you some reprieve. However, it had its costs.

You didn't miss the tension, the longing, the anxiety and angst that had become the hallmarks of your dynamic with her the past few months, however that didn't mean that suddenly you were okay and things were better.

You didn't need your therapist to tell you you were depressed. But, as they - and your friends and family - said, you at least had a chance to move on now that there was space between you and her.

That said, despite the few weeks that passed, you couldn't deny that you still missed her tremendously. Nearly everything still sparked thoughts and feelings of her. It was unrelenting and oh so frustrating. Even without her presence in your life, she still held such estate. Try as you might, there was no real escape.

Christ, you even thought of Zoie sometimes.

And there was no one to blame but you.

The fact that you hadn't heard from Jessie during this time period made it that much more shameful and pathetic. No ‘How are you?’s. No ‘How is your day?’. No ‘What are you up to this weekend?’.

You’d laid down a line and she followed it. Even though it’s what you needed, the pain was incessant - this dull ache that flared with sharp peaks throughout various parts of the day and night.

You wondered if it was hurting her too or if she’d managed to forget about you. Even the mere thought of the latter nearly sent you to the brink of distress.

You got your answer when you received a package from her in the mail.

You'd not been expecting anything, so when you retrieved a box from the parcel unit in your building, you'd frowned in confusion though something in the recess of your mind twinged in recognition of her handwriting before the rest of your consciousness caught up and saw her name as the sender.

Your heartbeat began to thud loudly in your chest and you'd rushed back up to your apartment with the parcel clutched tightly in your hands. In the elevator, you'd turned it over and studied it, feeling weight and contents shift about inside of it as you did so.

Sitting down at your coffee table, you stared at the package a moment longer before picking at the tape of the neatly folded and wrapped kraft paper and gingerly took it apart.

You opened the box and a deep green envelope lay atop of a series of items below. The envelope again bore her writing, this time with your name written neatly in the center. Without thinking you snatched up the card and opened it.

Happy birthday, Y/N. I hope you have an amazing day and a great year ahead. You deserve the best.

Always,

Jessie

A small breath escaped you as you finished reading and you only belated realized all of the tension that was sitting in your shoulders and the way your hands felt numb.

You reread the card, wanting to experience that warm tingle in your chest once more.

“Always.” You hung onto that word as if it were a lifeline. One silly word soothed you so significantly that it nearly brought tears to your eyes.

Your thumb grazed absently over her handwritten name before you closed your eyes in a wince and shut the card with a curt shake of your head. You exhaled tersely, annoyance with yourself and your sentimentality beginning to build. You set the card aside and took another breath before peering into the box.

Slowly, you picked up and took in each item in the box. You took your time; relishing in each discovery.

The box was full of thoughtful, personal gifts. Some handmade, some store bought, but each meant something and you know she'd thought about each item carefully.

Jessie had always been an exceptional gift giver and always generous, especially when it came to you. It seems this remained true despite everything.

A flash of tightness formed in the pit of your stomach. You couldn't help but feel like you didn't deserve this. That after everything, you didn't deserve her care and attention - even like this.

That twinge of uncertainty and guilt was easily overshadowed by the warmth - and renewed yearning - you felt for her.

You picked up your phone and opened your conversation with her, ignoring the dull pain that formed as you had to scroll down your messages to get to her name now that you spoke so infrequently.

"I just got your package. Thank you SO much for the gifts. You are far too generous, Jess. Thank you. They're all great. The spa gift certificate is perfect timing lol."

You wanted to ask her how she was. How she was doing. Something inside you told you not to complicate things.

You stared expectantly at your phone, practically - stupidly - counting the seconds as you waited for a response.

Eventually your screen timed out and you came to your senses, embarrassed with yourself. Of course she wasn't going to respond s-

Your screen lit up with a message from her.

"You're very welcome! I'm glad it made it. And I'm glad you like the gifts. Happy birthday, Y/N. I hope you have a great one.”

A smile unknowingly crossed your lips as you read her message. You took a deep breath as you saw her typing another one.

"I hope you're doing well."

You expelled the breath in quiet disappointment.

You'd half expected her - hoped even, despite knowing you'd need to shut it down - to strike up conversation again. When she didn't, it made your chest tighten with loss anew.

You couldn't be upset. She was respecting the boundaries that you set. It was what you wanted. What you asked for. But that didn't mean it didn't sting like hell.

“Thanks Jess. I appreciate this a lot. Truly. I hope you, Zoie and Sara are doing well.”

It felt petty to specifically leave Sara out of it.

Jessie replied quickly.

“Zoie and I are doing well. Thank you - it means a lot.”

You wanted to inquire but knew you couldn’t. Shouldn’t.

“I’m really glad to hear that, Jess.”

You hoped you didn’t sound passive aggressive. You really meant it. You exhaled through your nose in a huff as you typed further.

“Thank you again. It made my day. Take care.”

“You too, Y/N. Happy birthday.”

And just like that, it was over again.

You wanted more, but knew it wasn’t fair or right. This interaction had reached its natural conclusion and you had to let it go.

When your phone lit up later with a text from Elysse, your pulsed quickened once more. All contact with the Flemings had ceased and it left a hole in your heart. They'd become like true family to you and to not have them in your life anymore added to the pain of this entire situation.

“Happy birthday!!! I hope you’ve had a day full of rest and relaxation (or maybe a lot of fun!). Miss you lots. You’ll always be a sister-in-law to me 😉"

You sighed a mixture of appreciation and grief. You stared at her message for several moments. You wanted to call her. Ask her how she’d been. What was new.

You wanted to hear about Jessie, too.

Instead…

“Thanks Elysse. I appreciate it a lot. I hope you and the whole family are doing great. Miss you all, too.”

—————

You looked at the date and time in the corner of your screen. While you should’ve been thinking about work, instead you were calculating how many hours until kickoff.

You didn’t have to be in Jessie’s life to know of the upcoming tournament.

And you may have been guilty of checking the national team’s social accounts the past couple of days to see if she’d arrived and been in training.

You hadn’t actively been looking originally. But this was a soccer town - you heard about all the big tournaments and you also knew timing from years passed.

A sense of hollowness sat in your chest as you’d indulged in viewing the clips of training - your thumb belatedly tapping to the next story after seeing glimpses of Jessie. It was a small reprieve, you supposed, that Jessie was so adverse to being in media otherwise you’d see her face plastered everywhere.

You always used to support Jessie during national duty, showing up for as much of the tournaments as possible, even if only for one match.

Memories of dinners and hang-outs with the team and staff, significant others and family, all came flooding back.

Memories of stolen moments with Jessie. Sneaking off to an empty room to find time together - to check-in, connect, and well, sometimes more.

You released a shaky breath as you pushed increasingly vivid images aside. Time to refocus.

Anxious thoughts pinged back and forth in your mind as you debated what to do. What to say. When. You tried not to lament on how you never had to worry about these things before.

Finally, you huffed in finality, hurriedly wrote out a message and sent it before you could slip back into self-doubt.

“Good luck today. You and the team are going to kill it out there. I’m rooting for you all.”

You didn’t expect to hear back from her anytime soon. Never mind the current circumstances of your situation, but also because she mostly stayed off her phone immediately leading up to a match.

You kept an eye on the clock and a twinge of anticipation hit you as your phone lit up shortly before warm-ups would’ve began.

“Thank you, Y/N. I really appreciate that. [Opponent] is tough, but the team is ready to make them fight for it. Thanks again.”

You made a point of not watching the stream, but you did check the updates frequently. Canada won. You wanted to text her congrats, but it seemed like overkill.

Instead, you committed to texting her when the tournament wrapped or when Canada exited. Hopefully later rather than sooner, for her and the team’s sake.

Still, surprise swept over you when your phone lit up with a text from Jessie later that afternoon - evening where she was.

“The team says ‘Hi’.”

Nostalgia and yearning rushed over you immediately.

There were so many layers - losses - to all of this.

“Say ‘hi’ back, please! You all played great today. Hope you all get lots of rest before the next match. I’m sending you all best wishes and good luck. Take care out there. And tell Janine to go easy on you when you play Uno to kill time.”

You were only vaguely aware of the sad smile you wore as you sent your text.

“Lol I most definitely will. Thanks Y/N. Enjoy the rest of your day. Take care.”

Janine texted you shortly after.

“Miss you, buddy. And don’t worry. I’m taking care of her.”

You nearly choked up upon reading her message. You rest your head in your hand for a moment. There was so much you wanted to say.

You hearted her text and replied.

“Thanks Janine. Means more than you know.”

——————

You frowned as you searched for something on your phone as your feet carried you down the street and distractedly around other pedestrians.

A jolt ran through you when you faintly heard a small voice say your name nearby.

It snapped you out of your trance and your steps stuttered to a stop. You turned around to search out the source.

You narrowed your eyes as you scanned the crowds of people passing and standing around until you spotted a small finger pointing your direction.

The kid had their back to you, arm pointed behind them but as you quickly processed their profile, their hair, your pulse began to grow strong and fast as realization set in. Your breath caught as the child turned back towards you and it well and truly was Zoie.

She tugged on someone’s hand and smiled up at them while pointing back at you anew.

Your gaze followed Zoie’s and you locked eyes with Jessie who stood with a wide-eyed expression and soft frown of surprise.

Your jaw fell, words wanting to come out but failing and you looked about in mild panic. A flurry of thoughts and feelings clashed inside of you until the movement from Zoie giving you a shy wave broke you from your stasis.

A rush of breath escaped you and you smiled at her with a belated, stilted wave. Zoie waved fully now, going up onto her tiptoes briefly before looking back at Jessie excitedly, tugging on her hand furthermore while Jessie stood there seemingly just as shell shocked as you.

Your eyes drew up to Jessie and her posture straightened as her lips came together in a tight smile while she herself offered a feeble wave and looking so uncertain.

Your eyes panned left and right. You slowly registered that they were in a lineup for the ice cream shop. Your senses peaked in realization that there was no sign of Sara.

You weren’t sure what possessed you. Maybe it was Zoie’s reaction, maybe it was old magnetism still at play. All you knew was suddenly your legs walked you over to them, despite your mind struggling to reconcile this situation and catch up. Zoie smiled wider as you approached.

“Hi,” you greeted with another awkward, fleeting wave as you reached them both.

“Hi,” Jessie said in subdued surprise. Her expression remained unchanged until she offered you a flash of a smile. Her eyes were fixed on you, intense and curious for those moments before she was jostled by Zoie wrapping Jessie’s arm in front of her in a hug as she backed into Jessie’s legs and looked up at you with a giggle.

“Hi,” Zoie greeted, both smiley and bashful and bringing you back, things snapping into focus once more.

“I, um,” you closed your eyes briefly and shook you head with a faint laugh. “Um, it’s nice to see you,” you said as you looked between the two of them.

Your brain seemed to finally catch up with everything. You looked down at Zoie with a renewed smile.

“Zoie, it’s so good to see you,” you said warmly. You glanced up at the signage for the shop. “Is your mama treating you to some ice cream?”

Zoie nodded rapidly with a grin crossing her face. She giggled again, pulling Jessie’s arm tighter against her as she looked up at her.

“Yeah. She said I could have ice cream if I stayed for my dance class this morning,” she relayed.

“Oh?” You voiced as you glanced up at Jessie who let out a chuckle as her eyes flit away sheepishly. When she looked at you again she spoke conspiratorially.

“Someone really didn’t like their first class last week and, well, demanded to leave,” she said with a knowing glance down at her daughter. “However, I took her today and said it’s important to stick it out and really try it.” She gave Zoie a light squeeze and looked down to her as she spoke, “You don’t have to like it, but you do need to try.” The girl nodded wordlessly against Jessie’s forearm.

Jessie looked back at you with a faint smirk. “Ice cream for finishing today’s class. Trip to the zoo for finishing the full set of classes.” She winked at Zoie who laughed before glancing at you again. “Mild bribery,” Jessie whispered with a feeble laugh as she averted her gaze once more.

"And how was it?" You asked Zoie. She gave a faint nod and a shrug.

"It was okay," she said.

You could've said 'okay', wished them well and been on your way. Instead, you remained rooted to your spot and engaged further.

“Dance can be a lot of fun,” you told her reassuringly. “What don't you like about it?”

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Zoie pouted slightly. “Other kids know the steps and I didn’t.”

Your face fell into an empathetic smile for the poor girl. You leaned down slightly.

“I know how that is. I didn’t like dance when I first started. The other girls were older than me and it seemed like I was the only one who didn’t know what to do. But,” you glanced up at Jessie briefly, “my mom made me go back and, you know what, I practiced, and eventually I learned the steps too and I even made some friends. I ended up loving dance. If you give it a chance, maybe you will too.”

Zoie watched you quietly. It was a mannerism so much like Jessie and here they were both silently studying you. Eventually Zoie’s face broke out in a smile.

“Do you still dance?”

You laughed. “Well. No. Not anymore really.” Your mind cruelly recalled the last time you danced. Specifically, dancing with Jessie at one of her post-season team get togethers. Zoie looked expectantly at you and you tried to think of anything encouraging and ended up saying. “But it’s fun when I do.”

You cleared your throat and tried to settle your nerves.

“Anyway, I should-”

“What’s your favourite kind of ice cream?” Zoie inquired innocently, cutting you off and you rose your eyebrows in question.

“Um. My favourite? Oh. Um, I like many, but if I had to pick one,” you brought a finger to your lip as you contemplated, “[y/favourite flavour].”

Zoie looked up at Jessie.

“Can I try that one today?”

Jessie laughed and couldn’t help but give you an amused look before quickly ridding herself of it.

“If you want," she answered Zoie, smiling gently at her. "Or maybe I get it so you can try it, but you still get what you first wanted. Cause I'm not sure you'll love it," she added giving you a cursory, knowing look and you somehow found yourself having to stifle a chuckle.

The line had moved a few times as you talked and you'd absently followed along. When it started to move again, you went to speak up but Zoie beat you to it.

"But I thought you were getting cookies and cream and we were going to share," Zoie asked, looking up at Jessie with big brown eyes.

Jessie snorted a laugh. "And I thought you were getting cotton candy," she said amused.

Zoie looked unnecessarily crestfallen for a second before turning to you with bright eyes and a wide smile.

"If you get [y/favourite flavour] then we can all share," she suggested.

You froze at the sudden invitation and you belatedly realized you didn't exactly mask your shock.

"Y/N is busy," Jessie told Zoie as she leaned down slightly and spoke in a hushed voice, urging the little girl to look up at her. "We interrupted her. She was doing other things." Jessie straightened back up, offering you a brief tight-lipped smile before adding gently, "She was nice enough to stop and say 'hi', but let's let her get on with her day."

Against all logic, you felt a stinging sensation inside your chest at Jessie's dismissal of you. No, of course you shouldn't stay, but it still managed to hurt that she didn't ask you to.

You used to think you were a reasonable person, but the past few months really put that perception into question.

"But we haven't seen her in a long time," Zoie said, her disappointment plain and surprising you.

You were always kind to Zoie - and you prayed that during your times together before she hadn't picked up on any of your angst about the entire situation. Evidently, you'd done a good enough job because by some miracle this little girl seemed to like you. Not only that, liked you enough to care all this time later.

She really was sweet.

"Zo," Jessie said, her tone shifting. She was about to speak when the clash of feelings and energy inside your chest took over instead.

"I can stop for a bit," you interjected. Jessie's eyes snapped up from Zoie to you in sheer surprise. Your heart raced as you tried to discern if she was upset or annoyed, but something told you she wasn't.

While Jessie wore quiet shock on her face, Zoie clapped her hands excitedly, drawing both your attention.

Jessie began to stammer, her eyes flitting from you to Zoie and back again.

"A-are you sure? You really don't have to," she offered, showing her nerves slightly with her voice a bit quiet and breathy.

Doubt washed over you as you held Jessie's gaze and tried to comprehend what was going on beneath the surface.

"Oh, I, um, I definitely can go. I don't want to interrupt you two. I just - I'm the one who interrupted you. I'm sorry," you backtracked, feeling your face begin to heat up now.

"No, I-" Jessie started strongly, even extending a hand partially before retracting it and hiding it behind her while she reset. She offered you another polite smile. "We don't mind. I just," she took a breath, "don't want to impose." She continued to lock eyes with you, adding, "No expectations."

Now you were the one to stammer. You studied Jessie and the line moved again. You glanced down at Zoie who was watching you with anticipation. You fell into line beside them.

"It's a good day for ice cream anyway," you joked feebly.

Zoie began to talk excitedly and your mind whirred with a barrage of thoughts and concerns. Despite the sudden fog you were in, you became acutely aware of Jessie's watchful eyes on you. When you made eye contact with her she readily averted her gaze, determinedly looking elsewhere.

"So, uh, where's Sara?" You tried to ask as nonchalantly as possible, now you the one who purposefully studied all of your surroundings.

"I'm not too sure," Jessie responded and your head snapped back to her with a frown. If the reaction stirred anything in her she masked it well. "This little one's with me this week," Jessie answered, though speaking to Zoie and ruffling her hair.

Holy fuck. So they sorted out custody. You had a million questions and you opened your mouth to inquire when some part of your mind harshly reminded you that it was none of your business. Or your concern.

Soon enough the three of you were back outside of the shop, each with a cup of ice cream of your own. Zoie eyed your cup as you all found a spot to sit together.

"You first," you said as you held it out to her, sparking a beaming smile from her. She immediately grabbed her spoon and shoved it into your ice cream, mixing her colours and flavours with yours.

"Zo," Jessie chided with an exasperated laugh, but you gave a shake of your head in dismissal and mouthed 'It's fine'.

Zoie took a bite and you stifled a laugh at how her face slowly scrunched up, clearly not appreciating your choice.

"You don't have to like it," you told her. She frowned, giving you a ridiculously discerning look.

"I like mine better," she said through a look of mild disapproval as she dug into her own ice cream.

"And that's perfectly okay." You chuckled as she smiled once more as she took a bite of her own. You turned, feeling Jessie's eyes on you. The woman immediately looked down at her cup, taking a great interest in the ice cream before her, digging her spoon into it and just shifting it about in the cup.

Your compulsions controlled you and you found yourself holding out your cup to her. She blinked at you in surprise.

You'd always shared with each other, but, given current circumstances, you could understand her reaction.

Wordlessly, you held it out further and she eventually cracked a faint smile as she took a spoonful and ate it.

Your eyes were drawn back to Zoie who'd now stilled and was watching Jessie intently. Upon seeing how her mom didn't react anything like her to the spoonful, her gaze shifted over to your cup again curiously.

Again, you bit back a smirk and held out your cup to her once more. She looked between you, Jessie and the cup several times before tentatively reaching her spoon in. She spooned it into her cup and mixed it a bit with her own before taking a cautious bite.

You both watched her. You and Jessie locking eyes briefly with one another and shifting nervously upon the eye contact, before Zoie swallowed with a brief nod, eyes still trained on her ice cream and eating more.

"It's okay I guess."

You both laughed, catching one another's eye momentarily.

When everyone was finished, Jessie politely took all the cups and threw them out, leaving you with Zoie.

"Do you want to go to the park?" Zoie asked as she looked up at you, the sun now fully out and in her eyes. She squinted, holding a hand up to block the rays.

"Here," you offered instinctually as you took your sunglasses out of your pocket and handed them to her. Her eyes lit up as she took them and unfolded them to put them on. The larger size threw her off and she struggled a bit to align them properly. "Oh, uh, let me help," you said tentatively as you gingerly reached out - not sure if you were being presumptuous or not - and helped slide them on.

Jessie returned as you finished and Zoie spun around to her.

"Mama, look!" She exclaimed as she showed them off proudly.

"Oh, wow," Jessie laughed, clearly bemused. She glanced over to you with a smirk, but soon reached out for them. "Hon, you're gonna break those," she said and Zoie's hands flew up to hold the arms of the sunglasses in place.

"I like them," she protested.

