#lia angst

[moamidzyism]

itzy as naley tropes

genre. fluff + angst

tags. non-idol!itzy x fem!reader

started. feb 1

ended. n/a

status. ongoing

more of my work

this is a little mini one shot series that i'm working on based on the tropes of nathan and haley from one tree hill. one tree hill is one of my favorite shows of all time and nathan and haley birthed me. so many of their tropes fit the itzy members so well.

hwang yeji –> second chance (701 words)

choi lia –> tutor x student (1258 words)

shin ryujin –> jock x cheerleader

lee chaeryeong –> rain kiss

shin yuna –> best friend's sister

taglist: @bunnie-hq @wiisoob

fill out this form to join my taglist!

[dearaceofhearts]

you walk out after an argument

characters: husk, alastor, angel dust, vox, lucifer word count: 2.9k genre: angst to fluff summary: after an argument with them, you walk out and don't come back for a few days. how do they react? author's note: hello yes this is my first time actually posting something. erm, i think i wrote too much (sorry) but hey we roll with it!! also dude i accidentally posted this before it was ready twice and i had a heart attack oh my god. anyways i don't think vox's is really fluff (oops) but everyone else's is

♡ husk

when you slam the door shut on your way out, husk lets out a low grumble, setting down the glass he was cleaning onto the bar counter with a quiet sigh. it was one of the first arguments you'd had in a long time. although he wasn't usually one to get riled up so easily, the two of you knew each other well enough to know just what buttons to push to get under the other's skin. that, alongside him already having a bad day, had been a recipe for disaster.

in the few days that pass by, it's hard to tell just how affected he is by your absence since he does a pretty good job of keeping a cool facade. to anyone looking, he wouldn't appear any different than usual, just idly cleaning bottles as he always does.

but it's the small things that give away just how much husk cares and worries for you, like how his eyes flicker towards the door whenever someone comes in, his ears perking up slightly. he hates the twinge of disappointment that follows when it's not you, a slight scowl curling at his lips as he takes a swig of alcohol from one of the many bottles on the shelves of the bar. he misses talking to you. you're his favourite drinking buddy, after all.

his gaze always seems to wander back to the front door of the hotel, lingering for just a little too long before he eventually turns back to the bar, expression settling back into its usual grouchiness. but underneath that lies a hint of worry that gnaws at him in the back of his mind, even though he knows you're more than capable of handling yourself. at the end of the day, you can never be too careful in hell.

husk won't force you to come back, but he just wants to know that you're safe and sound. he trusts that you'll come back when you're ready so that the two of you can talk it over and hopefully resolve things. he doesn't want to leave it like this, and he's sure you don't either. you mean a lot more to him than he'd like to admit.

when you decide to finally return to the hotel, he pauses upon catching sight of you stepping through the doorway. he can't help the small wave of relief that washes over him, though you wouldn't be able to tell by the way he smoothly resumes restocking the bar. when you approach the counter, he looks up, giving you a short nod. "hey." he greets you, tone surprisingly softer than you're used to, "you're back."

husk's not really the type to beat around the bush, so he'd likely address the argument pretty quickly. he's also not particularly one for verbal apologies, so he'd probably be more willing to show it through his actions. you see it in the way he lets you cling to him a little longer than he normally does, leaning into him as he wordlessly holds you, his tail loosely curling around your leg. if you listen closely, you can hear some faint purring, too. it makes you smile slightly.

"alright, 'nuff of this sappy stuff." husk grumbles after a few more moments, patting your back gently before pulling back. "i'd kill for a drink right now. care to join me?" he raises a brow, a familiar glint in his eyes as he slides back behind the counter, already moving to make what he knows is your favourite drink.

you grin as you meet his eyes, expression softening. "of course. i'd love nothing more."

♡ alastor

"you're not listening, al." you murmur, exhaling quietly. this makes him pause for a moment, head tilted. your voice sounds different to what he's used to — you're not even angry, no — you just sound... tired. the argument had been going on for a while, and neither of you were getting through to the other.

when you move to leave, he makes no move to stop you, simply watching you with an intent gaze. his voice rings out clear as day in the empty silence. "where do you think you're going, my dear?"

he falters ever so slightly when you turn back to face him with a sturdy, stern gaze, responding with a flatly spoken "out", leaving no room for anything more to be said before closing the door behind you with a quiet click.

alastor won't chase after you, because he expects that you'll come back to him of your own accord. to him, it's basically guaranteed how this'll play out. he's used to demons falling right into his hands without having to exert much effort on his end, and believes that this would be no different.

so when a few days pass by with you not approaching him at all, he finds himself slightly irritated and mildly perplexed, eyes narrowed as his clawed finger taps against his cane with idle impatience. why haven't you sought him out yet?

he's seen you around the hotel, but you've never once acknowledged his presence even if the two of you were in the same room, breezing past him while he's left staring, watching you converse with everyone except him. his eye twitches in irritation, the perpetual smile on his lips strained.

...eventually, after playing a long waiting game to no avail, he decides that perhaps rosie would be able to offer some helpful advice on how to approach this situation, since he's not used to actually handling delicate emotional matters without the— well, the manipulation and deal-making.

one of the main issues is his massive ego. it's that unfaltering pride that gets in the way of him apologising. he may be the radio demon, but all that power can't help him here. and he'd never openly admit to such, but he truly is at somewhat of a loss here. he's already tried most things that he's sure would usually make you forgive him, though for a reason unbeknownst to him, it's not working this time.

"oh alastor," rosie shakes her head with a small huff, "a lady's heart is to be treated with care." she lends some further words of wisdom and encouragement that he listens to with great attentiveness, since he does (begrudgingly) enjoy your company, and it would be a shame if it was lost over such a, in his eyes, trivial matter.

upon his return to the hotel, he manages to get you to sit down with him (after much polite pestering and insistence) to have a chat over some tea. when all is said and done, the two of you sit in a comfortable silence. you sip your tea, watching the blazing fires of hell from the balcony.

"refill?" alastor offers, glancing at you briefly through a sip of his own tea.

"much appreciated." you hum, legs crossed as you throw him a small, slack smile.

♡ angel dust

his frustration slowly fizzles out as the door closes behind you, and the guilt slowly starts to creep in. he knows he shouldn't have said what he did, and he wants nothing more than to apologise and make it up to you — but he understands that it's probably better to give you some time to cool off before trying to approach you again.

despite the argument and the harsh words exchanged between you, the fact that he cares for you with his whole heart will never change, and he hopes you know that too.

while you're away, angel always finds his thoughts drifting to you, wondering how you're doing. are you eating okay? are you drinking enough? sleeping enough? with a shake of his head and a small sigh, he tries his best to return his focus back to the task at hand, whatever it may be.

he knows you can take care of yourself perfectly fine, but he just... misses you. the guilt eats away at him when he's reminded of the look on your face when you left, the brief glimmer of hurt in your eyes before you masked it with anger and tore your gaze away.

one particular night, angel heads over to your room in the hotel out of habit, not really thinking about it when he raises a fist to knock on the door. he had been hoping to spend some time with you, since today had been a particularly rough day for him. he's also been craving for one of your sleepover nights for a while, those nights where you two would stay up to talk about anything and everything until dawn rises. those times were comforting for him — a rare moment of respite in his life.

but then he stops abruptly, remembering that you're not there. he lets his hand fall back to his side, expression quietly downcast. he stands alone in the silent, empty hallway. has it always been this cold?

after a few days, he's just about damn ready to go looking for you, making his way down the stairs as he prepares to head out. he's so focused that he almost misses the sight of you seemingly casually sitting at the bar, nursing a drink in your hands whilst exchanging low murmurs with husk.

he freezes momentarily, taking a deep breath. while he mentally debates with himself whether to approach you or not, husk notices him hesitating on the staircase. he catches angel's gaze, giving him a subtle nod. that's all the affirmation angel needs.

he slides on his usual relaxed demeanour, though it's a little weaker than normal, as he approaches you. he's admittedly a little nervous, but he's determined to work things out with you. he puts a gentle hand on your shoulder to catch your attention. "hey, darlin'. can i talk to you for a minute?"

the two of you head back to your room, where heartfelt apologies are exchanged and a long overdue conversation takes place. at some point during the talk, his hand had found its way on top of yours, thumb brushing over your skin gently. at the end of it all, he gives you a small, content smile. "...baby, you have no idea just how much i adore you." he whispers into the quiet, running his fingers through your hair comfortingly as your head rests on his shoulder.

it was an unspoken agreement that tonight was going to be a sleepover night. prepare for lots of cuddling and gentle, soft kisses.

♡ vox

he's the type to go "ha, see if i care!" when you leave, but he'll still check on you occasionally through the various cameras and electronics around the city — he swears it's just because he's making sure the new limited edition voxtek product he had given to you isn't damaged.

(...it's totally because he's looking out for you, by the way. even if it's only a little. you are his darling, after all. and uh, you'll never know what happened to that guy who tried to hit on you that one time).

(vox made sure not even a trace of that bastard remained).

his obnoxious pride makes him reluctant to reach out first. that, and he's a petty little shit. so everyone around him, whether that be the other vees or his employees, is stuck dealing with his foul mood. he's become even more irritable and susceptible to lashing out than usual since you left.

he'd rather die than admit it, but you were a calming presence in his life that he hadn't realised he needed until you were gone. he hates just how much power you have over him, though you may or may not realise it. he's supposed to be the one in charge. when did you manage to sneak into his heart? his mind is occupied with thoughts of you.

and it only frustrates him more, because you're not here.

all his employees are left on edge, even more so when he takes his anger out on some poor soul who had gotten the numbers wrong on the report they handed in. "clean this mess up." vox snaps, glowering as he fixes the cuffs of his sleeves. the demon at the door hurriedly moves to do as he says, not wanting to risk meeting the same fate.

"what? what are you looking at?" he turns, eyes narrowing at the rest of the employees who flinch, hastily turning their eyes back to the screens in front of them. "get back to work." he mutters sharply, an unspoken threat in his words.

his volatile temperament goes on for a while, until velvette decides she's finally had enough and sends you a (not so) polite text to resolve your little lover's spat before she takes matters into her own hands.

meanwhile, vox is in his office. nothing seems to be going his way, and he's just about to blow another fuse when you nonchalantly throw open the doors, inviting yourself in. he freezes, staring at you for a few moments. you raise a brow. "...so. i heard you were throwing another hissy fit."

vox scowls at that, grumbling under his breath. "oh yeah? and what'd you come back for, you prissy little princess?" he sneers, clawed fingers digging into the desk with a quiet screech. "couldn't go without me for long, huh?"

"ha. you wish that was the case." you scoff, rolling your eyes with a half-amused, irked smile curling at your lips. things escalate into another argument pretty quickly, with the two of you at each other's throats. he towers over you, eyes narrowing as his grin widens in mild irritation.

it's a back and forth for quite some time, until you get sick of it and grab him by the collar of his shirt, yanking him closer until you're glaring at one another face to face. "what the fuck do you think you're—" he starts, but he's quickly cut off when your lips crash into his. vox is stunned for a few moments but soon snaps out of it, swiftly returning your kiss with equal, if not more, ferocity and intensity.

"finally got you to shut up." you murmur, grinning as you part to catch your breath and release his shirt from your grasp. before you can pull back completely, however, his hand reaches up to rest against the back of your neck, the other firmly on your waist. it takes another long, drawn-out kiss for him to finally let you go — though not really, since he's still holding you close in his arms.

"...that was hot." he whispers breathlessly, staring down at you with a somewhat satisfied glint in his eyes. but you both know that there's more to come.

suffice to say, the two of you sorted things out.

♡ lucifer

he would regret everything almost instantly. lucifer realises just how badly he fucked up when you leave without looking back. he's not even quite sure what happened as he stands alone in the room, blinking as he's left to process everything on his own. his mind is a jumbled mess, and he can't think clearly.

all he can feel is a suffocating rush of fear as he snaps out of his daze and hurries after you, desperate to find you before you're gone. he doesn't want to take his chances. what if you don't come back? what if—

he had said things that he didn't mean, and now the weight of it all feels crushing on his shoulders. he's torn between wanting to reach out to apologise and giving you time to cool down. he doesn't want to be a bother, but also really wants to make things up to you.

most of all, he just wants reassurance that you'll come back to him and that he hasn't messed things up for good. he doesn't want to lose you. you're too precious to him for that, and he's mentally kicking himself for ever making you question your importance to him for even a second.

thankfully, you haven't gone too far so he's able to catch up to you, taking a hold of your wrist firmly. however, when you turn to look at him, he falters, the words dying in his throat. he swallows, softly clearing his throat as he scrambles to say something, anything to stop you from leaving. to reaffirm his love for you.

