#other then just purely being absolutely madly in love with him

[deimosatellite]

devils by dostoevsky is actually the toxic yaoi of all time

[harunovella]

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ love language (verse iv); s.g.

synopsis: you and gojo go on your first double date... or is it really? content: canon divergence (teen!gojo era), fem!reader, hopeless romantic gojo, best bros satoru and suguru bickering as always, gojo may have had a 'help I've fallen on your boobs and I can't get up' moment, bestie shoko, not beta read (sorry for any errors!) note: another addition to my gojo anthology series! this one was sm fun to write, I love writing gojo and geto being nothing but idiots tbh... wanna be tagged? lmk in the replies!

"A dinner? A fancy dinner?" Shoko asked as you nodded. "What's a bunch of sixteen year olds gonna do at a fancy dinner?" She raised a brow in confusion. Ever since being paired by Yaga with Shoko, the two of you have grown quite close. You were more than thankful, as much as you loved your own little trio (including Nanami and Haibara), it was nice to have a friend that wasn't... well, a male. 

Not that there was something wrong with that, you saw Nanami like a sort of twin—though you were a bit more on the social side—he got along with you the most. Then there was Haibara, who was an absolute sweetheart and a gem, the energy both you and your blond twin needed. However, seeing as Ieiri was your senior, there was quite a lot to learn from her—outside from the jujutsu world. 

There was also Geto and Gojo... Geto was an interesting person to be around. He had dark humor but also was nothing but kind to you. Gojo, on the other hand...

"A double date?!" Satoru exclaimed as he was alone with Suguru after you invited the two young men to the dinner you told Shoko about. 

Arching an eyebrow, Suguru crossed his arms. "Who said this is a double date? In your delusional world, you're dating our little junior when she only sees you as a friend—"

"That's a lie!" Gojo snapped, earning a snicker from his best friend. "I'll have you know we get along very well, we hangout a lot! And— and we have a lot of fun conversations!"

"Sounds fun," Geto said sarcastically. "We all know you're madly in love with her. However, we have no idea how she feels about you."

"Then explain the double date, huh?" Gojo was now the one to cross his arms, tapping his foot. "You and Shoko, me and my mochi?"

Sighing, Suguru pinched the bridge of his nose. "Again, not a double date. It's four friends going to a nice restaurant to support one of our friend's family members. Nothing more, nothing less," he explained, only for everything to go into one ear and out the other for the white haired boy before him. 

Satoru was in his own world, delusional as always, eyes sparkling at the thought of you in a cute dress. Heels or no heels, makeup or not, he just couldn't help but fantasize about how beautiful you were going to look tonight!

"Earth to Satoru?" Geto waved his hand in front of his best friend, only to laugh. "Thinking about how cute she'll look tonight, huh?"

"Yeah..." Gojo nodded, a face of pure ecstasy, as if he were about to drool. 

"Maybe I'll swap dates, you can have Shoko, I'll have our beautiful—"

"No!" Satoru shouted, instantly jumping Suguru. "She's my date for the night!"

"Good luck with that, if you look like an idiot right now thinking about her, just imagine you tonight!" Suguru laughed as he shoved Satoru off of him. "You're gonna look like a complete idiot!"

"You're not discreet..." Geto mumbled towards Gojo as the young man sat beside you, cheek pressed in the palm of his hand as he ever so casually gazed at you. You were in the middle of a conversation with Shoko, something about a movie you both recently had seen together. Too lost in your discussion, laughing and enjoying the evening as Suguru watched his best friend look like he was in a trance. "You are literally staring..." Furrowing his eyebrows as a look of slight disgust took over his face, Suguru kicked Satoru. 

"Shh," Gojo brushed off, kicking him back. 

"You're lucky she's in her own world with Shoko to even hear us," Geto kicked again, feeling his best friend constantly kick back. Gojo was too focused on you to even pay him any mind.

The restaurant, although fancy, was quite lively and practically filled to the brim. The reservations were endless and everyone that came and went looked like they came from money. Satoru and Suguru wore similar suits, solely because they bought them last minute and ended up with the same look (Satoru was NOT happy, but Suguru found it very funny). Shoko, after seeing them, called them tweedledee and tweedledum... You, on the other, found it cute. 

Cute... Gojo kept hearing your words echo in his head. You thought he, himself, was cute?! Forget Suguru, you said he was cute! He couldn't help but indulge in it as he gazed at you practically the whole dinner. For a split second, he did acknowledge the fact that you looked beyond gorgeous. In a white, fitted dress, hugging your curves with a sweetheart neckline... It was safe to say his mind was split in two. In particular, the two brain cells he had. Half of his mind was floating in the clouds of your compliment while the other half was focused on the top of your breasts (practically where his eyes kept falling to). He was... somewhat of a gentleman, he just couldn't help that dirty side of him. You were beautiful! He wanted you!

In his defense, he was used to seeing you in your uniform jacket, skirt, and tights... the times you weren't, you were always dressed cute and comfortable. Never had he seen you like this, curves and all. 

Reaching over the table and yanking on Gojo's hair, Geto stifled a laugh as his best friend snapped his head and growled. "Rude, I was busy!" He hissed, reaching over and tugging on the bangs that hung over the dark haired young man's forehead. 

Caught up with your conversation with Shoko (and not entirely hearing the commotion beside you with all the various voices around you in the restaurant) a sudden gasp left the brunette as she watched it all happen before her in slow motion. Gojo and Geto shoved one another, completely forgetting where they were as others nearby watched in confusion. 

From one second to the next, you were knocked off your chair, head thudding with the ground as a body collapsed against you. Various gasps and whispers were heard as you winced. Blinking a few times and trying to sit up, you felt a pressure against your chest. Both Shoko and Suguru (who was pulled to his feet by Shoko), stared at the disaster before them. Satoru, with his face planted against your chest, as you stared at him, wide eyed. 

"Satoru!" Shoko exclaimed, smacking his head as he lifted it, staring at you with a shared blush, before both of his friends yanked him up. 

"I— I am so sorry!" He exclaimed, reaching for your hand to help you up as you looked stunned. 

"God, you two are so immature. Before we get kicked out, take her home and I'll handle this," Shoko tsked as you blinked, only to snap out of your daze. 

"It's— It's okay! I'll handle this! I invited you all—"

"No, you hit your head hard, let me handle this. Dummie over here will take you," Shoko kicked Satoru's calf. "Go. Now."

Without second thinking his actions, Gojo took your hand and lead you out. Both of you ignored the displeased stares and gossip that spread over the four kids who "shouldn't have been allowed into a restaurant like this in the first place." 

Walking out, Satoru stopped in his tracks before turning to face you. "I'm so sorry about... my face being in your... Anyway, are you okay?" He asked, using his free hand to gently touch the back of your head. "There's no bump, but, are you alright?"

"I— It's okay, I'm not hurt," you swore as you nodded your head, looking up at him with your doe eyes. Gojo swore his heart grew two times its size. "I promise," you softly smiled. 

Nodding, a small smile grew on the young man's lips. He couldn't help but gaze at you, softness in his eyes as he kept his hand on the back of your head. Silence weaved its way between the two of you. Nothing uncomfortable. You stood there for what felt like hours, looking at one another and nearly forgetting what you were doing or where you were. 

The sound of honking snapped the two of you out of it as you realized you were out in the open, with people walking by and cars driving along. 

Clearing his throat, Satoru lowered his hand from your head and kept his other in yours. "Let's get you home, yeah?"

tag list: @bakananya @strangehuman101 @thirtykiwis @sillygoosegoose (some of u I sadly couldn't tag!)

[padfootagain]

When We Were Lying

Hi! Here is another Hozier fic! Had a lot of fun with this trope, as always, I hope you’ll like this little story! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x reader

Warnings: none… a bit of strong language and an awful lot of longing? Fake-dating AU

Summary: Your ex is attending your family gathering for Christmas and there is no way you're going to face that alone. Of course, you drag your best friend into this, and he's too smitten with you to say no when you ask him to pretend to be your boyfriend. Although, the fact that you both have feelings for each other might end up being a problem...

Word Count: 10055

Hozier’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

“Sorry… what?!”

Andrew was blinking at you. There was something unnerving in his frown and the intensity of his stare, but you had to bear it. After all, you had no other choice.

“You’re the only one I can ask to do this with me…”

“I’m absolutely not doing that!”

“Why not?”

“Why not?! Why not?! Do I really have to answer that question or have you found back your sanity?”

“Andrew…”

“I am not going to lie to your entire family at Christmas just to save your stupid arse!”

“But I said ‘please’…”

“Y/N!”

“Andrew!”

“This is a terrible idea! I’m not doing that!”

He stared at you as if you had lost your mind, and in all fairness, perhaps you had… for a part at least. Why else would you be sitting in your best friend’s comfortable sofa, in the middle of his large and yet welcoming living room, asking him to lie to your family and pretend that you were together? Only for a day though, just for the traditional meal on Christmas, the boring and tedious lunch on the 25th where you exchanged gifts and stabbing remarks with your least favourite members of your family.

Not that you were not used to face this tragedy on your own; if your arse of an uncle had been the only obstacle to overcome this year, you would have emerged with flying colours. But this year was different. It was different, because your cousin Samantha was coming with her boyfriend… aka your ex-boyfriend. The one she had slept with ten months ago. The one who had betrayed you and broken your silly heart. The one you wished you could put laxatives into his drinks, or pierce his tires, or put some very strong pepper into his tea… Something Machiavellian like that…

But as your chances of poisoning his food at the Christmas lunch were limited, you had to settle for plan B. Which was simple enough: convince your best friend to pretend to be madly in love with you, so you would not have to bear any comments from your family about your broken heart and the fact that you had been cheated on by your fucking cousin Samantha… and perhaps, with a bit of luck, you could also make your ex, Craig, jealous.

A brilliant plan, if there was ever any. Only, Andrew didn’t seem to share your optimism.

“You’ve lost it, this time,” he went on, eyes wide, aghast as he slowly shook his head.

You couldn’t blame him for thinking this. Especially given the fact that your feelings for him would probably end up being a problem. But despite your silly little crush on him… who else could you ask such a favour to? The two of you had known each other for years. He was your best friend, you were ready to do anything for him. No one else would accept…

“Andy… I know I’m asking a lot…”

“This will never work. Beyond the fact that this is pure madness, it will never work! Your parents know me! They know we’re not together!”

“Friends get together all the time!”

“No one will believe us. And you know me, I hate… PDA and stuff like that… I can’t… even when it’s real, I struggle with that stuff. I can’t fake it.”

“On the contrary, that’s great! Cause then, we don’t have to act too much like we’re together, and we can just blame it on your well-known aversion for PDA!”

“No. I’m sorry, Y/N, but this time… it’s a no. I’m not doing that. I’m not playing fake-boyfriend for you.”

You heaved a defeated sigh.

“And I thought you would kill for me.”

“I’m a pacifist… a punch across the jaw is the best I can do.”

“Lousy friend.”

“Fuck off! You think you asking me to lie to your entire family is better? Just so you won’t have to hear them complaining about you being single? You think that’s not worse?”

You saw the way his expression saddened when yours did, when the tinge of playfulness left your features. His voice was softer when he spoke again.

“Why is it so unbearable anyway, huh? You’ve forgotten how my mother can be? I’ve got that refrain sang to me all the time too. It’s not so bad.”

You bit on your lip and lowered your gaze before answering, holding back tears that came blurring your vision of Andrew’s soft carpet.

“Craig and Sam will be there. Together.”

You didn’t need to look up at him to know he was clenching his jaw.

“I don’t… I don’t want to have to face that on my own. I’m not sure I can…”

You barely had time to brush a tear away that Andrew was holding you close, arms wrapped tightly around your frame. And you let him pull you even closer, until your ear was pressed against his heart, until he could drop a tender kiss to the top of your head. He heaved a sigh.

“Could you still come? As a friend?” you asked, voice trembling even if you didn’t want it to.

You hated being like this. Fragile. Crying. Not over the betrayal. You wanted to wave a perfect life at your ex so he would see all that he was missing, until he regretted everything. It was petty, but true. Instead, you would be the one sitting in an uncomfortable chair in a couple of weeks, trying not to throw up nor cry while you witnessed your ex and your cousin playing perfect couple…

Andrew heaved a painful sigh.

“I’ll come.”

“Thank you.”

“No, I mean… I’ll do it. The whole crazy plan. I’ll do it. I’ll be your boyfriend for the day.”

You pulled away just enough to look up at him. There were traces of annoyance in his gaze, but a lot of tenderness too as his eyes met yours, hazel irises turning greener in the quiet light of a late afternoon.

“Really?” you asked, voice shy even though you craved for confidence.

“Really. But you’d better make sure that your mother still loves me when you break it to her that we’re not together anymore! I’m not giving up on her amazing lasagnas, not even for you.”

“I have the recipe, you know?”

“Your mother’s taste better.”

“Fucker!”

“Don’t insult me, or I’ll take everything back and let you deal with this bunch of assholes on your own!”

“Sorry!” you quipped, hiding your face into his chest again, and you heard him mumbling some complaints, playing grumpy, but you knew better.

You were smiling as you listened to his low voice lulling you back into a soothed state. You wondered how he did that. How a mere hug and some whispering were all it took to calm you down, to make you feel safe all over again, when you were so damn insecure all the time.

You lost track of your own thoughts when his large hand came to rest on the back of your head, keeping you close.

And you were glad that you could explain a lack of PDA in front of your family, because there was no way for you to survive a whole day with the man you secretly loved holding you like that…

“Do you hate me? For being selfish and dragging you into this?” you asked him, voice muffled by his woollen jumper.

“No,” he shook his head. “No, I don’t hate you. I could never hate you.”

“Even if I called you to get rid of a body with me?”

“Erm… As long as I’m not the one cutting it into pieces.”

You both let out a chuckle.

“I’ll make sure to stain your carpet with the blood of my victims.”

“Now, that would make me hate you, for sure.”

“I knew you’d choose your carpet over me.”

“Yeah, but what a carpet it is!”

“It doesn’t make you lasagna though…”

“I only like your mam’s.”

You smiled, but remained quiet. You were serious again when your voice broke the comfortable silence that had settled over your two entwined frames.

“Seriously, though… I’m sorry I’m asking you this. I just… I just don’t see what else I can do. I don’t think I can stomach seeing the two of them as a happy couple while I’m still… desperately single. A real loser…”

“Stop talking about yourself like that,” he admonished, voice genuinely annoyed. “I hate it when you do that. You’re… you’re amazing, Y/N. More than you realise. And Craig and Samantha are terrible people. So… stop blaming it all on yourself. They can rot in hell.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in heaven and hell.”