"They're very nice. You look very stylish," she said patiently with another smirk. "But you have your own. And your hat," she went on as she retrieved said things from the backpack she wore. Zoie pouted as Jessie removed your sunglasses, but she didn't fuss.

Jessie folded them up and reached across the divide between you offering them back.

"Thank you," she said softly. You took them wordlessly, both of you seemingly very cognizant of where your fingers were during the handover to avoid any contact. You put the sunglasses on.

"I like them," Zoie repeated, a faint whine in her tone.

"I know, sweetie," Jessie continued patiently in amusement. "Maybe I'll get a pair for you like that someday."

Zoie perked up and tugged at the hem of Jessie's shorts. "You should take a picture so you remember. And then you can have a new picture of Y/N."

"Uh," Jessie cut in with a nervous look. "Zoie," she chided.

"You look at the same ones all the time," Zoie added innocently, clearly thinking she was helping.

Your eyes snapped over to Jessie and she clawed at the back of her neck anxiously while she stumbled over her words and face grew pink.

Your heart fluttered at the concept - not that you should want it. So she did miss you.

"I don't need a picture, Zoie," she said with a slight edge while she laughed awkwardly and tried to give a dismissive shake of her head.

"Well can she come with us to the park?" Zoie went on. She turned to you. "We can go on the swings together. I can go really high now."

Jessie let out an exasperated breath and shot you a look, muttering, "I'm so sorry."

"Honey," she said a bit more firmly, drawing the girl's focus, "Y/N is busy. She has her own things she needs to do today. That's very nice of you to invite her, but she probably has to go."

"I thought you missed her," Zoie protested in confusion.

"Zoie," Jessie said curtly, a stern frown on her face before softening, eyes nearly pleading. "Enough, please."

The conflicting jumble of emotions was back. You silently observed the two before you - Zoie confused and disappointed and Jessie suddenly looking so vulnerable and exposed.

You turned to Jessie, it plain how much she was struggling to meet your gaze in this moment. You tried to gauge her.

"Don't feel obliged to stay. Seriously," Jessie whispered, as though Zoie couldn't hear. She shifted restlessly and cleared her throat before adding, "But if you want to, you're of course welcome."

It felt like you could hear a high-pitched ringing in your head as you processed what to do. It was obvious what you should do. You had errands to run. Things to do. An ex and her daughter to forget.

"I-I could stay for a bit," you said.

'A bit' turned into 'a while', which somehow turned into the full afternoon.

It felt like you were having an out of body experience. Every time there was an opportunity to leave, someone said or did something that extended your stay.

And hanging out alone with Zoie and Jessie felt different. There were pockets of it before the breakup, but not quite like this. It felt so strange - like some weird time skip or an alternate reality. Where the bulk of the heaviness and drama of the past had mercifully - temporarily - been swept under the rug.

A very unsettling feeling was emerging and you refused to put a label on it because it felt something akin to 'normal'.

There was nothing normal about this.

And as much as you were enjoying living in this bubble you'd created for the day - a joy you'd pay for later, you were sure - you still knew enough to know that it wasn't real. Sara still existed. You had to remind yourself this wasn't your family. You shouldn't be lulled into thinking you weren't a third wheel.

As the sun began to set, so did this fantasy world.

"Guess we better get you to bed soon, hey kiddo?" Jessie said with a heavy sigh of regret as she glanced at the horizon. "It's been a big day."

"I'm not tired," Zoie protested as she now hugged herself against the back of your leg and peeked out from behind you at Jessie with a pout.

"Honey, it's been a very long day," Jessie spoke patiently as she set her hands on her hips and looked at her daughter. It really was so endearing seeing her interact with Zoie. "We still need to get home and you need a bath. You're more tired than you think. I promise."

"I'm having fun though," she pouted further and you felt her little hands clutch your leg tighter.

"Zo, this isn't a debate. You need to go to bed soon. We're eating into storytime," Jessie said.

"Well can Y/N come home with us?"

Jessie reddened and flashed you a look of apprehension.

"No. Sorry sweetie. That's not possible."

"Why not? It's her place too, right? You said she lived there," Zoie whined.

Jessie shot you an apologetic look.

"Not anymore, Zo," she said with thinning patience. "She's got her own place." You looked down as Zoie tucked her head into you with a pouting expression. Your attention was drawn back up at the weary sigh Jessie didn't fully stamp out. "We've talked about this," she emphasized in a measured tone.

"What about a sleepover sometime?" Zoie asked anew. "You know, like I do."

"Zo," Jessie said with growing sternness. She went on, gentle, but firm. "Come on. It's time to go."

You could probably help soothe Zoie by promising to have another day like this. That you'd see her soon. Sure - a sleepover sometime. But you didn't want to make a promise, especially to her, that you wouldn't keep.

Suddenly, Zoie began crying, her hands digging into your leg more as she clutched you. Panic overtook you as you glanced down to see tears already forming at the corner of her eyes and her face growing bright red. You looked back up to Jessie who gave you a panicked, but sheepish look of her own.

She knelt down in front of Zoie and went to gently grasp her arm, but the little girl wailed harder.

Your senses were overwhelmed as Zoie's cries filled your ears and Jessie tried to calm her down while you stood there stiffly.

A bystander. You felt like a bystander all over again, just observing a world of activity around you.

Until, you found yourself placing your hand softly on the back of Zoie's head and delicately extricating yourself from her iron grip to kneel in front of her.

The action immediately drew her attention and she looked at you, silent tears still streaming down her cheeks while she sniffled. You took your hair out of your ponytail, revealing your hair tie to her.

"Zoie, this is my lucky hair tie. It's very special. Whenever I'm upset or sad, it makes me feel better. And guess what? I want you to have it. You don't have to wear it in your hair, you can wear it around your wrist - like this, see?" You gently placed it on her wrist, her eyes watching you intently and her tears slowed. "Like a little hug for your wrist," you smiled.

"And even though I can't have a sleepover with you, you can have this and it's like I'm there in a way," you said. "And your mama is right, it's been a big day, even I'm tired. But you know what, I bet you're going to have such a good sleep and such great dreams tonight. Make sure to tell your mama all about them when you wake up - I always loved telling my mom about my dreams."

Zoie's shoulders bounced as she hiccupped, working through the last of her upset. She nodded at you.

"Sweet girl," you said as you kissed her cheek.

Only when you pulled back did you realize how Jessie was watching you. Your eyes flicked towards her and she averted her gaze automatically before looking back at you with an expression that made you feel like she was looking right into you. You almost couldn't hold her gaze it was so intense and made you feel so vulnerable.

You found reprieve when she seemed to snap out of her thoughts and offered you a subtle smile of appreciation.

"Sorry about that," she said quietly to you as she wrapped her arms around Zoie and picked her up. "She's tired."

"Not to worry," you dismissed as you stood to face them both, Zoie's eyes now heavy as she leaned her head against Jessie's. You smiled as your eyes fell to Zoie gripping your hair tie with her opposite hand.

"I," Jessie paused briefly and released a breathy laugh, "really didn't mean to take up your whole day. I, um." She stopped, again offering you a small smile, "Zoie had a great time. As you can see," she chuckled. "Thanks."

"Yeah, don't mention it," you said as your gaze fell to the ground and you idly began to dig the toe of your shoe into it. The tension that had been lurking beneath the surface all day began to bubble over. "Sorry I took over your whole day."

Jessie frowned at you and gave a disbelieving laugh. "What are you talking about?" She shook her head. "There's nothing to apologize for."

You looked at her and suddenly you felt dormant emotions rising up and threatening to make your eyes sting with tears.

"You guys seem happy," you tried to say very matter-of-fact, but instead your voice was soft. "I'm really glad."

You meant it.

She was quiet for several moments and eventually gave you another close-lipped smile. She spoke in a tone similar to yours. "It was really nice spending the day with you."

"Yeah," you breathed, hating how sad you sounded even though you'd forced a smile and a laugh. You scratched the back of your arm. "Okay, well, I better go. And you should too. You two get home safe."

You forced yourself to tear your eyes away from Jessie's. You looked to Zoie who was basically asleep already. "Tell her 'sweet dreams' for me," you said with a soft laugh. Jessie chuckled and turned her head slightly to catch a glimpse of Zoie without fully waking her.

"She is out," she whispered in exaggeration.

You had an overwhelming urge to give Jessie a kiss on the cheek to say 'goodbye'. The moment was so bittersweet.

"Well, I guess you better get her home. Take care."

"Yeah," Jessie accepted as she held you steady in her gaze. "You too."

--------

By the time you got back to your car, your heart was still pounding. Add the ticket you found on your windshield and you couldn't help but feel like you were being punished for being so weak.

You got in and hung your head heavy in your hands.

What were you doing? You just undid weeks of progress. A frustrated sigh escaped you. What the fuck were you thinking.

The tears you'd fought off earlier sprang to life and you blinked through them.

Jessie and Zoie really did seem happy. And you didn't begrudge them that at all.

Custody sorted. Dance classes. School. Soccer. Jessie seemed - settled. Her life was moving on - with or without you - as it should've.

What about you? You turned a sharp, scrutinizing eye on your own life. Indignation and self-reproach surged through your veins.

You'd been coasting. Barely keeping your head above water. So woefully preoccupied with thoughts of Jessie and the life you'd had together.

You saw her today and immediately fell back to her side. Sara was absent so you slotted yourself in as if you belonged.

What the fuck, Y/N.

You blew out a harsh breath and pulled out your phone.

What was that dating app [y/friend] kept telling you to download? Right.

You looked it up, finger hovering over your screen for a second before banishing your hesitation and downloading it.

Jessie wasn't the only girl out there. You've been acting like she was and clearly your efforts to forget her had painfully lacklustre results.

You'd been holding on. Clutching tightly onto the threads of your old life; afraid to look at a new future for yourself.

You had to move on. You were going to make sure of it.

-----

A/N: Don't be too mad at me! lol.

Tag requests: @marvelwomen-simp @valuyhh

[ghostlyferrettarot]

🌁Pick a Picture:✨️❄️What wishes will come true for you?❄️✨️

•Pile 1 •Pile 2 •Pile 3

✨️Hello! I wanted to say thank you for being a part of my year and for supporting me so much, i am so thankful to everyone that took a little bit of their time to look into my page! I hope you guys have a Happy Holidays and i hope we can still be together next year <3✨️

❗️This is a collective reading, take what resonates and leave the rest❗️

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🎀Masterlist🎀

⛄Pile 1: The Hanged Man, 5 of Pentacles and Ace of Cups.

Hi pile 1! You are my creative people, and this is a sign that wishes related to creativity, personal growth and the beginning of new projects are on their way to being fulfilled.

There is a vibration of creative abundance and personal power, I feel like you will be stepping into your power, you will be manifesting into reality a creative project that you have been working on for a while.

The next few months will be full of opportunities to expand your mind and your creative nature. If you were waiting for that moment to launch a new idea or project, get ready to see how the universe opens doors for you. This is a period of fertility and manifestation: everything you sow with your effort will manifest successfully. Do not hold back because of doubts, because your power of creation is at its peak.

Wishes that have to do with artistic projects, entrepreneurship or simply personal development will be aligned. Remember that abundance flows to you when you nurture your passions and follow your instincts. It's time to take action and trust your vision.

❄️Song:

⛄Pile 2: The Moon, 4 of Cups and Page of Wands.

Hi pile 2!, there is a strong energy related to love and emotional healing. This pile brings with it the fulfillment of desires linked to emotional healing and deep relationships.

If you have been looking for a deeper type of connection, whether in the romantic realm or in your friendships, this is a time of revelations and healing. You will have more hope, restoration and an energetic flow full of inner peace. Those desires related to the perfect relationship, reconciliation or the feeling of belonging will soon manifest. It is a time to trust that the universe will guide you to what is right for you.

This pile also speaks of the importance of listening to your intuition. If there is something you need to let go or heal, the energy of the Moon is really prominent in this pile, so it suggests that the desire for emotional release will come true. You have the ability to release internal blockages that have prevented you from living love in its purest form. Self-love will also be key in this process. I feel like a significant connection, especially a soulmate one is coming into your way pile 2!

❄️Song:

⛄Pile 3: Death, 8 of Wands and 6 of Wands.

Hi pile 3! this pile indicates that you are in a stage of changes, where desires related to destiny and personal transformation are about to become true. You are going to experience powerful changes that represent life turns and success.

Desires that relate to important life changes and recognitions of success are aligned for you. If you have been waiting for a turn in your destiny, this is the time. Your guides tell you that the cycle is changing, and that what seemed uncertain will now become a golden opportunity.

It is a time of rebirth and evolution, you probably are in a transformative journey right now and its gonna pay off pile 3!

I also feel that wishes for prosperity, joy and success will soon come true aswell. It is time to shine and take advantage of the opportunities that the universe brings you. All that effort, those seeds planted with sacrifice, are now ready to grow and bear fruit, you are doing an amazing job, so trust yourself and soon you will live your dream reality step by step!

❄️Song:

✧˚.⋆Thanks for reading and let me know if it resonated!✧˚.⋆

Dividers by: @dollywons

[abibliphobiac]

Guys, I hate to break it to you, but I’m rewatching Teen Wolf as an adult and:

-Derek isn’t an interesting or even good character til like season 3

-Isaac and Allison shouldn’t have been a thing (but could’ve been something w Scott 👀)

-Boyd and Erica should’ve had more time and been flushed out more

-Kora felt very thrown-in and wasn’t given any respect frfr

-Isaac my Beloved sassy man you are missed every scene you’re not present

-ALL of the characters should have been flushed out more (but oh well, ig that’s what fanfic is for)

-Peter pisses me The Fuck off

-The storylines are so ???

-Some of the scenes are corny as HELL

-Some of the scenes are COLD AS FUCK bruh

-Stiles and Malia were actually really great together imo

-Malia is so fuckin funny on god

-Dylan O’Brien is. THE actor fr

-I really like Scott and Lydia’s friendship and would’ve liked it to be explored more 💕 (platonically)

-Stiles needed the time away from Lydia to love her in a way that wasn’t toxic or obsessive (and yet still has some concerning tendencies)

-EVERY. SINGLE. FEMALE. CHARACTER. Deserved so much more development and time without a male counterpart. Period.

-Especially Kira, Braeden, and Lydia

-PUT SOME RESPECT ON KIRA and please 🧎🏻‍♀️ let overpowered characters BE OP and not two hits and down fr

-I need more Dread Doctors content in my life for Reasons™️ and I will not be elaborating unless asked

-Theo is a character that exists almost solely in The Grey and y’all ain’t ready to have a civil conversation about how well Cody played the nuances of him

-Hayden is fine, Hayden and Liam is ? such a high school relationship I can’t complain but I don’t love

-the beast was 🤣 like cmon guys

-Ducalien👌🏼 (but not the cgi)

-Theo and Liam are a Fantastic duo, romantic or not (but they should’ve been canon ngl)

-We deserved more Mason content TBH

-Also, Corey? I better not see any hate for that little shithead ya hear? He’s my annoying little brother and I’ll protect him and Morey til I die.

- more puppy pack was A NEED in general

And so much more that I can’t articulate at the moment.

[idontmindifuforgetme]

hi cianna sorry for the really broad question but it really smart and ur soul is beautiful and i think lowkey if i asked this irl people would get very worried so i’m asking u. any advice 4 a girl in her late teens who’s just now coming out of a 4-5 year long slump of wanting to kill herself real bad and now needs to be a functioning person and pass exams and go to university next year ect. ?

Hi this literally happened to me in my teen years!! I was not suicidal, but I def had a major slump I had to pull myself out of by uni. Here are some things I think could’ve worked better for me - feel free to disregard at your discretion/based on your circumstances :)

Get therapy!! Teenage me would’ve benefited from it so much. There are therapists who’d be happy to give you student discounts. You’ll be going through a lot of change - re learning how to take care of yourself, discovering your boundaries, battling regret for wasting time etc etc… it’s just better to go through it w a professional who would show you compassion but also push you to improve. It’s not a substitute for real friendships, but it absolutely helps

Ignore people who will tell you they peaked in hs (lol). This will be a lot of people btw. You’ll get major fomo bc you’ll be like?? I didn’t do any of that. I was too busy surviving. I won’t have things to look back at the way they do. But that’s where the uphill battle of saying no to fomo comes in - you have to remind yourself that you’re at the beginning of your life, that you could completely turn it around in college, and peaking in hs is like actually sad and that what matters is the life you make for yourself moving forward

People (family and teachers) want to help. So let them

Push yourself but don’t overcorrect. The antidote to not having friends is not overextending yourself and saying yes to everything and having no boundaries and burning out. Pace yourself. Trying to become someone completely different is also a sign you don’t like yourself very much

You have to aggressively combat the self hatred and re affirm to yourself day by day that you deserve good things and that you are enough and that you don’t need other people to imbue your life and give it dimension. They are a nice bonus but it’s all in you

Hot take but be careful w self help content. It preys on people in vulnerable stages (like you) and is easy to get addicted to

I don’t know where you stand w your phone, but decrease phone time. It’s very personal to everyone how they can accomplish this, so research all the different methods and apply what best fits you / what you think you can stick by best!

Cliche advice is true - getting out of the slump starts w things like a simple skincare routine and an outfit you feel good in

Say yes to things more often. Try to approach people more often, even if it gives you rejection sensitivity. I wish I did this more tbh - I think I did put myself out there but was inconsistent. No “social fuck ups” will matter at your age so just try to learn as much as you can

You have to contextualize this hard time period of your life as a learning experience that gave you a sort of depth that is rarely seen in most people. It wasn’t all for nothing — it shaped you into you

You’re defined by who you are and the values you have — not the person you used to be. The imposter syndrome in you might be like “everyone knows I was xyz girl who didn’t talk to anyone and could not even turn an assignment in on time,” but what are you now? Are you trying to befriend people now? Getting a lot better at managing your time now? Doing really good in school now? That’s who you are.

Unconventional advice but get a cute job at a library or a cafe or something. It will re introduce discipline into your system and acquaint you w people your age

Exercise really really really really really helps. It can start simple but it has to be started

Research programs you want to get into. Make a game plan in accordance to that. Talk to your advisor about it

Join clubs in college :) talk to people but don’t overextend yourself if they don’t reciprocate - you have plenty of time to make friends :)

Journal more. It helps!!!!

The world is not out to get you

Cliche but true - reading helps so much. Even just one book at a time at your own pace. Luckily I was reading so much in my teen years but I’m telling u this in case it’s not really part of ur palette

What’s the hobby that really speaks to your soul?? Aggressively pursue it

Romanticizing simple things helps tbh

Do not hate yourself into getting better!! You were just a child who did the best they can w the cards they were dealt. Now you’re saying enough to passive living and making active effort to get out of your slump — and that matters more than anything. You will experience the FOMO and the regret and the “why didn’t I do xyz when I was younger.” Everyone does, but for you it will be exacerbated bc you’ll feel like you wasted an epoch of your life everyone else romanticizes. This is where therapy and radical acceptance come in — and also just brutally reminding yourself of the facts, including how you’re so very incredibly young. Time is on your side and you can do anything you want

I’m so proud of you for taking the first step — which is understanding the problem!! I know I wasn’t that brave at your age. Good luck with everything xx

[elliesplug]

smoking w logan...

logan howlett x reader, friends to lovers

summary: the stress of being a new professor at this school is catching up to you. luckily, you have a good friend to help you take that stress away, in more ways than one.

warnings: weed usage, fem compliments, illusions to sex

word count: 2, 574

I’m fairly new to this school. About 4 months had passed since I had first gotten my invitation from Charles. Which, of course, I happily accepted, excited at the thought of teaching my favorite subjects to people like me. I get the opportunity to share my love of literature through my teachings. The class seems to like me so far, and there’s always a few students straggling behind after class to share a laugh. Being able to connect to my students like this is a treat, and working at this school is just the cherry on top.