"...sweetheart, i'm so sorry," he whispers, expression twisted and heart heavy with remorse and sorrow as he brings you close, grip subconsciously tightening because he's afraid to let you go. "i'll do anything, i'll make it up to you, i—" he trails off, burying his face into your shoulder, "just, please... don't leave. i'm sorry."

you really can't stay mad at him for too long after seeing his genuine sincerity. he acknowledges his wrongs, wanting nothing more than to make up for his mistakes and make you feel as appreciated and cared for as you've made him feel over the course of you two knowing each other. you sigh gently, thumb lightly brushing over his cheek. "...alright, silly. let's go home."

his eyes light up at that, and he's reminded of just how grateful he is to have you here by his side as you guys make your way home together. he holds your hand the entire time.

after the two of you make up, you find that he'll leave little gifts and cute trinkets around for you despite your gentle assurances that he doesn't have to. he also gives you lots of forehead kisses. he just wants to make sure you never forget how much he loves you, and that you mean the world to him.

© dearaceofhearts ー all rights reserved. please do not steal, use or modify my works!

[en-gelic]

bubblegum ✸ 엔하이픈

syn. to be loved by them. gn. idolxnon-idol, fluff ⋆ wc 873 ! warnings. skinship, kisses ୨୧ so sweet like bubblegum ʚɞ BOOKSHELF! ⋆

🗯 taglist : @cholexc @07sleepykatz @seunghancore (ask or comment to be added !)

To be loved by lee heeseung meant he would continuously remind you of how much he loved you by kissing you in his favourite places— your neck, your fingers and your jawline. Tying your hair when you were working or busy, and staring holes through your back when you were applying lip gloss, eagerly waiting to wipe it off. Late night calls you would have when he couldn't sleep resulted in you reciting your notes to him, which usually had him asleep in minutes. If it were you struggling to fall asleep, he would sing to you causing you to unconsciously end up staying up just to listen to his voice. You made him cover any song possible and got exclusive covers just for the two of you. He would show off in front of the members whenever you would watch him game.

To be loved by park jongseong meant him sending you options for your hair dye at unholy hours of the morning and coming over extra early to help you with it. Constantly asking whether you had eaten and whether your work was going well. He would be over at your house, scolding you on eating too much fast food and making meal preps for whenever you were too busy. Consulted you before buying anything, which was a terribly bad option as you were the type to encourage anything but kitchen appliances that aren't coffee makers. He would also send you any flavour of coffee he was able to find and constantly expressed his love through sending you gifts wherever he was.

To be loved by sim jaeyun meant him letting you tie his hair into little ponytails even if you tugged too hard. Giving you piggy-backs and using your height difference as an advantage when he wanted to tease you. He would ruffle your hair a lot, which was a habit of his you hated the most. Kissing your head before he went anywhere and teaching you how to fish was his favourite things to do. Whenever he saw an opportunity, he took random photos of you that you never saw until he posted it and defended himself by the fact that they were quite good.

To be loved by park sunghoon meant picking his jewelry— especially glasses and taking any accessory you could find from his collection. Calling you every hour when he was abroad just to ask you whether you were fine and giving you any shirt with his name on it and making you wear it when you were going out with friends to show his 'dominance' he had said to defend himself. He would pout if you didn't say 'I love you' before ending the call and demanded a kiss as an apology. Would send you photos of scenery when he was away and had the habit of eating food that you like on your behalf.

To be loved by kim sunoo meant spending evenings binge watching popular shows while hating most of their plots. Getting you to watch horror movies with him because you were the clingiest when you were scared. Applying your lipgloss for you to give the reason that since he put it on, he can take it off and washing your hair whenever you didn't feel like doing it. Peppering your face with kisses in the excuse that his lips were like free skincare. Would organise your wardrobe every other week, complaining about how disorganised you were. He would be very serious when it comes to not eating until the movie began and would slap your hands away if you tried to eat before it played.

To be loved by yang jungwon meant him picking up souvenirs from anywhere he want and matching clothes with you on purpose but acting as if he didn't mean to. Would send a message before going live to make sure you were able to attend every live if you could. Buys you everything that you like in the convenience store and dumps it all in your house whenever you weren't around, leaving a note he scribbled before leaving. He would create random nicknames for you and send an English 'word of the week' to help with the two of you learning English.

To be loved by nishimura riki meant inside jokes which only the two of you could understand. Fiddling with his rings when he held your hand and raiding his closet whenever you got the chance. He would purposely buy things for 'himself' that he knew you would like, and pretending to be irritated when you take them. Putting things in high places you can't climb up to get just so you could ask him for help. Constantly getting him to draw for you, no matter how many times he says that he's not that good. Adoring your cats whenever he came over and making sure that they weren't bothering you when you were busy with work. Trying to lose every game for you because you were too competitive. Back hugs and cuddles with his body either towering or covering yours which was the best form of body heat in winter. He habitually pretends to not see you since you were much shorter than him.

[williamsonarssnal]

𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 | L.W (part.1)

SILVER SPRING ⸻ leah williamson x swimmer!reader.

warning: angsty, mentions of marriage, heartbroken (L & R), confused (R). English isn't my first language!

In London, the vibrant city that pulsated to the rhythm of football, Leah Williamson shone like the Sun, illuminating the Emirates Stadium with her grit and talent. Y/n, on the other hand, an Olympic swimmer, was the Moon, gliding through the crystal-clear waters of the pool with the grace and strength of a celestial body.

Leah, the fearless captain of Arsenal, was admired by crowds, her radiant smile and unwavering leadership making her an icon of the sport. Y/n, on the other hand, conquered the world with her perseverance and discipline, each stroke bringing her closer to Olympic glory.

Though Leah and Y/n admired each other from afar, their worlds seemed to coexist in different orbits, like the Sun and the Moon. Leah, always surrounded by spotlights and applause, craved a quiet and cozy love. Y/n, dedicated to her passion for swimming, saw marriage as an obstacle to her freedom and dreams.

One day, fate brought them together at a charity event. Leah, enchanted by Y/n's beauty and determination, approached timidly. Y/n, admired by Leah's strength and humility, felt an unexpected connection.

"Hi, I'm Leah," she shouted over the loud music.

"Y/n, nice to meet you, England captain."

"The pleasure's all mine, gold medalist."

Over conversations and secret meetings, Leah and Y/n discovered a deep and sincere love, a feeling that transcended societal expectations. But, like the Sun and the Moon, they also carried their own dreams and ambitions.

Leah, wanting a future with Y/n, proposed marriage. Y/n, overwhelmed by the love she felt, found herself in a dilemma. Her heart belonged to Leah, but her soul longed for the freedom of the water.

"I can't, Leah."

"What?"

"I can't focus on starting a family with you right now."

Leah was still in shock by the woman in front of her's response. She was sure Y/n loved her with the same intensity. She was sure she was doing the right thing, the woman just got up and walked towards the door, since clearly the movie had been ruined. Y/n, on the other hand, sat on the cold living room floor while her shared dog lay on her legs trying to comfort her. Marvin was a Golden Retriever that Leah had given her for her birthday after finding out how much she loved the breed, he was a constant reminder of how much Leah cared about her and how they were already a family. This crazy decision of hers was already affecting their son.

She was already regretting her actions and how she was being arrogant putting her career above her perfect relationship, but now it was too late and Leah was probably at Lia's or some teammate's house. Tears streamed down her face, she was feeling so stupid for letting the love of her life walk away.

Days went by and Leah still hadn't spoken to her or even sent a message, she was living on autopilot. She entered the club without greeting any teammates and just changed in silence, training non-stop. In addition to taking advantage of the times when Lia asked to pick up Marvin to stay with Leah for a week and since the dog was shared she agreed immediately starting to accept the end of her relationship. Lia was angry at what she did to her best friend, but sad to see her state as she packed the dog's things.

"You're an airhead, girl," she said, and you just shrugged, trying to ignore the woman's words, just smiling faintly when your dog barked trying to get your attention. "Don't ruin your family, he needs you two together." You looked at her a little surprised, not knowing what to say, just lowering your head as you both walked away.

It was exactly a week after Marvin left and without the dog at home you spent more time training until the peak of exhaustion, doing several laps of different strokes each time wanting to break your record. Your cell phone was on silent so no one could disturb you, you were swimming butterfly and it was clear how much you liked the stroke, your favorite, you had such a great facility. The adrenaline was pumping through her veins, pushing her to surpass her limits. But then, a sharp pain shot through her calf. A relentless cramp seized her, paralyzing her movements.

Panic took hold of S/n. She tried to fight the pain, but it was futile. Her arms grew heavy, her legs refused to obey. She began to sink, the crystal-clear water turning into a suffocating nightmare.

In her last moments of consciousness, images of her life floated through her mind: the Olympic glories, Leah's love, the promise of a future together. Anguish and regret gripped her. She had sacrificed everything for her dream, but now, with death lurking, she realized that Leah's love was what mattered most.

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Nothing's New...

Can't help but think of:

"You were a wonderful experience.."

"And you were... everything..."

With Sunshine!Reader and Ghost

To you, he may have just been an experience, but you were everything to him. Doing everything he never expected anyone to do. You were new, something different from what his whole life had offered him.

You were safety, you were warmth but most of all.. you were his. You were there when he needed you the most, his safety net. Taking care of him when everyone else was busy fending for themselves. You took care of almost everyone but who took care of you?

Though he never was blatantly obvious, Simon cared. Maybe too much, finding ways to make your life easier or at least make you smile. Simon who took it upon himself to make your safety his priority despite all the risks that come with working along side you.

You meant the world to him, he'd do anything to rewind time. To see you, talk to you and be with you for so much more than he already had in hopes it would be enough.

A petty fucking argument, that's what caused this, it wasn't your fault. It was an accident, yet he called you carelesss. Maybe it was true, what people used to say...

No one would ever truly care if you were gone, you thought about it, how it seemed like they cared very little, how he cared very little. Not bothering to even acknowledge you exist even when you're trying so hard to communicate, he went cold, like he never had before.

You knew 141 cared but not enough, that your disappearance will be easily taken and that at some point they'll replace you and be content there.

if only he can take back the shit he said.. It was too late, the last words he heard from you...

"Bomb my location, Captain.."

Unbeknownst to your static radio, you didn't hear how Simon begged and pleaded Price not to. Never had Price seen Ghost so vulnerable, but that wasn't Ghost, it was Simon.

Those dreaded letters next to your name..

"KIA"

He thought he was used to it by now, but like in old fashion you proved him wrong. Just like how you proved him wrong when he thought he himself was unlovable.

He failed you, he fucking did. Just like everyone else in his life he lost, just a glimpse of it all. You felt like a distant memory, he is never going to be as happy as he was with you. Never again will he see that smile that lifted the world from his shoulders. That's the second time someone left his life... Yet the feeling was far worse..

Nothing's new..

A/n: Apologies to everyone, I wanted to write something good but this seems so half-assed.

[illicitvalentines]

something stupid !

⋆ ˚ ౨ৎ 。james potter x gn!reader

OF WHICH... james has always adored your sweet heart and gentle ways and feels nothing more than obligated to tell you how much he loves you, even if he isn't completely sober enough to tell you

CONTAINS: FLUFF, modern au, established relationship, lovesick!james, drunk!james saying love for the first time 😶, mentions of drinking, flirting, kissing, cute stuff

NOTES: inspired by ' something stupid ' covered by frank sinatra ! i hope y'all like it i'm low-key terrified ( wc : 1.1k words !! )

JAMES WASN’T SURE whether it was the liquor on his tongue or the sense of love he was drunk on, but his feelings inside felt that they were to spew out of him at any moment now. Though his eyelids were wearing heavier by the minute, it was the drink in his hand that had now sunken in the residue of ice which lay on the bottom of the glass, that had kept him from leaving the party from being purely wearisome. 

That and your wandering eye from the other side of the room.  

Your obvious loss in trance was growing more evident to your two friends, Lily and Mary, as their nudges and callings of your name had failed to gain your attention – that instead, was entirely on the brunette boy.

James shared a small smile from his position on the couch, which was teeming with lovesick couples and their blatant attraction to one another; that populated the party with loudmouthed discussions and bursts of laughter – acting as redundant ambiance to James' approaching headache. 

Pardoning yourself quickly from your two friends – who both smirked before promptly making conversation with themselves once more – you began to weave through the moving bodies of the crowd and gradually ended up beside him.

His hair was now messier than when you both first stepped into the party, for the mousse that you had used to hold his unruly curls back had failed to maintain the look; with a few loose locks falling out to frame his gentle face. 