“You know what I mean.”

A pause while you smiled, wool tickling your cheek.

“Thank you.”

He rubbed your back, gesture soft, taking his time.

“Don’t mention it.”

“You owe me so much…”

“I thought you said ‘don’t mention it!’”

“Don’t mention it, my arse…”

You laughed at him, you couldn’t help it. As Andrew and you walked together down the lane leading to your parents’ house, you couldn’t refrain your laughter. Andrew looked nervous… like the day he had met your parents for the first time, years ago.

“Stop acting like they don’t know you. My family adores you.”

“That’s until they learn I’m lying through my teeth.”

“You’re an infamous liar, anyway.”

“Hey!”

He faked outrage, making you laugh even more, and this time, he couldn’t refrain his own smile.

“I can’t believe you’ve convinced me to do this…”

“Me neither. You must have lost your mind, too.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it, and sealed his lips again. There was something almost sad on his features for a second, and you wanted to ask if he was alright, but you were already in front of the green door.

“You ready?” he asked instead, an encouraging smile adorning his handsome features now, the cold of December making his cheeks and nose redden.

And you had to struggle through missing heartbeats to nod your head. He looked lovely like this, hair in a half-bun, some curls still free, hair tied only to keep the strands away from his face. He was wearing the grey beanie you adored, chin buried in a huge matching scarf…

“We’ll be fine,” he reassured you, all traces of playfulness or annoyance gone from his warm voice.

“Let’s make Craig so jealous he’ll choke over some pudding.”

You both chuckled, and Andrew nodded, lovely crinkles forming at the corner of his eyes as he kept on smiling.

“Sounds like a plan.”

You took a deep breath before knocking.

There was no turning back.

You glimpsed at Andrew one more time as you waited for your mother to come and open the door, and you thought it truly was the worst idea you had ever had, to ask Andrew to do this… Andrew, of all people. If he was the only choice, he also was the worst one. You simply hoped you wouldn’t have to fake too much… because your heart sped up at the mere thought of holding his hand…

What an idiot you were, getting yourself into so much trouble… at what point had you imagined it was a good idea to ask the man you secretly loved to be your fake boyfriend?!

Your thoughts were interrupted though, as your mother finally appeared. You grinned at her as she hurried to give you a hug.

Andrew had barely closed the door behind him that he was receiving a warm hug as well.

“Ha! Andy!” your mother welcomed him, making him laugh. “It’s so good to see you, it’s been too long.”

“It has indeed…”

“And finally! You two came to your senses!”

You frowned, but didn’t have time to ask your mother what she meant. Instead, you were pulled into the whirlwind that was your family.

Andrew remained close to you, and you were not surprised. There were plenty of people gathered in the large living room, several generations together in the warmth of your childhood home, and Andrew wasn’t too good with dealing with so many people. When you turned to him to offer him a gentle smile, one he immediately offered as well, he seemed a little uncomfortable, hands in his pockets as if he didn’t know what to make of his long limbs, head slightly bent, as to appear less tall than he truly was, a desperate attempt at hiding. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight, such a stark contrast with the confident musician he was each time he stepped on a stage.

You introduced him to the members of your family he didn’t know (including your terrible uncle, who didn’t fail to be rude, hence living up to his reputation). And everything was going fine, except perhaps for the uncontrollable burst that sparked through your heart and chest every time you called Andrew your boyfriend. You pushed to the side the longing that washed over you at the thought that you wished the word could be true…

But it wasn’t the right time for such consideration. After years spent as Andrew’s friend while harbouring feelings for him, you had grown amazingly talented at hiding the love that coursed through each of your cells every time you saw him, or heard him, or thought of him…

But that was not the right time for such thoughts. Indeed, a new couple was just entering the room…

… and suddenly everyone was quiet.

Samantha and Craig seemed to not notice the sudden silence, or else they were simply very good at hiding it. You couldn’t control your expression as you winced, turning towards the window.

But you were surprised by Andrew’s touch, as he reached for your hand. Fingers shy at first, barely the ghost of a caress across your knuckles. When you leaned closer, fingers searching for his too, he intertwined them together, and as you turned to him, he gave you the warmest smile. A silent gesture to tell you it would be okay.

You were even more surprised when he pulled you closer, a gentle tug at your joined hands. You had discussed, before coming to your parents’ house, the boundaries you needed to respect for today. Holding hands was okay. Touching arms, hair or a waist was okay. You had not discussed kissing, but you reckoned that it was a clear no. An arm around the other’s shoulders or back was good too.

But now, Andrew was pulling you gently closer until you were settled against his chest, and he bent to softly kiss your hair, lips lingering on the top of your head for several seconds. The gesture was so tender, you had to close your eyes…

And then his lips were gone, leaving behind the quiet sound of a kiss and their warmth. When you opened your eyes again and looked up at him, Andrew was blushing, but he was smiling too. And there was something in the way he was looking at you…

“Y/N! How good to see you!”

You turned towards Samantha, hence interrupting your train of thoughts, perhaps for the better.

You forced a polite smile, but didn’t go as far as to completely hide that you weren’t happy to see her.

“Sam! How are you?”

“Good! I’m good! What about you?”

She only then seemed to notice Andrew’s presence by your side, an impressive performance, given his height and the fact that you were still leaning into his chest…

“Oh, hi! Hmmm… Andrew, is it? I remember you! You’re Y/N’s friend!”

“Boyfriend now, actually,” you corrected her, and you were amused by the look of surprise on her face.

“Oh! Congratulations! Good for you!”

Around the room, conversations had started again, filling up space once more and giving you at least some privacy… although you knew it to be but a relative truth. Your relatives who stood closer to you were probably listening closely, unwilling to lose any crumb of the conversation and drama that might ensue.

Behind Samantha, Craig finally greeted you, more uncomfortable than his girlfriend was. He grew even more uncomfortable when he offered his open hand to Andrew.

“Good to see you again, Andy.”

You hated that Andrew had to let go of your hand to shake Craig’s, but his fingers found yours again as soon as the greeting was over. It was rare to see Andrew with a clearly forced smile on his face, he was generally better at hiding his discomfort, a habit of always being polite.

“Craig,” followed by a nod was the only greeting Andrew gave your ex, and you recognised protectiveness in the way he moved slightly closer to you, placing himself between you and Craig.

And you felt a little guilty for the sense of pride that you got from that gesture, knowing you shouldn’t be reading anything even remotely romantic into it… but then again, you were but human. And humans always liked dreaming…

“How are you two doing?” Craig asked, and you nodded.

“Good, we’re both doing good. You?”

“Oh, we’re great! We’re planning on going for a trip for our anniversary, don’t we, dear?” Samantha went on, turning to her boyfriend, who merely nodded… rightly uncomfortable.

“Amazing!” you managed to get out between gritted teeth.

“And for how long have you two been together, then?” Craig asked, changing the subject quickly.

“A couple of months,” you answered, a detail you and Andrew had agreed on.

“So, it’s still the honeymoon phase, then,” Sam nodded knowingly, although you weren’t sure what kind of knowledge that was…

“It’s pretty new,” you nodded.

“How lovely! But… I thought the two of you were friends,” she went on, acting confused.

“We were,” you confirmed, and when you struggled to continue, it was Andrew’s turn to step in.

“And now we’re more than that.”

The two of you exchanged a smile, and again, you noticed the way he was blushing.

Craig nodded his head, and you saw how he was frowning, the kind of expression he wore when he was upset over something.

“It’s funny that you were friends for so long and then all of a sudden… you decide to be more,” he spoke with a tinge of venom in a tone he tried to turn honeyed.

You looked for an excuse, but Andrew was the one to answer again. And you were taken aback by his words… and even more so by how earnest they sounded, although… although he could only be lying.

“We… we’ve spent a long time tiptoeing around that line. I think… we’ve had feelings for a while for each other. I guess we were simply afraid to lose everything we already had if we gave this a try.”

“And what decided you to give this a try, then?”

“I don’t know. Some courage, I guess.”

“Or an opportunity,” Craig proposed, making you frown. There was an insinuation behind his tone, and you didn’t quite know what to do of it.

Andrew seemed to understand better, judging by the way he clenched his jaw, slightly tightened his hold on your hand. He remained quiet though, refusing to rise to Craig’s challenge.

“These things can take time, you know?” you added, trying to pull the conversation away from the glares Andrew and Craig seemed keen to throw each other, a silent battle of thunder and storms. “Where are you planning that trip of yours?”

It was too easy to centre the conversation back onto Samantha, nothing surpriseing, though, considering her character…

Lucky for you, you were soon called by your mother to help in the kitchen.

Or actually, it was but a limited reprieve you were granted. It took your mother only a couple of minutes to bombard you with questions, while she made you cut some carrots, sunlight streaming on your hands from the window set above the sink as you worked. It enlightened the orange stains that slowly grew across your fingers while you dodged your mother’s queries, struggling to remain calm while lying. You thought you would be better at it, but as you peeled the vegetables, their forms made slippery in your hands, you were losing your footing, feeling increasingly guilty as the lies passed your lips again and again.

A first date in a quiet restaurant.

A piece of carrot thrown in the sink.

A first kiss in front of your door, as a tender goodbye, one that lingered in reluctance to part.

A blade slipping too fast.

No, you were not planning ahead for now, just taking things as they went, as they formed.

No, there was no words of love yet, don’t be ridiculous! It’s only the beginning…

“The beginning!” Your mother scoffed, throwing a potato in the sink, alongside your colourful pieces. “The man has been looking at you like you’ve hung the moon and stars for years! You’ve been stealing glances for so long… I don’t even remember when it started! It’s not the beginning, dear. The two of you have been in love for years. It is only a logical continuation.”

She frowned as she looked at you, finally lifting her gaze from the brown pile of peels.

“You’re okay?”

You were startled by her question.

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“I don’t know… you seem… almost sad.”

You couldn’t hold her stare, and you fought every bit of instinct in you to avoid recoiling from her touch as your mother, in a sweet gesture, rested her hand on your shoulder.

“Don’t worry yourself over Craig and Samantha. And before you ask, I wasn’t the one who invited them.”

You nodded, as if you were reassured, as if she was right about the cause of your worry, had aimed straight at the knot of your problems.

She hadn’t. And you were perplexed as you realized this too. Because you had thought that seeing your ex and your cousin together would be unbearable, and it was, indeed, a painful sight. But it was hurting your pride more than your heart, a sting at your ego rather than a tear at your soul.

Instead, the images you summoned in a fake reality with Andrew were the ones destroying you. Because these details, these anecdotes, these stories you made up for your mother were ones you genuinely longed for.

A quiet date in a restaurant you loved. A kiss bathed in streetlights. Hands holding that didn’t want to let go…

This was a terrible idea. A terrible… terrible idea…

“Andrew! Come here, lad! Give us a hand with these, would you?”

You felt his presence by your side before his hand appeared in your vision, reaching for a vegetable, getting to work without any protest or arguing. He would lose anyway, against your mother, and he knew it.

You chatted together for a while, conversation smooth and easy, as always with him around. You almost forgot that all of this was fake when Andrew leaned closer, as if he longed for your nearness. You reached for him before you could think, leaning closer as well, until your arms touched as you worked, the ghost of a touch that was enough to set your heart ablaze…

God… this was such a terrible, terrible idea…

You barely noticed your mother as she moved around the kitchen, until she reached for Andrew.

“I’m so happy for you,” she spoke in a smile. “After all this time… I’m glad the two of you have finally worked out all the things that kept you apart.”

She disappeared before you could speak to her, ask her what she meant. When you turned to Andrew though, he was blinking tears away.

“Andy? You’re alright? What’s wrong?” You asked with sudden worry in your voice, but your friend shook his head.

“Nothing. I’m fine. Just… Erm…”

But he grew quiet, shrugged. You tried to guess, but were pretty sure to miss the mark when he reassured you again.

“Is my mother bothering you?”

“No! Of course, not. It’s weird lying to her, that’s all.”

There was something more to it, but Andrew interrupted you before you could question him further.

“Besides… we have another problem. A more important one. That’s why I was looking for you.”

“What is it?”

“Craig doesn’t believe us.”

“What?”

“He pulled me aside and told me he knew we were faking it. That he was going to tell everyone.”

“The son of a bitch!”

“My thoughts, precisely.”

“What did you answer?”

Andrew shrugged.

“That he was being ridiculous.”

“And?”

“That he was merely being jealous over the fact that he had let a woman like you slip between his fingers like a moron.”

You tried to hide the grin that formed on your lips at his praise.

“Nice… going all in on the ‘make him jealous’ wagon, I see…”

He took a moment to answer, voice less confident than his usual tone when he spoke once more.

“Just the truth…”

You ignored his remark, and you didn’t get why the same tinge of sadness made his hazel eyes greener again, the same way they had earlier that day…

“What can we do to convince him?” you asked, eliciting little more than a shrug from your friend.

You heaved a sigh, your carrots now all cut in the sink. Game over…

“Let’s see how all this unfolds,” was your only solution for now.

“And if he tells your family?”

“We’ll see, Andy. We’ll see.”

The meal was over. The gifts had been given, the kisses and thankful glances had been exchanged. It was time to settle in with some board games, for those willing, while others nibbled on some pastries and chatted in sofas and armchairs. The last remnants of cakes lingered in porcelain plates while coffee, tea and hot chocolate were being served. You laughed when Andrew picked up your warm beverage before you had a chance.

“Are you drinking my cocoa?”

“I’m trying it out. Just to be sure. In case of poison or something like that.”

You both laughed as he took another sip, humming in delight.

“You could have asked for a hot chocolate instead of tea!” you admonished, but didn’t try to take the cup from him, too happy to see him smiling to even think about it.

God, he could steal the entire beverage, as long as he kept on smiling like that… happy, and soft, and welcoming, calling for a smile of your own to answer his…

“Tastes better when it’s yours,” he laughed, all mischief and cheekiness while he looked at you and drank a third sip, a tiny one, just to get on your nerves.

The charm was broken though when one of the children running around bumped into him and made Andrew spill a little bit of chocolate across his chin. You burst into laughter.

“Well, that was… hot,” you teased while Andrew tried to hide his mouth and chin with his hand, looking around for a napkin of some kind. “Literally, I mean. It must be hot. Graciously so.”

“I hate you,” he glowered without any animosity in his gaze, making you laugh harder as you finally handed him one of the paper towels set on the coffee table.