The classroom I teach in just so happens to be right across from Professor Howlett's room. His creaky wooden door opens and closes in between classes every period. Being right across from each other means that he and I frequently see each other. Logan often takes advantage of this opportunity to visit the classroom. He’ll do things like bring me coffee, give me papers that I copied off the printer, or just have a little chat. Sometimes, when he's on missions, I'll often sub for his class. It fills me with content to know that Logan trusts me with the care of his class. Being new to the school, I’m highly afraid of what the other professors think of me, but these small interactions with Logan take all of my insecurities away.

“There’s my favorite literature teacher right there!” Logan says with a smile, interrupting my lesson. Interactions like this were common between Logan and I, but every time they happened, the classroom went ballistic. The nosy students love to engage in Logan’s and I's friendship.

“I’m the only literature teacher here, Logan.” I respond with a blank stare, trying to hide my laugh.

“You’ll always be my favorite, though!” The man tells me with a wink before entering his own classroom to return to his teachings. I try to hide my smile and attempt to quickly pull the attention back to my lesson. This interaction made my whole class gasp and snicker.

“Ooo your boyfriend says that you're his favorite!” A student yells, resulting in the whole class to chuckle.

I giggle at their immaturity. “Alright, alright, there's no need for that. Let's get back to Pride and Prejudice now, please?”

Before I know it, the day is done. I stayed behind grading like usual. Lately, I've been so behind in my classwork that I haven't had any time to myself. As a new teacher, I feel as though I have so much to prove, and I have a strong fear of letting everyone down.

A red pen marks a check across my paper as I continue to grade another assignment. My ears are met with the sound of a knock on my door.

“What are you up to here, pretty? It's 7:45 and the sun set hours ago. All the kids are probably just about finished with dinner. You need to get your ass outta here.” Logan tells me as he leans against the doorframe.

I take a quick break from grading to look at the clock on the wall of my class. “Its 7 already? Shit I didn't even notice. I'm just grading some things right now, like always. Seems like that's all I ever do.” I respond with a chuckle, not even lifting my head up to look at him.

Logan comes behind me and begins to rub small circles on my shoulders, massaging out any tension in my body. His presence alone fills me with comfort. The knots in my back loosen with every soft touch.

“Pride and Prejudice, huh?” Logan says as he notices the papers on my desk.

“Yeah I bet your old ass was there when it was written.”

“Haha. You're very funny.” He replies in a sarcastic tone. “Damn with all these knots in your back, I gotta ask if you've been sleeping on a pile of rocks? Who's stressing you out like this?”

A sigh escapes my lips, “I don't wanna sound like I'm complaining or anything because I'm more than happy that I get to work here…it's just…all these papers are really stacking up on me…”

He continues to break up the knots in my back. Another red X on my paper. Then I feel Logan leaning down to whisper something into my ear. “Y'know with all this stress… I think you deserve a little somethin’. Lucky for you, I just went to town and restocked for us.”

I finally take a break from hunching over my papers and turn to him with a smile, already knowing what he had planned. “You don't say, Professor Howlett?”

“Yes ma’am. Got it right in my room. How bout we roll up and then after I'll help you with your papers? We can get 'em all done, even if it takes all night I'll stay here and finish for you. Promise.”

The gesture warms my heart. “That sounds perfect,” a groan leaves my lips, the stress escaping with it, “I appreciate that so much you don't even understand.”

“Yeah yeah, now c'mon and go roll cause you know I'm shit.”

We make our way down the long dimly lit halls to his room and quickly close the door behind us. Logan and I have been smoking together ever since he found me alone with a joint late at night, during one of the first weeks I was here. I'm surprised he even found me because I was hiding out on the roof of the school. Knowing him, he must've sniffed me out, hoping to get some. He told me he wouldn't snitch to Charles if he could smoke with me. I know that he wouldn't have told me either way, but I happily invited his company, especially since I wasn't familiar with anyone here yet.

These late night smoke sessions made our relationship grow stronger. We would hop from topic to topic as the smoke left our lips. Sometimes, covering our childhood, our favorite shows, war stories, gossip, and then laughing to the point of tears the next moment. He found out where I buy from, and ever since that day, he has refused to let me buy my own weed. I tried to tell him that he didn't have to do that, and he said that as long as I rolled for him, then he didn't mind.

He told me that the singular time he attempted to roll it was to impress this girl. He ended up unsuccessful, to say the least. The joint ended up covered in spit with half of the weed on the floor. By the time he told me the end of that story, my face was covered in tears of laughter. This is when I knew that this would be the beginning of a genuine friendship.

The joint is finally finished as I seal it with my tongue. Logan and I only smoke together when it's late at night and everyone is in their own respective spaces. Sneaking around like I'm a kid hiding the fact that they smoke from their parents is honestly kind of fun. It fills me up with just the right amount of adrenaline, and I'm happy that Logan is the one beside me.

We make our way to the roof, and the bright moon greets us. The night sky is clear and filled with gorgeous constellations. The chilling breeze of the night tickles my skin as I take a seat. Of course I forgot to bring a jacket. I try to hide my shiver and lessen the sound of my chattering teeth, but Logan quickly notices. He shifts to take off his brown leather jacket and wraps it around my shoulders. The warmth of his body heat was still trapped in the jacket, and it quickly comforted my senses.

“Logan, you're gonna be cold.” I pleaded.

“ I'll be just fine. Can't have you freezing to death now. Then I won't have anyone to roll for me.” He jokes.

I let out a chuckle as I took the joint out of his coat. Logan holds the lighter to the joint and cups his hands in order to hide the wind from the fire. The lighter makes a clink sound and sparks. The comforting scent fills up my nose as I take a huff. I release the smoke with a happy sigh.

“God, I needed this so much you wouldn't even understand.” I responded. My attention rests on the beautiful night stars.

I passed it to him after a few more hits. Our fingers touch, the feeling heats me up. No matter how cold it is, Logan always manages to stay hot. The joint gives me the courage to rest my head on Logan’s shoulder. The joint lets out a small sizzle as he takes a big inhale.

“Trust me, I know, sweetheart. You've been frantic all week, and I notice it even though you're damn good at hiding it.” He takes another hit in between sentences. “Plus,” Logan then suddenly takes my cold hands and intertwines my fingers with his own, “you bite your nails like crazy when you get stressed.” I look down at our joined hands in shock, trying to contain how much this is affecting me. I quickly bring my attention back to the stars in an attempt to hide my emotions. Logan and I have always shared these small touches but nothing as romantic or intimate as this before, and definitely not for this long. The tension between us has always been there, but it's easier to ignore it than shed a light on it.

The smoke leaves his lips before he passes it to me again. “Yeah I know. It's always been a bad habit of mine when I get a little anxious.” I take the j up to my lips with a long drag. With each hit, I hope that it will make my nerves melt away.

Suddenly, a soft peck is laid on my hand. This action draws my attention away from the shimmering constellations. I'm greeted with kind hazel eyes staring back at me. Logan's gaze is intense as he pays attention to my reaction. “You can't keep doing that. You know it's bad for you.” He gently tells me. Logan’s lips attach to my hand as he lays another peck. He does this as if he could take my stress away with a single kiss.

My attention is drawn to his lips as I watch him slowly drop our hands. His red glassy eyes never left my own, which were magnetized to his lips like magnets. He has me right where he wants me, and I'm more than happy to be here. I have him right where I need him. Logan’s passionate gaze leaves my breath shaky and my body fuzzy. The air is thick, and the nerves aren't going away.

“You're babysitting the joint. Are you gonna hit it or just keep holding it, darling?” He asks me, breaking me out of my thoughts. Logan always looks good, but he especially looks good when he stares at me with those low hanging glossy eyes.

“What? Oh yeah! Sorry about that, here.” I let out a breathy giggle as I passed him the joint.

He simply responds with a laugh before inhaling the smoke. Logan knows what he's doing to me. He's pulling my strings like a puppet, and I'm loving every minute of it.

In an attempt to break up the tension, I turn to Logan. “Enough about me. How are your classes going? It must get tough balancing missions and classes sometimes. I don't know how you do it, to be honest.”

“Yeah it can get you worked up a little. I've been doing it for a while now, though, so it's definitely less of a hassle than it used to be. Some missions still knock you out, though.”

“Yeah I can only imagine how that must be. Some of the missions you've told me about are absolutely insane. Can't believe you come back from all that and still teach, too."

“Well it helps when you have a pretty literature teacher holding it down while you're gone.”

I smile up at him as a laugh escapes my lips. “My God, Logan, what is up with you tonight! You got a little crush on me or something?”

“Pshhh. Don't get a big head now. You're a cocky little thing, aren't you?”

“I might be cocky but you're the one adding fuel to the fire.” I responded. The effects of the weed are hitting me strongly. My relaxation brings me the confidence to take his hand and hold the joint up to my lips. I keep eye contact with him as I draw in the smoke. He smirks down at me as a result of the action.

“Y'know I've been thinking…”

I cut him off, “Oh no, that's never good”

He looks at me with a face of fake annoyance. “With all of this stress you've got going on, it would be nice to escape for a bit. Get away from these kids for a day and hit the town on the weekend. Maybe even get some dinner.”

“Wait a minute…are you asking me out, Professor?’ I ask him with a smile on my face.

“That depends on your answer, Professor.”

“I think I can fit some time in my very busy calendar for little ‘ol Logan.”

“Aww how sweet of you.” He jokes back.

He holds the joint up to my lips and watches as I breathe in the smoke. Any kind of anxiety I had before is gone now. The air shifts and is now filled with a different kind of tension. Stars reflect in Logan’s red eyes. I stare back at him as his eyes follow my lips. I'm filled with happiness to know that he wants this just as much as me. A soft hand cups my jaw as he brings his head closer to mine. My nose is filled with the scent of Logan and weed. Our warm breaths entangle each other in the cold night.

“Gimme some.” He tells me.

I release the smoke from my lips, and he quickly attaches his lips to mine. He inhales my smoke and quickly unlocks his lips from mine, exhaling the smoke.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Anytime.” I whisper back. My heart is beating out of my chest. Everything he does to me heats up my soul. That familiar fuzzy feeling greets me in between my thighs. Logan is getting tired of restraining himself, and it's easy to tell. I'm sure he can hear the way my heart erupts for him. I love this game he's playing.

Just then, he takes his hand and guides it to the back of my neck. Looking into my eyes for reassurance, I respond with a nod. Just like that, he kisses me. The kiss is strong and concentrated. Everything about the way he moves tells me that he's been wanting this for a while. His kisses are sloppy in all the right ways. Logan flicks the joint off the roof without a second thought, knowing that he has something much more valuable in his hands. He gladly explores my body and groans into my mouth with pleasure.

Logan and I most definitely didn't get around to grading those papers that night.

[mastermindmiko]

hi,

i’m currently in my bill weasley phase aha

i was wondering if i could have gut wrenching angst and maybe fluff i need something to just cause pain aha

it’s okay if not :)

Hey, I know this is very long overdue but it's finally here! You asked for angst, and angst you shall receive. I hope I did it justice. More (Bill Weasley Fanfiction)

content warnings: none I believe, but lmk, kissing maybe? not edited Pairing: Bill Weasley + fem!reader word count: 9201 (sorta got carried away) Summary: You and Bill were always friends, until there was something more.

a/n: Trying my best to finish all the requests I've got and simply just posting more. Also, I tried this little thing were I did a sort of rhyming (don't want to call it poetry cause that's too big a compliment) to start off the ff, you can sort of see it like a summary maybe too.

It all starts out the same way, with a girl and a boy that meet when they were small then grow until they’re tall. They grasp each other's hands, holding their stance as their friendship solidifies until there’s a shift, a switch, a fully expected change that takes things from where they were to where they are now. 

There were only ever a few things that I cared about; My family, my friends, my future and my Bill. He never fit into neither the first nor the second categories as it was simply just different with him. Living only a few kilometres away from the Weasleys ensured that I spent most of my time with him, and as we both went to Hogwarts it only made me want to sew him to my side even more. 

“Hey, why do the Weasleys call you Honey?” 

“Ummm, it involves an incident where I ended up being a large tub of honey.” I explain as vaguely as I can, still trying to erase the embarrassing story out of my head. Tonks looks at me weirdly before waving her hand, “I don’t even want to know.”

I spent ten years of my life being Bill’s friend, best friend even, watching as his family got bigger and so did he. He developed his interests and I developed mine when all I thought of him was a friend, and none of that changed until-

“Do you think Bill’s hot?” 

Nymphadora- Tonks asked me one day. I look up from my lunch and ask her, “What?” 

“You know Bill- you’re friend, tall, ginger-” 

“I know who Bill is…” I trail off, and I think of what she just asked, now that we were fifteen (practically adults), everyone started falling for people left and right, while I just focused on Quidditch and OWLs. Bill was doing the same as me, we would study together, practise together, there just wasn’t enough time building a future and also doing normal typical teenager stuff. 

“You gotta admit, he’s gotten mighty fit over the summer.” Tonks said, and I looked at the girl who’s two years younger than me disapprovingly. Despite being in different years and houses, we shared the same lunch period. I scold, “Aren’t you a bit too young to be thinking of things like that?” 

“I just call it like I see it.” She replies, and then eyes me up and down with a grin on her face. I blush and push her shoulder. She laughs and I smile a bit myself. There’s a beat then she asks again, “You didn’t answer my question…do you think that Bill’s hot?” 

I look around trying to recall in my memory the most accurate picture of Bill I could conjure up. He’s definitely gotten taller. I remember how I used to be able to ruffle his hair without having to step on my tiptoes- and his hair’s gotten longer, much to Molly’s disapproval. He’s gotten a bit more tan from spending all that time out in the sun, making his freckles more apparent. 

All that time in the sun playing quidditch also changed his physique a bit. His shoulders are broader, his biceps and thighs thicker. Hands are larger and stronger. I recall the last game of the summer, only a few weeks ago, where every member of the Weasley family was playing, Ginny being the referee as she was still very small. I was the beater, as always. Bill was the chaser, and we were on opposite teams. Halfway through the game, two hours in, we were still playing and Bill decided to throw some water over his head, cooling him off. The water soaking his hair, arms and shirt, making it cling to his body-

“You totally think he is!” Tonks exclaims, and brings me out of my daydream. I feel my face flare up and I stutter as I defend myself, “It’s not that, it’s just yes, he’s fit but he’s my friend, so he’s just that, he’s just fit.” 

Tonks is still giving me that cheeky grin when I decide that that’s enough of that interaction, so I stand up, deciding to just stay in class for the next fifteen minutes till class starts. I say, “Well, I gotta go. Bye Tonks.” 

She shakes her head, and waves while I headout of the Great Hall. I pull out a piece of paper from my bag as I look at my schedule, I turn around to move the other way, when I see Potions scrawled up on the parchment. I shiver as I enter the dungeons and hope that Professor Snape doesn’t mind me waiting till class begins, I could prep the cauldron while I wait. 

I walk through the dark silent hallways, hearing the echoes of each step I take. A large hand encompasses my shoulder, and I turn around quickly lifting my wand from my waist band. I point my wand to the face of my attacker and I meet with the grinning face of Bill Weasley. I relax as Bill takes the wand out of my hand and places it inside my belt loop, a normal occurrence, if it weren’t for the fact that his face is close to mine and I notice just how sharp and angular it is. 

“Tonks told me you were heading to class, what are you doing going to potions this early? Snape barely tolerates Gryffindor’s when he has to.” Bill says, and push his hand off my shoulder, and he chuckles. I say, “Snape actually likes me, and don’t act like that when you're practically his favourite.” 

“It’s only cause I’m the best.” He grin, cockily, and he taps his head, pointing towards his brain. I push his shoulder playfully and reply, “Second best.” 

***

The Gryffindor common room fills with the sounds of both Muggle and wizard music. The smell of alcohol and sweat from the mixing bodies encases the area. A muggle born brought a machine that flickers light in different hues of different colours, having the lights bounce off the walls, as people dance in the centre of the room, and the chatter fills. 

I’m standing against some wall, holding a cup of butterbeer that was gathered from an illegal trip to Hogsmeade only a few hours ago after the win for the house. I never did drink much alcohol and especially not during Quidditch season. This was the first year I’ve been able to participate in the parties that Gryffindor house threw, and it was exciting, but much more boring than I expected. 

I’m watching the room, looking around, seeing a young Percy trying to make his way up to the boy’s dormitories as swiftly as he could while carrying two books that are twice the size of his head. Some drunk seventh years, push him, unintentionally, Percy glares at them nonetheless. I move towards him, pushing away the couples that might as well just get a room. I fling my arm around Percy’s shoulder, nod my head towards the stairs. I carry one of the books from him and we walk towards the dormitories. 

He rushes up the stairs as fast as he can as soon as he’s out of the sea of bodies. I call out his name, and despite the loud music, he turns to me, guiltily. I say, “We’ve told you a million times that you can’t stay out this loud, especially after curfew, even if it is to study.” 

“I know, I know…you won’t tell Bill?” Percy asks, lips pursed and ashamed. I sigh and give him the other book back and reply, “Not if you don’t do it again.” 

He grins from ear to ear, large glasses slipping off his nose. He laughs, “Thank you, Honey!” He wastes no second before running up the stairs once again, and I can just barely hear the sounds of the footsteps fade away before I walk away. 

I drink the last bit of the butterbeer in my cup. I go to the opposite side of the room, grimacing as people shove me around. I stand by the drinks table and start to look around for the butterbeer bowl, when I notice a mop of red hair, reaching for the firewhiskey. I shake my head and sneak up behind the unsuspecting Weasley. I reach forward and grab a handful of his hair, and pull him back. 

“Ow! Ow! Ow!” Charlie chants, while I pull him by his hair. His hands lift up and try to loosen the grip that my fingers had on his hair. I threaten, “Put the cup down.” 

He frowns but (reluctantly) puts it down. I pull him by his hair once again and push him towards, once again the stairs of the dormitories. The place is quieter there, and I can scold him properly. We reach near the top of the first year boy’s dormitories, and I leave his hair. He rubs his head, and looks at me with a frown.

“What in Merlin’s name did you think you were doing?”  I say, while placing a soft (sort of) slap on the back of his head. He swats my hand away after, and continues to rub his head. He pouts, “Stop ruining my best feature.” 

“No, your best feature is your Quidditch skills, not your stupid hair that needs to be cut.” I scold, and look at him, disappointed. I continue, “What did you think you were during? Trying to drink Firewhiskey of all things!” 

A drunk seventh year passes us and shouts, “Yeah little Weesilie, you should try something lighter for your first time.” 

“Bugger off!” I shout at him, and I turn back to Charlie. I rant, “There’s a reason why people below fifth year aren’t allowed to be at parties and being at parties includes alcohol, so until a few more years, you’re not allowed to have any-” 

“A few more years! I’m fourteen as soon as I hit that big 15 like you and Bill, I’m gonna have some.” Charlie says, and he complains, “All my friends have some, and so do you and Bill, why can’t I? It’s just one year.” 

“A year is a long time, Charlie, and so what if all your friends are doing bad things, doesn’t mean you should to, besides Bill and I don’t even like to drink. Even when you turn 15, you’re not going to be able to drink a lot because you’re a seeker, Charlie!” I reply, and he huffs and folds his arms together. 

“That still doesn’t mean that I won’t try it.” Charlie pouts, and he looks down at the floor. I start to feel a little bad for being too hard on him, so I pull him in for a hug, surprised as to how he’s my height now. I say, “If you want to, you could, but until then, it’s off limits.” 

I smile at him, and ruffle his hair a bit. I pull my hand back then put it back on his hair again, and play with a few locks. His face flushes, and he grins at me when I say, impressed, “You weren’t lying, you definitely have the best hair.” 

“You must be lying because you’ve seen my hair.” Bill interrupts and he walks out of the first year boy’s dorms. Charlie looks at me with a panicked look, and I contemplate if I should tell Bill about what just transpired. I play, “No, I have, Charlie’s hair is just better.” 