“Hey angel,” James responded, slurring his words from lack of soberness, the sides of his mouth perked up into a toothy grin that consumed his entire face. Holding your warm hand to his cheek, and picking up the spirits on his lips, you whispered; 

“Hi Jamie,” you smiled sincerely, taking his glass out of his hand and placing it on the coffee table, “Have you had a bit to drink?”. 

Not having it in him to respond verbally, James only shook his head. You laughed softly – causing James’ smile to somehow widen even further. To him you looked angelic, often depicting your smile as one that would wash heavenliness through your presence; entirely a sight for sore eyes. 

“Weren’t you with Sirius and Remus for a bit? Where did they end up going off too?”. 

“Not sure, said they’d be back but they aren’t.” he murmured, “Probably out in the yard smoking or making out, one of the two.” Your chuckle back triggered your gentle hands to make their way from his cheeks into his palms as you stood up to pull him away from the couch – now being towered over by your boyfriend. 

“Do you perhaps want to head home?” 

“That I’d love to.”  

The sound of your footsteps became the only noise emitted in your apartment, a complete contrast from the party James had left his favourite jacket and any remaining soberness at, as he staggered a few steps behind you.

You removed your interlocked hand from James’ to set your keys down on the kitchen bench only to find the taller boy wrapping his arms around your waist and peppering light kisses into the crook of your neck, slowly moving up towards your jaw and eventually cheeks.

“James, please at least sit yourself down first.” you cooed, him humming in agreement whilst moving sluggishly to your couch and falling back onto the pillows that dressed up the comforting frame. 

Watching you silently as you moved across the apartment, James was ultimately heart-struck, completely infatuated by you. The way you moved across the room with such care and flow, wanting not to make any loud noises as not to add to James’ now present headache; the way you would hum softly after putting on your favourite music; the way you would hold his head in both your hands once you finally sat down quietly beside him. 

“I like it like this. Just the two of us.” he mumbled, causing a smile to partner your demeanour and soften your eyes. 

“I do too.” 

Your eyes both couldn’t leave the others, the only noise in the apartment being the sweet hum of your music playing, filling in the blanks of the lack of speech between the two of you. The muteness wasn’t awkward, instead contrastingly comfortable as you two lay in each other's silence.

Kissing your nose and forehead lovingly, James picked up on what he stopped at the kitchen bench, littering sweet kisses over your entire face that scrunched with the light touch. Your sweet laughter complimenting the peppering pecks of his love for you. 

The moment to James was perfect, the only trouble being his lack of control of himself with you, especially when you looked at him in such a gentle way. Knowing it wasn’t the alcohol taking over, or the intoxicating scent of your fragrance, but the bittersweet feeling that had hung in his stomach much before the two of you had entered your apartment, before you left the party together, and long before your eyes had met with him on the other side of the room. 

In fact, in the three months you had been dating for, James had subconsciously known he loved you in the mere few moments upon meeting at a party much alike the one you had come from. He was unsure of what had come over him, but it was too late before what was holding up in his insides came spewing out. 

“I love you”.   

Your laughter came to a blunt end as your eyes widened slightly upon the words that had just escaped James’ mouth. In complete fear that he had ruined the moment James’ eyes began to reflect a similar fright to yours, completely changing in a mere few seconds as you had decided to disrupt him by meeting his lips with yours. 

It was a passionate yet slow kiss, one that would hold all the words you were meaning to say but didn’t know how to pronounce. Cupping your face in his hands, he tasted sweet from both the amount of drinks he allowed himself to get lost in at the party, and the overall loveliness that James Potter contained.

Though you definitely couldn’t complain, you pulled back reluctantly, noticing his lips being slightly puffier and parted. You whispered under your breath.

"James you're drunk." 

"I don't think I've ever been more sober in my life." he smirked, "Y/n, I told you I love you, you heard me didn’t you?” 

“Oh I know, I just want to hear you say it again." you giggled softly before continuing, "I love you too Jamie.” 

His heart ached with pure admiration as you two got lost in the moment and let time find you once more.

LIA'S LETTERS ⋆ ˚ ౨ৎ 。 to my lovely reader, thank you so much for reading this really shitty piece of writing ! this barely followed the song but oh well i hope the ending wasn't too bad either 😭 but i genuinely do hope you enjoyed and this wasn't too ooc for james; i love him lots and definitely hope i did him justice

like, comment and reblog if you wish !! ( they're very much appreciated 💗 )

[mercurycft]

𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓 — 𝐊𝐌

## katie mccabe x team mate reader!!

hey pooookies! i hope you have all been well - are we all so surprised at how active i’ve been?! are we also all ripping our hair out in preparation for the final on sunday — I wonder how inspector gadget is gonna fuck us over this week :))). anyways! i tried something new with this one! i hope you enjoy! love always - RG x

3.6k words

contains : !! social / drunk smoker r !! jealousy, hidden feelings, tipsy one night stand, best friend x best friend, top!katie & bottom!reader, praise, dirty talk, thigh riding, semi-public (bathroom cubicle/stall), fingering r!receiving, finger sucking.

CONTAINS 18+ CONTENT AND LANGUAGE

the ninety-second minute.

two minutes into the four of added time. by this point, your legs are burning. the sound of the crowd ringing through your ears and rattling around your brain. you tried to stay focused, overly aware of the time ticking away. your season debut, a sold out emirates and you were finally off the bench and on the grass at the start of the second half. the first half was a mess, truth be told. the team had conceded a goal twelve minutes in and didn't score the equaliser until minute thirty-seven. it felt anticlimactic, the players and fans reeking of disappointment at the display in front of them. how the team had been playing and how they were playing seemed like a humorous juxtaposition.

the blur of red and white fell into the background as you felt the ball at your feet, walti hitting the ball perfectly through a gap in the opposition and picking you out. this startled you out of your train of thought and your feet moved faster than your brain could compute as you started running.

you breezed up the field, weaving through the opposing players with the ball still on your feet. beth was ahead of you to the right of the box, screaming your name above the noise. you could hear a few others behind you too, leah calling out behind you to pass it across the box to beth. you looked up, eyes flicking from the ball to the scenes around you in second intervals. you were covered, their defence closing in on you as you crept closer and closer to the goal. your eyes found the keeper ahead of you, arms open and bouncing on her feet. you could feel the bodies around you closing in, you couldn't turn and now you couldn't place beth as she disappeared behind them.

ninety-three.

you tried to stall for just a second, still fighting through the wall with the ball below you. you looked around, eyes searching for a red. you had no choice, you took a deep breath. a gap, just look for a gap you thought, scanning between the bodies. then you spotted it, a crack in their defence. there it is the voice in your head egged you on, then you ran again. arms raising to your side to give you the last kick of power you needed, body twisting as your foot retracted.

the stadium and people around you seemed to slow as soon as the inside of your foot made contact with the ball, eyes locked on it as it picked off the ground and began soaring towards the goal in front of you. it was up and over the keeper even as she jumped, launching herself up in an attempt to avert the ball outside of the posts. instead, it trickled above and over her fingertips, top right corner. back of the net.

you watched as it made contact with the net, rippling out as the crowd jumped to their feet. screaming and hollering a mix of your name and cheers, at the sight and sound your knees buckled. hand's breaking your fall as your head tilted back, eyes squeezed shut as you cried out a sound of relief and elation. the screams around you grew as your teammates flew towards you, arms wrapped around you tightly as they screamed and congratulated you. lifting you off the ground and into the middle of the group, patting your head and singing along with the crowd as they chanted for you. katie was the first to speak directly to you, hands on either side of your head as she raised her voice above the racket from the crowd. “there’s my star girl!” she screamed, smiling from ear to ear.

the whistle blows. the game ends.

you, along with the other girls take your victory lap. soaking in the love from the fans and taking a few minutes to enjoy the moment alongside each other. when the celebrations had ceased, pictures had been taken and the fans had slowly began to make their way out of their seats and towards the exits - you and the girls retreated back through the tunnel and towards the changing room.

once inside, the celebrations continue in the form of dancing and singing. the group all swaying and holding one another whilst ‘the angel’ blares through a speaker in the corner of the room. voices echo of the walls as you butcher it, laughing at the sight surrounding you. beside you stood beth, arm slung across your shoulder and hips knocking yours as she swayed to the beat of the song. she leant towards you, her mouth not too far from your ear as she whispered a small and teasing.

“well done, star girl..”

—————————

three hours later you stood outside of a local bar, a team favourite. a small, proper british, weather-spoons styled bar tucked away in a corner of north-london. there was a shelter above you, shielding you from peering eyes and people wandering by. you were standing with your head down, eyes glued to your phone and back pressed against the brick wall.

you typed vigorously, cracking a smile every few seconds as a new message popped up at the bottom of the screen.

y/n : i am NOT walking in alone

meado : just go in! we will be there in 2 minutes!

y/n : beth. i am not being the first one here!!

le : stop being a baby

km : can score in front of 50k but can’t be first in??

y/n : i actually beg you shut up

lia : we are around the corner!! are you out front?

y/n : yes, save me

before you could continue on your rampage, your attention was directed to the sound of an irish accent bellowing towards you. lifting your eyes off the screen in front of you, you were met with the source of the sound.

“are you ever quiet? or do you not possess the ability?” you teased, smiling as she engulfed you in her arms and pulled you towards her chest.

“nah, but ye’ know ye’ don’t mind,” she replied “do you not possess the ability to walk into a bar alone?” she added, emphasising her point with the tap of her finger against your shoulder, smirking when you rolled your eyes.

“shut up, mccabe.”

you and katie have been friends for years, and teammates for even longer. people often liked to comment on the pair of you, fans would speculate and ‘ship’ you together. sure, there was the odd flirty comment passed between you, or a single instagram post that painted you as a little closer than friends. but nothing ever came from it, and nothing was said. you got on like a house on fire, even though people were continuously confused about how you actually got on, considering how different your personalities are. katie was a loud and outgoing character, a joker. you, on the other hand preferred to slip into the background most times. but somehow, it worked. on the pitch, and away from the pitch.

katie ushered you inside, making small talk as the pair of you walked towards the back - sitting down into a booth beside each other and thanking the server as he scattered a number of drinks menus around the circular table.

over the next few minutes the rest of the girls started to filter in, saying hello’s and getting comfy around the table as conversations kicked up. as the seats started filling you felt katie shimmy off the seat and move somewhere away from the group. you sat beside leah, discussing a mutual and old friend you had recently bumped into. sharing a bout of laughter at resurfacing memories.

the drinks began to circulate and music started to flow through the room, everyone relaxing into the occasion when katie slipped back into the seat beside you. she placed two drinks down on the table, and then slid one in front of you - her hand tapping your thigh twice under the table as she did so. you smiled to yourself with a hand clasping around the glass and tapping twice with your finger nail, thanking her silently.

the other girls were used to this by now, beth and viv would call it a ‘secret language’. joking about how you spent so much time together you could communicate telepathically. the two taps could mean anything, a thank you, an okay, an ‘oh my god did you hear that?’. it was completely subjective to the situation, but either way you always understood each other.

another half hour ticked by, and the team still remained around the table. drinks in hand, all engaged in the same conversation but still managing to speak over one another. the room was stuffy, and your skin was crawling for a bit of fresh air.

you made it outside, the door closing behind you and blocking out the music. you took a deep breath, allowing the chill in the air to fill your lungs as you took a seat at one of the rickety tables. you placed your bag to rest on your legs, fingers sifting through your bag, then lifting to your lips followed by the click of a lighter.

you inhaled, eyes closing for a second then looking down at your phone - flicking through your social media. you stayed like this for a few moments, eyes locked on the screen until a voice made you jump. moving swiftly to tug your arm under the table, shielding the sight of your cigarette from view.

“that’ll kill ye’ you know..”

“jesus christ, katie you scared me!” you complained, moving your hand to rest on the table-top once more, unbothered by her presence or possible acknowledgment to your bad habit.

“don’t understand why ye’ do it, it ain’t even nice.” her accent seemed to get thicker once paired with the alcohol she had consumed, “don’t like watchin’ you do it..”

“don’t watch me then,” you quipped, smiling sarcastically as you raised it to your lips again.

“put it out, let’s go inside.”

“i’ll be in in a minute-”

“put it out.”

that’s new. you thought in regards to the way her words caused your stomach to churn, unable to fight your hand as you flicked the cigarette to the ground and stubbed it out with the sole of your shoe.

“happy now?”

“very.”

her eyes were trained on you, watching as you stood from your seat and made your way over to her. slipping a piece of gum between your lips.

“gonna stand there a check me out all night mccabe? or you gonna come inside..?”