On the other side of the room, people were playing a board game, but you felt better like this. Just you and Andrew chatting around a cocoa, or what was left of it. No one was truly paying attention to you, or so you had thought… among the five people who were casually chatting in small groups around the coffee table, it was easy to notice that all around the room, if gazes were directed towards your small group, it was to stare at Andrew and you.

Was Andrew aware of that scrutiny? Of the gazes fixed upon you?

“You’re okay?” he asked, frowning slightly, and you wished you could ease the crease between his brow with a brush of your thumb.

“Sure. I’m fine. Just… I think people are kind of watching us,” you added in a whisper no one could eavesdrop, leaning closer to him in the process.

He hummed, slowly nodding.

“Yeah, I think we’re kind of… the new thing.”

You bit your lip before making your next request, and you were surprised to notice that his eyes lingered on your mouth until you spoke.

“Is that okay if we act like…?” you left your question suspended in mid-air.

He nodded again, in silence, and there it was again, the flash of pain turning the hazel into full green…

You noticed the sharp intake of breath he took before finally speaking, the way his eyes narrowed just a little, for a second, while he hesitated… but then the words were out all the same, making his pale cheeks turn a bright shade of pink.

“Can I… tug that strand of hair behind your ear?”

You struggled to swallow and nodded, it was your time to be silent, you couldn’t trust your voice.

He was leaning closer when he lifted his arm towards you, shifting to be facing you, both of you sitting on a sofa that was too comfortable and too familiar for you to feel this tensed, almost frightened.

“You’re sure that’s alright?” Andrew asked again, and this time you let out a faint yes along with your nod.

Frightened wasn’t the right word though. You weren’t scared at all, in fact, you felt absolutely safe with Andrew sitting so close to you, your bodies almost touching, but not quite, just far enough to leave you longing to close these gaps. Slowly, his hand was lifted, all the way up to your face, pushing back a loose strand of hair behind your ear. He was staring at you, something that went beyond softness, beyond the usual tenderness his gaze adorned when it fell on you. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, guess what it meant. But then again, his thumb was brushing your cheek, and the ghostly touch made you too dizzy, anyway.

He leaned closer, unbearably closer, until his lips were next to your ear, his fingers moving to hold your face in place, palm cradling your jaw.

“Can I… Can I kiss your cheek?”

You were certain that your heart could not take more of this, of his intoxicating cologne, of the warmth of his skin across yours, of the delicate breath fanning across your ear…

You reached up for something, anything to hold onto, and your fingers met his woollen jumper, attached themselves to it as if holding a safe line.

“Yes, you can,” you answered despite your shaking voice and the fact that you had no air left in your lungs whatsoever.

Your rational brain wanted to remind you that this was not real, that it was all for show… but the world had vanished the second he had leaned closer. No… no, before that. When he had stared at you in this gentle way, when his hand had risen towards your face. You couldn’t even remember that you were at your parents’, in fact, you couldn’t remember your own name. Your entire world was being rewritten because this man was holding you close, a palm cradling your jaw while the other found its way to your waist; because he was moving slowly away, only to come back closer than ever, lips resting on your cheek. You closed your eyes the second his lips found your skin, their warmth coursing through your entire frame it seemed, his beard slightly tickling you, just enough to make it all the more endearing. He lingered there for what anyone would consider too long, but when you thought he was about to pull away, his lips merely hovered above your cheek, close enough for you to feel their warmth still, and the hurried breaths he exhaled. And then he was kissing your cheekbone again, and again, and with each resting of his lips upon you, you tightened your hold on his jumper, your free hand coming to rest right against his heart, in the end…

You both jumped at the sharp sound of something falling, glass breaking. As you turned, you noticed that someone had dropped a glass of water to the floor. Nothing too bad, your father was already heading towards the kitchen to clean up the mess that was made. Craig didn’t have a drink.

Before you could analyse the situation in depth, though, Andrew was turning his attention back onto you, and you had no choice but to look at him again too. You remained perfectly still for a moment, hazel eyes meeting your gaze in an unreadable expression, his hands still on you…

And then you both realised how close you were, how easy it would be to just lean a little further and to close the gap between your lips…

And you pulled away in a jolt, startled by your nearness, like two teenagers caught red-handed by an adult.

Andrew cleared his throat, rubbing his palms on his dark jeans, shifting like he didn’t know what to do with his own body all over again.

“I should… help clean the mess…” you mumbled, stuttering slightly, while Andrew was nodding and humming, averting his gaze.

You did just that, hurrying towards the table and picking up pieces of broken glass while your brain remained stuck on the feeling of Andrew’s beard on your skin, the softness of his lips, the way he held you closer…

Your heart was still pounding, your breath catching in your throat every now and then; in fact, every time you thought about his fingers slipping to your hair…

“Let’s throw all these away, darling,” your mother told you, nodding towards the shards in your palm.

You stood straighter without a word, headed for the kitchen…

… to fall face to face with Craig.

Wonderful…

“Sorry about the glass,” he said, breathless for some reason.

“Oh, you’re the one who broke it? Don’t worry about it, my parents have plenty of those. As long as you didn’t cut yourself…”

“I did, actually.”

You took a closer look, and indeed, he was pouring cold water onto a cut across his thumb. Nothing worth worrying about, but it would be quite painful and bothersome for a few days, still. The cut was long and clean, if not too deep.

You had walked closer to inspect the wound, and you didn’t notice the way he stared at you.

“It’s not too bad, but it must hurt.”

“No, it’s alright. I’m just waiting for it to stop bleeding.”

“You should press something on it, then.”

You handed him a napkin, which he rolled around his finger as he thanked you. You finally noticed that you were alone in the kitchen, that everybody else was still in the living room either chatting or cleaning up the mess Craig had made.

“Actually, I… I wanted to talk to you, just us…”

You silently encouraged him to continue, but you were taken aback at the passion and hurt in his eyes when your two gazes locked together.

“I… Is it serious? With Andrew, I mean?”

“Yeah… yes! Of course, it’s serious. Why?”

He shrugged, but you saw the way he clenched his jaw.

“It’s just… you’ve been friends for years… why now?”

You shrugged, feeling uncomfortable now… and you blamed it on a lie, but you knew it was because of the longing that was stuck in your heart, and had been dormant there for too long for you to count.

“I don’t know… the timing was always wrong. He wasn’t single, I wasn’t single, he was touring, I was busy… we kind of… were never on the same page, you know? We… our lives never managed to align.”

Slowly, Craig nodded.

“But this time, your lives are aligning?”

“Yeah! I mean… we’re both single, both staying in Ireland for more than a couple of weeks… we… we both want the same things.”

“And what is that?”

“What’s what?”

“That ‘thing’. Whatever it is that you want, what is it?”

You struggled to swallow, looking for a lie, an answer, anything to say. And a weight fell on your chest as the earnest answer flashed before you, taking the shape of two hazel eyes, unruly curls, soft-spoken words and an infectious laugh…

You thought you wanted some revenge. To make Craig jealous, for him to regret leaving you… but the truth was, you had wanted another man all along. And you still couldn’t have him. It was only a game of pretence.

What a terrible idea, this whole fake-relationship scheme…

Craig took a step closer to you, bringing your bodies so close, as you looked up at him, he was but a breath away.

“What do you want? Why are you with him? Of all people, why Andrew, and why now? Do you want to know what I think about all this?”

You frowned at his tone, crossing your arms before your chest, a glare starting to cover your features.

“Oh, enlighten me!” you replied with challenge in your voice.

But Craig didn’t back down. He only leant closer.

“I think you’re trying to make me jealous. I think you’re not over us. I think that deep down, you still want me. And you turned to your best friend as a rebound. But you’ll be tired of him in a couple of months.”

You shook your head, but your ex still went on.

“Look, I know that what I did was horrible, okay? I… Samantha was a mistake… but we could still have this. You and I, we… we were great together.”

You scoffed, taking a step back, shaking your head some more in amazement. The guy had balls, you had to give him that, at least.

“A mistake you’re about to celebrate your first anniversary with…” you replied, tone acidic and bearing no regrets for it.

“Y/N…”

“No! I don’t know what you’re trying to do right now, but you’re wrong, that’s for sure. I… you cheated on me! With my cousin! How could you possibly imagine that I would want to give you another chance?!”

He heaved a sigh, and you thought he would give in, but he didn’t, on the contrary. This was only the first round.

“So what? You’re bringing Andrew here and playing perfect couple just to get under my skin? To make me pay? To show me what I’ve lost?”

You looked for something to say, but couldn’t deny the plain truth.

“Because I already know what I’ve lost, okay?” Craig went on, tears shining in his eyes. “I know that. I don’t need you to pretend to be in love with someone else to see that.”

You let out a shaky breath. You could have walked away, but it felt good to let the truth out. A day spent telling nothing but lies, it was a relief to reveal the truth, even if it was but a fragment.

“You’re wrong. I love Andrew. In fact… I’ve loved him for years.”

He frowned at that, but you went on, a tear escaping your eyes that you didn’t even notice flowing down your cheek. You had been lying to yourself for a long time, pretending that all this made sense, that it was alright, that you were happy and content as Andrew’s friend. In truth, you were anything but happy, anything but content. And today, pretending to be his, pretending that he was yours… it only showed you more clearly that this was what you wanted. What you had always wanted. What you couldn’t have, perhaps, but what you needed.

It was a confession spoken to Craig, but made for you.

“I’ve been in love with Andrew for years. I’ve had relationships because… I wanted to forget him. Thought I could. Thought it was nothing but an infatuation, then nothing but a crush, and then nothing but a meaningless unrequited love that I would get over quickly. But the truth is, you were the band-aid, Craig. And he’s the one I’ve always wanted. And you know what? You’re right. Coming here with Andy today I… I wanted to come with him because I didn’t want to have to face you and Samantha on my own. Didn’t want to have to bear everybody’s stares and pity thinking I was the poor victim of a tragedy… And I wanted you to see that I was fine without you. That I deserved better than the way you treated me. That I… That I was worth keeping, and loving. But I… at the end of the day, if this afternoon has shown me anything, it’s that I don’t need you. I don’t want you. And I don’t give two fucks about you and Samantha. So… let’s be cordial, as we must, as you’re still part of the family for as long as you’ll be dating my cousin, but… I’m over you, Craig. I’m over all of this. And if there is one thing I want in this world, it’s Andy.”

Before Craig could say anything, before you could even process his reaction, you were storming out of the room. Or at least, you tried to. Because you had taken but a couple of steps towards the door, when Craig held you back, holding onto your wrist.

“Really? Is that how you feel?” he asked, clearly hurt, but also unmistakably angry. “I don’t believe you.”

“What?”

“I don’t believe you. You and Andy? I don’t believe it. I can’t believe it. You’re faking it. You’re lying now and for what? To hurt me?”

You didn’t say anything, instead, you merely broke free. Walked out of the kitchen, angry and annoyed and not thinking straight but with a decision taken anyway…

“Andy?”

When you looked around, he wasn’t on the sofa anymore.

“Yes?”

You turned around again. He was right there, by the table, wet napkins in hand, as he had clearly been helping cleaning up the mess your ex had made, standing not too far from the door to the kitchen, your mother by his side while everyone was turning towards you.

He frowned slightly as you hurried towards him, making a bee line to reach him, not caring that everyone was staring at the two of you. Instead, you didn’t think, forgot about the world, focused your attention on Andrew and his unruly curls and the confusion in his hazel eyes, and the way his lips slightly parted as you approached. And then, you took his face in your hands, pulled him down and rose to your tiptoes to meet him halfway, and you kissed him.

You crashed your lips against his, nothing graceful in the gesture, but desperation pouring from every inch of you. You were taken aback though, by the quiet huff he let out, your brain finally kicking in again, and thinking that this was crazy, a terrible idea, and more than anything else, highly inappropriate…

… but Andrew quickly recovered from the initial shock, and before you could pull away and profusely apologise, he had dropped the napkins that hit the floor in a thud, and his arms were wrapping around your frame, pulling you to him. You felt his eyelashes brushing your skin as he closed his eyes, leaning into your kiss, moving his lips over yours to compliment your own movements. And if he was more graceful about it, softer than your rushed gesture, he poured such passion into the kiss that your knees grew weak, and you rested your weight on him, leaning into his chest.

It was over too soon, though, interrupted by the sound of someone – probably one of your parents, or your pain of an uncle – clearing their throat. Andrew was the one pulling away, clearing his throat as well as he took a step back, although one of his hands remained at your waist.

He was blushing when you opened your eyes. And you suddenly wanted to leave. To just go and disappear and pretend like you had not broken the best friendship you had ever had and that the man you loved would not hate you from now on for kissing him like that and that you had not humiliated yourself in front of your entire family…

But as you were about to speak, Craig was hissing from somewhere behind Andrew, making him turn around. Before his attention was pulled away from you, you noted the way Andrew was looking at you. Intensely, a little stunned too, like he wasn’t sure that it had happened, that you had truly kissed him, and yet, like he was searching for answers in your eyes…

But then he turned to face Craig. He had barely turned towards him, though, that your ex was grabbing Andrew by the collar, and pushing him against the nearest wall, Andrew’s hand leaving its resting spot on your hip in the process.

“YOU SON OF A BITCH!” Craig shouted, the whole room too stunned to react while Andrew’s back collided with the wall, a hollow sound ensuing and making a couple of framed pictures shake with the strength of the impact.

“Get off me!” Andrew merely replied through his teeth, struggling to break free, but fighting had never been his strong suit…

“You fucking BASTARD!”

“Craig!”

The first people were finally reacting, hurrying to pull your ex away, but he kept them at bay, trying to keep on pushing Andrew against the wall.

“You were just waiting for your turn, you son of bitch! Dickhead! You were just waiting to get a chance to fuck that bitch!”

Andrew’s expression hardened, and this time, when he reached for Craig, it wasn’t to pull at his hands, but to grab the collar of your ex’s shirt and violently pull as well.

“Don’t you fucking dare insult her like that!” he growled, with such anger and threat, a tone you had never heard on his voice before.

“Both of you, stop!” your father ordered.

“Stop this! What are you doing?” you added, tugging at both their arms, but none of them seemed to care.

Instead, Craig went on, pushing on all of Andrew’s buttons…

“I can’t believe she did run straight into your bed like a whore…”

Before anyone could react, Andrew was pushing Craig away with so much force that he stumbled backwards and fell down.

For a second time, the whole room was too stunned to react, while Craig staggered back to his feet. Andrew moved away from the wall, and as your ex stood straighter again he was glaring at him, jaw tightly clenched. You had never seen so much wrath on his features before.