Charlie pokes his tongue out at Bill, and I grin, and Bill slaps the back of Charlie’s head. Charlie grimaces and mumbles, “You two really are best friends…” 

“Go on, back to your dorm, now.” I say, and he rushes up the stairs. Bill sits down on the stairs and he pulls me down by his hand. I notice how large his hand is compared to mine. I sit down beside him, on the other side of the steps and he sits opposite to me, backs against the walls of the spiralling staircase. Bill asks, “What was he doing down there?” 

“Got lost, I guess…” I trail off, deciding that Charlie’s learnt his lesson. Bill looks back at the first year dorms, and he explains, “One of Percy’s friends, Oliver, found me and said that he couldn’t find Percy, he was afraid that Percy got trampled or squished by the people at the party-” 

We both laugh, and he continues, “Then a few minutes later, Percy walks in, alright and everything…so, thank you.” 

“Hey, I had nothing to do with it, Percy’s very smart.” I say, keeping Percy’s secret. Bill fiddles with the carpeted floor of the stairs and he replies, “I know you he is, but I also know that you helped, he was out at the library again, just like you helped Charlie.”

I don’t say anything and so, Bill smiles at me, and he says, “You don’t have to take care of them, it’s my responsibility, I can do it myself.” 

“I know you can, but they’re sort of like my little brothers too, so I want to.” I reply, and we sit in the silence for a bit. It was a completely normal moment, Bill and I never felt the need to fill in the silence, but for some reason, he asked, “Does that mean that you think I’m your brother too?” 

The question takes me off guard, and my heart lurches to my throat. My eyes flicker between his, searching for the right answer. Maybe for the first time ever, I find Bill hard to read. I choose to give him the truth, so I think of what that is. I couldn’t classify Bill as a sort of family, but I also don’t know where I would put Bill. I opt for the simple answer , not wanting to think about more. I didn’t even know if there was more. I replied, “No…” 

He shuffles a bit closer and the air is charged between us. I pull my knees together and pull them to my chest, to make way for him to come closer. I brush an annoying lock out of my eyes, not wanting to spend a second not looking at him. He says, abruptly, "You're very handsome…”

He notices what he’s said and he flushes, I let out a small laugh and notice the way his face heats up, and how mine is also red. The contrast between his brownish red freckles and his skin and the way his nose seems to be at a perfect angle, Bill honestly was just so- “You’re pretty too”

He smiles at my comment, and he looks at my eyes, and I wonder what he’s thinking. Why can’t I understand what he’s doing? When have I ever not understood what he’s doing? Ever since Tonks made me realise how drop-dead gorgeous Bill is, I-

“If I’m not your brother, what am I then?” He asks, and he searches my eyes for the answer that I don’t even know myself. He isn’t my friend, it feels wrong to say it, and I don’t know what other thing Bill could be for me, but we’ve been friends for a decade now. I answer, “I don’t know.” 

“Friend?” 

“I don’t know.” I repeat, and I look down at the floor, not being able to stand his piercing blue eyes trained on me anymore. His hand grazes my cheek, pushing the hair behind my ear, the contact makes me shoot up to look at his eyes. It feels different, so much more different than any other look we’ve shared before. He adds, “I don’t know either…” 

His hand cups my cheek, and it feels so much more, but what even is more between Bill and I? He brushes his thumb over my cheekbones, and he leans in. My legs part slightly, so he can shift closer. I didn’t even realise what I’d done till he was only a few centimetres away from my face. He looks at me, searching, and then down to my lips. 

My breath hitches, and I can see his chest heave. My lips part under his gaze, and he leans closer. Maybe this is what more means for us? I don’t know what could happen after but I know this-I lift my hand up to encase his wrist. His eyes flicker back to mine, and I say, “You’re never going to be the same to me after this.” 

“You haven’t been the same to me in a while.” His last words before he gives me one last look before he kisses me. 

***

The summer passed by in a blur where it’s nothing but hazy memories of Bill. It’s not a surprise that I spend most of my summer at the Weasleys with my parents working all around the world. The surprise is the way Bill grasps my hand under the table, and the whispers between us are now sweet not taunts and games. 

He would send me cheeky smiles and flirty grins across the room. He would wake me up in the middle of the night and take me from Ginny’s room so we could go watch the stars outside the Burrow, laying on the grass, just like now…

“I can’t believe that we’re about to go back to Hogwarts in two days.” Bill says, as he wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me impossibly close to him. Contact has never been unknown between us, but this was entirely new. I run my hands through his long hair, and I sigh, “Yeah, two more years and we’re out of Hogwarts.” 

“Everything will change…” I trail off, scared of what’s to come, when we’re getting real jobs and we’re not sheltered anymore, out to fend for ourselves. Bill looks at me and I can see the stars shine from his eyes, and it’s a mesmerising sight. Bill pecks my lips before saying, “Not us, never us.” 

I smile as he nuzzles his face into my neck, and I wrap my arms around his back. I hope he’s right, I really do hope he is. I don’t know what I could do without Bill. I wonder if his family knows about us, if they feel what’s changed. The only one who does know is poor Percy when he wandered off in the library only to find us snogging in between the bookshelves. 

The other person who knows about us is Charlie but that’s because the boy was smart when it comes to things like these. He noticed the blush on my cheeks first then Bill’s smiles and then one day he dropped his spoon under the table during dinner and he saw our legs intertwined. He didn’t mention it at first until the next day, when he did the same thing on purpose, and he noticed Bill holding my hand. 

He spent the entirety of that week trying to find us doing something. When we were together, he would suddenly burst through the door screaming, ‘AHA!’, and then he’d find us playing cards on the floor. We realised what he was doing early on, but we let him have his fun, until one day, he gave up and burst through the door once again, and said, “Why won’t you guys tell me that you’re dating?” 

I answered first, “Because we aren’t…” 

Bill nodded along, but Charlie looked beyond confused. He questioned us; Do you hold hands? Spend time together? Act all cute and annoying? Kiss each other? Bill replied yes to all of the questions and then Charlie asked us why we weren’t dating already, and I couldn’t help but wonder the same thing as well. 

I run my hands through his hair and I ask, tentatively, “Bill…” 

He hums, and I try to find the courage to ask before it’s all gone and forgotten because I need to know. I try to ask the most dreaded question in the world, in a confident matter like it didn’t matter at all to me what his answer might be, instead I stutter, “I-What are we?” 

He pauses, tenses, a few seconds pass then he lifts his head out of the crook of my neck and he hesitates, “I don’t know.” 

A beat passes, and I press, “I mean, when we go back-to Hogwarts, and some girl asks you out, what will you say?” 

He reaches the hand that was wrapped around my waist and rubs the back of his neck. He replies, “I don’t know.” 

“What if a guy asks me out?” I ask, scanning for answers in his eyes, hoping to elicit a reaction that he would care if he were to share me with someone else, that he’s mine and I am his. He shrugs his shoulders and says, “You’ll just say what you want to say.” 

He puts back his arm around my waist and he puts his face back into the crook of my shoulder. I sigh, unsatisfied with the answer. I place my hands back into his hair and play with the long ginger strands. His breath tickles my neck and he starts planting kisses on my shoulder. He trails them up to my neck and I sigh, contently. He begins to nibble and suckle the skin while I begin to tug on his hair. 

He lowers his hand that’s on my waist, bit by bit till he reaches my butt. He squeezes firmly causing me to gasp and press my hips forward towards him. I feel it, I feel him and Merlin, he’s- His hand trails lower to my thighs and it encourages me to sling my leg around his hip. His mouth moves up to my jaw, and then to my mouth. His tongue slips inside my mouth and he pushes his hips against mine. He groans and I pull away, I ask, “Here?” 

“What if your parents wake up, or someone notices? We can not traumatise someone else like we did with Percy and Charlie-” Bill silences me by pressing his lips against mine and that’s when I feel him start to harden underneath me. I moan as I wrap my legs more firmly around him as I press our hips tightly together. Bill pulls back this time, and he looks over at me, my hair sprawled everywhere and I feel the heat in my face. I press my hands to my cheeks feeling the difference in temperature. I ask, “Is my face red? It feels like it is.” 

Bill smiles and pulls my hands down and kisses me. He replies, “No, it’s perfect.” 

***

Bill Weasley is my first everything, kiss, first time, first whatever this thing was, and first heartbreak even if we technically didn’t stop. I was alright with it, I was because it felt like he was just as into me as I was into him. Just because we didn’t label the thing that we had doesn’t mean that we have to. It’s Bill, and I trust him. 

It was all going alright, more than alright, it was great, there wasn’t a moment that I didn’t spend with him, and I was so sure that I was falling for him, if I hadn’t already. I was on my way to Ancient Runes when I heard Bill’s voice, I perked up, until I heard another female voice with him. I slow down and I overhear the conversation. 

“Do you?” The female voice asks. 

“No, I uh, I don’t.” Bill

“So, you don’t have a girlfriend?” I can hear the grin in her voice

“Nope, I’m single.” 

I feel my eyes well up and I take a few deep breaths willing them away before deciding that I’m going to be taking a different route, and I end up late to class. The thing that I was worried about happened, and ugh, what am I going to do with myself if he does end up getting a girlfriend and it’s not me? 

I avoided Bill like the plague for a week, the only Weasleys I’m speaking to were Charlie and Percy, but even then it hurt, they looked so much like him. I cried more than I’m proud of, and even when Bill did try to talk to me, I would simply just walk away. 

It’s been exactly a week since I overheard Bill and I’m on my way to ancient runes once more. Someone calls my name, and Edgar Bones walks over to me. I wait for him to catch up and he smiles at me with a boyish grin. Bones asks, “You need a walk to class?” 

“Umm, I’m alright.” I reply, and walk on, but Bones follows. He walks along beside me and says, “Well, I’d like to give you one if you don’t mind.” 

I don’t reply and simply make my way to class, hoping that Bill wouldn’t get the wrong idea seeing me and Bones- wait, why should I care about what Bill thinks? He’s not my boyfriend as he’s made it very clear to some girl. I take Bill out of my mind and walk on. Bones walks beside me, an appropriate distance away. Halfway through the walk he looks towards me and asks, “Would you like me to carry your books?” 

“No, I’m alright.” I reply and adjust my bag over my shoulder and the books that are on my arm. I wonder what he might be doing walking me to class. Over the past six years, we’ve only had a few conversations all involving school or Quidditch. Nonetheless, he reaches over and grabs the books out of my arm, and I mumble a thank you at the kind gesture. 

We reach the door of the class, and I stand there. I look around while noticing Bones shuffling on his feet. I decide to be blunt and ask, “Bones, we’ve talked about four times since we’ve known each other, why are you walking me to class and holding my books?” 

“I-uh, I know this is out of the blue for you, but I-” He cuts himself off and looks around nervously. His gaze falls on something behind me and I look around to see McLaggen giving Bones two thumbs up, I look back at Bones confused and he clears his throat. He asks, “Would you like to go out with me?” 

It’s my turn to look around nervous, and shuffle awkwardly on my feet. I reply, “It’s just that we don’t know each other that well.” 

“I was hoping we’d get to do that over some butterbeer.” He says, and I notice the red tint on his cheeks. The silence is tense. I think it over; Bones is quite fit, and he’s one of the smartest people in Hufflepuff, I’ve heard he’s actually quite kind also. Besides, not like anyone is holding me back anymore. I say, “Sure then.” 

He beams and he raises his hand up in a thumbs up, no doubt to show McLaggen, it’s sort of cute, if you think about it. He plans, “How about tomorrow? I’ll pick you up at eleven and we’ll head over to the three broomsticks?” 

“That sounds good.” I say, and he grins. He hands me my books back then says quickly, “Well, I’ve got class in two minutes, so I have to run. I’ll see you tomorrow!” 

He breaks off into a run, McLaggen following behind him, and I head inside class. I sit in the middle beside the wall where I usually sit, and think about this date. I don’t like Bones, but most people don’t have feelings for the person that they’re going on a first date with. After the date is when the feelings pop up. It’s actually nice to be asked out, and not to be kissed once everyday when no one’s watching. 

I was getting excited about the prospect, thinking about what to wear, how to style my hair, when Bill walks in. He looks at me with a deep frown and heads off to sit beside someone else. I expected him to try to talk to me like he has in all of our classes, but he didn’t. He stares out the window for the entirety of class, which is unlike him, especially during the class that made him realise that he wanted to be a cursebreaker. 

I take a few notes, more than I usually do without noticing just in case Bill needed some after class. He would do the same when I would doze off during class or when I was sick. The bell rings and I put my books in my bag and sling it over my shoulder, holding a few on my arm. I barely walk out of class when someone pulls on my bag, pulling me back as well. I say, “Hey!” 

“Is it true?” Bill asks, just as I register that it’s him and not someone that I don’t know. His cheeks are flushed, but in the way that makes him seem agitated. I look at him confused and I ask, “What?” 

“You’re going out on a date with Bones? Is it true?” He asks, and I find myself pursing my lips and avoiding to answer. He runs a hand through his hair frustrated, and then continues, “Cause maybe, you didn’t know it was a date? Did you know?” 

“Can we not do this here?” I ask, when I see people stopping walking around and looking at me and Bill instead. A few whispers follow, and Bill grabs my hand to lead me somewhere more crowded. We stand in front of a large window with the sunlight beaming through and it’s near a hidden alcove where no one comes often. The hallway is empty and Bill doesn’t say anything before he sighs and asks, “Are you really?” 

“Yes.” I reply, and I can see his shoulders fall. He takes a few steps closer to me and asks me, “Did you know it was a date?” 

“Yes, I did, I’m not an idiot.” I snap, and his shoulders tense over and his frown deepens. His stance becomes defensive and he folds his arms over his chest. He says, “Bones is a dick, he just uses girls for sex, and he’s a big jerk.” 

“No, he’s not-” 

“He’s mean to his family and he treats his friends badly-” 

“No! He doesn’t, Bill.” I shout, “Stop making him try to seem like a jerk just so I won’t go out with him.” 

He bites his lip and looks away. His chest is heaving and his jaw clenches. I take a step back and I whisper, “You don’t have a say on who I go out with, you’re not my boyfriend.” 

Bill eyes me for a moment, and I try to stand my ground. He sighs, before turning around and leaving in a huff. I can hear his angry footsteps even after he’s out of my line of sight. 

***

The entire time when I’m getting ready to go out on a date, I think of Bill. Bill always said he liked my hair up, so I’m keeping it down. He liked me in red, so I’m wearing blue, anything to keep him out of my head. It’s my first ever date with a guy who might actually want to be my boyfriend instead of Bill who would kiss me and leave. 

10.55

I walk downstairs and decide to wait the last few minutes outside the common room while I wait for Bones. I’m just about at the end of the stairs when Charlie rushes over to me. “Hi, Honey!” 

“Oh, Hi Charlie.” I wave to him while he walks over to me. He smiles and he walks over to me, way too slowly. He reaches me and asks, “What are you doing dressed up so nice?” 

“Nothing much, Charlie.” I reply, not wanting to tell the boy that things with Bill and I are what they are. He looks me up and down, and narrows his eyes at me. He asks, “Are you going out on a date?” 

10.57

“I uh- yeah.” I say, reluctantly. Charlies purses his lips, thinking. He looks at me, confused. He thinks out loud, “That’s weird, Bill told me that he wasn’t going to Hogsmeade today.” 

“I’m not going with Bill.” I say, and Charlie’s face falls and he’s looking at me with those heartbroken puppy eyes. My heart aches, and I can’t stand it much longer. I rush, “I’ll talk to you later, Charlie.” 

10.58

I look up from my watch as I make it to the door of the common room when a small little redhead steps between me and the door. Percy grins up at me, and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He holds a book out to me and he asks, “Hey, honey! Could you help me with this potions chapter?” 

“Of course, Percy just when I head back, it’s hogsmeade weekend.” I explain and his smile falls. I wonder why I am breaking all of the young Weasley’s hearts today. Percy asks, “Where are you going at Hogsmeade?” 

“I’m not sure you’d know what I’m talking about Percy, you’ve never been there before.” I reply and look back at my watch. 

10.59

“I still wanna know.” Percy insists, and I reply, “I’m going to this place called ‘the three broomsticks’ where I’m going to have some drinks and stuff like butterbeer.” 

Percy nods his head, looking intrigued. He strokes his chin like an old man deep in thought. He says, “Tell me more about it.” 

“I would love to, Percy and I will, but I have to get going now.” I say, and he frowns, I ruffle his hair and try to soften the blow, “But how about, when I get back, after lunch maybe, we can go to the library and I’ll tell you all about it and I’ll help you with potions.” 

He nodded and then quickly ran back up the stairs…weird. I finally open the door to the common room and I see Bones standing a few feet away from the door. He waves to people in our year as he greets them. 

11.00 

I look at my watch and I smile at his punctuality. He grins when he sees me and I offer a polite smile back. I walked over to him and he met me halfway. He tells me that I look pretty and I tell him the same. He loops our arms together and we walk through the castles to where the carriages are being pulled towards Hogsmeade. We talked a little most of the time but a lot at other times. We sat watching the snowfall on the ground from the window. He tells me his favourite season is spring, I tell him mine is autumn. 

He told me how this is his first date and I told him the same. I can tell that he’s itching to ask Bill and I’m dying for him not to. We drink butterbeer and he offers to pay. We talk about our plans and how he wants to be a healer. I tell him that I’m not sure. He said that it’s okay. I smile at him as he tells me that he loves Potions and he does the same when I talk about Arithmancy. 

When we’re in the carriages heading back when there’s about an hour left till lunch, he tells me he’s had a great time and I tell him the same. He pulls his jacket around my shivering arms, and then leans forward to kiss me. I reciprocate and then he tells me that he wants to hold on to the date a little bit more. 

We hop off the carriage and it takes us the better part of an hour to walk back to the castle ourselves. We talk for most of the time, the other half just listening to the sound of our footsteps on the snow. He trips over a branch on the ground and falls face first into the snow. His face leaves an imprint on the snow and I bend over laughing. He throws a snowball at my face, and that’s when the snow fight begins. 

We fall on the ground when he asks if I like Bill, and dreadidly I say yes. He assures me and tells me that he’s still happy to have known me better. We decide that if he’s ever in need of an Arithmancy tutor that he can come to me, and his door is always open when I need help with potions. 

The date ended and it was a good first date even if it didn’t end with a new romantic prospect.  Lunch is almost over, so I grab a few snacks from the Great Hall before heading over to my dorm to change before meeting up with Percy in the library. Charlie stops me as soon as I enter the common room. 

“I need your help!” Charlie exclaims and I get worried very quickly. He drags me by my hand up the staircase to the boy’s dormitories and I hope that the staircases don’t turn into a slide beneath us. He leads me up and up and up the stairs till we reach the fifth year boy’s dorms. Bill’s dorms. On our way there, he asks, “You said Bill doesn’t like alcohol.” 

“He doesn’t.” I reply and Charlie tuts before he opens the door to Bill’s dorm. I smell the alcohol before I see Bill. He’s lying on the floor, with his hand wrapped around a bottle of Firewhiskey. I hear some tiny sobs before walking over to him, falling to my knees in worry. I wave over to Charlie, motioning for him to leave while I take care of Bill. 

Bill beams when he sees me. His hand reaches over to cup my face, and he stutters, “You’re very very pretty, honey.” 

I press a tiny kiss to his forehead to soothe him, and he closes his eyes in momentary bliss and I can see the tears streaks running from under his eyes and over his cheeks. I lean to grasp the bottle of Firewhiskey from his hand, but he tightens his grip over it. He protests, “No!” 

“Come on, Bill. You don’t even like this thing.” I insist and pry the bottle out of his fingers. I put it away on one of his other roommates' nightstands.  Bill frowns, “I know, I know, I just need it today, just today…” 

He lets out a sob, and I push him up so he can sit upright and rub circles on his back. He leans his head on my shoulder and he holds my hand. He sighs softly and I ask, “Why do you need it today, Bill?” 