—————————

you weren’t entirely sure how it had gotten to this point, but you were sat on the edge of your seat absolutely seething. eyebrows furrowed and teeth clenched beneath your pursed lips. eyes fixated on the scene unfolding in front of you.

beth could feel the tension in your body from beside you, placing a hand on your back and asking if you’re okay not entirely convinced when she received your answer through gritted teeth.

katie stood at the bar, leaning against a stool as she spoke to a woman. not just any woman, a beautiful blonde woman. who was laughing obnoxiously loud and dramatically at something katie had said, leant right in towards her ear with a hand on her shoulder.

you had watched this for long enough, the sight alone enough to cause a strike of anger and jealousy in the depths of your stomach. you rose to your feet, ignoring the way beth called your name lowly and under her breath but failed to restrain you. you walked towards the pair now stood far, far too close to each other. timing it perfectly as katie created space for you to slip into her side, tucking your arm around her waist.

pretending to be interested in something happening in the room you spoke sweetly “shall we get going babe? you’ve got to be up early.” before turning to finally meet katie’s eyes, she was shocked - gobsmacked even as you stood next to her putting on a performance. you flashed her a smile before you turned towards her company, “oh my! sorry i didn’t see you there, am i interrupting?”

she was up and gone before giving you a reply, scoffing and grunting towards katie as she left. you laughed to yourself, removing your hand and filling the now empty seat. katie, however, was less amused. muttering a “what the fuck was that?” with a scrunched up face.

“what was what?”

“thanks.” she spat, marching away from you. she crossed the room and you watched her walk into the bathroom - trailing shortly behind her, calling her name. when you made it into the bathroom it was quiet, as if it was empty. you advanced towards one of the stalls, pressing your fingertips to the door and pushing gently.

“katie?” no reply and the door opened to reveal an empty cubicle. “katie?” you said again, huffing slightly as you pushed the second one open.

this time, the door flew open and a hand grabbed your wrist - pulling you inside. before you had the chance to register what was happening your back was pressed up against the now closed door, with a body laid against your front.

you gasped at the contact, a familiar perfume flooding your senses before you eventually opened your eyes just to be met with a pair of blue ones you had seen so many times.

“i used to enjoy this silly little game of yours, you know. but now, i’m getting a little tired, love.” she whispered, still keeping you pinned with your arms by your side and legs shoulder width apart.

“i don’t know what you-”

“what i’m trying to say is, if you really wanted me that bad, you should’ve just said so.” she added, lifting her hand to tilt your head. her lips on the skin of your neck instantly, peppering kisses below your ear and down to where your collarbone sits. raising and falling cautiously with every deep breath you took.

you didn’t fight it, instead you sighed into her touch, body relaxing against hers. you could feel her smirk against your skin, teeth grazing the skin of your jaw. you wriggled one of your hands out of her grip, laying it across the back of her neck. palming it gently as you pulled her back, looking at her properly.

she scanned your face, watching as your head twitched in a tiny nod - never breaking eye contact with her once. her features softened, but her lips twisted into a cocky smirk. moving towards you and attaching your lips together.

you had kissed once before, in a stupid game of truth or dare about five years ago. it was small, a peck and lasted maybe three seconds.

this kiss, right now, was the polar opposite. lips moving against each other roughly, hands tugging at each other clothes and skin. the kiss was fast paced, and twisted with lust and want. it was erotic and urgent, as if you might disappear and the moment will be gone if you even dared to come up for air. your lips pressed together so hard you thought they might bruise.

your lips were on fire when she pulled away, trailing a path of hot kisses down the same path she took earlier. nipping and licking along your jaw and neck as you whimpered from above her, shifting your weight from your right to left foot and back again. unable to contain the heat spreading through you. it started in the pit of your stomach, angry and fierce at the hands of katie’s actions.

“katie..” you whispered, clawing at the clothes on her back. she didn’t reply, to focused on the task at hand. “katie.” you said again, this time it came out like a hiccup, breath hitching when she nipped at a particularly sensitive patch beneath your ear. “katie, please!”

“what, love?” she pulled away with a smirk. eyes deep and lips parted as she gasped for air.

“i need you,”

“i’m right here.”

her answer didn’t satisfy, laced with cockiness as she licked her lips. your leg lifted to bend hers and press between your legs, inhaling sharply when you felt the contact on your heat - tugging your lip between your teeth as the irish woman groaned and lifted a hand to sit at the side of your face, stroking her thumb along the skin as you grabbing and palmed at her leg to bring it closer.

“is that what you want, love?” you knew it was rhetorical, a question that didn’t need an answer. but still you nodded vigorously, rolling your hips against her thigh which now sat in the perfect position for relief. “you wanna got off on my thigh now hm?” she added, the words alone enough to send another rush of heat through your abdomen.

you couldn’t form words, already starting to rut against her thigh when her hands began to creep up your top, teasing over the fabric of your bra at the feeling of your fully hard nipples.

“go on, baby, get off on my thigh..” she encouraged, one hand sitting firmly on your hip to guide you and the other being used to lift your top further. taking one of your nipples between her fingers, watching as your teeth laid harshly into your bottom lip - eyes rolling into the back of your head.

“you like this, huh? getting yourself off, right here? being a good girl for me, aren’t ye’?” she whispered into your ear, teeth softly grazing against the skin of your ear lobe.

“want your fingers, katie,” you whimpered, the pressure through the layers of clothing not providing you with enough.

“hm, that’s not how we ask now is it?” she questioned, eyebrow cocked and hands stilling you on her thigh. “why don’t you ask properly n’ i’ll see what i can do..”

“please katie, i want your fingers..” you whined, body distraught at the loss of contact. katie let out a satisfied ‘hm’ at your words, pressing a quick kiss to your lips when her hands dropped to unbutton your jeans. she shoved them down till they sat around your mid-thigh, fingers ghosting over your clothed slit as she sighed.

“look at you, made such a mess. proper ruined these are..” she teased, adding pressure through the fabric before skilfully moving them to the side. allowing her fingers to slip through your folds, smirking against you when she felt how wet you were. “jesus, love. absolutely soaked.” you felt a blush creep onto your cheeks as she teased you, not fully committing to where you needed her most.

you groaned in frustration, head laying back against the cubicle door when she finally pressed the pads of her fingers onto the bundle of nerves, chuckling when she felt your body jolt forward and thighs tense at the feeling. “right there, baby?” she whispered, burying her head into your neck once more. you nodded, hips moving to grind against her fingers - swivelling in small circles and moaning out into the room.

through the laboured breaths you managed to croak out a meek and stuttered “please fuck me, need your fingers,” mouth agape and limbs on fire when you felt her move her fingers down to the source of your arousal. allowing one of her fingers to slip inside you, enough to feel you clench around her and whisper out a beg for more.

when she added a second, your head fell forward. attaching your lips together again, your moans slipping beyond her lips. your teeth grazed against the skin of her bottom lip now, in exchange to yours and she grunted out a low “behave.” when you pushed your luck.

you could feel the coil in the pit of your stomach bouncing around your organs and numbing your lower body when her fingertips pressed against your g-spot. knees buckling and eyes screwing shut, fingers gripping her bicep - leaving crescent shaped marks in the exposed skin beneath her sleeve.

“fuck, right there- oh my god.” you moaned, unable to hold them in any longer, your mind clouded by pleasure and entirely focused on chasing the high that was rapidly approaching.

“right there?” she punctuated her point by curling her fingers deeper, “ye’ gonna cum for me? show me how pretty ye’ look makin’ a mess of my fingers?” she knew just what to say to have you squirming and send your mind racing.

you felt you tighten around her fingers, grunting a “cum for me.” into the crook of your neck, not slowing or stilling her fingers until she heard you cry out. using her lips to muffle your cries as she rode it out, letting you catch your breath for a few seconds before removing them all together. bringing them up to your lips, which you accepted gracefully. hollowing out your cheeks, tongue flattening against them before finishing with a pop.

katie held you up the same way she had been until you were confident on your feet again, helping you to straighten your clothes and push your hair out of your face. you felt an awkward silence rush over you both, inhaling deeply. you were sure she could hear your inner monologue when she jokingly let a “well then, thats never happened before..” break through the silence, causing you both to laugh.

you pushed her hair away from her eyes, slipping your hands onto her cheeks and bringing her forward to connect your lips again. this time softly, more careful and loving. you both relaxed instantly, smiling as you pulled away.

it hadn’t happened before, no.

but would it be the last time, no.

[miupow]

two songs i wanna turn into fics…

ceilings - lizzy mcalpine

-> ex!beomgyu, beomgyu’s pov, jealous!beomgyu, reader is dating another member, just endless angst and beomgyu reminiscing on your past relationship while being forced in close proximity to you because you date one of his close friends, slowburn heeh eventual smut (?)

crush - ethel cain

-> loser bad boy!yeonujun, criminal!yeonjun, good girl!reader, forbidden love, stoner!yeonjun, drugs and sexual tension and sex, strangers to fwb to lovers !! yeonjun corrupts reader, reader may or may not become a criminal accomplice

[bias-fan]

CASE 143 MASTERLIST [hwang hyunjin x fem!reader] -finished-

synopsis: two members of two different groups in jyp entertainment are caught together at mama. rumors start to spread about choi y/n and hwang hyunjin, y/n getting more hate for the dating rumor.

pairings: idol!hyunjin x idol!fem!reader

warnings: friends to lovers, workplace romance, smau, angst, written chapters, angst, fluff, death threats, hate comments

genre: idol x idol, angst, crack

✨itzy✨ skz🔥🔥🔥 official accounts

[01: rumors]

[02: hate]

[03: bullying scandal]

[04: hiatus stuff]

[05: feelings?]

[06: comeback!!]

[07: more dating rumors?!]

[08: versace royalty]

[09: date or not?📝]

[10: kinda dating?!!]

[11: confirming]

[elryuse]

WOULD YOU REMEMBER ME IF WAS GONE

ITZY OT 5 X MALE READER

GENRE : HEAVY ANGST, DEPRESSION, SUICIDE

3RD POV

The clinking of ramen packets and the muffled roar of their favorite reality show filled the tiny dorm room. Y/n, a mop of messy hair cascading over his forehead, placed a steaming bowl of spicy kimchi jjigae in front of Lia, the main vocalist.

"Whoa, hero!" Lia exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with gratitude. "You're a lifesaver. I was about to gnaw on my microphone for sustenance."

Y/n chuckled, the sound warm and familiar. "Just fueling your future Grammy-winning voice, no need for cannibalism."

The other members, Yeji, Ryujin, Chaeryeong, and Yuna, erupted in laughter. They were ITZY, a group of five trainees just starting out, their dreams as vast as the sky and their pockets perpetually empty. Y/n was their anchor, their confidante, the one who knew their deepest fears and wildest aspirations.

But their laughter was fading, replaced by a growing silence as success began to knock on their door. Practice sessions became longer, schedules tighter, and smiles strained. Y/n noticed the change, the way their conversations became shorter, their laughter replaced by a focused intensity.

One evening, Yeji, the leader, nervously approached Y/n. Her hand hovered uncertainly over his shoulder before dropping back to her side. "Y/n… about the dorm…"

His heart sank. "What about it?"

"The company… they think it would be better for everyone if we had individual rooms. More focus, you know?"

Y/n understood the logic, but a profound sadness settled in his stomach. The dorm, with its mismatched furniture, walls plastered with inside jokes, and memories woven into every corner, wasn't just a place to sleep. It was a symbol of their shared struggle, their unbreakable bond.

"Oh," he managed, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Yeah, makes sense. I can find another place. Just need some time."

He saw a flicker of guilt in Yeji's eyes before she turned away. The rest of the evening passed in a strained silence, the once vibrant dorm feeling sterile and cold.

Practice sessions morphed into grueling marathons. Sleep became a luxury, laughter a distant memory. ITZY rocketed to fame, their music topping charts and their faces plastered on billboards across the world. Y/n, their biggest cheerleader, watched from the sidelines, his heart aching with every award show and sold-out stadium.

He tried to bridge the growing distance. He'd arrive at the practice room with takeout dinners, only to be met with hurried goodbyes and barely a glance. Messages went unanswered, calls ignored. The girls were caught in a whirlwind, their schedules a relentless storm that left no space for their old life.

One day, he found himself outside their new, luxurious dorm building. He hesitated at the entrance, a stranger in a world he once knew. He longed to see them, to hear their laughter once more, but the fear of rejection held him back.

He turned and walked away, feeling a tear roll down his cheek. He wasn't sure what had happened to the girls he knew, the girls who used to confide in him, who needed him. He was just an unwelcome reminder of a simpler time, a time before the pressure and the fame.

The silence in the practice room was suffocating. It had been a week since Y/n had stopped returning their calls, his messages left on read. A gnawing worry had been festering in the pit of their stomachs, a fear they refused to acknowledge.