But it wasn’t over. Craig threw Andrew only one look before he was bending over and running to him, tackling him and making him fall back easily. You gasped at the loud sound of Andy’s head hitting the tiles.

Too stunned to move, Andrew didn’t even try to avoid Craig’s punch, and he got hit straight across the jaw. Thankfully, hands were then pulling Craig off of Andrew. You didn’t care though. You didn’t pay attention to your father and one of your aunts pushing Craig into the kitchen while shouting at him. You didn’t notice your cousin hurrying to join him, clearly worried. All you could do was to fall on your knees by Andrew’s side, holding onto his shoulders and gently shaking him while he blinked, clearly disoriented.

“Andy! Andy, you’re okay? Can you hear me?” you asked in a rush.

His unfocused gaze finally found you, and he blinked some more. You thought he was about to faint.

“Andy! Stay with me! Are you alright?”

Your hands moved from his shoulders to his cheeks. He took hold on your right wrist, touch firm and yet gentle still.

“Y/N…”

“You’re okay? Andy?”

“I’m okay.”

“You’re sure? How’s your head? Do you feel dizzy?”

“A little bit. I’m okay though.”

“Really?”

Slowly, he nodded. Your mother appeared by your side, asked Andrew how he felt as well. His answer was to slowly sit up. He looked exhausted, all of a sudden, paler than usual, but there was no cut across the back of his head, merely the beginning of a bump.

“I’m fine,” he repeated.

You helped him to his feet, your mother checking that he was unharmed too.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologised, but your mother was quick to dismiss it all with a wave of her hand.

“It’s not your fault, dear. Let’s seat you down on the sofa for a moment.”

“No, I’m… I’m fine.”

Samantha walked out of the kitchen, crying, and you wondered why. Or actually, you didn’t. You didn’t want to know. You didn’t want to stay for a minute longer in the same room as either her or Craig.

“Actually, I think we should go,” you interjected, and Andrew nodded.

“No, please… Craig is going to be kicked out, don’t worry about him,” your mother argued.

“No, really, I… I want to go home. Please, I want to go home.”

You were on the verge of tears, and so you turned towards the hallway, followed by your mother’s protests, along with some of your other relatives’ kind words. But you wanted to run now, disappear and leave all of them behind. You were tired of being looked at… you needed to be on your own for a while.

Meanwhile, Andrew was remaining silent. He only spoke to apologise once again to your family, clearly ashamed. You left before Craig could be let out of the kitchen, and were close to running to your car.

You climbed in, Andrew following suit in the passenger seat. You drove on, heading for home. You should have taken Andrew to his house, but you didn’t even think about it. The thought never came. You simply headed home, and Andrew didn’t protest, even though he obviously recognized the road you were taking.

Only when you arrived before your building did you realise that Andrew was still here, the ride had been filled with nothing but silence.

“You should come in, I’ll take a look at your jaw.”

Indeed, a bruise was forming under his beard, colouring the sharp angle of his face with yellowish hues.

“It’s nothing. Nothing broken.”

“Please, come in. Please…”

You stared at each other for a moment, but he yielded, nodding, at long last. You waited for him to climb out of your small car, and he held on the door before closing it, wincing as he unfolded his tall frame.

“You’re sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, just… a little dizzy, that’s all.”

“You need to go to the hospital?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, it was just a punch.”

“And a hit on the head.”

“Thick skull. Don’t you know that already?”

You both chuckled, while Andrew followed you inside your home.

You rid yourself of your shoes and coat, aiming straight for the freezer to get a bag of frozen vegetables there. Andrew was by your side, leaning against the kitchen counter. He didn’t protest when you gently rested the cold bag against his jaw, merely winced at the sharp sensation.

“Thanks,” he breathed, staring right into your eyes.

But you didn’t acknowledge his words. Instead, your world got blurred by tears.

“You… are you angry?”

But Andrew shook his head.

“No. No, I’m not angry.”

“You should be.”

“Probably.”

“You… you had to lie all day long because of me, and then I kissed you without your permission and you probably hated that, and then you punched Craig, and you got punched in the face… all because of me. I’m a lousy friend.”

“The worst,” he corrected you, but there was a tender smile on his lips.

“You should be angry.”

“I’m not.”

“You should hate me.”

“I don’t. And I…”

A pause. He seemed out of breath for a second, wetted his lips, before he went on.

“I liked it, by the way.”

“What?”

“Your kiss. I… I didn’t hate it. I liked it. A lot.”

Your eyes merely grew round, and Andrew looked away, averting his eyes. He heaved a painful sigh.

“I told you this would be a terrible idea,” he pointed out.

“I know.”

“And you didn’t listen.”

“I know.”

“And now… what are we going to do now?”

You had no answer to give, you were plagued by this same question yourself.

A moment of silence, suspended in mid-air. Outside, the quiet of cars passing by and the wind flowing through branches and pushing clouds around. Inside, the cold of the bag making your fingers ache, a welcomed burn to distract your busy mind, while Andrew was taking a sharp inhale.

“I heard you, you know?”

His voice was quiet, low and deeper than usual. He blinked, focusing on you again, trapping you into these hazel orbs you adored.

“When you talked to Craig, in the kitchen. I heard you. I was right behind the door.”

“That’s creepy,” you tried to deflect the impact of that revelation with humour, speaking the silliest thing you could have uttered. It still made Andrew break, laughing despite his best effort not to.

“I was sent to put the napkins away. But then… I heard you. Didn’t interrupt. Wanted to know what you would say.”

He narrowed his eyes a little, the ghost of a frown forming a crease across his brow.

“Did you mean any of that? Or was that just… one more lie?”

The bag of vegetables slipped from the hold of your numb fingers and fell, but Andrew stopped you as you reached for it, holding your face in his hands to force you to look at him.

“Did you mean what you said? About me? About us?”

“What does it matter?”

He knitted his brows, tightening his hold on you. You noticed the way his breathing stuttered, grew shallower.

“What does it matter?” he repeated. “Are you serious?”

“You don’t feel that for me. So… what does it matter?”

He let out a shaky breath, almost a sigh.

“Why did you kiss me like that, though?” you asked, tears shining in your eyes but you were determined not to let them fall. Your tone was almost bitter as you questioned him. “On the couch. You kissed my cheek… God, that was so much more than what it should have been…”

He blinked, trying to read behind your words for their true meaning. He didn’t find it, reached in the dark and his hand closed on nothing.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you. I just… I didn’t mean to.”

“Why did you kiss me like that? That was so out of line…”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry…”

“Why did you do that?”

Slowly, he shook his head. He looked almost stunned by your question.

“You really don’t know?”

He leaned back against the counter, and pulled you with him, until your faces were so close, you could feel his breath fanning over your lips.

“You really don’t know?” he asked again.

“I don’t know…”

“Did you mean it? When you said… when you said that you wanted me. Did you mean it?”

“I said a bit more than that…”

“I’m not foolish enough to hope for the rest to be true as well, I’ll settle for a ‘I vaguely like you’.”

It was your turn to chuckle even if you didn’t want to.

“If I answer earnestly, you’re going to hate me for wanting more and breaking our friendship.”

He shook his head, leaning closer, until his forehead rested upon yours. At long last, you reached up, holding on his forearms for support, and to make sure he wouldn’t go away…

You heard him wincing as he spoke, heard it in the way his voice was shaking. You had closed your eyes, and so had he.

“Let’s be honest with each other. Please… I’m tired of pretending. I’m tired of denying the way I feel for you, or what I want when it comes to you, I’m tired… I’m tired of letting you slip away. So, please. Please be honest with me. I can’t keep on holding onto some mad hope. I can’t keep on pretending that I don’t… That I…”

He struggled to breathe for a moment, you tightened your hold on his arms but remained there, eyes closed, leaning against him.

“I kissed you like that because… because I wanted to. Because I let myself slip into yielding. Because I couldn’t help it. Because… because it hurt so fucking much to hold you like this, to be close to you in this way, to act the way I have longed for for years under some pretence, under a mask, as a lie… when it wasn’t a lie. When I… I wish it wasn’t a lie. I wish it could be for real.”

He sighed, long and painful and full of hurt, and you reached up to kiss him before he could say anything else.

If your first kiss at your parents’ house had been passionate and quite messy because of it, this one was slow, taking its time to learn each other’s taste and lips and mouth. You had no idea for how long you kissed, all you knew was that, while it lasted, there was nothing else in the world but Andrew kissing you; and that when it ended, you longed for it to start again.

“I meant it,” you whispered, bearing your soul in a confession that was so raw you couldn’t summon anything but a murmur, eyes still closed and lips barely parted from his. “What I told Craig, I meant it. I mean it. I want you… And this whole day has been torture for me too.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry it took me so long, I’m sorry I didn’t say anything.”

“I didn’t either…”

“I almost said it a thousand times. Never had the courage.”

“Please… have it now, and kiss me again.”

He obliged, without protest or hesitation. You were lost in his embrace all over again, and rested your head against his chest when you eventually pulled away.

“So… what now?” you asked, voice muffled by his cardigan.

“We could go on a date.”

“I want to be wined and dined, just so you know,” you joked, making him chuckle.

“Duly noted. Anything else, for her ladyship?”

“I don’t know… I’m… I’m so fucking scared, to be honest.”

“Because everything is going to change?”

“Because it might not work out. Because… you might leave me, and I might give up and a thousand things can go wrong, and…”

But he softly shushed you, running his hand through your hair.

"Look, I… I’m not going to pretend that I’m not scared to bits by this. I feel like we have so much to lose. But I… I want you so badly. I want you so much, I’m ready to take the risk. We can take things slow, we don’t have to rush through this. I just… I feel like I'm truly myself when I'm with you. I want to be myself when I'm with you. So now, if you're scared, don't call it love yet. But whatever you want to call it, it's incredible, and I'm not going to give up on this. I'm not going to give up on us. I can promise you that, at least. That I’m ready to fight for this, for you.”

He was surprised by your chuckle.

“You’ve fought already. If you can call it a fight…”

“Yeah, exactly. I mean… he was about to seriously kick my arse but I did have a few seconds of manly glory there.”

You both laughed at that, the tension receding as a result.

“Perhaps, at the end of the day, that plan of mine wasn’t so bad,” you joked, making Andrew laugh harder, shaking his head.

“It was definitely a terrible idea. The worst idea you’ve ever had. Look at all the trouble it has caused!”

“Are you calling me trouble?”

“Of the worst kind.”

You were happy about this kind of trouble though, as Andrew was leaning down to kiss you once more, holding you close, unwilling to ever let go.

[dwindlinghaze]

HIII YOU’RE SO AWESOME! I was wondering if I could request a extroverted introvert!fem reader x introverted!Remus, where she is introverted and very sunshiny in public and remus is grumpy but he’s literally madly in love with her? like sarcastic, confident Remus is with this like bubbly and giggly girl and just a cutesie little story about them?

I hope this isn’t too much!

-Anon 🫶🫶

hi, lovelyy! thank you for requesting this! i loved the idea a lot and i hope you don't mind me writing r as girly and feminine :) 🫖👛🫧🪽🎀

sunshine and midnight rain

(remus lupin x reader)

contents : fluff, kissing, sweethearts in the sweetest love 😭🩷

　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

when he first saw you walking this morning with the brightest smile ever, he wanted to hold you and forget about everything in schedule today.

he saw you waving to a ravenclaw, blowing the girl a kiss as the two of you laughed. it was so adorable and heart warming. he couldn't believe it.

you plopped down next to him, greeting your boyfriend a good morning.

"morning, angel," he replied, kissing your head with a gentle yet firm pressure.

"how'd you sleep last night?" you asked, rubbing his cheeks softly.

"um good," he replied shortly. "would be better if you were with me but i'll survive," he smiled.

"oh rem, you can always ask me to be with you whenever you want okay?"

"i know, lovie," he replied, kissing you once more on your soft cheek.

when you two first started dating, it was a huge shock to the friend group. you two were the absolute opposite of each other and maybe that's why you two completed each other so well.

remus needs rays of golden sunshine, a beautiful princess-like girl whose heart is veiled with fresh daisies and soft hands to keep himself grounded while you needed those midnight rains to keep your flower field of your heart blooming continuously.

he remembered the first date you two had was on the most whimsical day ever. he laid out a picnic date for the two of you in the middle of a field of wild flowers.

when he saw you walking in from the door, his eyes were met with fleecy skin, sparkly eyes, light pink clothes, and a pure heart to tie them all together.

he couldn't believe it. such a dreamy girl wanted to be on a date with him!

he felt special. lucky. and best.

"you're absolutely stunning," he mumbled in awe as he saw you sitting down next to him, your soft skirt calmly hovering above his leg.

"remus, so are you," you said, smiling at him with a smile so sugary.

remus realised how quiet you were being. but he knew that he's not the cause of it. you were calm and peaceful, enjoying the soft winds surrounding you two.

"i made some food for us both, i hope you're hungry," he said, putting a good amount of food on to the plate he brought.

"mmm looks tasty," you beamed. "you must be a very good cook."

"i try," he smiled weakly. "i hope it isn't too bad, sorry if it is."

you took a portion of it, placing it on your mouth as you hummed in contentment. "it's delicious! do you cook a lot?" you asked.

"i help my mom sometimes, yeah," he blushed, squeezing your soft knuckles.

"oh that's so sweet of you!" you giggled.

he loves you. so very much. he has been looking for you since he first heard his mother reading a romance fairytale when he was a child.

of course he wasn't thinking of you at that very moment. but he was hoping to have a lovely fairytale, he's glad his hope was fulfilled by meeting you.

he knew at the first moment he landed eyes on you, you will wrap his fragile heart in the most precious and endless love. he wasn't mad about it, he knew he will always have you by his side and he can rely on you whenever.

despite his rough and grumpy exterior, inside his heart was painted with your colours of pearls: pale white, pink, and softly glowing.

his friends teased him about it.

"how can she make you so soft and puddly? you're like a stone with us," sirius groaned. they're best of friends. remus is familiar with sirius' hyperbole jokes.

remus didn't reply, he kept on reading.

"moony, what do you call a dark house with pink interior?" sirius asked, one of his jokes.

"hmm?" remus replied, unamused.

"a remus!" sirius roared with laughter, james laughing along as he patted sirius' back for his horrible joke.

usually after a full moon, remus wouldn't even break a smile. he physically couldn't. but ever since you're his, he smiled whenever you visited him at the infirmary.

even james told you about it. "our grumpy remus smiles more often now that he met you," said the boy when you returned from the hospital wing to eat breakfast.