“Cause you’re o-on a date.” Bill says, and my heart pounds under my chest. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen Bill like this. He rambles, “You went out with someone else, you laughed and you went to the three broomstick, and he kissed you-” 

“Wait, you followed me?” I ask, anger bubbling. Bill notices and he quickly lifts his head from my shoulder and looks at me, eyes wide. I still push a strand of his long hair over his eyes. He grasps my head from his face and he chokes out another sob, “I couldn’t help it, I love you!” 

I gasp, and Bill sobs covering his face with his hands. I look away, feeling my eyes water, why couldn’t he feel those emotions when sober? I blink away the tears and I pull him to my chest, and he wraps his arms around me, hugging me tight that I might fear for my ribs. I pet his head and whisper, “It’s okay, it’s okay.” 

“You can’t like him, I love you!” Bill repeats and I can’t help but start to let a few tears slip. Bill shouldn’t be spilling anymore thoughts when he’s like this, especially if they might not be true. I say, “Let’s get you to bed.” 

“Only if you stay.” Bill says, and I nod my head. I help him up and he falls. He starts tripping over his feet, as I lead him to his bed, the one with the photo of his face on the nightstand beside it. I cover him with a blanket and I move away from him. He grabs a hold of my wrist. I reassure him, “I’m only going to get the trash in, just in case you decide to throw up.” 

He nods, and then lets go of my wrist slowly. I grab the trash bin and a glass of water, and set them both beside him. He grabs me again, and he pulls me on top of him. He smiles when he sees my face. He cups my face and rubs his thumb across my cheekbones. It felt nice, like it wasn’t complicated at all. It felt the same way it did during the summer, and I covered his hand with my own. His smile dropped and he asked, “Why did you have to go away?” 

“What are you talking about, Bill?” 

“You haven’t talked to me in a while.” Bill says, and I clear my throat before correcting him, “A week isn’t a while.” 

“A few minutes not talking to you is agony enough.” Bill says, and I sigh. He looks up at me with those bright blue eyes, and his other hand goes to my back, lifting up a slight part of my shirt before settling down on my warm, bare skin. I answer, “You told a girl that you didn’t have a girlfriend.” 

He frowns and purses his lips, thoughts travelling throw them, slower than they would if he were sober. The pieces joining together before his lips part in astonishment. He asks, “You want to be my girlfriend?” 

It takes me a moment. I didn’t know at first, but the feeling of it, of having him call me his, kissing him whenever I can. I still don’t think that would be enough, I want more, so much more than just that. I reply, “I want to be more than that with you Bill.” 

“How?” 

“I don’t know.” 

***

“We’re just so proud of Bill for taking this step forward.” Molly gushes about Bill to me. We’re all sitting at the dinner table just a month into the summer before our seventh and final year. The Gred and Forge, Ginny and Ron are on one side of the table. Arthur sits at the head at the table Charlie opposite to him while Molly sits next to Bill who sits next to me. 

None of the kids care about the conversation, just eating little chicken nuggets and some fries with chocolate milkshakes, playing with each other. As Fred and George tell eachother jokes, while Ron munches on his food. Ginny just plays with her hair trying to braid tiny strands of it without looking. 

Charlie is just rolling her eyes at how much Molly is gushing about Bill, while Bill flushes trying to get her to stop, embarrassed. Arthur is making sure that Fred and George don’t set the table on fire, due to previous experiences. Molly says one thing that peaks my interest, “I mean taking an internship that could lead to a job in Egypt, obviously he’ll visit a lot-” 

“What internship?” I cut Molly off asking, tense, and the table went silent. I look at Bill questioningly. Bill swallows his last bit of food before turning to look at me. Molly exclaims, “Oh, I’ve said something wrong, Haven’t I? I’m sorry.” 

“No, it’s alright, Molly.” I reassure her from behind Bill, while he pets his mother’s arm. Bill clears his throat and looks at me explaining, “I didn’t take it, I still have to get accepted.” 

“In Egypt?” I ask, frowning at the far off place, in an entirely different continent. He says softly, “Yeah.” 

“It’s a curse breaking internship, and who knows maybe I’ll be working there around tombs and mummies and-” Bill explains, and I question, “And you’re just going?” 

“If I get accepted-” 

“And you’re gonna leave.” I point out, and he looks around awkwardly as Ginny starts asking Arthur where Bill is going and why he’s leaving. Molly and Aurthur usher everyone out of the dinning area just leaving Bill and I there. We sit in silence, and I don’t know where to even start. Don’t go, stay. How could you leave? I start, “Were you going to tell me about this?” 

“I didn’t want to tell you before I got it, would’ve been a lot of worry for nothing.” Bill says, and I turn around my chair to face him. He does the same. Our knees touching and legs intertwined. I ask, “And if you get it?” 

I wait for his answer as he looks down at the ground and I put my hand out grabbing his hand in mine. I play with his hand with both of mine and I place it on my lap. HE stays silent and I ask, “Would you go?”

“I-I don’t know, probably.” Bill says, and I feel pieces of my heart start to crack off. My hold on his hand tightens and I question, “What about your family? I’m sure Molly needs a helping hand around here. Charlie and Percy need their older brother, Who’s gonna keep Fred and George in line? Ron looks up to you, and Ginny loves you so much-” 

Bill cuts me off with a strong kiss on my lips while his hand encases my face. It’s the first one in a while and I relish in it. When Bill woke up after my date, he couldn’t remember anything but through a heated discussion we decided to take a few steps back. He was just my friend again. I hold his face in between my hands, and I whisper softly, “I need you to stay.” 

Bill places some more kisses onto my face and he hugs me tightly. I pull him closer, and think of how he could go. Go and be so far away. I ask from the crook of his neck, “How long would this internship be?” 

“A year.” 

“That’s not a long time…” I convince myself and him. He grabs my waist tighter and he says, “Don’t worry, I’m pretty sure that I won’t get it.” 

But he did. 

***

After a year of not seeing Bill, my first year working as the new professor of Arithmancy at Hogwarts, I might as well be jumping off the walls, bursting from excitement just to see him again. We had spent our seventh year in agony waiting to see if he got the internship or not, and when he did, I spent the last of the year, holding onto him until he had to leave. 

He didn’t kiss me once that year, except when we were on the train for the last time, heading back to platform 9 ¾ . We stayed as we were, except I stayed true to my word. I couldn’t see him as simply my friend anymore. Whenever he hugged me I wanted to savour that feeling forever. When he talked I wished I could listen to him talk forever and have those lips on mine. When he held Ginny and played with her hair, braiding it, I couldn’t help but picture a future like this, with him. 

When he came back, flew in through the Floo network from the ministry, I wasted no second in running towards him and wrapping my arms around his neck. The sounds of his siblings cheer loudly and they push me aside to hug their brother, and I chuckle at their love for him.

He flicks Fred and George’s hair telling them to stop getting so tall or they might catch up to him. He tells Ginny that she’s still as beautiful as ever, and for Ron to set up the wizarding chess board for a game later tonight. He asks Percy to get all his books ready so he can tell him an in depth description about all of them, and for Charlie to start stretching so he can beat his ass in quidditch. All the while, he shoots me looks from over their shoulders. 

Molly kisses her son and scolds him for not writing more often, he tells her that there simply wasn’t enough time, and then Molly, ushers everyone out. I stare at Bill and notice how his arms got larger and he became more chiselled (if possible), I point to the most notable difference. I point to his hair that’s currently in a low bun, making him look so very handsome. I ask, “You grew your hair.” 

“Yeah, Mom’s already begged me to cut it twice already.” He chuckles, and I take a few steps forwards towards him. I hug him and put my arms around his neck, and he moves his head to kiss me instead. Kissing me hard, and passionately. It takes me by surprise and I gasp, “Bill, what?” 

I don’t get a chance as his lips are back on mine, kissing me harder. I chuckle at his intent, and he wraps his arms around me. Our chests pressed against each other. I breathe him in deeply, and I realise how much I missed him. Every little thing about him too. I pull away to breathe and Bill chases after my lips. That’s when I realise something’s wrong. He’s kissing me because he needs to, he’s holding onto me. 

“They’ve given me the job full time-” Bill says and I immediately frown. I start, “I-” 

He cuts me off with another powerful kiss and another few seconds of silence where I can hear my heartbeats in my ears due to the lack of oxygen. It felt so blissful despite the ache in my chest because of the lack of air and Bill’s words. Bill starts, “They want me to take the job and move their full time-” 

“Bill-” 

“But I won’t go, if you ask me to stay.” Bill finishes, and I’m struck by his words. He pecks my lips once more, and I’m left reeling with all this information. I smile, bittersweetly, “You got your dream job…” 

“But it’s so far away.” I say, and he nods his head. He pulls my hands in his and he can already feel where I’m going with this. He rants, “You asked me what we are, and I said I don’t know, I never knew, but now I do.” 

“You can’t turn down your dream-” 

“I know now, I know that I want you, and that I love you, and if you tell me to stay I will. I’ll stay, just tell me to. Tell me that you’ll be mine.” Bill says and he lifts his hands to cup my face, looking at me as if I was the most precious thing in his life, but I’m not. He says, “I never wanted to tell you because I was an idiot, an idiot who was scared that you didn’t want him, an idiot who thought that he would lose you, if he told you he loved you.” 

I counter, “This is your dream, Bill. Your future, what you’ve always wanted-”

“No, you’re my future and I’m sorry that I didn’t know it before, but I do know. Ask me to stay, please.” he begs, and I pull his hands down. I look at him cause this might just be one of the few times that I’m going to see him for a long time. I’ve long had the image of his face pressed into my mind. I need to make sure that it withstands the test of time. I reason, “I-I’m not going to make this decision for you by asking you to stay, you might regret as time goes on-” 

“I can never regret you.” 

“I’m not going to stand in the way of this opportunity for you…you need to make it by yourself. And I’ve always been yours…” I trail off, and press a kiss on his lips. He looks at me dejected and helpless. I say, “Now, let’s go back in, your family’s waiting for you.”

***

Bill’s heading to the ministry any second now to head to the Floo network so he can go to Egypt. His family is going with him, so they can watch him Floo away, and they asked me to come, but I couldn’t because seeing his face before he goes, I might do something stupid like ask him to stay just for me, or maybe go to Egypt right with him. 

Molly said she’d come and see me after, they all will definitely be in need of a hug, especially Ginny who’s not going to bear being the only one at the Burrow anymore. I prepared a lot of food for everyone to come and get while they all cope with having Bill move away. I’m not sure I’ve copped myself, I don’t think I ever will. 

Knocks echo on my door, and I wave my wand pulling the food out on the table that I’ve arranged mishapely to gather enough chairs for the entire family. I arrange a few more things with the flick of my wand and I realise that I’ve forgotten the cups. I head over to the cupboard, and I flick my wand over to the door, making it fly open. 

“Just let yourself in Molly, I’m just putting down the cups!” I pull out eight cups and I hold them in my arms haphazardly, I make my way to the table and start arranging them. I put down all the cups, until there’s two left- “I’m not Molly.” 

I looked over my shoulder to where Bill was standing, bags at hand. He smiles at me and I smile back. I look at the clock, and I say, “Couldn’t do without a goodbye? But you’ll miss your Floo time, and you have to go where you’re supposed to-” 

“I’m right where I’m supposed to be.” Bill says, and my bittersweet smile drops. I look at him questioningly. He couldn’t possibly mean- He answers my thoughts, “I’m not going.” 

He sets his bags down and I put the last two cups randomly on the table. I fiddle with my fingers anxiously. I say, “I don’t want you to throw away your dream for me.” 

“It’s more like picking one dream over the other.” Bill says, still standing by the door. He continues, “I want to be a cursebreaker, and I still can be here in England, but I can’t have the life I always wanted with you if I’m miles away, and that’s what I want more than anything.” 

It’s the last of the confirmation that I need before heading over to him, rushing into his arms, as he finally holds me, and he whispers that he loves me. He kisses me and I forget to brace myself over how dizzy and giddy he makes me, finally as my own.

a/n: hope you liked it!

[that-girl-glader]

THE OWL HOUSE FANDOM COME BACK!!!!!

Here's a list of things I would like to ask or provide for, aswell as ask for recs because I know some of this shit exists I just haven't been in the fandom much (like a lot of us):

More Vee/Masha I BEG

Vee centric content

Hunter being a nerd

More Darius/Alador content

Amity & Willow content. And there like whole past dynamic

RAEDAAAAA but also when they where younger

What was there life like in the human realm?????

Literally how did Vee become friends with those other humans brooo, how was the camp, how was vee as LUZ???

Amphibia x Owl House crossovers???C'mon!!

Older them??? Like from the end when they were going to college. Fuck I need more of that C'mon.

GUSTTHOLOMULE and I don't even mean it romantically. Just them bccccc there so darn cuteeee!!!

Mattholomule centrics I BEGGGG. And more on him and Steve. Him and his life. Him and how he helped keep the school in order with his IDEASSS.

LILITH LILITH BABY LILITH GROWN LILITH LILITHHHHHHHHH. AROACE ROCK!!!!!

More on Gus and his father dynamic

More on Gus period

Gus and Willow friendship

Gus and Hunter friendship

HUNTER CENTRIC

MORE ON LIKE BACKSTORIES ABOUT THE SIDES LIKE SKARA, VINEY, JERBO ppl like that

RAINE RAINE MORE ON THEMMMM OMTITANSSS

The collectors BACKSTORY, ORIGIN, FAMILY??????

I think this is really fun cool stuff to explore, and I might just contribute with this. Because I miss these losers, and I want them to live forever. Don't be stingy with Recommendations guys. Ik we can make a come back because I saw y'all (b)witches on toh anniversary with shit sooooooo.

[gloomwitchwrites]

I wish to see how each of the 141 boys respond to their ex, reader, calling them for emotional support bc readers newest bf was toxic af

bonus points if 141 boys are still possessive over reader, but doesn't do anything besides telling reader to leave her toxic bf. OR ORRR he's possessive bc him and reader have been together for so long, who would know how to treat her better than him? He knows every little detail she cares about, every little action that makes her fall head over heels in an instant. Her toxic bf? He doesn't care to learn about those types of things, even if reader outright says it

EVEN MORE BONUS POINTS for smut to show reader what a quick fuck of satisfaction looks like vs genuine sex / love making

Apologies, Anon. This has been sitting in my inbox for…a while, but I’ve been thinking about it off and on since you’ve sent it in.

I’ll drop some HC’s about how this would go down but I absolutely want to explore this further as part of the Imagines & What If Series.

I'll tackle these separately and make them individual one-shots (with much more detail) once I wrap up the By the Belt prompt. But for now...enjoy my HC's (if you will) on what I think would go down in this scenario.

The official masterlist for the extended fics can be found HERE.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

Content & Warnings: suggestive themes (it's vague), brief mentions of protective/possessive behavior, canon-typical swearing

John Price

Breakup status: Strained (at first), but settled into friendship.

Absolutely hates texting, and you know if you need to reach him immediately, you have to call. Price isn’t an old man, he’s just the old man of the group, and would absolutely be tech literate but also super picky on how he communicates with people personally. It’s Price’s job to be calm, to be a leader, and pick up on things others don’t necessarily notice. So, Price would know you’re upset with your current boyfriend without you even having to spell it out. Besides, Price hates the guy, and knows he’s not worth even a lob of spit.

Plus, Price has been wanting to get back with you for ages. Now that the two of you are friends and have repaired whatever it is that separated the two of you in the first place, Price is looking to find a way to move in again, to slowly (or quickly) win you back, and now he has the opportunity.

Price insists on talking in person, and the moment the two of you are together, he makes the effort he knows you’re needing—because he wants you back, but also because he knows you better than your current boyfriend. Price doesn’t understand why you even gave the guy a chance, but he’ll do everything to get you back.

He would start with subtle indications eventually moving the conversation into past memories, reminiscing on happier times when you were his woman, and how that felt. It slowly devolves until you’re admitting first that you still miss him, and Price goes in for the kill, stating clearly that he still has feelings for you.

The final act is passionate, rough, and intense. Like an atom splitting, it is explosive.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Breakup status: mutual (away all the time; hard to make it work)

When you call, on the verge of tears, needing to talk to someone, Gaz immediately knows something is wrong the moment he picks up. (Sorta like Price but more attuned emotionally to the situation).

I can see Gaz not being a fan of chatting for long periods on the phone, so you don’t even need to ask, Gaz will drop everything and come to you without you having to suggest it. In fact, Gaz picks up, realizes your upset, and immediately says he’s coming over.

When he arrives, it’s like the two of you have never been apart. It’s almost routine, completely natural the way the two of you come together. Gaz is very much about physical affection. He’s constantly touching you, comforting you, and saying sweet things that always make you melt.

Totally knows you need a distraction, and while you’re upset, you’re having a difficult time expressing yourself. When this happens, Gaz just shuts it down, guiding you toward distraction to help you calm down and ease your mind before probing to see if you want to return to the topic.

Once that happens, game over for boyfriend. He’s lost you to Gaz.

The reunification is absolutely passionate and soft. I will die on that hill.

John “Soap” MacTavish

Breakup status: Messy. (You cannot tell me Soap isn’t a hot mess. Our boy is a little too high energy at times.)

While the breakup between the two of you is messy, Soap has always been a “safe” person for you. So, when you call him to vent, you don’t realize that Soap immediately starts heading in your direction until he knocks on your door and the two of you stand there staring at each other, phones held up to your ears. It’s an impulsive decision on his end to come to you, but you don’t turn him away.

Like Simon, Soap would be forward in the way he addresses your concern and the issues—which is your shitty boyfriend who deserves to only be known as your ex. However, where Simon is more of a blunt “these are the facts” kind of communicator, Soap will go for the jugular, using harsher language about this “boyfriend.” He won’t be critical of you, but he will be overly critical of him, listing all the ways this idiot doesn’t deserve you. He might even grow a bit heated in tone and pitch, becoming creative with his slang, and his accent might thicken slightly especially if he’s going off.

But ultimately, Soap is defending you, and reiterates the need for you to stand up for yourself and get rid of this loser.

I don’t think anything passionate would happen in that moment. But I could also see Soap in the middle of him criticizing your toxic boyfriend, you shutting him up with a kiss. Now…that could easily go sideways with someone like Soap. He’s very much impulsive at times, and I think that would win out. Soap would totally kiss you back and not allow you to pull away from him again until you’re…satisfied.

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Breakup status: Tumultuous, eventually mellowing to mutual understanding afterward.

Would listen to you rant without interrupting. He would not ask any clarifying or follow up questions.

When you have it all out of your system, his response is simple: break up with him. Simon is direct—could even say blunt depending on the situation, and he would absolutely be that way in this scenario.

He makes it clear that you’re obviously not happy and that the relationship is making you miserable. He might even lay it out plainly, stating only the facts, sliding into that mindset when he’s in the field, thinking about all scenarios and problem-solving while doing so.

Internally, he’s absolutely ecstatic that your current boyfriend is a garbage heap of a human being. He will see this as an opportunity to slip right back into your life if he plays this right. Sure, the two of you aren’t together anymore, but he’s not over it. Simon is possessive and territorial to the core. Totally still considers you his.

Will absolutely make up a reason to come over, and it will likely fall under the “I’m looking out for you” or “trying to protect you from him” insisting that your boyfriend could escalate and he won’t allow you to potentially be in harm’s way.

When he arrives, Simon immediately turns soft and attentive in just the way you like. He gives you his full attention, doesn’t lecture, and offers plenty of physical touch.

The physical touches turn…well, I’ll save that for the full fic. But it is a reminder of how you’ve always been his and you just need to realize it.

taglist:

@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @36namey @miss-mistinguett @keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @enfppuff @berarenado @saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @thewulf @hayleybarnesx @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos @enarien @sw33tsnow @kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d @heeheehoohoohahahihi @lulurubberduckie @ravenpoe67 @jade1605 @miaraei

[k-nayee]

Muse Benson Boone

wc: 3.2k a/n: Song Inspiration: once again Death Wish Love by Benson Boone; recommend you listen while reading!! ngl y'all, I kinda have it down bad for ya boi here. smh just had to make one for him😭😭

Traveler M.List

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

It wasn’t hard to remember the first time you met Benson Boone.