Then, the news hit them like a physical blow. A notification popped up on Lia's phone, a local news headline screaming, "A young Man, Y/n Lee, Found Dead in Apartment." The world blurred around them as they devoured the details, the word "SUICIDE" hanging heavy in the air.

A wave of nausea washed over them. Ryujin, the youngest, crumpled to the floor, sobs wracking her fragile frame. Chaeryeong clutched a forgotten stuffed animal, her eyes wide with disbelief. Lia, usually the calm one, was pale as a ghost, her hands trembling uncontrollably. Yeji stared blankly at the wall, her face an unreadable mask. Only Yuna, the rapper, managed a strangled cry, the sound raw and desperate.

The silence that followed was deafening. The weight of their unspoken words, their growing distance, the silent neglect – it all came crashing down upon them. Y/n, the constant in their whirlwind existence, the one who loved them even when they were exhausted, insecure, and unsure of themselves – was gone.

The guilt, a suffocating weight, settled in their chests. They had clawed their way to the top, driven by ambition and the pressure of success. But at what cost? As they stared at the cold, sterile walls of their practice room, it dawned on them – they'd traded laughter for fame, sacrificed a piece of themselves in the pursuit of glory.

The coming days were a blur of grief-stricken apologies whispered into empty spaces. They visited Y/n's small apartment, a place they hadn't set foot in since he'd moved out. The space held the faint scent of his cologne, a lingering echo of his presence. They found half-written notes scattered across the table, remnants of dreams and anxieties he never shared.

One note, crumpled and discarded, read: "Remember that time we spilled ramen all over the practice room floor and spent hours cleaning while laughing so hard we cried? I miss those days."

Tears streamed down their faces, each word a searing indictment of their neglect. They spent hours pouring over their old photos, a stark reminder of the carefree joy they once shared. The girls they were in those photos, the ones with bright smiles and unburdened hearts, seemed like strangers.

Days turned into weeks, the silence in the practice room a constant reminder of their loss. They tried to return to their routines, to the relentless demands of their careers, but the music felt hollow, the choreography robotic. The spark, the joy they once brought to their performances, was gone.

One evening, as they sat huddled on the practice room floor, a shared determination hardened in their eyes. They wouldn't let Y/n's memory fade. They would find a way to honor him, to recapture the spirit they had lost.

Lia picked up her phone, her voice thick with emotion. "Let's call the producer. I have an idea for a song."

The days that followed were filled with late nights and tearful breakdowns. They poured their grief, their regret, and their love for Y/n into their music. The song, titled "Empty Spaces," spoke of broken promises, the bittersweet sting of success, and the enduring power of friendship.

When they finally performed the song on a live broadcast, the raw emotion resonated with their fans. The girls, stripped bare of their usual stage persona, sang with a vulnerability that brought tears to their own eyes and the audience's.

As the final note faded, a deafening silence filled the stadium, followed by a slow, hesitant applause that gradually grew into a thunderous standing ovation. In that moment, ITZY knew they had found a way to heal, to connect with their fans on a deeper level.

And though the empty space beside them on stage, the space that once held Y/n, would forever remain a painful reminder, they vowed to carry his memory in their hearts, in their music, and in the unbreakable bond they had rediscovered.

"We Remembered You Y/n. We Would Always Remember You".

[zombholic]

guys, concept idea that im gonna turn into a smau/series..

rockstar abby whos started out small, dating reader and they’re madly in love. abby and her band blow up a year later and start gaining attention (5sos vibes) the fame and attention starts to consume abby which leads to them having the most heart wrenching break up.

reader is now constantly reminded of her famous ex girlfriend who feels like a stranger now. abby always showing up on tv, social media, nyc billboards.

secretly abby stalks readers socials because she misses her so much but knows she cant go back to her.

[underdark-dreams]

[ch1] - [ch2]

A Strand to Climb - Ch.3

Rainstorms, hard conversations, and long-awaited kisses.

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Pining | Word Count: 4,189 [Read on AO3]

In a lucky turn of events, Lorroakan was called away from the Tower earlier than usual. Perhaps more Nightsong business connected with Tav’s visit today. 

More likely a soiree in the Upper City with the newly ordained Archduke Gortash and the city’s elite, Rolan thought to himself. Those were the parts of archwizardry that seemed to agree with his master the best.

Whatever the reason, his evening’s lessons were abruptly canceled—as Lorroakan’s projection materialized for a few seconds to unceremoniously inform him. Rolan felt his aching head throb with relief. He’d just been given a night of escape. 

When the closing hour’s bells rang out from Stormshore Tabernacle, Rolan fastened up the shop in record speed.

Rather than head to his siblings’ rented flat, Rolan carved a path toward the Elfsong. It was still early yet—Cal and Lia wouldn't expect him for hours, if they expected him at all tonight. 

A bit early to be visiting the tavern, as well. But watching the gray and downcast weather through the doors of Sorcerous Sundries all day had left him thirsty. Rolan breathed in the cloud-thick and misty air as he walked.

Even for the early hour, the main taproom of the Elfsong was almost completely empty. All the better; fewer chances at unwelcome stares and comments.

Despite having his pick of the entire floor, he slumped into a small table in the farthest corner possible and spilled a few coppers on its surface in preparation. He’d been ready to drink this day away for hours.

"Chancing murder this fine afternoon?" 

As if summoned, a cup of Arabellan Dry appeared in front of him. Lakrissa plucked his coin from the table in the same motion.

Rolan’s work had left him little time to follow the city’s goings on. But he did recall something the Gazette's paper boys had been shouting in the courtyard this morning—the most recent in a string of grisly murders, apparently occurring just above his head. 

No wonder the place was deserted.

"Can hardly be worse than what's behind us," Rolan said glumly, raising the cup to his lips without missing a beat. 

Lakrissa plopped herself down at his table uninvited. "I expected to see your lover with you tonight." 

"My—" It was different hearing someone else say it aloud; he coughed slightly into his wine.

“Cal told me she made it to the city,” Lakrissa explained.

Apparently Cal had taken the liberty of telling her everything else while he was at it. 

"Of course he did." Rolan huffed a sigh. He supposed it was good that his siblings kept in contact with old friends from the road…but could they find nothing more interesting to talk about than his personal life?

"She's pretty," Lakrissa said, as if the compliment was somehow directed at him. "Brave, good fighter…good heart. How exactly you pull that off?"

Her candor would've insulted him, had he not asked himself the same question many times today alone. "No idea," Rolan said, unshouldering the heavy weight of his ego for just a moment. 

"Hm. But you're hiding alone in a tavern, instead of off with her."

"I am not hiding," Rolan glowered at her, though he really was—and for the second time today no less. "I just needed to think, that's all."

"Ah…I get it." Lakrissa swung her bar towel over one shoulder. "She’s seen you."

For all of the times Rolan had visited the Elfsong Tavern while Lakrissa was waiting tables, she'd never commented on the ever-shifting landscape of wounds on his face. She was the type to keep her nose out of other peoples’ business, whether from discretion or from genuine disinterest. 

Either way, Rolan appreciated it about her. He got enough prying and questions from his siblings anytime he went home; the last thing he needed was to be interrogated while he was trying to drown his sorrows.

Perhaps that was why Rolan felt he could ask her the next question. If nothing else, Lakrissa was a realist.

“Be honest. If you were her, seeing me like this—" he gestured a hand stiffly in the direction of his aching face. "What would you think?”

Lakrissa propped elbows on the wood table to support her chin, regarding him in her casually thoughtful way. "I'd think that your apprenticeship with that wizard isn't going too well. But that you must have a good reason for staying."

That seemed more optimistic than he could hope for. Would Tav respect his reasons the same way? Surely she must know by now that he'd take much worse for the opportunity he'd been handed, if that's what it took. He didn't put Cal and Lia through everything he had on the journey here just to give up now.

But for a moment, Rolan pictured what it might be like in reverse. Watching a mad narcissist like Lorroakan lay hands on her; watching her willingly return for more. His knuckles gripped pale around his cup.

Rolan surfaced quickly from that disturbing image. "Sure she wouldn't see a pompous idiot who’d bragged to anyone who would listen?"

Lakrissa tipped her head in a way that suggested she saw his point. "You've never struck me as an idiot, though. How about this, then—I’d see the man who stepped up to get his people through a nightmare and safely to Baldur’s Gate.”

Rolan swirled the wine in his cup, watching the waves gloomily. “She’s the one who made the way safe for us. You know that.”

“You’re so—” Lakrissa leaned back from the table with a laugh. “Gods. For a smart bloke, Rolan, you can be so stupid. I respected Zevlor,” she told him with sudden emphasis, as though Rolan might think she didn't. “All of us did. He’s the one who got us out of Elturel when half of them wanted to chuck us right back into Avernus. And I’ve no idea why he left us, or whether he’s even alive—” A rare wrinkle of emotion appeared between her brows. “But I do know that you were there. Alfie told me all about how you protected the kids and got everyone to Last Light after…everything.”

"Alfira's a bard," Rolan told her, as if she of all people needed reminding. Foolish dreamer was the actual term that came to mind, but he suspected Lakrissa was the type who would smack people for rudeness. "I've no doubt she exaggerated."

"Oh no, she said you were a complete ass about it," Lakrissa replied matter-of-fact. "And that you spent most of your time drinking the Harpers dry before Tav showed up."

Rolan's pride stung at the comment, but he couldn't exactly deny it. Lakrissa went on. "That doesn't change the fact that you kept them safe. You saved people’s lives, Rolan."

He let out a bitter laugh. "It was only me because all the good ones were already dead."

They stared at each other in silence for a beat.

"That's a pretty shit thing to say,” Lakrissa said quietly. “About them, and about yourself."

Rolan looked down at the dark liquid in his cup, but he couldn't think of anything nicer to say on the subject. He was finding it hard to be nice about anything these days. 

"You're a hero, Rolan," Lakrissa told him simply. "And so is she. I reckon the two of you can figure it out…you deserve to give her a chance, at least."

Rolan only let her advice wash over him in silence. When Lakrissa shifted, he saw her grimacing over his shoulder. 

“Damn. Alan’s giving me the eye—ugh, like there's anyone else to serve anyway—” 

But she rose, and Rolan was ready to return to his glass until he felt a hand rustle between his horns—the way he'd often seen Tiefling parents do to their children back home.

“When you do see her, send her by?” Lakrissa asked. “I still owe her a drink.”

—

Rolan left the Elfsong a few minutes later. He found the wine had done little to quiet his troubled head, and something in Lakrissa’s pointed speech had made him feel too guilty to stay any longer.

As he stepped out through the tavern’s wide oak doors, a chill rustled through his robes. The storm was rolling angrily up from the port now. 

Rolan kept his head down against the breeze that pushed much sharper and colder through the streets than before, sweeping river mist off the roiling Chionthar and plastering it against his face and hands. He thought wistfully of his good cloak—currently sitting useless in his room at the Tower. 

Even after weeks in Baldur's Gate, Rolan was still learning to anticipate the rapid changes in weather that could descend on them from proximity to the coastline. Elturel was set deeper inland; they never got sudden squalls like this. 

The few others he encountered in the streets were also rushing to their destinations with bowed heads, or else frantically boarding up their stalls against the oncoming storm. As he glanced up at the clouds again, a large, foreboding drop landed on his brow.

Rolan ducked down an alleyway south past the print shop. Not normally a shortcut he'd take at twilight, especially through Heapside. But any cutpurse stupid enough to be out in this weather would be easy to dispatch.

Within its walls, the narrow space muffled the sounds of the city. Rolan could practically smell the electricity crackling through the stormclouds above as he walked. All of a sudden there was a blinding flash, a clear peal of thunder, and rain erupted on top of him.

Sheets of it swept down like curtains with breathtaking ferocity, drumming loud against roofs and cobblestones and smothering the warm light from any street lamps he hurried past. His robes were soaked through almost instantly. Rolan swore and raised an arm to shield his vision against the rivulets already running from his hair.

Despite the shortcut, the path to Cal and Lia’s took longer than usual. Small rivers were forming through the streets from the rapid downpour, and the cobbles grew slick under his boots. Rolan had to catch his balance against stone walls and fences a few times. The clatter of rain and thunder was so deafening he could almost feel his brain rattling around inside his skull.

When Rolan stepped under the footbridge around the corner from home, the muffled reprieve made him let out a breath of relief. He paused for a moment to wipe the rain from his forehead and eyes, even wrung out the ends of his hair.

With his head tilted so, he caught sight of a cloaked figure standing on the doorstep to his siblings’ front door. 

Where he stood was cast in shadow—combined with the thick curtains of rain falling between them, Tav hadn't noticed him yet, though they were standing just a few meters apart. She was squinting up at the number above the doorpost. One hand reached from under her cloak to knock, but she paused halfway through the motion as if second-guessing herself.