"really?" your heart warmed. you loved making people smile. it felt like you had accomplished something so special. although it's not a hard thing for people to do when you're around.

"yup. he usually sulks around the room after his furry little problem but now he looks... healthier and more alive somehow," sirius said.

"i'm so glad. i think he deserves the best of the best."

at first remus' friends were hesitant about your relationship, afraid that remus' cold demeanour would gloom down your shine but it never did. if anything your shine had brightened him up.

his friends were grateful and happy for remus. they know you're the perfect girl for him. a big part of loving someone else is to love yourself first. and you did that both so wonderfully.

remus isn't scared of you not accepting him for his lycanthropy. though he does have a fear of hurting you one day. that doesn't stop him from loving you and being open to you about himself.

he knew you're open minded. with your bold beliefs of equal rights in society. he wasn't scared. he wasn't in pain. after all the awful things the universe had given him, a lovely sweet girl is there, making the life he has bearable again.

the first night after he told you about his lycanthropy, you wanted to stay for him. but he insisted on you to not to do that and meet him the next morning instead.

no, he wasn't embarrassed of his appearance right after the transformation. his scars don't heal overnight. he physically looked the same the night before and the morning after, except that he's more relaxed the next morning as for the slumber really helped.

he just doesn't want you to be tired. he wanted you to sleep well. having the rest an angel always needs. of course you wanted to be with him before and after. but you know better than to go against him during his weakest point.

you see him the next morning, bringing a bag of chocolates and croissants.

you placed the bag on the bedside table, reaching for his hand instead. he was still asleep, eyes fluttering cause he's dreaming. you caressed his rough and scarred fingers softly, humming a tune.

remus woke up in the most peaceful way ever. seeing you beside him, playing with his fingers. "morning, princess."

you looked over at him, smiling so big. "oh morning, my remus," his heart fluttered when he heard the nickname. he is yours. forever yours.

"you're here, darlin'."

"i am, i brought breakfast for you," you grabbed the bag of chocolate and croissants, opening them.

he sat up, reaching for the pastry but you pushed his hand away, making him frown in confusion. "i will do the work for you. you've been doing so much to me and i want to do this in return," you giggled. "sit back and relax."

"you don't have to," he said.

"i know. i would never do this to anyone except you."

remus smiled at that, opening his mouth to let you feed him. "you're such a doll. you're so good to me and sometimes i feel like i don't deserve this treatment... i'm not good enough."

"rem, don't worry about that," you smiled at him softly, wiping away the drop of chocolate on his chin. "you have to love and accept yourself. i'm here to be with you all along the journey. i want you to be good to your body, be good to yourself and never say such things like that. life becomes good when you love yourself."

"is your life good?" he asked.

"the best," you answered. "i've learned to be grateful for everything- 'cause i have everything," you chuckled, squeezing his knuckles. "maybe i'm not the ideal type of girl in every person''s eyes but i am my type of girl."

"you're everything i aspire to be," remus said, holding his hand over yours over his heart.

"i love you," you said.

"i love you, darlin', i won't ever stop," he smiled.

[softtdaisy]

“is it okay if i stay at yours tonight? i don’t know if i can stand another night away from you.” with charles

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x female!reader

Words: 1080

A/n: this story is just me being in love with Charles so I hope you will appreciate all my soft feelings 😭💛

To say you were taking your time with Charles was an euphemism.

You two had been seeing each other for a few months now. When you met, it was evidence that something bigger was coming for you. You could tell from the way your heart beat faster, how it felt like nobody else was in the room when he looked at you or how a simple smile from him was giving you hope.

But you were both out of serious relationships and not ready to engage in a new one. Not that you didn’t want to. If it were just up to you, you would already be together. But you both agreed that this wouldn’t be fair to either of you. Plus you needed some time to adjust to the idea of everyone knowing about your relationship and fans potentially posting about you on social media.

Charles being away most of the time clearly helped. You had dates like every three weeks when he was coming home. Or when it was possible. But you didn’t complain.

You were calling each other almost every night. It started as a casual thing, you wanted to know about his qualifications and his race. And Charles would tell you all about it, even about the things you saw on tv. There was something special about lying in bed and listening to Charles’ story. How he laughed slowly like he could wake up people in the other room. How he would yawn but swear he didn’t want to hang up. Or, sometimes, how he would fall asleep and you could hear his peaceful breath.

But to be honest, you did that too.

And from calls on Saturday and Sunday, it became calls anytime he was in another country. And from these calls, it became everyday calls. Five minutes or two hours didn't matter. All you both wanted was to hear your voices.

You might not be together yet. But you were already very much in love.

Hopefully, tonight was a night where Charles was in town. You couldn’t count the number of times you planned that together on the phone. Charles was so excited about seeing you again that he had booked everything two weeks in advance. “I want it to be perfect!” He said one day when you explained how the restaurant kept assuring him that yes it was booked and no there was no mistake. That night would be a special night.

When you opened the door, the whole world stopped turning. The man you love was there, looking beautiful and absolutely amazed by you. Charles took the time to look at you before giving you his bright smile and offering you his hand. “Bonsoir mon amour.”

Like a pure gentleman, he kissed the hand you gave him. Before pulling it to bring you closer and giving you a proper kiss on the lips. You laughed against his mouth even if you were used to it.

“Ready to go?”

“Of course, I don’t want to miss the reservation you keep telling me about.” You replied, teasing him. He gave you a shoulder bump before walking you out. The perks of being in Monaco was that you could do so many things on foot. So you could both telling each others about your day already.

Like you can imagine, the whole night was perfect. Charles chose the best Italian restaurant here and you noticed how anxious he looked. Like he was scared you wouldn’t love it. He wanted everything to be perfect for you, he couldn’t imagine losing you. Not now, before you even started something real. Not ever, now that he knew he was madly and truly in love with you.

“I love it, Charles. I promise!” You told him when he gave you a side look while drinking his wine.

“Well I hope because I plan on taking you here for our future anniversaries.” He said out of nowhere.

Well not really out of nowhere.

He opened the door to your future. Waiting to see if you would follow him inside. So when you put your hand on top of his, he felt like he wasn’t alone on this new path. “Then I know we will have the most amazing anniversaries every time.” You added, with a soft smile.

It felt like a dream. Walking hand in hand with Charles in the middle of Monaco. There was something almost magic about how some people would look at you and give you a respectful smile. One that meant “we see you but we won’t say anything.” Monégasques loved Charles so much they were ready to protect him like their child.

You turned your head to look at him. How the moon reflected on him. How good he looked with his shirt with two buttons open. How you loved to see his necklace hanging against his chest.

“What are you looking at?” He asked with a small laugh.

“Have I ever told you how dreamy you look?” You swear you could see him blush when he heard you.

“I think you did, yes.”

Before you notice, and earlier than you hoped, you were back in front of your apartment. You didn’t want this night to end. You didn’t want to let him go again. You couldn’t handle losing him somehow and wait again to see his pretty face.

When you faced Charles, you could read the same thoughts in his eyes.

That didn’t stop him from putting his free hand on your face to get closer to you. You felt his breaths against your lips before he finally kissed you. It always made everything so intimate and you were falling for this. He left your hand so he could put his on your neck. You loved how some hairs got tangled with his fingers. It was like every part of your body wanted to be connected to him.

Charles put his forehead against yours, sounding breathless after sharing all his love through a single kiss. “Is it okay if I stay at yours tonight? I don't know if I can stand another night away from you.”

It was finally here, the moment when everything changed between you. The step you still had to make. You met his beautiful eyes and all the hope that he had about your answer. Maybe your smile gave away your thoughts. You could feel Charles relaxing before you even speak.

“I thought you would never ask.”

[senditcolton]

maybe this Christmastime, you'll realize

song inspo: santa doesn't know you like i do word count: 3k warnings: none, just pure holiday fluff (christmas centric)

a/n: i'm back!! and what better way to celebrate the conclusion of my graduate degree by giving you all a barely edited, written last night, self-indulgent fic to feed my delusion of Tyson Jost being madly in love with me. glad to be back and can't wait to write for you all again!!

The heat that blasts from the oven is a welcome sensation, considering that your old apartment often struggled to keep in the warmth from your central heating. You lean in, your oven mitt clad hand reaching and grasping the cookie sheet.

You’d be the first to admit that you weren’t much of a baker. That was never your ‘job’ during holidays with your family. But you figured you would try this year since you wouldn’t have the opportunity to enjoy the homemade goodies your family crafted.

That was the reason you chose to bake cookies. The reason you chose to bake almond butter cookies was because of someone else. Someone who also wasn’t able to enjoy the comforts of home this year.

As if he could hear your thoughts, a knock echoes through your apartment. You quickly finish transferring the cookies from the still hot baking sheet onto the cooling rack before wiping off your hands and running towards the front door. You swing open the worn wood and you can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips when you see Tyson standing there.

“Hey. Happy Christmas Eve Eve.”

“Is that the official name?” he laughs, walking into your apartment like it was his own. Which considering how often he was over at your place, it might as well be.

“You haven’t seen that episode of Friends?”

“Guess not,” he shrugs, taking off his coat. “Smells nice in here.”

“Thanks. I tried my hand at baking.”

“And you didn’t burn the apartment down?” he smiles and you wish you could stop the way your knees weaken at the sight.

“Ha, ha, very funny,” you laugh, playfully shoving his shoulder. “You better be nice to me or else you won’t get any almond butter cookies.” This time, you didn’t want to stop the trill of your heart at the way his eyes brightened at your words.

“Almond butter?”

“Yeah,” you nod towards the kitchen, a silent invitation for him. He took your encouragement in stride, breezing into the other room and you were thankful that he was out of earshot when you said your next words.

“I made them just for you.”

You did. You also opened your home to him, welcoming him any day during this, the week of Christmas. But that was just because you didn’t want him to be lonely. That was all. That was the only reason.

It definitely wasn’t because of the crush you had been harboring for him since the first day you met.

No, absolutely not.

You take a deep breath before following Tyson into the kitchen, turning the corner only to find him already munching on a cookie, a grin on his face and some crumbs stuck on his facial hair.

“I know they’re probably not as good as Grandma Jost’s but –” Tyson cuts you off with a gentle call of your name.

“Stop. These are delicious. You did a really good job.”

“Thanks,” you say. It’s only then that you spy the backpack that he carried in with him, one that was now placed on your kitchen table. ��What’s that?”

“Oh,” Tyson says, as if he just remembered it himself. You are even more curious when you see the blush spread on his cheeks, the rosy color having nothing to do with the lingering cold from outside. “I need your help.”

“Okay?”

“You mentioned that you were in charge of wrapping presents at your house for the holidays. And I’m really bad at it. I mean, usually I struggle through it or just put everyone’s gifts in bags…”

You gently interrupt his explanation with a laugh of your own, your brain goes over all the gifts Tyson has given you; mostly presented to you in gift bags.

“But since I can’t go home this year, I kind of want to – I don’t know – make more of an effort. Make it more exciting for whenever my family does get their presents. If that makes any sense.”

“That makes perfect sense, Tyson,” you reply. “Sit. Eat your cookies. I’ll get the wrapping paper.”

Only a few short moments pass before you find yourself sitting next to Tyson, wrapping the stockpile of presents he brought over and listening to him talk about anything and everything: details about the gift you were currently wrapping, his shopping adventures, the hockey season so far, friend and family updates, anything. You occasionally interrupt with questions about how he wants the presents decorated but he gives you a lot of creative freedom which you slightly admonish him for.

“Tyson, they should feel like they’re from you.”

“I’ll pick out the bows.”

That was how you continued, your focus on the folds and creases of the paper in front of you while Tyson talked.

You had gone through most of the gift he presented to you, your concentration entirely on the folding and taping that you perfected long ago. Tyson had gone quiet for a moment but you weren’t that concerned as you were still able to hear him rustling around in the bag that held all your bows, finding whatever color he chose for the current gift. You are just about to put the last piece of tape on when you feel Tyson’s fingers gently press against your head.

Your eyes snap back to him, only to see that adorable crooked grin on his face. You are pretty sure you knew what happened and your thoughts are only confirmed as you reach up and feel the paper of the bow pressed onto your hair.

“Is this the one you want for this gift?”

“It looks pretty cute on you,” he says and you once again have to force yourself to take a deep breath before your body acts of its own volition, revealing your feelings in probably the worst way.

“I’m sure it’ll look much better on the present,” you quip, taking it off your hair and replacing the tape before sticking it onto the silver paper. “Ta-da!” You push the present off to the side, adding to the slowly growing pile. “What’s next?”

You turn your attention to Tyson, but this time, he’s the one distracted. His fingers tap against his phone,  typing out few quick messages, a small grin appearing on his face occasionally. You wait for a few minutes, just watching him until he feels your gaze and looks up towards you.

“Huh?”

“Which present is next?”

“Oh, last one,” he says, pulling the final gift out of his backpack and handing it to you. “This one is for Kacey.”

“Was that who you were texting?”

“No um, that was Mikayla. She’s this girl I matched with on a dating app a little while ago. We’re just getting last minute details ready before our date tonight.”

His words give you literal pause as your scissors stall on the wrapping paper, your smooth precise cut turning into a jagged edge.  

“Tonight?” you ask, your question answered with an affirmative hum from him. You try to act nonchalant, a shrug lifting your shoulders as you attempt to focus back on the task at hand. “Seems a little odd – so close to Christmas.”

“Yeah, but it was the best day for her and I don’t have anywhere else to be, y’know?”

You try not to let his words sting, knowing he doesn’t mean them maliciously. He wasn’t with his family and you were just a friend. He didn’t have any commitments because he wasn’t committed to you. That was the simple truth.

“Yeah, I know,” you say, forcing your attention onto the cherry red wrapping paper in your hands; the one thing you could control. “I think a gold bow would look good on this one.”

“Whatever you say, boss,” Tyson replies, typing out one last quick message before diving back into the bag to find the color you requested.

A few short minutes later, the presents are wrapped and placed back into Tyson’s pack, safe and ready for their return to his apartment. You watched from your couch as his throws his coat over his broad frame before swinging the backpack onto his shoulder.

“If you want, you can always come over tomorrow. I need some help finishing off those cookies,” you playfully tease, trying not to let your heart get too attached to the idea of spending Christmas Eve with him next to you.

“I might take you up on that,” Tyson says, shooting you a gentle smile before opening your door and leaving, the chill sneaking in from the outside and finding a way to wrap around your heart.