You hadn’t expected much from the day, just a casual introduction Katy insisted on making when he was fresh off American Idol.

I mean, the Katy Perry? Who were you to refuse?

Besides you weren’t exactly a seasoned pro yourself—still finding your own rhythm in the music industry.

And so, it started off with little things: drafts of songs, small tweaks here and there.

You helped him refine early tracks, most notably Ghost Town—the one that truly put him on the map.

After that he started coming to you more and more. As his fame grew, so did your friendship. Pretty soon you became one of his permanent co-writers.

Now years later, you’d both grown up around each other. You’d seen him go through breakups, career stresses, and moments of doubt.

And he’d seen you juggle college, deal with your own personal issues, and (more than once) whine about how finding a decent guy seemed impossible.

Benson would always chuckle at that and tease you with lighthearted remarks, but you both knew that dating wasn’t really something you prioritized.

Maybe it was because of your grandfather’s old-school advice—always reminding you that most men wanted one thing which was what was between your legs.

It was drilled into your head so much that even when someone did show interest, you were quick to put them off.

Benson had been the exception to a lot of your rules though. Him and that attractive boy-next-door smile and the messy curls....

Ahem. Anyways.

There was even a brief period of time (you 18, him 20) when you felt a flicker of something more.

You would be hyper-aware of his closeness, how your heart would skip when he leaned in too close. But you’d buried those feelings fast.

He was your friend and he didn’t need you complicating that.

Now at 19, you were over it. Whatever crush you’d harbored was long gone, and Benson seemed content with your dynamic too.

He had never shown any romantic interest in you—he was always tangled up in his own relationships. And you?

You had your songwriting, your studies, and your life to keep you busy. There was no room to think about him like that.

But things had a funny way of changing...

You were in the studio with Benson. He was sitting across from you, head tipped back as he stared up at the ceiling in frustration.

“I don’t know,” he mutters, finally breaking the silence, “I just feel like everything I’m writing sounds the same.”

You glance up from your laptop, eyebrow raised. “You’re in a funk. It happens.”

He groans in response, still staring at the ceiling. “Yeah but it’s more than that. I want to try something new...something different.”

You lean back in your chair and wait for him to elaborate. He sits up suddenly, eyes narrowing with thought before they flicker to yours.

“I’ve been thinking,” he begins before pausing for dramatic effect. “What if I tried something in the country genre?”

A surprised laugh escapes your lips before you can stop it. “Country music? You?”

He rolls his eyes in attempt to play it off as if it’s no big deal, but you can see the determination behind them. “Why not?”

You lean forward with a smirk. “Let me guess: bit by the Cowboy Cater bug, huh? Beyoncé's album got you feeling all rustic and rugged?”

He laughed a little flustered, shaking his head. “No it’s not that. I just—” He hesitated, and that’s when you caught it.

Beneath his usual confidence there was something else. Uncertainty.

Benson was never unsure when it came to his music, but this? It was new territory for him.

“I want to branch out, you know? Try something that’s different from what I’ve been doing.”

You watched him carefully, noticing the way his fingers drummed lightly against the armrest of his chair.

For all the joking, there was a frustration underneath it. He felt he wasn’t as creative as he usually was and it was bothering him.

After a beat of silence, you nod and cross your arms. “I get it. You’re ready to shake things up.”

“Exactly,” his expression relaxes a little as he saw you weren’t just teasing him anymore.

You pause when a spark of an idea hits you. “You know...I think I might know just the place to help kickstart your country boy era.”

His eyebrows lift. “Oh?”

A grin spread across your face.  “What if we went to my hometown? You’ll find all the inspiration you need there.”

There’s a beat of silence as Benson considers your offer, his lips curving into a soft smile. “You’d really take me down there?”

“Why not?” you say with a shrug. “Could be fun. And you’ll get all the authentic country vibes you’re looking for.”

He chuckles with a small nod. “Alright,” he said. “Let’s do it.”

You beamed, already buzzing with excitement. “Great! I’ll book everything. Trust me you’re going to love it.”

He smiled back, his gaze lingering on you just a second too long before he turned away. “I trust you.”

════════════════*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═════════════════

The moment you and Benson roll into your hometown, the air feels different.

It’s been a while since you’ve been back home, and the nostalgia washes over you in waves the closer you drive.

You catch Benson glancing out the window as if he's trying to soak in the vibe of the small Southern town.

After a few minutes of driving, he finally breaks the silence. “So...are we heading straight to the hotel?”

You glance at him with a sly grin. “Actually I’ve got a better idea.”

He raises an eyebrow intrigued but doesn’t press. He’s always trusted you, especially when it comes to things like this. 

It doesn’t take long before you’re pulling up to the familiar gates of Chickadee Country Club.

As the headlights sweep over the sign, memories of summer jobs, long shifts, and late-night laughs flood your mind.

Rolling down the window as you approach the security gate, the guard’s flashlight flickers over your car before the beam lands on you.

A wide grin breaks across the guard’s face the moment he recognizes you. “Well I’ll be damned! Ain’t that [Mom Name]’s girl? What you doin’ down here sweetheart? Thought you’d be up there with the big-time celebs writin’ them songs and whatnot.”

You roll your eyes already smiling. “Very funny, Earl. I’m here for a job.”

Earl lets out a laugh, his wrinkled face creasing in amusement. “A job huh? What, you run outta money already?”

“Ha ha, ya got me.” you say dryly, shooting him a sarcastic look. “Now will you let me through Earl? Or are you gonna keep me out here all night ya old coot?”

Earl chuckles as the gate slowly begins to open.

“Well since ya asked so nicely,” he drawls, flashing you a wink. “Don’t get lost now. Place ain’t changed much, but it still got a way of confusin’ city folk.”

As you pull through Benson snorts beside you. “Ran out of money huh?” he asks with a teasing grin as you park into the parking space.

You shrug. “Times are tough.”

Stepping out of the car, you glance back at him as he follows. “C’mon. I want to show you where the magic happens.”

Benson lets out a low whistle. “So this is where you worked?”

“Yup. Chickadee Country Club. I basically lived here for years.”

He raise an eyebrow as he get into step beside you. “So what did you do here? Let me guess—bev cart girl?”

You let out a loud laugh at that. “God, no. Everything else but that. Food running, banquet serving, bartending... you name it, I did it.”

“Bartending before 21?” His eyes widen slightly as he looks over at you. “But isn't that like—”

“Illegal?” You shoot him a mischievous smirk, leaning in just a little closer. “Just don’t tell anyone. Shhhh”

He lets out a laugh at that, the sound warm in the cooling night air.

Your smile soften at the sight, but before he could notice you brush it off and elbow him lightly.

“Welp! Who knows,” you jump a head of him with a pep in your step, “might even meet the love of your life here.”

Benson huffs with a shake of his head as he watches you head toward the glass doors of the club.

His gaze lingers, the fondness inside his chest growing the longer he watches you.

“Yeah,” he mutters to himself. “Hopefully.”

*.·:·.☽✧✧☾.·:·.* 

You push open the glass doors of the country club, stepping into the familiar scent of polished wood and faint lemon cleaner.

It’s closing time and the place is quiet, but you can already hear the distant chatter of a few late-night staffers finishing up for the evening.

Benson lingers behind you, eyes sweeping over the dark wood paneling and framed photos of golf tournaments long past.

“____! Well look what the cat dragged in!”

You barely have time to react before Mirabel, one of your old coworkers, rushes up to you with open arms.

She pulls you into a tight hug, her dark curls bouncing as she lets out an excited squeal.

“Mirabel!” you laugh as you hug her back. “Long time no see.”

Mirabel pulls away just long enough to look you up and down, her eyes sparkling with surprise. “Señorita where have you been? I thought you’d abandoned us all for the fancy Hollywood life!”

“Not quite,” you joke before perking up when your gaze fell on a familiar petite figure hunched over the computer nearby.

Taylor. She hasn’t changed a bit—still the same auburn ponytail bouncing behind her and freckles splashed across her pale skin like stars in the night sky.

You grab Benson’s arm in excitement as you whisper, “You want country inspiration right?”

Without waiting for an answer you pull him towards her.

“Taylor!” you call once close enough.

The redhead glances up, and for a split second, confusion crosses her face before recognition hits.

Her expression transforms and lights up like a firework. “Well slap my ass and call me a biscuit! ____! Where the hell have you been girl?”

Her thick Southern twang makes you giggle as you rush over to give her a tight hug. “I’ve been round! You know, making music and living that L.A. life. But I’m back for a few days to work on a new project.”

Taylor's green eyes brighten with curiosity. “Oh yeah? What kinda project?”

You glance back at Benson who’s offering a sheepish smile.

Before you can even introduce him, Taylor’s eyes widen and her jaw drops.

“Oh my God,” she's starstruck. “Benson Boone! I didn’t know you were friends with the Benson Boone!”

You suppress a laugh as Benson waves shyly. “Hi uh...nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet—girl, do you know how fine he is in real life?” Taylor mutters under her breath, though loud enough for you to hear.

You bite back a grin knowing full well that Benson heard it too by the way he flushes.

“Yeah I’ve noticed,” you reply with a wink, earning a playful slap on the arm from Taylor.

She’s just about to launch into another flurry of questions, the sound of fast-approaching footsteps catches your attention.

“My baby!” 

Before you can react, you’re snatched into a familiar embrace and smothered in kisses.

“Oh ____! My sweet baby!” Your mom’s voice echoes in the lobby as she holds onto you, her grip like iron. “When did you get here? You weren’t even gonna tell your own mama you were home?”

“Hey Ma...” you mumble, struggling to breathe as she finally pulls back.

Your mom’s tearful face quickly morphs into one of irritation, and before you can say a word, she smacks you upside the head. “Uh ow?”

“Now when the hell did you get here? And where are you even staying?” she demands, hands on her hips now. “You couldn’t even come stay at the house? What, you ashamed of where you were raised?!”

“Ma please,” you groan, already feeling the heat of embarrassment crawl up your neck as you catch Benson’s teasing gaze from the corner of your eye. “I just got in tonight, and I’m staying at a hotel because—well, there won't be any room at the house. I’ve got company.”

You gesture over to Benson who offers your mom an awkward wave. Her stern expression melts instantly the moment she sees him.

“Oh? And who is this handsome fella?” She strides over to Benson, sizing him up with a playful smile. Her hand reaches out to pinch his cheek. “You ____’s boyfriend?”

“Ma!” You practically shriek, feeling your face heat up.

“That’s Benson Boone Miss [Mom’s Name],” Taylor chimes in, still wide-eyed and giddy. “He’s like, one of the biggest artists right now. You know that song Ghost Town? That’s him!”

Your mom’s eyebrows shoot up, her smile widening with delight. She turns back to you with an amused glint in her eye.

“Oh Benson...Ain’t he that boy you used to gush about all the time? Didn’t you have the biggest crush on him or something?”

Your stomach flips and you feel like the ground just dropped out from under you.

'Did she really just say that?' You’re suddenly hyper-aware of Benson standing right beside you, and when you glance at him, you can see the surprise in his eyes.

He’s looking at you now, and it makes your pulse race.

“Wha—I—” you stammer, trying to think of anything to say that will save you from this situation. “I didn’t—psssh, what are you—” You wave your hand dismissively, avoiding Benson’s eyes completely.

“Anyway uh, Taylor!” You shift gears so fast you nearly give yourself whiplash. “I heard you’re throwing a party tonight. Mind if we crash?”

Taylor’s head perks up immediately, her excited energy pulling everyone back into a lighter mood. “Oh! You saw my post huh? Yeah we’re havin’ a get-together at the ranch. Y’all should definitely come!”

She turns to your mom. “Miss [Mom’s Name], you wanna join too?”

Your mom waves her off with a chuckle. “Oh honey, I’m not as spry as I used to be for these late-night things.”

Taylor leans in conspiratorially. “My single uncle’s gonna be there...you know, the one with the salt-n-pepper beard?”

Your mom raises an eyebrow. “The one with the big truck and cattle ranch?”

Taylor nods eagerly. 

Without missing a beat, your mom starts unties her apron and toss it onto a nearby table. “Well what are we waitin’ for then? Let’s get to that party!”

*.·:·.☽✧✧☾.·:·.* 

As you and Benson pull up to Taylor’s family ranch, the sounds of laughter and music spill into the air.

The party’s already in full swing—bonfires flickering across the open field and the twang of guitars blending with the rhythm of boots stomping on wooden boards.

You can see people dancing in pairs, moving in perfect sync as the night seems to pulse with life.

Benson stood next to you. His eyes dart everywhere, from the rows of fairy-string lights that hung between the trees to the smoky haze from the fire pits that slowly disappeared into the star-filled sky.

You can tell he’s taking it all in—the Southern atmosphere, the energy, the warmth of it all.

“Overwhelmed yet?” your tone is light when you ask with a grin.

He chuckles and shake his head. “Nah this is...different. In a good way.”

“Well get ready to be fully indoctrinated into Southern fun,” you tease before stepping toward the party. “Come on city boy.”

He follows behind you, staying close by your side.

There’s a brief pause when you both reach the edge of the party. It almost seemed like the music’s vibrations are in the air itself, buzzing with a wild kind of energy.

Taylor spots you immediately from where she’s mingling with some friends and makes a beeline for you. “Well look at what the wind blew in!” she exclaims.

In one hand she holds a light-up cowboy hat, and in the other, a bundle of glowstick necklaces. “Here y’all gonna need these.”

She places the cowboy hat on your head with a flourish and tosses a couple of glowsticks over Benson’s shoulders, the neon bands glowing faintly against his dark shirt.

Benson laughs, awkwardly adjusting the glowsticks around his neck. “What do you think? Do I look the part?”

You smirk, tugging the hat lower on your head. “You’re getting there. Just need to find you a pair of cowboy boots and you’ll be all set.”

Taylor nudges you with her elbow. “C'mon! What are y’all? Stalks of corn waiting to be shucked or sum? Get out there and have some fun!”

Letting out a laugh, you turn to Benson who’s watching the dancers with something like curiosity—and maybe just a hint of apprehension.

“You decide what you’re gonna write about yet wannabe-country boy?” You peer at him through your lashes, leaning closer so he can hear you speak over the loud music.

Your warm breath against his skin makes him shiver.

You miss the way his gaze flickers to your lips before darting back to your eyes, his cheeks flushing ever so slightly.

He clears his throat, trying to shake off the strange unexpected reaction. “Uh...n-not yet no.”

Your smile softens and you give him a reassuring nudge. “You’ll get there. You always do. Just let me know when inspiration strikes, ‘kay?”

With that, you give him a final playful wink before spinning away to join Taylor on the dance floor.

You’re immediately pulled into the rhythm of the music, laughing as Taylor spins you around.

From the sidelines Benson watches, standing next to your mom who has already struck up a conversation with someone nearby (but she kept an eye on him).

And honestly? He can’t take his eyes off you.

Under the string lights and with the bonfire flickering in the distance, there’s something different about you tonight.

You’re radiant, laughing freely as your face lights up with a glow that has nothing to do with the hat Taylor tossed on your head.

You move through the world so effortlessly, so full of life....

It was in this moment Benson realized just how much he enjoys your presence.

Yeah he always loved having you around, but now there’s something else—a shift, subtle but undeniable.

Lyrics begin to form through his mind, each word tied to the way you moved, to the weight of this new unfamiliar feeling.

How could something so delicate also be dangerous?

His heart beats a little faster, like he’s seeing you for the first time.

You glance back at him from the dance floor and something warm and unfamiliar settles in his chest.

I get so terrified that I’m gonna lose you...And I’ll die if I do...

You smile and wave him over, but Benson stays where he is. Instead he's frozen by this sudden, terrifying realization that he might be falling for you.

As if sensing what he was thinking, your mom nudges him gently. “Found your inspiration yet sweetheart?”

Her voice pulls him back to the present, but his gaze never leaves as you dance under the glow of the lights.

A soft, breathless sigh escapes him as he answers, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah...I think I have.”

It's a death wish love...

[gyuspearl]

stitched back together – l.hs

꒰ 🧵 ꒱ A LEE HEESEUNG [희승] TWO-SHOT! (pt. 2) pt. 1 here!

genre. angst (??), fluffy fluffy fluff! .˚⊹ pairing. non-idol,,best friend heeseung x fem reader – ex friends w/ benefits 2 lovers trope. ໒꒱ warning(s). prepare to see some sickeningly cute content. word ct. 751

synopsis .ᐟ in which you’ve ran but he loves you too much to let you go.

꒰ 💬 ꒱ mi note. a much asked for part two of “the unravel of his cardigan”. you asked and i am hoping to deliver!

if you enjoyed this fic, please like and reblog! it's always appreciated :)

enjoy, my lovely readers. xoxo, mi. ‹𝟹

weeks have passed by dreadfully slow for lee heeseung and jang y/n, the latter maintaining a gruesome period of no contact. the boy tried dreadfully hard to pry you from the monstrous walls you’d placed up, wanting to have an ounce of understanding as to why you’d shut him out.

yet, you never gave him the light of day. torn between leaving his messages on read and blocking his contact, you’d have to face the reality of his persistent presence anyway. having shared lectures only made your distancing more difficult, heeseung perched beside you as he always was– like you hadn’t walked out on him.

hell-bent on your decision, you tried to validate the reason as to why you’d placed a pause on your friendship: that you were in love and he wasn’t. except, you didn’t know the truth, whether he reciprocated or not; and you needed closure.

to distract you from the weight of your feelings for heeseung, each return to your apartment was welcomed by a gift at your doorstep. whether it be flowers, your usual order from your favorite cafe, or even a plush that reminded the secret admirer of you. silently, you wondered who would have known the information of your apartment, your regular order, and the other favorites– your mind slipping past the idea of him.

one night, settled in your apartment for the rest of the day, you’d received a knock at your door– not expecting a guest nor package. standing in confusion from the warmth of your couch, you’d paused the drama playing on the television to inspect your mysterious visitor. your steps gently pattered against the floor, warning the boy on the opposite side of the door of your impending presence.

unlatching the lock, she pulled open the front door with hesitance, only to meet the gaze of lee heeseung.

with widened eyes, you simply stared in surprise, lips parted and absolutely no words slipping past them. however, he took your pause as an advantage, extending a large bouquet in your direction, a smile gracing his features. once you’d taken the flowers from his grasp, he paused for a moment– wanting you to understand his sudden appearance.

“beautiful girls, all over the world…” he begins, voice soft– his singing reverberating in your chest. stepping closer, he invades your space, hands extending to grasp your waist in a gentle touch.

“i could be chasin’ but my time would be wasted, ‘cause they got nothin’ on you, baby,” he continues, voice raising a degree as he pushes the door shut with a maneuver of his foot. maintaining his hold on you, he guides you backward, further into your home.

“nothin’ on you, baby,” he whispers, brushing his lips against your forehead in an affectionate display of his longing– a sigh escaping you as you melt into him.

“they might say hi, and i might say hey,” he continues, gaze intent as he meets your eyes.

“but you shouldn’t worry about what they say, ‘cause they got nothin on you, baby,” raising a hand, he presses the tip of his index finger against your nose’s tip, earning a giggle from your lips.

“nothin’ on you, baby, mm-mm.” he finishes, heaving a sigh as he presses his forehead to yours. staring up at him, your eyes can’t help but gloss over, the boy warming your heart.

“hee.” you call in a broken voice, his eyes softening at the sight. in an unspoken understanding, he leans down to capture your lips in a gentle and slow kiss, your emotions mingling.

“i’m so sorry.” you sniffle as he retracts from the kiss, his thumb reaching to swipe a stray tear from your cheek. “shh, baby. i know, it’s okay.” heeseung reassures in a low voice, cradling you as if you were the most delicate object he’d ever held.