Was she just looking for Cal and Lia? Or had she somehow known Rolan would be here? But that didn’t make sense—even he hadn’t expected to spend a night with his family until a few hours ago.

Rolan stared at Tav’s upturned face, watching her lashes flutter as she blinked away a few droplets of rain. His heart leapt against his ribs from a bewildering mixture of love and fear.

“Rolan?”

Despite the downpour around them, her voice reached Rolan’s ear with a clarity that made him start where he stood.

She was peering at his figure through the curtain of rain between them. Then she rushed forward without a word, and before Rolan could react, her body collided against his wet robes with a smack. 

He found himself immediately enfolded in her familiar scent as her cheek pressed against his. Rolan's arms circled to hold her of their own volition, every other tumultuous thought conveniently swept from his head.

Then she drew back, and she leaned up to kiss him. 

Her lips were warm and welcoming as hearthfire. Rolan shivered slightly as he realized just how much the wind and rain had chilled him. When her mouth grazed a spot of broken skin, he flinched back at the sting.

"Oh." She stepped away as though he’d burned her. "I—sorry."

"It's not that," he told her. Unbidden, his hand reached toward the edge of her cloak to find one of hers.

Their fingers hooked together finally, and she inhaled in surprise. "Rolan, you're freezing! How long were you out in this?"

Without waiting for his answer, she tugged him forward to the door on the corner. She neglected to knock and simply reached for the latch, and the two of them spilled across the threshold in tandem with another peal of thunder.

Lia leapt up from the table, her shortsword at the ready and polishing rag in hand. Cal’s face appeared in the kitchen doorway, looking equally alarmed. The four of them stared at each other as rain poured into the doorway.

“For hell’s sake—”

Lia darted forward, and for a wild moment Rolan half-expected to be caught up in a hug. But she only pushed past him and wrenched the door shut against a fresh gust of rain, drawing the bolt across. 

Muffled silence blanketed the room around them. After being out in the storm, it made Rolan’s ears ring. Beside him, Tav pushed her cloak’s hood back to her shoulders. 

“Sorry about that,” she told his siblings with a breathless smile.

It triggered a flurry of activity. Lia was drawing her into the room, whisking her cloak off to hang it near the hearth to dry. Cal plunked a large cast iron pot of something steaming onto the central table—a good bit of it spilled over the side—and began poking around in cabinets to find another bowl. They were both talking over each other to Tav the entire time.

Rolan found himself rather left out of it all, and a bit indignant at the fact. 

He spread his palms wide to either side, dripping a path across the floor in the process. “Hello?”

“Oh—” Cal blinked over at him as though just noticing he was there. “Hi, Rolan.”

Lia made no response, suddenly busying herself with putting away her whetstone and sheathing her sword. The cool reception wasn’t lost on him.

“Nice place,” Tav remarked, stretching her hands appreciatively toward the fireplace.

“It’s really not,” Cal said cheerfully. “But it’s better than we hoped, really. All paid for by that bast—”

“Hungry?” Lia interrupted, looking pointedly at Tav and not her older brother. Tav exchanged an uncertain glance with him.

“Not for me,” she answered. “But thanks, and thanks for the invitation. It’s good to see you both well.”

Rolan caught her eye. “Lia and I caught up the other day,” she explained.

“About what?” Rolan asked, unable to stop himself.

Finally, Lia leveled a stare at him. “Take a guess.”

She and Rolan looked at each other in silence for a tense moment. Internally, he was fitting together the pieces of Tav’s visit to the Sundries.

“Anyway,” Tav interrupted slowly, “Rolan and I were actually just hoping for a place to talk.”

“Ah—right. Should we step out?” 

Cal’s voice sounded a bit strained; maybe he assumed that ‘talking’ was some kind of euphemism. The thought made Rolan’s ears grow warm under his hair, but Tav responded before he could open his mouth.

“Don’t be ridiculous, you two can’t go out in all this.” Her face turned toward Rolan, questioning. “Do you have a room we could go to?”

He nodded wordlessly and started down the hall. The fact that Lia and Cal both refrained from comment was a surprise—one that he felt grateful for. Perhaps they’d finally picked up on the tension between the two of them.

Rolan held the door to his bedroom open for her and followed her inside. He felt around for the candle sconce near the doorway and lit it with a word. 

The space was small and plain, but quite clean; his duties didn’t allow him to spend many nights here. Even the narrow bed along the wall was still neatly made from last week.

As she reached to lock the door behind them, she turned to Rolan. “Do you keep clothes here?”

“What are you talking about?” He cringed at how bluntly his own words came out.

Without explaining, she slipped the small pack from her shoulders and tossed it to the floor. Then she swept past him toward the wardrobe and began rifling through its contents.

“Here—” She tossed a set of clean clothes onto the bed. “Change into these. Towel?” Not pausing for an answer, she dug for one at the back of the shelf and added it to the pile.

Rolan frowned at her back defensively. “I can take care of my—”

“Rolan, please just shut up,” she interrupted. She was still turned away, but there was a slight tremor in her voice. “We have a lot we need to talk about. And I can't concentrate with you looking like a wet cat.”

Rolan glanced down at his robes; droplets from the hem were steadily forming a small puddle between his boots. His combined appearance must be pitiful indeed at the moment. Too embarrassed to protest further, Rolan began working at the fastenings of his garments.

Though she'd seen him entirely naked before, something about this moment felt even more intimate somehow. He undressed silently as the muffled rainstorm continued against the shuttered window of his room.

As he removed each soaked layer, she kept her gaze averted to respect his privacy. Rolan did catch her glancing at him a few times when she thought he wouldn't notice, but there was more concern than desire in it. As if she was checking him over.

It did feel much more comfortable to slip a dry tunic and trousers over his chilled skin. Before he set his wet robes aside, Rolan turned away as if folding them in order to retrieve her handwritten note from the pocket. Rain had smudged the ink a bit, but the three most important words were still legible. He exchanged it for the dry pocket at his hip.

The leather tie from his hair—the same one she'd used that very first night—was slipped off and into his pocket as well.

Then he moved to sit on the edge of the bed and began roughly scrubbing at his wet hair with the towel, as if the force might inject some courage into his skull. His mind was currently swirling with uncertainty of what she would say next.

Rolan caught her eye from behind his loose strands of hair. To his very great relief, her expression softened.

“Let me—”

In a flash, she had curled up cross-legged behind him on the bed and was taking the cloth from his hand. She smoothed his hair back and squeezed rainwater from the ends.

Her touch was much gentler than his own—the gentlest thing he’d felt in weeks. Rolan closed his eyes at the feeling of her fingers combing against his scalp. He found himself very grateful she couldn't see his face. If this was the most she ever wanted to touch him again, he thought he could almost be satisfied. 

“I spoke with Lorroakan today.”

Rolan sat quiet for a moment. “I know.”

“You’ve got more magic in one hand than that charlatan has in his whole fucking body.”

Her bluntness caused his lips to twitch with an unwilling smile. “I know,” Rolan repeated, more confident this time.

The fingers in his hair paused; he could practically feel her eyes boring into the back of his head. “Rolan, is that why he's doing this to you? Hurting you?

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Rolan told her. Making sense of Lorroakan was futile. He had stopped trying long ago, to save his own sanity. Even now, her questions stirred up an anxious frustration in his chest. “Does it matter?”

There was a soft rustle as she scooted sideways into his sight line—Rolan glanced over to see her brow wrinkled in a sad expression. 

“How can you say that?” She replied. “Of course it matters what happens to you, Rolan.”

There was not a trace of insincerity in her face. Rolan found he badly wanted to kiss her again. Instead, he bowed his head toward the floor.

“This is just how it is,” he told the floorboards. “It won't be forever. I'm strong enough to bear much worse than this, you know.” 

“I know you are—” Her fingers resumed their work in his hair, gently tugging and working at a small knot. “The point is you shouldn't have to.” 

She was right, of course. He had no logical defense against her words. The room lapsed into silence instead. Beyond the walls, blustering sheets of rain continued to buffet against the roof tiles and window panes.

Tav spoke up behind him again. “Some of those bruises are old. You aren't healing yourself at least?”

She gave his skill more credit than he deserved. “I’m still learning how,” Rolan admitted glumly, glad again to be facing away from her. 

In truth, healing scrolls were what he'd been searching for that night Lorroakan had accused him. If only he could see the techniques for himself—he was certain he could master them. The archmage had conspicuously neglected to allow any lessons on abjuration magic thus far.

The mattress behind him shifted as Tav rose. Rolan watched her move to snatch up her pack from the corner, then barely managed to catch it as the object sailed toward his lap.

“Take those,” she said as she clambered back up behind him to continue gently toweling his hair. “Keep them here, study from them whenever you want. They're yours.”

Rolan felt a thrill of pure excitement as he peered down into the leather bag—and found it filled with a score of tightly bound spell scrolls. This small cache was worth more gold than he’d ever seen together in one place.

He pulled one out to examine its formidable wax seal. “Where did you get all of these?”

“Um…don't worry about it.”

“Stolen,” he finished dryly.

Her tone grew playfully defensive behind him. “From a very bad man who is now dead. There, does that satisfy you?” 

Rolan had turned to kiss her before the last word left her lips. The pack slipped to the floor between his feet as his hands notched behind Tav’s jaw to pull her forward. He felt a damp weight land in his lap as her now-empty fingers slid around his torso.

Rolan broke away just enough to speak. “Stay here tonight,” he told her. It wasn't a question.

Tav nodded, leaning back in for his mouth.

Her fingers splayed in the dip between his jaw and his ear, tilting his face into hers. He kept his palm firmly pressed on the curve of her waist. Each time her lips slid softly over his, Rolan found his heart filled with another shimmering pearl of hope. They stayed there connected in a kiss until his back began to ache from the contorted position. 

To his immense disappointment, Tav pulled away first. But she only made a hesitant request to borrow some clothes for herself. Rolan finally realized with a jolt of guilt that her own were wet down the front, no doubt from that moment she'd held him outside in the rain.

Rolan trained his eyes away to give her the same privacy. But though Tav didn't meet his eye, she made no attempt to hide her body—in fact seemed to move with deliberate slowness as she stripped down and pulled the threadbare tunic over her head. It barely skimmed the tops of her thighs.

Then she moved to the candle near the door and extinguished it with a puff.

Through the near-darkness, Rolan worked the bedcovers down to slip beneath them. As his damp hair landed on the pillow, he felt the mattress dip beside him as Tav promptly curled herself in along his front under the blankets. Underneath, his tail moved with a mind of its own to wind around one of her legs. She let out a small, happy sigh that tickled across his chin.

Rolan briefly wondered if they were intentionally trying to distract each other. Tav had clearly come here to find him and talk, after all. And there was much more to say—he could feel all the words unspoken hanging between them like a tangible thing. From the way Tav’s fingers worried the laces of his shirt, he wondered if she was thinking the same. 

But neither of them spoke for the moment, just lying together as they listened to the storm continue outside on the streets of Baldur’s Gate. 

Eventually, Rolan laid his arm still across her and closed his eyes. She was so warm, her quiet presence so comforting—and he found now that he was very, very tired. 

Perhaps the rest of it could keep until the morning.

[graysparrowao3]

Rolan Additional "Really Evil Ending"

Saw an article about Larian working on "Additional Really Evil Endings" for the player. Here's one I offer for Rolan:

Act 3. Ramazith's Tower. Cal and Lia are dead. Rolan sides with Lorroakan against the Nightsong.

The player can convince Rolan to betray Lorroakan and obtain immortality. The player then pursuades Withers to resurrect Cal and Lia. Rolan is excited and conceited - all of his plans have worked out - but as soon as Cal and Lia realize what Rolan has done they are horrified and hate him, and the two siblings disown him.

He has the rest of eternity to wallow in anger and regret what he did, hating himself for it more each day.

Rolan: We're together, and we have everything - I have provided you with everything! I have achieved more than could be imaginable, and your ungratefulness knows no limits!

Lia: Fuck you, Rolan! Everything you lay a finger on, you make worse. Go to Hells. Wish we'd never met you.

Cal: How could you do this, Rolan? When I die for good, I'll regret looking up to you the most.

Visiting him later after Cal and Lia leave...

Rolan: Leave me to the consequences your callous temptation torments me with. Or don't. There is no more pain you can inflict upon me, of that I am certain. I stand before you, the immortal Archmage of Ramazith's Tower... and I have never had less.

Rolan ambient line as you walk away: ...By the Gods... what have I done?