You know you had no right to be upset. Tyson wasn’t yours. He didn’t know the way you felt about him and there was no certainty that he would even share your feelings. He might only ever see you as a friend and if that was the case… he should be free to find someone who does love him.

But there was this stubborn part of you that couldn’t imagine anyone else loving Tyson as much as you loved him. You’ve been there through the good and bad. You knew his favorite songs. You knew how to make him laugh. And you would always pick up when he called.

Who else could say that?

You sigh, gently telling yourself that there was nothing you could do about it tonight.

Perhaps Christmas Eve might bring forth some holiday magic. Or maybe you should just throw in the towel, pray for New Year’s to come quickly so you could leave this heartache behind along with the holiday season.

You weren’t sure which to wish for so you just crawled into bed, feeling bluer that ever before as you fell asleep, trying not to think of someone else’s lips pressed against Tyson’s.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The lights in the tree blurred as you try to hold back you tears. You always seemed to cry during the holidays; you never really knew why. It just always came about this time of year. ‘Tis the season, right?

But this year, you could pinpoint the exact person that caused your tears to fall. Tyson Jost. The worst part about it was that it wasn’t even his fault that you were crying. It was all yours.

You woke up after a listless night of sleeping. When you went to check your phone, you hoped to see a message from Tyson but to your disappointment but not surprise, there was no notification on your screen. You managed to roll yourself out from underneath your covers and go about your morning routine before sending a text to him, saying that you hoped his date went well and that the offer to come over tonight was still on the table.

That was over twelve hours ago and all you received was radio silence from him.

Perhaps that is why you found yourself curled up underneath your tree, staring up at the lights in the boughs, trying to push back tears. It was a stupid reason to cry just like it was stupid to fall for your best friend. Stupid to think that he could ever see you as anything more. Stupid to think that maybe this Christmas would be the one where it all changed.

Stupid to spend your money on a new watch, wrap it up for him with a note documenting your feelings in the hope that he would open it tonight, here, underneath your tree while you both ate the cookies you made specifically for him.

Your fingers trace over the silk ribbon, fidgeting with the bow as the minutes tick by, your hope dwindling with them.

The receipt for it was still in your closet in one of your purses. You could return it on Tuesday, pretend like you never had this grand scheme and go back to being friends with Tyson. Give yourself another year to get over him. Maybe next year you finally would.

A heavy sigh escapes you as you spare one last glance down at the parcel in your hands before placing it back underneath the tree with all the other presents that your friends and family had sent to you.

It was a silly idea, an almost childish Christmas dream and now, you had to wake up. Tyson was dating other people and sooner or later, he would find someone who could give him everything you could and possibly more. Perhaps he found her last night and woke up this morning to her curled up in his arms and that feeling of love just struck him and if so, there was nothing you could do and –

The knock on your door startles you out of your spiraling thoughts, your hand hitting a few ornaments hanging down from the branches. You quickly grab them, stabilizing the fragile decor before you lift yourself off the floor, your blanket pooling beneath you before you wander to the front door.

You had no idea who was knocking at this time of night but you must have been too exhausted, both physically and emotionally, to care because you opened the door without a second thought. It took you a minute to fully register the person standing on your doorstep but when you saw those chocolate curls and those big brown eyes, you feel a sense of calm sweep over you.

Tyson always pulled that feeling from you. Even when he showed up unannounced on Christmas Eve.

Although you were happy to see him, the expression on your face was one of confusion. Why was he here, now, without a word of warning, after ignoring you for almost a full 24 hours? You are about to ask those questions but before you could get a word out, Tyson speaks.

“I’m sorry.”

His words catch you off-guard, the meaning behind them not yet clear to you.

“For what?” you ask him. Your breath shallows as he turns his gaze to you and you are struck by the earnestness reflecting in his eyes.

“For not seeing you,” he replies, stepping over the threshold of your apartment and closer to you. “For not seeing how wonderful and amazing and beautiful you are.”

“Wha – what’s happening?” you question, his words sending shockwaves through your body.

“I think a part of me always knew; that you were the one. But I ignored it for whatever reason. Fear, indifference, whatever. But last night, when I was on a date with another girl, all I could think about was you. How you make me laugh, make me smile. Pick me up and encourage me when I’m down. Do silly inconsequential things for me without expecting anything in return.”

Tyson continues to speak, becoming more assured and confident with every word, punctuating each sentence with a step closer to you.

“How you went out of your way to make cookies that remind me of home so I would feel less alone this holiday season. No one else has done anything like that for me.”

You had to be hallucinating or dreaming or something. This felt straight out of goddamn Hallmark movie – it couldn’t be real life. It was a fantasy brought on by sugar and heartache. But when Tyson reaches out to you, gently grasping your hands in his, you can feel the warmth of his touch run through you, warm and as real as it ever was.

“And I realized last night, alone in my bed, that I didn’t need the cookies, the presents, the bows and ribbons to feel like I was home,” Tyson confesses, his voice becoming softer as he pulls you closer. “Whenever I’m with you… that’s when I’m home. You are home to me. And I’m sorry for not being able to tell you sooner. I’m sorry it took this long for me to realize it.”

Tyson silences, looking into your eyes and you know he’s waiting for your answer but you were still trying to fully understand this whole situation. Still trying to wrap your head around the fact that the man in front of you, the man that you had a crush for almost an entire year, just came to your house in the middle of the night and confessed his feelings to you.

Your body slightly jumps at the sound of your front door closing, the breeze pulling it shut but Tyson gently rubs his thumbs over the back of your hands, soothing you. A small jingle of a bell sounds from above you, brought on by the gust of air from the door. The noise pulls both you and Tyson’s attention away from each other towards the ceiling and you feel your cheeks warm at the sight of the green leaves with white berries, tied together with ribbon, hanging above you. The warmth intensifies as Tyson turns his gaze on you once again, that mischievous look in his eyes.

“Mistletoe? Really?”

“It’s tradition,” you mutter, your tongue finally being able to twist itself into words.

“Well, it is Christmas after all. I guess we shouldn’t break tradition,” he grins.

You force yourself to breathe as Tyson leans closer to you, your eyes fluttering shut when you feel his forehead press against yours. You can feel the warmth of his breath fanning over your cheeks but his movements stall and when you don’t feel the gentle press of his lips against yours, you slowly reopen your eyes.

Tyson is still standing there, his lips only mere centimeters away from yours. It’s only then that you realize you’ve never given him a response to his confession. Haven’t yet told him that it was everything that you had been hoping to hear from him. But how could you possibly respond when it didn’t feel like there were words in the English language to describe the depth of your feelings?

The answer was simple.

You respond by lifting yourself up those final inches and pressing your lips against his. You pour every emotion you felt into that kiss and you could feel a piece of you settle when Tyson kissed you back with as much passion.

And you knew that this – wrapped up in Tyson’s arms underneath the mistletoe, his lips against yours – was the best present you could have ever received this year.

[mqonlighting]

spideypool thoughts because i am back in my sm/dp phase and loving every goddamn second of it !!

- something about the way their dynamic is actually healthy??? yeah no FUCK the i-can-change-him idea, but rather the I-CAN-CHANGE-FOR-HIM idea??? obsessed and I love it in terms of spideypool

- i am ABSOLUTELY SMITTEN for the legendary fics where spidey gets jealous of himself and is left in a state of pure shock about it whenever wade’s swooning over his latest crush peter parker like SOMETHING ABOUT IT IS SO PETER OF PETER TO DO AND ITS FUNNY AND MAKES FOR A DELICIOUS IDENTITY REVEAL

- coming up to the topic of identity reveals I have a LOT to say about them, first of all I find them so important to the progression of wade and peter’s relationship. it’s important because maybe, on a more practical level, peter feels like wade has so much at his disposal to exploit his identity — but it’s that exact mindset that makes the big moment so special. who peter is behind the mask is him in a state of vulnerability; at the end of the day, spider-man is everyone’s shield and their great savior and protector — including peter’s. he feels like he has to be so strong and brave all the time and have his guard up, but the moment he takes off the mask, it means that he trusts you with his fragmented pieces and trusts that you won’t break them any further. NOW TAKE THAT IN THE CONTEXT OF SPIDEYPOOL, WHERE PETER FEELS LIKE HE HAS TO HATE WADE BECAUSE WADE IS WHO HE IS BUT HE TRUSTS HIM ANYWAYS AND DOESNT KNOW WHY. gold

- this is something that’s like said a lot but there’s something so interesting about the fact that wade and peter as characters actually have very similar principles and characteristic points — they’re both funny, both use humor and quippage to cope with the turmoil and struggle constantly thrown at them, and they were both thrown into the deep end at young age. where their characters begin to diverge are the morals and ideas formed by their unique and individual traumatic experiences and coping experiences. for example, if ben hadn’t died and peter’s rageful side and irresponsibility only consumed him, who’s to say he wouldn’t have become a murderous killer the same way wade was? or even a mercenary the same way Wade did to try and support himself financially and care for his family? and if wade had grown up in a supportive household and learned the price of his actions, who’s to say he wouldn’t have become a hero like peter? EXPERIENCES BUILD CHARACTERS AND THESE TWO HAVE SUCH INTRICATE CHARACTERS

- something about their perceptions of one another physically. I TALKED ABOUT THIS IN ONE OF MY REPOSTS but the way peter is just an average, pretty good-looking guy and every time I write wade describing his features, it’s not “he’s hot” or “he’s sexy” or “he’s a model” but rather the small things no one would find beautiful or even unique about anyone. big, chocolate brown eyes, crooked, bashful smiles, the way he forgets to push up his glasses — literally who the fuck would care other than a person madly in love? EXACTLY.

- in correlation to the previous point, FICS WHERE PETER REASSURES WADE HE’S GORGEOUS IN EVERY WAY AND MEANS EVERY SINGLE WORD. if you love someone TRULY, nothing can be ugly about them. and peter sees the scars and wade thinks he’ll hate it but in reality peter adores it and thinks wade is unique and beautiful and interesting and all of that. AGH warms my lonely lonely heart

- wade would be very happy to do the upside down kiss. this is in fact a fic idea so by any means please treat this as a prompt

- BOTH DISASTERS BUT BOTH EACH OTHER’S DISASTERS!! look I love tired x hyper but something about these two being absolute hurricanes of awkwardness and then bonding over their weird ass references with occasional hints of tired x hyper banter makes my heart sing I honestly just love them (BONUS POINTS IF THE HINTS OF TIRED X HYPER IS DEADPOOL MAKING A FLIRTY STEAMY COMMENT, PETER GETTING FLUSTERED, AND THEN PETER TRIES TO HIDE IT WITH A TIRED EXHAUSTED ANGRY LINE OF DIALOGUE) or perhaps peter realizing Deadpool is a fun guy and unknowingly doing everything in his power to hang out with him mayhaps?????

anyways yep!! some of my incoherent head-empty-only-spideypool thoughts that I would like to share with the class ! < andd not to be a shameless self promoter but if you would like to see these thoughts written out then I’m on ao3 wink wink cough cough >

[chanyeolsbiggestfangirl]

hey!! Can I request a chanyeol fic, reader is fwb with chanyeol and is madly inlove with him, confesses to him but gets rejected then when she decides to move on, chanyeol realises what hes lost 🥺

Synopsis: You met Chanyeol in the final year of college by pure accident when your previous roommate moves out and he comes in his place. Being roommates with a college hottie has it's pros.... but also it's cons. Every moment spend with Chanyeol tangled between the sheets ignited something deep within you, deeper than just bodily lust. But the real question is, is it the same way with him? Does your smile pull at his heartstrings just the way his pulls at yours?

Pairing:- Chanyeol X Fem Reader

Genre:- Smut, Angst

Author's note: YAYYY THIS IS MY VERY FIRST REQUEST. THANK YOU SOO MUCH ANON FOR REQUESTING THIS! IT GOT ME SOOO EXCITED! I HAD A LOT OF FUN WRITING THIS. I TRIED TO KEEP IT SHORT EVEN THOUGH THIS HAD ME CARRIED AWAY. ALSO I AM SO SORRY FOR THE DELAY :((

.... Sometime in late evening ....

It was a daily occurrence now, almost like clockwork. One of you would be having a shitty day (and that's mostly every other day) and you'd seek each other out.

Or rather, he would seek you out.

You didn't even enter the living room properly and he was already on you, his hand on your ass as he pulls you closer harshly, claiming your lips with a fervent need.

One of his hands took the books from yours and placed them on the table absentmindedly, his other hand squeezing your ass through the fabric of your jeans, all the while his tongue clashed against yours in a never ending battle for dominance.

It was exhilarating for him, for no matter how many times he'd have had you, you were always that wild, untamed brat that never quite bend at his will easily like the other girls who practically threw themselves at him.

You tiptoed as you tried to keep up with his kiss, giving him a run for his damn sanity with the way you bit on his lower lip, your moan was followed by his deep groan against your lips. Your arms were around his neck, fingers naturally tangling in his luxurious locks.

That was the way you guys were.

If someone would ask you what you and Chanyeol are, you would have no answer, absolutely none. You weren't together. You certainly aren't lovers. You were just two people who would seek each other out to let out your pent up frustration.

You still remember how it all actually began. It was the second last semester and your neat freak of a roommate moved out suddenly, and a tall and drop dead gorgeous giant came in.

At first you didn't give in to his advances, knowing fully well that Chanyeol wasn't the type to commit, wasn't the type to have something serious. But one drunken night and one taste of his lips was enough to convince you otherwise.

Outside the bedroom, you were roommates with completely different lives. Inside the bedroom, however, Chanyeol fucked you like he owned you, every inch of you. He was gifted at the art of the bedroom. He worshipped every inch of you like he cherished nothing more than he cherished you.

But you knew it was all a facade.

It was an unspoken agreement. No strings attached. Just sex. Nothing else.

Simple.

Or so you initially thought.

But every touch of his upon your heated skin, every kiss that took your breathe away, every word he uttered to you, it all built up into something until you realized that the reason why you can't go out with some other guy is because you're in love with the one who's interested in owning you only while in the sheets.

That jolt of harsh truth was what brought you back to the reality.

Chanyeol's lips leave your to trail a wet path down your neck, biting and suckling at your sweet spot on your neck, making you moan yet again.

Chanyeol always managed to coax moans from you like how one coaxes melody from an instrument.

You arch your neck, letting him have his way with you. You had little defenses when his lips and tongue and teeth made you lightheaded. He groaned against your skin, pulling you incredibly closer, grinding his hard length against your clothed center and gods, that almost made you see literal stars.