“i love you, so much.” he begins, his laughter rumbling in his chest at the sight of more tears escaping your eyes from the simple confession. “so stop running.” he firmly mutters, holding your chin between the pad of his thumb and the knuckle of his index finger.

“okay.” you laugh through the stream of tears, nodding your head with the range of motion heeseung had left you. “i won’t run away, not from us. i love you too, so much.” you confess, reaching to cradle his nape.

and despite the distance you’d originally hoped for, the warmth of his arms reassured you that he was yours, and you, his.

꒰ 📎 ꒱ taglist. @greentulip @nshmuras @wonsdoll @pshbites

how to be added to my taglist : click here!

[heartsandstars46]

Peter keeping whole boxes of photos he takes of you please

Thanks

Oooh, thanks for the request, my dear! 🩷🩷 Just a fluffy little tasm!Peter x gf reader blurb. 🥰

My favorite subject

“Are you okay? Are you just… staring at yourself?” Peter sounded confused as he appeared behind you in the bathroom mirror.

You sighed. “I just feel so ugly right now. I’m about to get my period, so I’m all bloated, and I’m breaking out like I just hit puberty! Ugh, I need to put a bag over my head.” You dropped your head in your hands.

You felt Peter wrap his arms around your waist and rest his chin on your shoulder. “Do I get a vote? I want to see your face.”

“No, no votes for you,” you pouted. “I’m going into hiding. Witness protection until I look and feel better.”

“Oh, sure, the obvious solution.…” You could feel him shake his head though he was also chuckling.

He left, but you stayed behind in the bathroom, staring in the mirror at every zit, every blackhead, every bit of redness you longed to disappear from your face. That is, until you heard Peter rummaging around in the hall closet.

You peeked out of the bathroom. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing. You're in witness protection anyway."

You smiled in spite of yourself. He emerged from the closet carrying several of his “suspicious” boxes, repurposed from online orders.

They were “suspicious” because they periodically multiplied on the shelf in the hall closet, and Peter refused to tell you what they were. “Science nerd stuff” was one explanation. “Don’t worry about it.”

You were fine with Peter starting to take up space in your apartment. It felt like you guys were living together most of the time anyway. And you knew that dating Spider-Man would mean having some weird stuff, like web-making equipment, around the apartment. So you’d put the unexplained boxes out of your mind as just part of basically-but-not-really living together. 

That’s why you were surprised to see them make an appearance today. And even more so when Peter dumped their contents on the floor!

“What are you doing? What is that? Oh my god, I’m finally allowed to see what’s in there?”

He smiled coyly but wouldn’t answer, so you walked over… and found that the floor was covered in a jumbled collage of photos—photos of you. Some of you with Peter, some of you with friends, but the one constant was you.

“Peter,” you breathed, astonished. You hadn’t seen most of these pictures before, although they unlocked memories of all the times you’d spent together. Some of them were from the very beginning of your friendship, way before dating. “Peter, what is this?”

You could feel his arms around your waist again. “Pictures of my favorite subject. The most beautiful subject I could ever dream of.”

[scentedpepper]

Attempted Vehicular Manslaughter

BILLY HARGROVE X MALE READER

Summary: Max Mayfield hosts a pool party.

Content Warnings: Use of the F-slur, Use of Queer in a derogatory manner, Injuries, Verbal Abuse, Abusive Household Dynamics, Reader makes a 'if I wanna kms' joke

Other Pairings: Nancy Wheeler x Male Reader, Jonathan Byers x Male Reader, Max Mayfeild x Male Reader, Mike Wheeler x Male Reader

AUTHOR NOTE(S):

Oh brother we got a chatterbox

Had a dream about this ya'll

Readers a little sassy

Reader has a little brother

Reader has a bit of savior complex

Readers also kinda impulsive?

It's 3 am

_________________________________________

The grass was rough and patchy in the backyard, filled to the brim with wilted daisies and weeds crawling through the sprinklers. It was hardly worth a note of much consideration, as there had been nothing of great importance to discuss. There were many trees boarding the house. Pine or oak, maybe. And one dying cherry tree that was a stand alone in the yard. That was about the extent of anything substantial past the old silver fence that matched your shoes.

Nearest the house, under the shade, were several lawn chairs designated for the so-called "chaperones". The older brothers and sisters of the tweens. But really, it was nothing more than a cover-up.

Something to appease the parents' of the Hargrove house because Max knew it was odd to be friends with a group of kids the same age as her brother. Even her mother, who'd tried to remain impartial to any situation, narrowed her eyes and shifted her purse tighter when the suggestion of more than a couple 17 year old's parading around her house came.

Your mom was just happy you got along, let alone made some real friends outside the books, and encouraged the notion. More parental control, she reasoned. Less chances you were off with someone who intended on trouble.

Of course, all the shit about fighting monsters and being on the brink of death with these same friends wasn't factored in.

But no one besides them and the sheriff's deputy needed to know that.

The first time you had met the kids was, admittedly, what one would refer to as a kerfuffle. Riled up and trying to be dominant. Of course, because Billy was there, it spiraled even farther, and someone's head nearly got bashed into a rock.

That someone being you of obviously, after you'd been goaded into the fight and decided to step up. And boy, did Billy hate to lose. Hated being talked down to by a smaller kid who barely had pimples left on his face, let alone bulk.

You put up a good fight. You had a mean hit, especially the lick you gifted to Billy's chest, knocking the wind out of him when it connected. There was a bruise on his ribcage for days after and all the satisfaction he could possibly imagine at knowing it was from you.

But then he nearly killed you so, things turned sour rather quickly.

Which led to a rather impromptu welcome into the group of misfits, the lot of them. Unannounced and unexpected, you marched into the party after your small break down. Ready to be let in and accepted.

Finding out about the Upside Down was a mere accident.

You hadn't gone out of your way to befriend a group of children. Hadn't expected much in regards to friendship period even after getting your ass kicked by Billy Hargrove. Let alone a lifetime, one built from the shared experience of the horrors that lurk just underneath town, attached to one particular boy of the group.

But here you were. Standing in the backyard of Max's home like an idiot with the sun bearing down at your back. The late summer day nearly reached over 100 degrees as the clock neared the noon hour. Something you might have missed otherwise if it wasn't for the black analog watching you closely every time you renetered the house for a drink.

The main gaggle of kids swam and screamed every few seconds, trying to drag you into a half-baked game of Marco Polo that had the older Hawkins teens eyeing each other with concern.

You tapped the top of your can to ease the anxiety, looking around the edge of the yard again, past Max's mother, who waved awkwardly and would come around every so often, offering drinks or food to you, Nancy, and Jonathan.

"Nervous?" Jonathan prodded in his way, looking up from the half eaten sandwhich Will had taken two large bites from, making sure he had gotten his fill and packing it away when he received two big thumbs up from his little brother before he rentered the pool.

"Ah. " You leaned against the lawn chair, rolling your neck before looking over. "Expecting Billy to jump out from one of these corners, " you gesture towards the many hiding places you have spotted in the yard. "cause a scene. "

Nancy shifted uncomfortably, twisting her skirt slightly. "Not yet, at least. " She added while fidgeting with the button over the waist. "I thought he'd show up at least half-way through this thing. "

"Yeah, " you agreed, "thats why I'm–"

"On edge?" Jonathan filled in for you, a soft smile gracing his lips as Will looked over.

"Ready, he means. " Mike piped up, his hand was fully plunged into the cooler chest, blindly shifting around the ice as he looked over at the three.

Something in the tension held firm in the pit of your stomach, because the only times that this happened was whenever a confrontation was supposed to take place.

And judging from all the past events that had occurred, however mundane or fantastical they may be, this was probably going to end badly in more than just a couple of ways.

You'd managed to keep pretty calm in the past concerning Billy. Kept a level head about whatever shit he'd decided to cause that week. But something felt wrong today. That air in your gut had been hard to shake.

And the fact he had yet to make an appearance so far, did very little in easing you. And apparently everyone else involved.

"Don't know what his fucking problem is. " You curse, sitting up in the chair, "Never waits long to start shit."

In fact, you can almost pinpoint the time he entered the premises, an excuse to blame him for the sudden tightening in your gut and the goosebumps on your skin. Yet, he hadn't entered the backyard once since he got home. He stayed holed up in his room the entire day and that much was evident every time you, or Nancy, or Jonathan or one of the kids entered the house and heard the rock music blasting from his bedroom.

He hadn't even made a shadow to have showed his face.

For hours you waited.

Hours of worry and unease ate away at your gut while the rest of the party commenced unhindered.

And yet, it seemed all but for nothing in the grand scheme of things. Because as the sun started to lower from its zenith, you and the rest grew more tired and eventually, the temperature started to cool to a point where splashing around in the pool was no longer appropriate.

The kids came clamoring out, dripping in more chemicals than water, screaming and laughing in the process. It was getting near the five hour mark by then.

Your mind was heavy when you stood up to go inside, nearly tripping when your eyes clashed with the eldest person in the home, the both of you freezing awkwardly in the middle of the walk.

Both you and Max's mother were silent in each others presence. Stoic if there was ever a word for it.

Neil always seemed to be staring off into nothing, zoned out to some far away place only those who drowned themselves in alcohol and other momentary pleasures existed. They didn't interact, besides maybe the occasional conversation starter, or nod in passing whenever a person came too close for an inch of comfort. Not unusual in your opinion of strained marriages.

You began to speak, went to get yourself out of this weird positioning you've seemed to found yourself in. But Susan beat you to it.

"Can you do me a favor?" She beckoned before turning around and trotting off into the kitchen. Already assuming you would listen. You usually did. There weren't any hidden agendas for her actions and nothing against you personally.

She held some power that you wished wasn't. You would take just about any job that required you to be away from the current obstacles of your personal life. But as she turned back to look at you with that indescribable air and knowing nod, she had beaten you.

"Whats up?" You replied, voice more gravely then you meant it to be as you walked up behind her. She was sticking something into the microwave.

"Bye, Y/N/N. " Nancy had emerged from the Hargrove bathroom when she stood on her toes to place a friendly kiss on your cheek before joining Jonathan.

"See ya, Nance. " You say as the dark haired girl glided away, passing a wave to Jonathan and then they were out the front door.

The house was mostly empty now with nearly all the kids back home, and Dustin and Max tucked away in her room, waiting for Dustin's mother. There was enough silence now that you were itching to leave. The house had settled quiet, but you couldn't describe it as comfortable. There was a ribbed blanket across the couch that had obviously been sat on by its dishelved look.

The TV was on but the volume had been lowered so much that you were better off listening to Billy's faint music from down the hall for entertainment.

Water rushed from somewhere on the other side of the house and the distinct slam of a door being pulled shut gave you the visual to what you were hearing. Your little brother, most likely. You'd seen him dip down the hallway like he was about to shit himself the moment Nancy exited the bathroom.

You shifted around, placing your backside agaisnt the counter as you found new things to look at. Languidly, you watched, senses picking out different things around the house to latch on to. The light green walls, the ugly brown patterns on the carpet, the hum of the refrigerator that, strangely enough, harbored no family photos, just magnets with various corny sayings.

Your eyes lingered on the fridge.

Everything here was simple. Blank like a fresh canvas of dry paint. Apart from the dishes left in the sink and the few items of clothing to be picked up off the ground, it felt oddly wrong for an occupied residence.

"Y/N?"

A shift in the environment rippled over your skin and something felt charged but not in a fearful sort of way. You're pulled from your small internal worry by the same woman from before.

"Billy hasn't come from his room all day, mind taking this to him?"

Susan's got a glass plate in her hand, slightly extended our towards you. It's filled at every turn with food she'd transfered from the tupperware after the ding of the microwave you hadn't quite heard.

That same gut feeling crawled up your insides again, but you blamed the way your throat tightened on the anxiety. Why it was something now and not earlier, you can't be sure.

But, if there's one thing you learned from movies and popular tv shows, it's never to interrupt the motherfucker when he's listening to rock. But, here's your excuse. So, with a small nod and the plate in your hand, you try to shake it all away.

Because the worst that could happen is you get your ass beat again.

Stepping up to the wood slated door gave your lungs a run for their money. It was as if all the air had been sucked from the atmosphere and the pressure collapsed the walls around you. Only breathing through your nose you shook the fear away with a raised fist to the door, clenched the plate in your opposite hand.

Bass rattled through the floor and past the wooden door, you're graced with the faint sounds of the guitar on the stereo. There were bits of vocals in the background, a baritone voice that spoke. And perhaps that was part of the appeal. Your fingers danced on the metal that resided at the entrance. It felt cool on your skin.

You knocked again after a few seconds. Nothing sounded on the other side of the door but you were still unsure if Billy could hear you above the music. Maybe he'd turn it down once his father returned from whatever place he'd ventured off to in the night. But you didn't exactly have that time to be waiting around, despite your own fathers late tendencies.

You took a moment to think if you should just leave the plate on the floor, let him pick it up, and try to call a ride. You exhaled quickly, shifting your balance onto your other hip.

Before you even touched the doorknob with a single digit, the music turned down significantly and suddenly the atmosphere was more intense than you'd anticipated.

Which, was the new normal.

But, still.

Things felt off. The pressure in your bones caused your limbs to rise upward, to defend yourself, to at least put yourself in some position that wouldn't leave you open to attack.

For what?

You didn't know.

Because all Billy did was peer up at you from the crack in his door. Nothing significant yet his stare was nothing less than striking. Those blue things could put the oceans to shame, rivaling even the sky in its vivid colors. They were a mirror.

They shifted to the food, briefly. Then immediately returned back to you as the speaker could barely emit its sound.

You watched as the boy straightened, sighed and then opened the door wider, leaving the frame unguarded as he trailed off into his room.

The door held open but his gaze disappeared into the space on his mattress, and the music lowered a touch, no longer loud enough to break the door from its hinges but loud enough that Billy had to raise his voice over it to be properly heard.

You took a cautious step forward after staring at the boys backside, his attire didn't leave much to imagination but his half nude state was the least of your discernment seeing as one, you were fashioned the same way and two, Billy Hargrove was wordlessly inviting you into his room.

You thought maybe this was some kind of trick, a ploy to get you cornered, so your eyes danced over him in brief, consistent glances as you proceeded forward.

He was sitting by his window, a cigarette stuck between his two fingers as he silently stared off into the the darkness the world outside offered.

It was strange. Seemingly off guard as he propped the knee of one leg against the window, giving a free range to his left to lean. Hair swept over the shoulder to show part of his sharp jawline, which dimmed only with each intake of the deadly nicotine.

The room was bland save for a few posters, white walls, brown dresser pressed against a corner and a night stand tucked at the opposite. Clothes were tossed about, either on the floor or hung up half assed on something that you could only guess as a proper hanger.

His nightstand was covered in trash and empty beer cans and you thought of shoving them away before deciding to place the plate on his bed instead.

You spared him a last glance after the action, perplexed by the fact he was just so— quiet. Which, was certainly odd to everyone at least within half a mile from here. Usually the moment you entered his space, his bubble, he erupted like an animal defending its territory.

You decided not to push your luck. Because right now, it felt like the deadly cat across the African plains simply hadn't noticed you. And so your steps were as carefully placed as they had been when you entered. It was almost relaxing despite the looming feeling from the boys demeanor.

Billy felt a wave, a sort of ripple through the air as the presence of another remained in the room. He didn't bother to speak, only raised the unlit cigarette to his lips in a curious manner and took an unsteady puff, letting the wind carry the smoke out the screen. There was a storm, one he had sensed earlier but was hard to make out amongst the many things that had clouded his mind with anger.

Luckily, the only thing he could blame his outburst on earlier this morning was exhaustion, a clear sign of his lack of sleep from the night before which would easily explain his half dead posture and irritability that had pissed off nearly everyone around him.

Another explanation for his hideout in his room but one you couldn't quite understand.

You neared the exit when the floorboards creaked just as they had before and you almost wanted to freeze in your place. Like the cat would come pouncing now, mauling you to death.

"Not gonna make a show of it?" Came Billy's voice, it was low and calm but you caught the slight strain of it. As if he needed a clear of his throat to even be fully heard.

"A show of what?" You cast a glance over your shoulder, brows knit.

The blonde gestured with his lips, the subtle shift in his elbow drawing attention to the stick of tobacco. "I was waiting for some goddamn spectacle, L/N. "

"I don't know what you're talking about, Billy. " You sounded exasperated already and you stepped over a black shirt with a design you couldn't quite decipher from its crumpled up state. You made sure not to add anymore scratches to the ground and turned around, placing your back firmly against the door frame.

Billy's muscles became tense with the new body turned on him and he felt the wave again, the stirring of new energy entering the atmosphere.

But you had simply done so so that your back wasn't uncomfortably to him when you left.

"Whatever. " Was all Billy seemed to say before shutting you out, shoving that fucking piece of shit plate away from him. And in the split second your brain focused on how fast food was supposed to get cooled and not nearly three seconds after swallowing his cancer stick Billy must've caught the attention of the devil himself.

There was no denying the jagged yell, the shuffling in his voice like someone was gripping his head and holding it under water. You jumped away, eyes as wide as saucers as Billy's bedroom door flung open, smacking the adjacent wall with a loud slam that nearly cracked the plaster from the force.

And yet, his voice was a lot less louder than his grand entrance. "Hey, shit face. Why don't you make yourself useful instead of sitting around all day, having our guests, " he gestured to you, "bring you your own fucking food. "

You moved a step back, almost tripping on your own footing from your struggle to balance yourself without the solid sense of feeling. Your eyes darted frantically between the two people within your viewing distance, and you could barely make out Susan a few feet away who had her hand clasped on Max's shoulder.

She was ushering her daughter to their bedroom but Max refused, and the red head stood beside the door with a wary look.

"Get up. And give him a ride home. " Another gesture to you and when you looked towards the entrance of Billy's room again Neil was taking up the entire frame.

"That's really not–" You began but stopped as both of the parents turned to look at you with an appalled look. It was nothing personal but you doubted Billy even knew where you lived and the only time you ever rode with him was pervious to when he'd beat your ass.

"My dad–" You tried again.

"He won't answer the phone, much less pick you up. " Susan jumped in, though the hesitation on her voice made you doubt if that was her plan all along. "Your brother got a ride with the Henderson's. "

"Put on a shirt, stop acting like a balless queer, and go. " Again Neil thrust a drawn out, mocking tone, like his son couldn't comprehend basic sentences and he stepped out of the way to make room for your departure.

Billy's got a storm brewing in his expression and there was one moment where his eyes met yours and you were sure you'd drown in all the hate there was.

You didn't get a chance to argue about the amount of time it would take to get there and about how you would manage on your own. In fact, something in Max's eyes told you it'd be better not to. So you pressed your lips against each other as Billy grabbed his keys and pushed past you.

You watched Billy stalk past everyone, a gruff 'Yes, Sir' leaving his lips that you almost hadn't heard as he passed his father.

You exited the room shortly after, not sparing Susan or Neil a goodbye as you gingerly took your shirt from Max's hands.

She made a comment, something quietly spoken that not even your heightened hearing could make out over Billy's obnoxious slamming of the front door that he knew he would pay for later. You watched the young girl as she returned to her room.

Silence welcomed you when you first stepped into the driveway, stretching across the cement with a sense of uncomfortablity that didn't seem to fade as you entered the car and were met with a chilling quiet.

Billy didnt look at you as his ignition roared to life, nor did he speak to you as he pulled out the drive way. He stared ahead, chin down as he leaned just slightly forward, supporting an arm on the side door, palm rubbing soothing circles into his temple.

He was going 20 above the speed limit. You assumed you two were trying to get as far away from the house as you could. But, the further into the neighborhood you went, the lower the numbers on the radio dropped and the more the car filled with quiet music.

Hargrove was completely out of it, lost in some other space where you weren't welcome. And the car had filled with a tension you doubted he'd meant to cause, but given his current mood, you didn't think he could avoid it either.

Despite this, you chose to press yourself against the door with a turned head, the muscles in your body growing taut with discomfort the more you tried to make it seem as if you weren't even of existence in the passenger seat.