[en-gelic]

— ANGEL'S KISSES !

an angel's kisses are a delicate feeling 1111 cw. skinship, injuries, smoking heeseung x (f) reader ʚɞ BOOKSHELF! ⋆ an. MEMORABILIA HAS ME ON MY KNEES

The hallways bustle with energy as you scurried across the school. Your chest heaved up and down as you panted out of breath, cursing your terrible stamina. Slowing down, you made it to the back of the school where you found Heeseung, grey smoke tumbling out of his mouth. He crushed it quickly at the sight of you and pretended to recite the homework you gave him the evening before.

“I saw you so don't even try." You warned, pulling a face at the smoky smell filling your lungs. He grinned his perfect smile at you as though to distract you from his lack of obedience. "Your rank is still the same after I spend four days of my week to tutor you-" You began.

"You're so pretty." He interrupted, leading his dreamy gaze to you. "Are you even listening?" You questioned, irritated with the boys' lack of cooperation.

"Not at all, pretty girl." His overused nickname still made your heart skip a beat as you scolded him to stop using the nickname on you.

"Then which one do you prefer?" Grinning, he leaned down, his breath blowing loose strands of your hair. "Princess? Baby? My love?" Fighting the urge to hold your breath, you stepped back. "Listening while I'm talking is a start."

Hearing footsteps, you silently demand his cigarette box. He handed it to you in confusion, your hand buzzing with the electricity that felt like it was running through his hand when you grazed it.

"What are you doing students?" The teacher asked, trying to peak at the cigarette box you were holding behind your skirt. Muttering a curse word under your breath, you smiled politely. "Nothing, just remembering formulas before math class." Nervously glancing at the teacher, you could see that he didn't look convinced whatsoever. "And what's behind your back?" He pressed on, sensing inaccuracy in your sentence. Being the worst liar, you pulled a face, ready to get caught by the teacher with cigarettes that weren't even yours.

"Condoms." Heeseung blurted as your eyes shot open in horror at his sentence. The teacher looked astounded as a blush tinted his cheeks. He droned on about having inappropriate material at school, but he let you keep the supposed "condoms" and granted a warning and detention for the end of the day. Not to mention, the only detention you were ever given.

When the teacher finally disappeared, you shot the boy a look and shoved the cigarettes back in his hand. "Does that mean there's no tutoring today?" He called, lighting another cigarette. "My house at seven after detention."

Dreading the evening ahead, you delegated duties to the class before heading to your worst nightmare. Surprisingly, you were first as you took your seat, the teachers' face staining pink after seeing you. Trying to hide the embarrassment exploding through you, you quickly finished your homework, turning your gaze to the window, losing yourself in the amber sunset peeking through the trees and turning the light in the room a deep shade of yellow. Movement rustled beside you as you returned from your daze to look at the boy who took his seat, fresh injuries marking his angelic features.

"What happened to you?" You question, analyzing his scars and concluding that he got into a fist fight. By his lack of reply, you stood up, viewing the quantity of the scars and opened your bag, retrieving the first aid kit. He groaned in retaliation as you held his face still while you treated the injuries on the side of his mouth.

"Who brings a first aid kit to school?" He started, wincing from the sting.

"Because I know an idiot who gets himself into fights and leaves his wounds open to infection and gets me into detention."

"Your idiot, princess." He corrected. "As if being an idiot is a good thing." Despite the red staining his features, he still looked attractive as he grinned his signature smile at you. "Being an idiot for you is." You sighed, ignoring his sentence and bringing your hand to the bruise on his cheekbone. "Care to explain who got you into this mess?"

"You." His hand caught your wrist as you hesitated to meet his eyes. Feeling the tension wafting in the room, the teacher silently exited, closing the door behind him. You continued wiping the blood away until he tugged you onto his lap, the cotton shooting out of your hands.

Desire spread through his features as you subconsciously inched closer to his lips, finally connecting them, brushing your nose against his cheek. It would be embarrassing to tell him that it was your first time, so your only result was imitating his actions, resulting in a breathtaking kiss.

A throat cleared behind you as the teacher appeared by the door, standing awkwardly. Flushed, you got up from his lap apologizing repeatedly to the teacher and moving back to your seat. Detention dismissed briskly as you hurried through the vacant halls, avoiding Heeseung as your embarrassment flared up at the thought of him. Finding a mirror, you noticed your swollen lips from his teeth nibbling your bottom one. You couldn't bring yourself to think about how awkward the rest of the evening would be and quickly freshened yourself in the bathroom before he came over.

He found you sitting by your desk, finalizing projects with your headphones on, unaware of your surroundings. He leaned down, the action going unnoticed by you who was still in your own bubble.

"What are you listening to?" He questioned, swiftly removing your headphones and resting them on your neck. Your stomach flipped at the feeling of his lip resting on your ear, feeling as it curved into a smile. Turning to face him, the weight of his stare made the words you practiced earlier disappear into thin air.

"What's with that look, doll?" He pressed, leaning his hands on the arms of your chair. His eyes moved to your lips, sliding a finger across your bottom lip which was still swollen. Leaning into you, your breaths mingled as your eyes fluttered shut, waiting for his lips to press on yours. He let out a brief chuckle before your lips connected, moving in sync as the air in your lungs languidly vanished.

"Does this mean no tutoring today?" He repeated the question he asked earlier, circling a part of your neck with his index finger. You answered by delicately kissing the area around where his bruises were, ending it off with a light kiss on his lips. Reconnecting his lips with yours, you made a mental note to give him extra homework for the damage he achieved today.

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[lostinforestbound]

This is an exploration of Rolan, Cal, and Lia 's past together and how they met. I have read plenty of headcannons and fics that have already explored this topic (the ones I've read are so creative!) and I wanted to do my own little spin on it!

Cal & Lia & Rolan

Unlovable

An unwanted, despised child wanders Elturel one of the worst storms the city has ever seen, looking for scraps to survive the night.

Word Count: 3.1k (AO3)

Relevant Tags: Child Abuse (Only shown in the beginning), Trauma Responses, Sickfic, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with Happy Ending

A pitiful tiefling child is dragged by his hair, wailing as a woman kicks the front doors of the orphanage open. She tosses the young boy out into the middle of the storm, and he falls into a large, muddy puddle in the streets of Elturel. The rain hits his back harshly as he struggles to get up on his hands and knees.

“Don’t you ever come back to this place.” He hears the woman spit, and he tearfully looks up at her with golden eyes from his place at the bottom of the stairs. “This is no place for you, devil spawn. When you came to us originally, I bit my tongue in the name of our God; I thought we could shape you into something instead of what you are. Now you bite the hand that feeds you. A conniving, thieving, spoiled brat is what you are!”

She reaches for the handles on the doors, hatred in her eyes as she stares him down. “Leave, we will be more at peace without you to burden us.”

He weeps as the doors slam, wanting to plead with her; he didn’t steal anything, he never touched anything he wasn’t supposed to, and he was framed by an older child that resided further down the hall, but his voice has never worked ever since he was left here. The caretakers tried everything to make him speak; prayers, beatings, and starvation were all they resorted to, but none of those worked. It only made him silent. Even with how cruelly he was treated, he crawls up the stairs, trying not to slip on the wet stone, and frantically knocks on the doors.

His cries are left unheard or willfully ignored.

Body shaking violently with his sobs, the cold sinks deep in his bones as the rain mixes with the tears running down his face. He’s resorted to scratching at the wooden doors with his nails, but they’ve been blunted by the worshipers here. Cut down until they bled so they looked more humanoid.

Less devilish.

Please let him stay.

He yells out another cry when a loud clap of thunder hits, covering his sensitive ears from the sound. It hurts so much, the little ice needles called raindrops piercing his skin repeatedly without mercy.

To the happiness of those inside the orphanage and temple, he finally runs away.

No one would give him a second glance, and he never felt so isolated.

Pathetic.

Unwanted.

Abandoned.

His legs shake with every step after he stops running, whether from the cold or the terror that sunk into his bones. He’s directionless, not recognizing the street he's on and unsure how long he ran for. What did he do wrong? Should he have fought the caretakers less? Should he have gotten along with the other children more? Should he have been better behaved?

Is there something wrong with him?

As more lightning strikes, he picks up his pace again. A couple of small houses still have candle lights burning in their interiors, but he’s too fearful to go knocking. Who would want an orphan in their home? A tiefling orphan, no less? And on top of that, one that’s too scared to talk? Would they throw him out again?

He feels his stomach is being clawed at, hunger overcoming his senses. They were already punishing him for insolence by not feeding him, but thinking he stole something from the altar was the final straw in the haystack. He did not think caretakers could look at him so disgustingly.

Waterlogged by the rain, he finds a small house with their candles still lit, trailing over to the trash they left. It’s by the front door, the worst place for him to hide, but if he doesn't eat something soon he might collapse here.

He sneakily opens the wicker basket and looks inside, trying to find scraps. A loose crust of bread, old meat, bad fruit, anything he could find sustenance in. Anything that can tie him over for the night.

But there is nothing. Only broken glass from what looks to be a shattered plate, stray strings of yarn, and old needles that have long rusted.

His eyes start stinging again, knowing that luck will never be on his side. It’s the only trash he sees out here in this street, everywhere else is now too dense to peek through. He doesn’t even hear the door open, he only feels the waft of warmth from the inside-

The door is open.

He trembles again, not just from the cold, but dread. He can’t will himself to run away. Maybe he’ll be shown some mercy if he gets on his knees to beg, wordlessly hoping the punishment wouldn't hurt him too badly.

“Hello?” A feminine voice calls out cautiously, opening the door fully as the light hits his skin.

He quickly looks up at the figure, petrified.

She’s beautiful. The light gives him a better view of her orange skin and darker orange eyes. She’s wearing a white night dress, loose fitting with frills at the end of the sleeves. Her short black hair is a mess as if she got out of bed rapidly.

A Tiefling, most importantly.

He stares at her in a childlike wonder, surprised by the warmth he feels just by seeing her soft, sleepy eyes.

“Oh my goodness, you poor thing. Come in, now.” She states, gently but urgently pulling him inside.

Tugging him along to the interior of the small home, the tiefling woman sits him down in an old chair and puts a heavy blanket over his shoulders. “Sit tight- Cal, Lia, what have I said about staring?”

“It’s very rude…”

“Very good Cal.” She says softly, mirth and honey in her voice.

He didn’t even notice that there were other people around. They sounded young, like some of the other kids in the home. Their voice is sweet, the one that spoke. Innocent.

Quiet steps quickly approaching, she comes back with a towel, kneeling in front of him and carefully wiping his face. He leans into the towel's softness, enjoying the texture and lightly starting to purr. “Gods above, what happened to you sweetheart?” She asks as she takes one of his hands, looking down at his blunted nails in horror.

Opening his mouth, he tries to speak, but nothing comes out. What would he even say? His teeth chatter violently, threatening to crack the incisors that adorn his mouth.

“You’re freezing. Cal, Lia, please find some of the old clothes in the closet. He’s soaked to the bone and we need to get him dry.”

He hears the tinier tieflings run off somewhere, the woman carefully pulling him up and leading him into a bedroom. It’s small but comfortable. The orphanage was cramped and he had to share a bunk bed. He always took the top one, since it would be easier to hide himself when he was higher up. When he was out of sight, he was out of mind.

The other children arrive with a clothing pile, and while he can’t look them in the eye, he sees the amount of clothes they bring as they threaten to fall onto the floor.

That makes the woman giggle, a sweet sound that relaxes him even while he shivers. “Thank you. Now, sweetheart-“ She starts, gently tilting the boy’s chin to face her. “Do you have a name?”

He glances at her, dumbfounded. Yes, he does have a name, but it feels as though his throat is closing.

She gives him a sad smile, moving her hand away. “How about you change into some dry clothes? Come out whenever you’re ready.”

Getting up, she leads the other two children back out the door with hands on their backs.

”Mom, why won’t he talk?” The taller of the little ones question.

“Hush, Lia.” She whispers, closing the door behind her after they leave.

Silently looking around the room, he spots a portrait hanging high on the opposite end of the bed, easy to see even while laying down. It’s the woman, but she looks much younger, and there’s a man next to her. Red of skin with similar black horns, but they were cuffed in some kind of jewelry. Ceremonial, perhaps? They seem so sweet, holding each other’s hands like it was their whole world.

They’re in love. He hasn't seen the man around, though.

He snaps out of his trance, starting to peel off his wet clothes. The shirt snags on his horns, and it rips the side open while trying to yank it off.

Damn it all, the only shirt that he owned is now ruined. How could he fix this? The caretakers never taught him how to sew like the other children. They didn't let him participate at all, usually. It was too delicate, they said; his claws would tear the cloth and he would ruin it, like how he ruins everything else.

He ignores the tears stinging the corners of his eyes, focusing on putting on the new clothes. They’re big on him, clearly meant for an adult, but it’s dry. Kicking off his shoes mostly in frustration, he now looks at the door that leads back out.