"Bedroom. Now." His deep baritone was laced with a needy growl, his hold on your waist turned impatient, tapping your thigh in a way to tell you to wrap your legs around him as he took you to his room, his lips finding solace in yours yet again.

Chanyeol let go of you lips only after your back hit the mattress, lips tracing a path downward, pulling your skirt and panties along and throwing them absentmindedly in some corner of the room.

What happened next is the same yet different for you. The same disregard for clothes, the frenzy of lips and tongue and teeth, his impatience in getting his hands on your bare skin. But even when the majority of these occurrences were the same for you, what was different was the way it felt each and every time.

His lips fervently mapping out your heated skin felt personal, his hands worshipping crevices; that even you don't deem worthy of attention; felt personal. When he ate you out like a man starved and made you come upon his skilled tongue, it felt personal. Each and every thrust of his girthy cock into your tight cunt felt personal.

They say to not catch feelings but how could you not? How could you not catch feelings when he whispered sweet nothings in your ear in his deep voice? How could you not catch feelings when he made you feel like you were something different, something important, and not just one of the many girls he sleeps around with? How could you not catch feelings when one smile of his could brighten your whole day? How could you not catch feelings when you beheld the passionate gleam in his eyes whenever he's doing the things he loves.

Time spent with Chanyeol tangling in the sheets was blissful, but that's exactly where the bliss ends and the harsh reality slaps. The sound of Chanyeol rolling off the bed, the light shuffling of feet, the rustle of clothes, oh and the final nail on the coffin, the sound of the door slamming shut as he leaves your room. All of it clawed away at your feelings. Whenever you get high hopes, Chanyeol slams the door shut on them.

It was getting exhausting, this cycle of mental torture. The fact that he probably fucked around with other girls and would touch and kiss and hold them the same he did with you. The fact that while these mutually agreed escapades meant nothing to him, they were the reason why you weren't seeing anyone else anymore. The final semester was coming to an end, and so was your sanity and patience.

You couldn't take the weight of the feelings locked deep in your heart anymore.

You make up your mind, deciding that you'll tell him, hoping against hope that his reaction would be affirmative.

"What if he doesn't reciprocate?", whispered a little voice in your head.

You pushed those thoughts aside, trying not to think of how exactly Chanyeol's possible rejection might effect you.

.... A Week Later ....

The past was repeating itself yet again when Chanyeol stood up from the couch he moment you entered and crossed the distance between you both, lustful intentions swimming in his brown orbs. He made to pull you closer, hand reaching out when you stepped back.

Unspoken questions were evident in his gaze, a slightly pained expression taking form in his eyes. You took that was an opportunity to speak, your voice low, your eyes on his.

"What are we, Chanyeol? What am I to you?"

Chanyeol's demeanor shifted at that, body going rigid as he pulled back the hand that was reaching out towards you. He underwent a whole change. His eyes went vacant, face going neutral and you were no longer able to read the expressions on his face, the emotions in his eyes.

Standing right before you was a man who couldn't care less.

He shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest, "It isn't that deep. It's just sex, y/n. We talked about this."

The audacity. The mere audacity of this man, to shrug and cross his arms as if this isn't like the matter of life and death for you.

You took a step closer, your feelings replaced by bubbling anger, anger and pity, anger on how stupid you've been, anger on him, pity for yourself, pity for the pathetic situation you've got yourself in. While you were boiling up from within, tears had started to line the corner of you eyes with the way this conversation was turning out.

You tried to sound anything but broken, but your voice betrayed you. "You've got to be kidding me, Chanyeol! It isn't 'just sex' and you know it too!"

The tall man had the audacity to huff a humorless laugh at your words, and it further made your composure crumble. He ran a hand through his hair frustratingly, throat bobbing as he took deep breaths.

"C'mon y/n, don't be absurd. Or perhaps.. did you think that we are a thing? It was just sex, dammit! We talked about this. About not catching feelings. Don't be a child, y/n."

Ouch

That. That was perhaps the last straw for you, for you and the tears you've been holding back. They cascaded down your cheeks in a hot, salty trail and you let them. You were done trying to act like you were okay when you actually weren't.

Chanyeol stilled, taking all but one step towards you before you held up a hand, taking two steps back, away from him.

"y/n... please... I'm sorry. It.. came out wrong.. listen to me.. let's talk-"

"No."

You were done. After being trapped in an endless cycle of having nothing but one sided feelings, making a fool of yourself in front of this man who is brushing it off as if your heart isn't at your fucking throat, you were done. You still have some self respect left in you and you'll not do the mistake of letting him affect you this greatly again.

Pining Chanyeol with a stern look, you turned to your heel, running up the little distance to your bedroom, closing the door behind you and locking it. All of Chanyeol's half hearted pleas were put to a deaf ear.

You leaned against the door, your legs giving out beneath you as you sank to your knees. Back against the door, you pulled your knees to your chest, head bowing as you cried and cried and cried, the voice of Chanyeol's pleas fading and then vanishing entirely followed by a soft thud of footsteps as he left.

.

.... Three Hours Later ....

After an hour of crying, two hours of pitying yourself and stewing in your grief, you finally raise your head with a determined gleam in your eyes.

You were done.

So very done.

.

Sometime around 10 the next morning

"y/n?"

Chanyeol's deep voice reverberated throughout the apartment, getting no answers. He called out again, desperate and breathlessly this time. He had already knocked thrice on your door, three harsh raps on the wood that would wake even the dead.

Now that he was awake after a very disturbing sleep last night, he wanted to make amends. He wanted to talk to you. Just the mere thought of losing you; because of something he said in the heat of the moment without prior knowledge of how he actually felt; just that thought alone made him lose his fucking mind.

He took a deep breathe, readying himself, for what, he didn't know. He took out the extra pair of keys from his pocket, pulling out the one to your door, putting it in and turning it before he could second guess himself.

He gasped.

No

It couldn't be

He had braced himself for a lot of ways in which this situation could have unfolded in front of him and yet the particular way in which the things played out caught him completely by surprise.

The room, which belonged to you, was empty, save for the the bed, the table and the closet and the various drawers and other conventional things that were always there. All your posters were gone, all your favorite books were gone, every single thing that screamed your name to Chanyeol was gone.

He took unsteady steps towards the bed, grabbing the pillow that lay there. It smelled faintly of you, strawberry and vanilla. His breathe came in raspy pants as he wrapped his mind around what had happened.

You had left.

Left him.

Chanyeol sank to his knees and wept, tears free flowing from his beautiful eyes in angry torrents.

.

A very much requested Part 2 of this

Masterlist

Wanna Request a Fic?

[thebetawolfgirl]

could you PLEASE do something like timmy and y/n are in a relationship and they absolutely love eachother but he has to do that PR shit with Kylie and y/n is heartbroken when she sees the pics of them at the met gala and whiles she’s in LA and they in NY, she packs her things from their shared apartment and leaves Timmy without a word. Fact is they broke up, u choose the ending!💓💓

A/N: Holy Cabbage my first request! Be cool Beta! So i changed one thing, but I hope it’s to your standard and you enjoy it.

Warnings: A bit of angst!

A PR Nightmare

Timothée Chalamet was a man madly in love, not with LRD or any of the other PR women he’d been pictured with, although his photo gallery was full of his girl. Y/n Y/l/n, dear God even her name sounded like a prayer. She was beautiful, the most beautiful human being he has ever met. And not just physically but inside too, she had a heart of gold and a soul as pure as freshly fallen snow. She would offer her help without even a second thought, like it was as normal as breathing to help others.

Yes she was the one for him, he thought as he lay beside her in bed early morning watching her eyes flutter open and smiled at her. ‘Good morning my love’ he leaned forward brushing her long hair away from her face and placed small kisses on her shoulder as she hummed and slid over to lay her head on his chest ‘Do you really have to go into work today? We could just stay in bed all day’

He sighed running his fingers up and down her back. ‘I want nothing more than that, but mark says he needs to see me and it’s urgent. So it’s unavoidable I’m afraid.’

She sighed nodding and kissed up his chest and neck slowly reaching his lips and held his face and pecked his lips.

‘Make it a quick meeting and I’ll be here waiting for you my love.’

He hummed returning the kisses and groaned when she moved away.

He got up with her and got dressed quickly wanting to get back quickly so he could spend the entire day with her as she walked into the shower room.

When Timmy returned she knew there was something off about him. She only had to take one look at him to know he had been crying and ran over to him and took his face in her hands ‘Timmy? Timothée look at me baby, what’s happened talk to me.’ He pushed her gently against the nearest wall burying his face against her neck mumbling ‘They’ve put me into a relationship with Kylie Jenner.’

She closed her eyes and held him tight. ‘It’s okay, we’ll figure something out, okay?’ She held him close as he nodded against her neck her T-shirt damp from his tears.

Three months later y/n was at home alone in LA while Timmy was asked to do some work in New York. She was scrolling through Twitter not really looking at anything when she got a notification from Instagram. There dressed in all white was Timmy on the Met Gala carpet smiling lazily, with Kylie Jenner at his side smirking away.

Y/n felt her heart stop, he never said anything about attending the Met Gala this year, y/n stumbled to the bathroom hearing her heartbeat in her ears and threw up.

When she was finished she walked upstairs and began packing her things in the bedroom she had been sharing with Timmy. She grabbed her phone and printed out the photo using her Instax mini printer and stuck it on a note she would leave for Timmy ‘Hope you had fun.’

She walked downstairs and left the note on the table in the hall and locked the door behind her.

She knew he didn’t have a say in the contract, but he lied to her about his business in New York, and she never thought he would do that to her.

She drove off into the night, her phone switched to silent in her bag.

@tchalamss

@sufferingstarlight

@kteezy997

@lixzey

@gatoenlaciudad

@wandasforyou

[plnkdemon]

imagine the shit diavolo would try to pull after you start sharing human world movies with him….

i’m not even a diavolo simp but it’d be so sweet to see him go absolutely all out, putting the king’s fortune to good use to make you feel like you’re in a fairytale or a cheesy romcom that you grew up with.

you can’t even finish dirty dancing before he’s standing and pulling you to your feet, demanding that you leap so he can catch you in the air.

you watch cinderella and he’s sending barbatos to scour the three realms for a pair of glass slippers that perfectly fit your feet. he doesn’t care if you wear them — glass slippers can’t be very comfortable after all — but he just wants you to have them. to know that he’s more than willing and able to bring your dreams to life.

you watch beauty and the beast and he surprises you with the castle’s main library, gently guiding you inside because you’re so gobsmacked at the sheer quantity of books in this one room. (he waits to tell you that this is only one of many, fearful that you might faint at the thought.)

you watch aladdin and he mumbles a spell under his breath, causing the rug that you both were sprawled across to levitate. it makes the pillows that surrounded you both to tumble to the floor but it’s more than worth it to see the wonder in your eyes as you hold tightly onto his arm.

you watch titanic and he has the sense to not call his navy to reserve a ship for him to take you on, but that doesn’t stop him from taking you to the balconies on the top floors of his castle to look out on the realm that he presides over. it takes everything in him to not ask you to rule beside him when you throw your arms wide and throw your head back with a smile that rivals the beauty of all the gems in his treasury.

you watch roman holiday and barbatos will find him daydreaming when he’s supposed to be working. he can’t help but lose himself in an alternate reality where the two of you have switched places: you, a royal, and him, not a prince but just a normal man and still in love with you. (he doesn’t say it but he thinks there must not be a single world where he isn’t madly in love with you. his love feels so pure and true that it transcends the laws of reality.)

you watch breakfast at tiffany’s and he begs barbatos and lucifer to have a tiffany store opened in the devildom so he can buy you pastries and bring you to it, only to end up buying the store’s entire inventory for you.

you watch the notebook and have to stay the night to comfort him because the thought of your mortality frightens him so deeply. eventually he’s convinced that it’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all because he would give anything feel you hands holding his face so gently, kissing away his tears and not being scared off by the intensity of his emotions. he’s been isolated his entire life and finally feeling something other than boredom — let alone something so all-encompassing and soul-crushing as love — is so overwhelming, but you don’t shame him for it.

you watch the princess bride and he knows he would do anything and everything to get you back if somehow you were stolen away from him. it doesn’t matter how many movies the two of you watch, he feels the overwhelming urge to reenact them all because he’s scared that at the end of your life, he’ll be left with too much love for you that it’ll drown him. diavolo couldn’t keep living if he knew that when you moved on, he had failed to show you the depths and unconditionality of his love, so he has to show you in every possible way, even if they aren’t his original ideas. but he doesn’t think you mind when you laugh and cradle his face in your hands so gently as though he were porcelain. your love is so beautiful to him — a mere demon — he might over-compensate sometimes in his grand gestures but you always take the chance to assure him that the message is received, and reciprocated.

bonus: he cries the first times you use little human phrases like “i love you to the moon and back,” “i’m head over heels for you,” and “i get butterflies in my stomach whenever we’re together.” he doesn’t get them (at all) but it’s so inexplicably wonderful nonetheless.

[neyafromfrance95]

So spapel has absolutely consumed my brain. I can't stop pleading to the snw gods to apply a canon fix-it because the idea of them permanently breaking up and Christine being tragically in love with her emotionally unavailable ex forever is too heartbreaking. Like, I'm already tense waiting to see how it all goes to hell this season (Christine's commitment issues combo with Spock not being able to reconcile acting on love vs. logic is my current guess) but whatever happens, the state of them in TOS with the new context of SNW is purely awful, and I don't want it for either of them!

anon, i understand you completely! i think we all do!

but the thing is, we do not know the future of spapel's relationship post-tos!movies, so there can be hope for them. after all, christine is still madly in love with him in tos and an added context from snw could hint that spock loves her too, he simply surprises his feeling for whatever reason.

besides, i have always thought that we had to fill in a lot of blanks in tos when it came to the characters' personal lives since unlike snw, tos was more plot-based than character-based, imo.

that being said, snw and tos are two different productions. just like there is no way pike is going from looking like anson mount to looking like jeffrey hunter in 5 years, snw!spapel's relationship won't ever grow into exactly what their dynamic was in tos.

snw presents their dynamic as that of the soulmates, not simply the first loves bc i believe spock loves t'pring and surely christine has had loved others in her life too. but to our knowledge, christine is the only one for whom spock decided to feel his vulcan emotions and spock is the only one with whom christine wanted to have a strings-attached relationship.

their relationship has been developed exceptionally well so far. i believe that it will have equally satisfying, but hopefully open-ended conclusion in snw. my only fear for now is that they will rush the breaking up storyline, rather than pushing it for much later.

what is interesting to me, is how often the intensity and the danger of vulcan emotions, the very emotions that spock let loose for christine, are emphasized. so i bet that's done for a reason. spock has already let his feelings for christine get in the way of his duties as the first officer - punching a vulcan man, almost starting a war, endangering his own life during the mission...

and listen, i love all of this as a shipper, but if i lived in the federation, i would be seriously pissed by the fact that my life may depend on a high-ranking starfleet officer who is so compromised.

it would be just so bittersweet, if the reason why spapel broke up is that a love like theirs wasn't compatible with being the starfleet officers, and it would be so much more impactful if christine was the one to act logically by breaking away, and maybe that's why spock is the way he is in tos, bc he hasn't quite forgiven chapel for leaving him.

i just hope i'm not massively setting myself up by having such grand, high-romance expectations.

but well, nothing in canon gets in the way of us imagining that 70 years old spock and christine got reunited and restarted their relationship anyways, haha!