You wanted out of the car.

That much you could draw from your mind when you found that the speedometer was at 55 and increasing.

"Billy. " You tore your gaze from the meter, flickering over the silent boy who was intent on looking only at the road ahead.

No answer. His jaw was tightened and set. There were lines buried in the skin.

"Billy. " Your voice held a certain firmness that he didn't quite like.

Silence still and he tightened his grip on the leather, knuckles turning white. The streetlights were getting ready to cast those obnoxious eyes and like a perfect chain of events the little hairs of a certain song burst from the speakers.

His hand, fast with anger, whipped across the volume dial, ceasing the tune and replacing it with the rumble of the engine.

An inhale, then a single word. "What. "

Somehow you think that's the opposite of an answer. It's barely a question. With the tone of voice he held he shouldn't have phrased it that way because he clearly didn't want to know what you had to say, what you thought.

"Stop the car. I'll walk. " It was simple enough and on any normal occasion Billy might've done just that rather than wasting his gas on you. But tonight was different, and Billy, seemingly fueled by his own agitation, just blew past the stop sign and sent the speed at which the Camaro rolled up with you at dangerous levels.

The car vibrated lightly beneath you, air whistling as you tore through the neighborhood at an alarming rate.

"Oh for fucks sake. " It was a mutter to yourself because you hadn't exactly expected the boy to be cooperative but you didn't think you'd be forced to jump out of a moving car again. Yet, here you were; gripping the handle, poised like a god damn animal, eyeing the road as you built up your goddamned gallantry.

You didn't catch the surprise on Billy's face when he noticed you push the door open against the harsh winds.

Fuck it.

You fell with ease and with a soft oof! your limbs were somehow able to stand the blow rather than becoming mangled chunks of meat against the pavement. You could hear the car skidding to a stop five houses down as you took a moment to roll around in your own pain.

Your shirt had rode up on your torso, back pressed against the heated road as your skin made contact with the tar. You had a few scrapes along your spine, one over the delicate hip bone. And you were pretty sure the road had peeled the skin on your forearm all the way down to the elbow but hey, at least it wasn't your fucking face.

A few drops of blood gathered on a pebble directly to your right. Your nose gave a sharp twinge of pain.

"Dick. " You said that in regards to him, for every aspect of his personality. Because Billy Hargrove was what others considered a giant dick.

If you hadn't suspected it before you were sure when you heard the wheels start to turn again, the shift of a gear springing the Camaro back to life. And then footsteps, louder than the car itself, were slapping against the asphalt.

"Are you out of your fucking mind!?" You raised your head, eyes coming to focus on Billy's very fucking pissed form towering above you. Arms crossed defensively, face twisted with irritation as he glared down at you with something close to— well it looked a lot like anger but Billy only knew one of three emotions and that was definitely not concern.

"Fuck you. " You managed through a puddle of blood in your mouth that you promptly spit out, only having realized it was there the moment it began forming bubbles when you tried to speak.

Billy's voice stuttered in reply. "What the fuck is your problem? Do you want to fucking kill yourself or something?! "

"Better than death by fucking vehicular manslaughter on the account of Billy fucking Hargrove. " You muttered, hands pressing into the road to give you leverage when you attempt to stand up. Your body immediately yells a no to this action and you lay right back down on the road.

"What?" Billy is completely distraught in the sense that his brain has seemed to burst due the sheer incomprability of your actions.

"Oh I don't know, Billy, maybe the next time I feel like killing myself I'll call you and we'll go a hundred miles an hour off the fucking side of a cliff. "

The boys eyebrows were nearly touching his hairline as he stared at you.

"Watch me die like an old school movie where they're surrounded by bubbles and colors and shit. "

You spit the last remnants of blood from your mouth and Hargroves face ran red and blue. "Can you fucking shut the fuck up and get up already before anyone sees you. " He demanded, practically dancing around your form. Arms stretched out with a stance that reminded you very much of a gymnast.

"No. No. I think I'll lay here for a sec. " You roll onto your backside, a groan in your voice, arms folding over your body, posed like a corpse.

Billy stops in his antics and stares at you incredulously. "Are you serious?"

"Very serious, yes. " Your voice almost comes out like a sigh.

Billy reels, and if it wasn't for the fact your eyes were sealed shut now, you'd be able to see the absolute bewilderment of the teen as he stood there in the middle of the empty street. Arms half poised over you but not touching your form. As if he didn't know what do with you.

"...Get up. " He demands, standing straight again, his hands on his waist. This time he's not commanding you in that cold manner. There's a little rise to his voice like he's beginning to lose his patience, his forehead furrowing with anger.

You take another few moments to enjoy the silence. You swear you hear a cicada or something squeak from a window sill nearby and the air felt cooler than it has in weeks. Until it all becomes overbearing and your chest burns from a lack of oxygen. You didn't even realize you were holding your breath.

You open an eye to test the waters.

Billy's scowling now, a hand on his hip and the other resting across his forehead in disbelief. At you or the situation, you weren't entirely sure. Both you imagined. But there was a certain look on his face like he was ready to pull some kind of theatric, a reaction, throw a punch to knock some sense into you but ultimately decided against it.

"Where do you live?" He asked the question in such a manner that you couldn't help but be wary of his intentions.

"...Why?" You asked, the caution obvious in your voice. As he loomed over you like that... it wasn't doing a whole lot of trust building.

You almost hear the growl of frustration from his throat as he began rocking on the balls of his feet, hands swinging like he wasn't able to grab hold of something. "So we can fucking go. Before someone calls the fucking cops. "

You still hesitated.

"Before I fuck you up so hard they'll have to identify you by your fucking sperm. " Okay there were his threats. But they lacked the substance of his normal demeanor. He didn't seem overly angry like he typically did but still, his body gave some kind of look as though he couldn't quite will himself to control the way it trembled with adrenaline.

"Nice one, but you're not my type. " Another bite and a second of Billy looking absolutely befuddled as he tried to keep his voice down. His glare had weakened but only because he was taken off guard, and his cocky expression fell to a tight line.

You watched as he took a moment to look around the empty street. The lights weren't too bright so you couldn't make out that typical, telltale flush of his skin that you've grown accustomed to in his anger.

Your eyes flickered across his face, scanning every inch like a beacon. Curiously, you looked at him the same way he always did. Maybe you'd find some sort of answer hidden somewhere behind his icy blues.

The look on his face was strange. Pensive.

"Get up, Y/N. " An even voice this time. Calming maybe. And to think, all it took was a slightly gay comment in order to simmer the violent bastard.

You half wondered where the fag-bashing erratic moron went. Maybe he'd packed his bags and runaway. You could hope.

You did more than that infact, you put that right there on your bucket list, and with a frown, more for yourself than anything else, you looked away from the boy above you.

"Fine. Alright. " Your movements were stiff with pain as you moved to push yourself up by the palms of your hand, your arms trembling beneath the weight. The skin on your hand and forearm burned with a stinging sensation.

Billy watched at your pathetic attempts, a sneer or two on his face but he didn't seem to offer much help until it'd all get too pathetic and he had to reach out and aid you.

"Idiot. " His lip curled as his palm met yours, his fingers holding onto the back of your hand tight as possible.

You stumbled slightly upon becoming fully upright, teetering against Billy for a moment as you took a minute to regain your ground.

"Yeah, well whose fucking fault is that. " You've developed a lovely habit of hissing through your teeth with an unnecessary amount of spite. You're surprised Billy hasn't knocked you on your ass and left you for dead by now.

He scoffs, trying to put as much distance between the two of you while still having your arm linked through his, helping you along. To the ignorant eye, you suppose this would look platonic enough but anyone that knew the two of you well would certainly think otherwise.

Billy's all rigid limbs and stunted movements. Even when you'd finally started to walk on your own and your grip on his arm began to slack, he held firm with a grip like a vise.

And by the time you're at the passenger's side, he's shoving you into the seat and you nearly knock your head on the top of car.

You didn't bother giving a remark when he practically seethed through his teeth, slamming the door in your face. He strode around the car like a man on a mission.

"If you go more than 5 over the speed limit—" You felt the warning die on your tongue when you saw the look of pure anger etched onto Billy's face.

"You'll jump out. Yeah. " His hand came down on the shifter. "Got it. "

There was a part of your brain that you didn't recognize that was screaming in terror, completely and totally convinced you were going to die tonight at the hands of the ever brooding Billy Hargrove.

But much to your surprise, Billy maintains that 5 mile leway the entire drive home even when there's barely a car in the streets. He hadn't muttered a single word since throwing his angry body in the driver's seat.

Instead, he'd cranked up the music all the way as if it'd some how compensate for the lack of speed and conversation, not that there would be much to say anyway.

You hadn't bothered looking at him. He hadn't bothered looking at you. But somehow, in one way or another, the feeling as if you were watching each other was even more abundant in the silence.

Whatever hostility had remained from Billy's mood in the first half of the night had receded back into his depths for later. Though the occasional frown on his face never quite leaves no matter what, his eyes are softer now.

And by the time he's pulling into the dirt driveway of your home, the soft beams of amber and yellow from the streetlights dimly hitting half his face, there's no sign of anger or any real semblance of emotion. It's oddly quiet, and the only thing to really speak up was the steady rumble of the engine.

"Thanks. " You beckon quickly and with reluctantance as you awkwardly grabbed at the door handle, trying to turn as quickly as you could while still maintaining balance. Anything just to get out of his car and away from the guy.

"Y/N. " He voices and the moment you pull at the handle you come to find it's resistance. A dull tingle shoots up your spine and the hair on the back of your neck raises with tension.

You turn, facing the teen who kept an unconcerned façade. He was a calm still pond with blue eyes flickering like small waves in the face of a strong wind, and although most times they were ice and snow that held such a cold, unforgiving passion of arrogance, there were times they were the ripples of a breeze.

Now was one of those times.

"Don't go around pulling fucking stunts like that. "

That was definitely closer to a warning than anything else that had come from his lips the entirety of the night.

"This is coming from the guy who beat my ass into the concrete two months ago. " And at this point, you were too exhausted to be filled with spite for the boy.

His posture falters and not just figuratively. There's a shift to the way he's sitting but the flicker of his eyes remains. Even with you half turned, his stare remained. In fact, it seems to have gotten all the more intense.

"What's it to you anyway? " The way he tilted his head might have been endearing in another life. Now, it seemed to hold meaning, the way a predator stalks its prey with such observant behavior before sinking its teeth into its jugular.

His gaze on you could have bored into your brain, much like a drill for how quick your defenses seemed to start dissolving.

He'd always looked at you like this. Whether or not you caught his eyes on you was by chance.

In class, in the halls, it was all the same to him. He'd get one look and that was about all it took. He'd stare with the attention like an interrogation, as if trying to decode some secret behind your stature, trying to pick you apart bit by bit with those watchful baby blue's of his. And if there was no easy route to doing that he'd dig his little meat hooks into you until there was.

You were all he'd focus on. Not you in particular. More so the idea of you.

Whatever that meant.

Of course the only instance Billy looked at you without fail, hard looked at you like the blue was about to spill out of his eyes and swallow you up like a tsunami, was when he was a little tipsy or riled up with heat and fury. But like most of Billy's emotions, they were very intense. Too intense for something as simple as just a fucking stare. It almost gave you the illusion of a dangerous threat that made your skin buzz with goosebumps, your nerves rattling in their sockets.

He was doing the same now, except, the only difference was that he wasn't pissed faced or smoldering with alcohol this time. In the confines of his car, beneath the yellow white shine of the nearby street lights, he couldn't tear his gaze away even if you begged.

Billy was the sort of thing to stop you mid thought when you glance and feel your limbs freeze, suddenly petrified with all this uneasiness and sudden confusion as to why there was only one sort of definition to put on why you felt such things whenever his presence was met with a hundred paces of distance.

"I..." He starts but his voice falls flat. Something beyond frustration, something between anger and concern. The sort of look that told you he was working something out in his mind. Or he just couldn't find the proper word choice that didn't end in an f-bomb at the end of his sentence.

He's still staring, his eyes flickering back and forth between yours, like a candle wick in the night. Wavering. Stuttering. Inconsistent uncertainty.

Like he's just asking for guidance to fill his barren vocabulary, the words never existing like an undiscovered civilization in his brain, unable to conjure up the sort of speech that would get him what he wanted.

An abrupt sense of panic washed over you. You inhaled sharply and you didn't let the breath go until your next move was placed in front of you like a chess piece on the board and you couldn't take the time to think out any future moves on your part.

All of your attention was pulled to him, focused entirely. The way he moved, the way he breathed, it left a tingling feeling trailing behind him like some faint breeze of emotion.

Everything stilled, it was him and you. Him. And you.

And he's just looking at you like that. Mouth halfway opened and the noise of shallow heavy breaths were the only sounds falling from his lips while he's looking at you all wide-eyed, like some fresh-faced virgin whose never seen one in person before.

You cursed yourself. Cursed the wind. Cursed the ground. Cursed Billy and his stupid face. And every corner of his stupid car and everything else about him. You can curse the sun but that'd probably be a step too far. Especially the moment you met those watchful pools of sea foam.

Fucking Billy Hargrove and his stupid, fucking car and his even more stupid...

Lips.

Lips and teeth.

Teeth, pale pink lips.

Blue eyes, long lashes.

Stupid fucking curly hair.

The sort of curly where it always managed to get you by the tips, tangling its brambles in your fingers and refusing to let go.

Which is why the second Billy made a small noise– not even really a noise, it's a breath. A single exhale that hits your nose, hits you the way nothing has before, and it causes a wave of heat to wash over you, overtaking your senses.

You grab those curls, your fingers entwine them and his breath is alot heavier, alot hotter as his hands grip tightly onto your shirt, like he's a frightened child.

His lips are wet.

He's messy.

Sloppy.

Like he's never kissed before in his life. Lips that keep moving, and his tongue is too sensitive, too eager.

Every sharp inhale of breath reeks of sweat and chlorine.

There's no time to stop and make sense of the situation.

He's scrambling over the middle console, desperate hands gripping on your collar and in any other scenario, this would've been the step before he plummeted his fist into your face. But there's hardly anything suggesting that. At least not without the time to see the tiny trail of tears lining Billy's eyes, glossing his cheeks.

He tastes as he looks. Like liquid gold with his tongue rubbing against yours in a hot mass of burning motion. And any semblance of a rational train of thought was chucked out the window.

There was enough room in the front seat for a teenage boy and then some. Billy Hargrove was not such a teenage boy. There was barely enough room to shift and breathe and wriggle around in this half straddle.

You can faintly hear a heavy car pass over a mound in the road, an off balance tire or perhaps someone forgot to inflate it and the uneven troll on the road, not entirely deafening, but it's there. And Billy hears it and he jumps from you, leg grazing the shifter, head knocking into the top of the roof.

His ears are steaming red as he all but falls into the driver's seat, face flustered and hair slightly disheveled.

He's looking around like a wild animal caught in a trap and he can't escape, eyes flickering back and forth; from the gearshift all the way to the rear view mirror and then to your face.

Pupils shot open, dark and wide, and a hand coming up to press on his forehead, eyes squinting.

"Billy‐ " It's a start, but it doesn't stay long enough to be deemed a full sentence, not with his name lingering on your lips while you try to swallow down the heat in the pit of your stomach. Billy's looking at you, breathing heavy.

"Get out. " He mutters forcefully, the lock clicks open and when his hand comes up to rub across his face, it's shaking.

"Billy. " More insistent this time.

He looks a few shades redder than when he was before, his head snaps back to meet your stare, hair curling beneath his ears in a gentle mess, curls threatening to fall into his face.

"Get out!" His voice pitches, breaks into something close to a sob and Billy swings his arm wildly, fist connecting with the steering wheel and there's a loud honk as a warning before he shouts again. "Get the fuck out, you fucking faggot!" His voice reverberates across the entire neighborhood, shattering your ear drums in the process.

There's dogs barking from far away, probably due to the horn.

You hesitated but only for a moment before swinging the door open, just barely missing the opportunity to knock the shit out of your leg by the time Billy decided to slam down his foot on the pedal. The door shuts fast. The car speeds off before it has the chance.

You watched him drive away, with just as much intensity as the boy inside the car watched you in the rearview.

As your house began to shrink away into the distance, and the glare of the car grew smaller and smaller. You could hardly see those searing blue eyes the way you did in class. Though this time, instead of a look of hatred or scorn, it was one of fear and dread.

And maybe, just maybe, if there were more light shining on his face, it would reflect a thousand scenarios playing on his cheeks. Not that you would've been able to tell from all the way out here.

"Fuck. "

[akutasoda]

Hey, I want request Aventurine with Noelle reader.

Imagine the trailblazer use Noelle reader to get Aventurine home.

Stelle/ Caelus: “Aventurine, I have your little sister.. please come home”

Noelle reader being held by Stelle/ Caelus: “I think it won’t work—“

*Insert Astral train door open with yellow glow..*

Aventurine pop out from train: “My little sister? Where is she?”

I think some achievements for them

Aventurine/ Noelle reader in battle will achieve “The gambler and his little maid”

Or Aventurine/ Topaz/ Ratio/ Noelle reader will achieve “Here come the IPC”

a jewel and a maid

synopsis - when he meets someone who reminds him all too much of a familiar familial feeling

includes - aventurine

warnings - gn!reader, fluff, slight crack, maybe ooc, found family kinda?, wc - 655

a/n: i love the achievements!!

the IPC wasn't exactly the best place to work but they were somewhat tolerable - more so for thise fortunate enough to be valued and given higher positions. you're position was so so to say the least, you had been assinged to work under someone of similar level to P47 which wasn't that bad compared to some others. you didn't exactly have high expectations but you'd still try and apply yourself to the best of your abilities, maybe then your job would be easier.

it was extremely fortunate for you to be placed under aventurine's sector within the stonehearts. it's not like he really needed many people working under him or that he wanted them to but he wouldn't really have room to argue when diamond himself arranged it. over a surprisingly short period of time, you had proven yourself to be quite the valuable member of the IPC - despite you not really vying for their attention, you just wanted to do your job and lay low.

aventurine recognised this and he didn't exactly blame you. normally your kind of skill would easily be swooped up by the IPC and used to their advantage, not yours. he too once had been snatched by the IPC, fortunately he managed to weasel something out of them in return. so you both were quite content to continue on as is, to which you were thankful.

during your time working with aventurine, you naturally had become much closer than simple colleagues. you two acted as if you'd known eachother for years. although you didn't exactly act much differently, still content to simply do your job, but aventurine became noticeably more friendlier. he acted much more cordial with you, more favourable and you did appreciate the familiarity.

when he caught himself actually acting so familiar with you, he stopped. he'd never really gotten so close and comfortable with someone before - well there were a few exceptions but with you, it felt more familial than a friendship of such. it had been an extremely long time since he had felt as such and it admittedly scared him a little.

however as even more time passed, it became much more natural for each of you to see the other in a much more familial way. again, it still felt odd to him but atleast he knew he could come sround to it eventually. for now, he could only look after you as if you were a sister to him.

---✩

'i don't think this will work-' you tried voicing your concerns but you were shushed by the trailblazer.

'you might want to listen to them' dan heng tried to interject but it seems that his words also fell upon the deaf ears of trailblazer - or they more likely just ignored him.

the only response either of you got was the trailblazer opting to pick you up and hold you toward the express doors with a declaration 'please! come home! look who's waiting with us!'

this time it was march to look rather concerned over at the trailblazer before adding 'i have to agree, i don't think this will work...' she looked at you with pity as the trailblazer practically triumphed you in the air.

right before you could get another word in and ask to be put down, everyone stopped and stared at the gilden light that emerged from the door. the trailblazer held you out even more in a desperate final plea as 'please' repeatedly fell from their lips.

not too long after, the express doors slammed open and a rather excited, maybe franctic, aventurine became present. despite the trailblazers excitement, aventurine ran straight to you to.

taglist - @little-miss-chaoss, @frankiesteinn