Does he leave now? Is he allowed to?

Feet tiptoeing to the door, a shaky hand reaches out for the handle and opens it. He winces when the hinges creak so loudly, and he starts to shake again. Should he hide under the bed? Will they be angry about the noise?

No one seems to come after a few minutes, but he thinks that might be worse. Maybe they’re waiting for him to show his pathetic face.

But he smells something wonderful coming from what he thinks is the kitchen.

And gods, he’s so hungry.

He makes himself walk over to the area, the warmth of the room and the smell of chicken overwhelming his senses. The other children are sitting at the small table, waiting patiently with empty bowls as the woman, their mother, stirs her pot.

Her ear twitches, and she looks over with another soft smile. “Ah, there you are. Please sit, I’ll get you a bowl once this is ready.”

Wordlessly, he trails over to sit down on one of the available chairs, wrapping his own tail around himself. He doesn’t want it to get stepped on like it did in the orphanage.

”So, why were you out in the rain??” The girl asks suddenly, startling him. “It’s cold! And I heard that the storm was getting very dangerous.”

She looks like the man in the portrait, he notices. Red skin, longer black horns. She is staring at him expectantly, but he’s very distracted by the decor of the house. It’s colorful compared to the orphanage, with pots of flowers settled on tables including the one they’re sitting at. There are loose pieces of fabric, with a wayward needle and thread fastened in between so it wouldn’t disappear.

”Hello???” She calls to him.

”Lia.” The woman warns, turning her head and giving the child a stern look.

”But mom-“

”If he doesn’t want to speak, we will not force him. Leave him be.”

Lia pouts, puffing her cheeks slightly but doesn’t speak to him again.

He’s never been defended like that, before.

The fire stops suddenly, and their mother brings out a larger spoon. “Come here Cal, you first.”

Cal excitedly hops out of his chair with his bowl, tail swishing behind him rapidly as he trots over. Lia does the same after him, happily taking their bowls back to the table once they’re filled up. They take no time at all to start eating, even with how hot the soup is.

The woman sets a bigger bowl in front of him, filled with the same thing. “Eat as much as you’d like. There’s plenty.”

He looks at the contents, seeing the steam rise up and disappear in the air. It’s hot against his face, and he sees all the ingredients through the thick broth. Chicken, peppers, onions, and probably some spices too.

He shouldn’t be allowed to eat, he’s done nothing to help in the kitchen.

The other two finish way before he ever could, but he didn’t even touch the food. Thankfully, they don’t comment and run off to go play in another room.

He doesn’t hear their mother approach, so he jolts when he sees her kneeling beside his chair. “Are you alright, sweet pea?”

Fear washes over him fairly quickly, thinking she’s angry. He can’t get his tongue to work, even now. He wants to apologize for being rude, for not eating, for daring to enter this home, for everything.

For existing.

She gently cups his face, a look of concern as she searches for something in his expression. “Honey, you’re not in trouble. Not at all. I want to make sure you’re okay; please, eat.”

No one has ever been this kind before. No one has ever looked at him so lovingly.

Mom.

He starts to weep, ears twitching down and tail falling limp as his vision goes blurry. He can’t see her expression anymore through the tears he’s been keeping in ever since dinner started. That’s when she gathers him up into her arms, holding him as he gets on the floor with her.

She coos at him and lets him cry in her arms, holding him closer to her chest. “Shh, cry all you need. You’re okay.”

His sobbing grows louder and more desperate, as if he was grief-stricken. He cries and cries, but that never deters her one bit. She gently rocks with him, hand scratching at his scalp as she whispers comforting words.

When he finally calms, she takes out a handkerchief and wipes his face clean from the tears and snot. “Do you think you can eat, honey?”

He weakly nods, sniffling.

She easily lifts him up back onto the chair, pushing the bowl closer to him, and he finally takes a spoonful of soup into his mouth. He forgot how starved he was and ate up eagerly. It takes another two bowls before he’s satisfied.

He gets led back to the bedroom he was originally in, and she has him sit on the bed. “Get some sleep, okay? Don’t worry about anything, I want you to rest.”

He carefully lays down on the bed, doing what he’s told. The mattress is large and surprisingly soft, so he easily gets under the blankets. He wished the blanket was heavier, but he knows not to ask for anything.

The woman smooths his hair back with a smile. “If you ever need anything, I’m here. Feel free to come get me or call out when you want to talk, okay?”

He watches her leave the room afterward, exhaustion setting deep into his bones. Eyes growing heavy, he finally decides he wants to rest.

Hot. He’s burning. His skin is overly sensitive, and the drag of fabric along his skin is borderline painful. He tries to wake up, but can’t force his eyes open.

A muffled voice reaches his ears before he can panic. “You have a fever, dear. I will take care of you. And sweethearts, stay away from him. I don’t want you getting sick.”

”Yes, Mama.”

He’s in and out of consciousness constantly; sometimes hearing muffled voices, sometimes falling into a dreamless, uncomfortable sleep.

Sometimes he cries when woken up, part of him hoping he never wakes at all. But she wants him to drink water, so he will obediently. Maybe then, she’ll let him stay here. He’ll be good.

He promises to be good.

Please let him stay.

When he feels himself start to get better, he finds himself gathered in her arms as she gently hums a tune for him. He chastises himself internally when he feels the sting of tears in his eyes; is he so pathetic that he would cry over being comforted? Being loved so dearly?

“Darling, I can’t let you go back out into the storm. It’s too dangerous. Stay here.” She murmurs, thumbing his bony shoulder. “I’ll keep you well fed. I have more than enough to feed another mouth.”

He nods a little too frantically, hand crumpling the sleeve of her dress.

“Good. Let me go get something for you, okay?”

He reluctantly lets her go and patiently waits as she walks away. The rain hasn’t let up at all, still beating on the windows harshly as the cold tries to seep into the room.

The floorboards creak with her return, holding a blue shirt and brown trousers. “I made you some clothes. I noticed you only had one pair with you, so I made you another.”

She puts it in his hands as he looks it over, and he runs his fingers over the material.

It’s soft. Softer than anything he was ever given.

”Try it on whenever you’d like. Would you like some lunch? I’m making some steak and eggs.”

He nods a little, and she smiles as she leads him to the kitchen once again. Cal and Lia are already there, and super excited about his presence.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better! Did you like the blanket? It was one of my favorites when I was small!” Lia exclaims happily.

She doesn’t seem deterred at all by his lack of response.

“It’s the best one!”

“I like that one too. Is it still soft?” Cal asks, looking up at him. When he nods, Cal smiles more, and he idly notices the small boy is missing a missing tooth.

”Settle down children, the steaks are almost ready. Ah, how do you like your eggs darling?”

He stares at her with a confused look, and she gives a small frown as she tries to think of an example that he would understand.

“Me and Cal like ours scrambled! Mom, maybe he’ll like scrambled??”

“That’s the safe option, I suppose,” She giggles, going to a different pan where the eggs are being cooked. “I enjoy sunny side up. It's where you only cook the underside and leave the yolk on top untouched.”

He remembers a visual he saw in a picture book. Is that sunny side up?

”Ah, I suppose I should ask this question. What would you like to be called for now? Sweetheart? Darling?” She asks, looking back at him.

These nicknames are something he’s not used to. The people who ran that hellhole he stayed in usually called him ‘boy’ with such disdain he could crumble onto the floor. They stopped at nothing to make sure he felt like disappearing. That he was a disappointment to them; but that place was all he had.

Maybe this place is different, and he can be cherished. This woman never once made him feel like he was a burden, even when he thought himself to be.

Maybe he can be safe here.

Maybe he can be loved.

“Rolan.” He finally responds to her.

She looks at him with wide eyes before the brightest smile appears on her face, warm as the sunrise.

Lia squeals as she quickly stands on her chair. “Mom! He talked!”

[chansbabygirlsstuff]

Just a bet Chapter 7

HII lovelies here is chapter 7 please enjoy it!

warnings: fluff really cute

Words: 1k

"Are you avoiding me?"  he tells me 

"What? no, I'm not" I shift uncomfortably trying to hide the unexpected news I just got told about him

"Then why are you canceling all our plans and not even looking at me? did I do something wrong?" he asked now stopping walking and turning to face me, so I turned to him 

"Look, I just have a terrible eye infection and I just don't feel comfortable with people seeing it, and it hurts awful, I don't want to seem weird being around you with big ass sunglasses on right?" you try defending yourself 

"ok, come with me" he grabs your hand and pulls you toward the parking lot to his car, I get in with no context thinking how easily I can get kidnaped in life

"where are we going?" he starts the car and gets out of the uni "You'll see" he sighs frustrated 

he parks in a mini station mall where I can see restaurants, boutiques, ice cream shops, and more, I get excited as  I see the ice cream shop going straight to it, but before I enter it Chan grabs my arm and pulls me to the right, "here, we can go there later" he pulls me to a pharmacy

"hello what can I help you with?" the kind lady says  "Hi can we get a cream for an eye infection, please," he says kindly as  I freeze,  I didn't know this was coming. "of course, I will need to see how infected it is soi can refer you to an antibiotic" she smiles looking at him 

I look down as I would not like him to see my bruised eye, I look at him and he pressures me "Don't worry I won't say anything to anyone" he smiles. I take my glasses off and look at the woman. She nodded "Sweetie that is not an infection, that is a bruise caused by a hit" Chan didn't look at me respecting my decisions. Still, when she said it was a bruise he grabbed my face and started examining it, his eyes widened when he saw my eye "But we do have some cream for the swollen area and the pain" she typed something in the computer "We have x product for the swollen area and for the pain..." she searches in the computer "do you have any pain in your eye?" she looks at me "yes I do have lots of pain" I nod and look down feeling guilty about lying to him.

"we will take both, please," he says taking out his wallet "Oh, don't worry Chan I will pay for it," you said putting your glasses back on and taking out your wallet "Don't, I come here to buy you something for your eye so let me" he places your wallet down and he takes out his card to pay

"Thank you have a nice day " She smiles and we leave towards the car, when we both shut the door only silence can be heard 

"Who did this to you?" he tries to say calmly way trying to concentrate looking directly into the road while the car is still parked 

"I -umm" you have trouble telling the truth 

"When did this happen? and why didn't you tell me anything?" 

"I- uh it happened on Saturday" You feel scared not knowing what he is going to do 

"Who did this to you Y/n? I need to know" his worried eyes look back at you 

"my dad" you murmur to him looking down, you never had someone who truly worried about you when this used to happen 

"why the fuck would he hit you?" he looked at you with an unbelievable expression on his face

"Because I came home late last Friday" you murmur not wanting him to feel that this was his fault 

"he hit you becuase you were out late, but aren't you 23?" he looks more shocked and angry than ever

"I'm used to it, ever since my mom died he has been hitting me for any excuse he can find, so don't worry about me," I say looking out the window

"We need to do something about it Y/n I can't let this happen again what the actual fuck is wrong with him?" he starts the car

"I already tried everything and I have nowhere to go, the police won't do anything about it"

"Why don't you move out?" he asks you "My job doesn't allow me with my low income, and trust me if I could I would"

"mhm let me think..." he stays quiet

"don't worry about me Chan I swear it's fine, actually thank you for worrying about me" I express my gratitude towards him  

"look my sister is looking for a roommate, how about you pay the 20% each month and I will pay for the rest and I will talk to her ok?"

"no Chan please, it's fine, that's practically living for free" you saw feeling flustered about his request 

"Another option is living with me, but I don't know how you are going to feel about that" he looks at me

"Chan don't worry about me, I don't want to be a burden to you" 

"ok... just... please call me if he ever does the same thing again" I nod and he smiles at me 

he drives me home and says goodbye to me "Please know that I'm here if you need me ok?"

I nod and wave "Thank you for everything again" he smiles and waves back 

I get inside the house and run towards my room and lock the door, throwing myself in the bed I cover my face in my pillow kicking my feet "Oh my God he is such a bitch" you said giggling and kicking your feet  for making you feel butterflies in your tummy

You get up take a shower, do your skincare, and apply both creams around your eye

you lay back down grabbing a bag of chips in your top drawer and keeping snacks there so you don't have to get out of your room 

you grab your phone and open your contact to Chris's phone number 

                             -Thank you for the cream Chris it helped calm the pain around my eye 

 -ofc Y/nie text me if you need anything else:) 

                                                   - I will thank you again, Chris, good night 

-goodnight Y/n 

you put your phone back down feeling that crazy feeling on your stomach smiling to yourself, but then remember what Mina said about Sana and Chris last time, oh great there goes one of the best days ever.

hey lovelies I hope you enjoyed chapter 7 remember that i post every Friday at 6pm CTS and if you want to be on the tag list please tell me

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