[julie-su]

VOTE HERE!

Zara-Ra, who is entered into the @sonic-oc-showdown ! I saw the rest of the bumblefolks filling out this OC Q&A that dear @bunnymajo had brought to our attention - and I had to have a go ~

"Zara-Ra has Guardian blood flowing in their veins. Due to her granddfather Knuckles being subjected to a great dose of Chaos Energy in his egg many years prior, Zara-Ra has heightened chaos powers, worked through their lineage. With training from their mother, Lara-Su, they were able to get a small ammount of it under her control. Their name, which they chose for themself, is inspired by her ancestor, Sonji-Ra, who had transitioned in the same sense that Zara-Ra had."

Zara-Ra's Page on Toyhou.se

Q&A under the cut -

✨- How did you come up with the OC’s name? … Don’t laugh — I was lounging on the setee at my parents’ place, rolling names around in my head. My eldest sister was catching up on our favourite Soap Opera, BBC Doctors (.. No, not Doctor Who.) and lo and behold.. The character Zara Carmichael is the focus of this episode, I believe it’s about a resort, but I don’t much remember. Zara.. Zara-Ra. It just sort of, stuck. … I cannot stand Zara Carmichael.

🌼 - How old are they? (Or approximate age range) Zara-Ra is the same age as me - 23! And soon, he might be 24.

🌺- Do they have any love interest(s)? My partner’s character, Tara-Ka, was made at the same time for us to roleplay together - of course they are madly, deeply in love! -Cheesy- They live together in a small apartment in Echidnaopolis. They are deeply, madly in love!

🍕 - What is their favorite food? … Mobini Ants. Though, he’ll substitute for raisins. And grapes! Archimedes is alarmed; he’s told it’s only mobini ants, but he remembers the first time he met Zara’s grandfather.

💼 - What do they do for a living? Nothing; money doesn’t exist! Hey— HEY! WHAT’S ESPIO DOING WITH THOSE QUARTERS?! AIIIEEE!! … Zara-Ra is the current backup Guardian, though, it’s .. Unclear if he’s doing a good job. -thinks about Dark Mobius, sweats- I’m sure it’ll be FIIIIINE. Other than that, she keeps The Chaotix alive with Tara-Ka; Tara-Ka’s life-long obsession has always been the tales of the Chaotix. It was pure coincidence that their life partner would happen to be within such close proximity!

🎹 - Do they have any hobbies? Ant farmer… NO. I’M KIDDING! Zara-Ra has an extensive secret model city under the floorboards of her and Ed’s childhood bedroom, named ‘OuiOui Land’ - full of thousands of delicate models. He may not live there anymore, but he’s always in the area… They wonder what he’s doing all of the time. It’s OuiOui Land.

🎯 -What do they do best? He’s … Kind of a Rich Failson, without the ‘Rich’ part. A nepotism baby. Not for lack of trying - he was supposed to become the one to become a guardian, only to get cold feet. Ed tried to lead by example to encourage him, only to be lifted up as a ‘better choice’. The thing Zara-Ra does best, is… Be himself. He’s not disappointed in the missed oppertunities, and he’s happy that he is exactly where he needs to be.

He CAN do it all as Enerjak, where he's unimpeded by his thoughts and feelings - but he also… Well, loses everything that makes him… Him! He becomes this soulless machine line of output; all it really does is burn through his power and energy. And suddenly, everybody close to him realises that 'sometimes' being able to reach his full potential, is better than her reaching full potential all of the time - in the short bursts, he covers more ground than most others could do in the same time he spent sat around doing nothing. It's kind of frustrating for him sometimes when it comes in bursts like that, because it can be really close to the line… But after coming down from power like that, he realises that he just works differently to others.. And that's okay!

🥊 -What do they love to do? What do they hate to do? Zara-Ra’s absolute favourite thing in this world is any important outing that is done either alongside his brother, Ed, or alongside his partner, Tara-Ka. Ed will often take him out on excursions to do with protecting the island, whilst Tara-Ka will bring him along for any odd job that they can find under The Chaotix. As long as he’s got a purpose and a clear instruction, he’s having the time of his life.He hates any job that he has to do on his lonesome. He is not a leader-type, and cannot take charge. He over-stresses over every minute detail, ending up in an internal stalemate for even the simplest of tasks.

❤️ - What is one of your OC’s best memories? Meeting Tara-Ka. They met on the outskirts of New Albion; Zara-Ra was out scouring for leads; they had heard it from the grapevine that the Dark Presence was still in operation on the outskirts of the city, deep into the desert. Here, he ran into one lonesome Tara-Ka - an echidna with such cybernetic enhancements that had not been seen for decades. Sure, cosmetic and medical cybernetics had been adopted by the masses - but these were cybernetics built for violence.… Tara-Ka was a runaway from a branch of the Dark Presence deep in the desert, and -all- they wanted to know was… “Can you take me to The Chaotix? They’re all I’ve ever dreamed of meeting”.How could you not oblige?! They’re the buggers who had sent him out here in the first place!

✂️ - What is one of your OC’s worst memories? Becoming posessed by Enerjak… It was incredibly traumatic; though, he did not get violent; he had his mothers’ knack for resisting the dark whispers. He did, however, forfeit all emotions; the unlocking of ultimate power had driven it all out. What hurts the most, is that many people felt that this beast of apathy and pure drone work ethic is much prefferable to his usual state.

🧊 - Is their current design the first one? Nohoho. Zara-Ra’s first design is waaay different! For starters, he wasn’t even originally a guardian! Yes, he wasn’t created as Lara-Su and Argyle’s child.. That came later! I was on a long coach trip with a lot of paper, and no plug for my laptop.. Go figure.

🍀 - What originally inspired the OC? Archie Sonic.. I wanted an Archie echidna! I played around for a while, making an avatar in this game, hot pink… And I sort of, fell in love. His first iteration was of a zonehopper, to fit in with the game; but as he outgrew it, I worked him more and more into the Archie Sonic comics lore.

🌂 - What genre do they belong in? Probably.. Dark Comedy. Yup. That happens to be the tone of just about every single piece of prose that contains Zara-Ra!

💚 - What is your OC’s gender identity and sexuality? There are not enough words in any spoken or written language, alive or dead, to even begin to explain Zara-Ra’s connection to gender and sexuality. For whom it concerns… Zara-Ra was born ‘Jamie-Su’. He’s on testosterone, and has had top surgery; he has little tufts of sticky-uppy fur on either side of his chest. The planning to keep his guardian crest intact was a -nightmare-. This has -nothing- to do with gender identity, really; it’s moreso a medical history. But it felt as if it were fitting to put ^^

🙌 - How many sibling does your OC have? Just the one - Edmund II! Yes, -that- Edmund II. .. Why are you looking at me like that?! You know Ed! You don’t?! He’s that old codger from the Archie Sonic arc, Silver Saga - issues #25 to #28; son of Lara-Su and Argyle (well - if you read between the lines!)

🍎 - What is the OC’s relationship w/their parents like? Zara-Ra has an incredible relationship with her parents. The only point of contemption is Zara’s ant addiction. “It’s normal, we’re echidnas!” — “THAT IS NOT NORMAL!”

🧠 - What do you like most about the OC? Swag :3… I love the way he dresses, the way I style his hair -he’s based on me, down to the same glasses, to the little stupid puffer body jackets I wear. Bangles… I love making him wear outfits I do. Big baggy tripp/parachute pants… My self-insert, Puggle, also scratches this itch. I did, at one point, have my hair hot pink with black raccoon-tail stripes down the side, just like Zara :P

✏️ - How often do you draw/write about the OC? It’s got to be daily, at this point. If I’m not drawing, I’m roleplaying, or crafting the narrative! If you told me that I have one drawing for every day of the year, I would laugh, and wonder why it wasn’t two for every day XD

💎 - Do you ever see yourself killing off the OC? …. I hope not! O_O it would get awful boring around here!In all seriousness.. There is the fact that dear old Ed seems to be quite on his own, as the sole echidna.. Eeeee. Not lookin’ good for ole’ Zra.

💀 - Does your OC have any phobias? He’s terrified of forgetting things; he wakes up in a sweat in the middle of the night, after an in-depth dream where he had forgotten that his own brother had passed away, asking where he is. He sits up, now awake, and calls his brother; sighing in relief. It was all a dream… He wonders if he ever would forget something like that. It gnaws at his mind.

🍩 -Who is your OC’s arch-nemesis or rival? Antoine. He knows what he did. Old Bastard.

🎓 - How long have you had the OC? … I’ve lost track!

[nikethestatue]

Some people are so sure elriel won’t happen it suprise me because even tho I have always being elriel I always thought elucien as a posibility because we could always be wrong or misunderstood the text even tho to me it seems obvious. The other side of the fandom is so sure elriel wont be a thing and it just blows my mind that they think so much evidence is to mislead us. I would have accepted it if it was just 2 or 3 hints but we honestly have so many😅 that for them to said there is 0 possibilities it show me they just decide to ignore it. You can said I don’t think elriel will happen but to said there is 0 built up it just a lie. Even if they don’t end up together because sjm want to make another mating love book with elucien the fact that thy had evidence will always be there. The fact they actually feel something for echother is still there in the books. For elucien to happen elain would have to sort her feelings for azriel because what do they think is going to happen? She will fall in love with lucien when she was about to kiss someone else? When she was feeling arouse by another male?

Why was her mating bond introduced do different? Without clue or hints? It was just thrown at us. If elucien happens I will be SO SO confused. Is not that I hate the idea of them together it just there is not hints or least not alot if compare to elriel. So many questions why is the 3 /3/3 always in acotar what is the reason for 3 brother 3 sister I don’t think is only for pure cliche.

CAN Elucien happen? Sure. As an author, can she write Elucien and sort of make it make sense--yes. I am not someone who'd day 'oh no, absolutely not!' Can SJM write a story of them falling in love? Sure. Could she do some kind of 'reluctant mates to lovers to true mates' scenario? Yes.

The problem is that it will absolutely negate everything that she wrote in 5 books. It will negate the need for Vassa, and Lucien being with her and being the one to find her. It would negate all of Feyre's observations, all the quips about 'Elain will wed for love and beauty' and 'love would trump the bond' and simply all this foreshadowing that SJM chose to include in the books. 'What if the Cauldron was wrong' was mentioned twice, and then what, the Cauldron is right? All of it would've been a waste of time.

I also feel like for Elucien to happen, you'd need a couple of books, for it not to be an instalove situation. Because then it would read even more fake. We know all of SJM's stories take place within the span of a few years at the most. Usually, months. All of Nesta's story, lasted from September to March. She was moved to HOW in Sept and the BR and the birth of Nyx took place in March. 6 months.

I suspect the same would be for Elain's story. So Elain and Lucien, both, have to go from complete disinterest which borders dislike, to falling madly in love in 6-9 months? I have a hard time with that option.

I am never one to say 'this cannot happen' but the likelihood of Elucien happening is slim. Very very slim.

Also, Azriel and Elain are main characters. You aren't going to 'start' and end their relationship in an obscure bonus chapter. The bonus confirmed their attraction and desire for each other, Azriel's deep, DEEP torment about the situation with her, his questioning everything, him avoiding her, him looking at the headache powder for a year. Do we really honestly think that it would be all--okay, done. Especially because he was forced by Rhys to make a decision he didn't want to make, hurt Elain in the process and know that she was sad, rejected and heartbroken. Because he basically did the same thing as Graysen did to her.

No, I very much think that Elriel is very much happening, just like Vassien is happening too.

[witchcraftandgeekness]

Kolvina doesn't work for me because I don't see Kol as a type of guy "falling in love with a sweet innocent good girl who sees good in him or changes him for better". He doesn't care about what people see or think of him (although what his siblings' opinion about him did affect him in some ways). He wouldn't change his behaviors or who he is to be convenient for other people, to get on someone's good side. Because if he could just do that because of the power of love, he would have been fit in a lot better with his family, which was what he had been desperate to be for 1000 years.

While I don't believe that Kol is an unredeemable selfish heartless monster that people make him out to be, and he's not a born sociopath who can't feel a drop of emphathy; he embraces darkness, he's self aware and he never showed no shame for who he truly is or what he has done. Kol is very different from his brothers; and no, he's not better than them, but he has a very different view about the world and how things go. That's why he had hard times going along with his family even though he loves them more than anything in the world, he barely could tolerate their BS or their idea about family. So I cannot wrap the idea of him falling to the same "she's too good for me" love cliche like his brothers.

Genuinely thank you for writing this mini essay, buddy! I also don't think this ship was reasonable, and yes, Kol needed love, but I think if his family would show a little bit of sympathy, that would be enough for him? Never thought that Kol is better or worse than his siblings, but you are very right here, his thinking and inner philosophy is different than theirs. You highlighted right part of it, Kol is not the one who will become goodie for a girl.

I think maximum we could get is him being a bit less reckless about killing, but if the girl he supposedly loves is changing his core personality? No way in hell this "redemption" would have worked for the Kol we knew before D*vina phase. The person that limits his freedom and wants him to be absolutely different person... Well, I don't think Kol would tolerate that even if he would be madly in love with a girl.

Kol never will be the saint, he does not care much for people, only for a limited number of them, and yes, he can show sympathy sometimes, he is not complete evil, ofc, but at least has grey sense of morality. If they wanted to make him better, they might have involved his family. I think Kol would have slightly restricted himself for Bekah, for example, or for Hope, because he has soft spot for his little sister and for his niece (and we might have seen so much of uncle-niece interactions if only the writers would let us).

There are few types of romance that might have worked for Kol as a character, but none of them would involve the girl being so good and pure that he would transform himself into what we have witnessed in the ending of TO. If anything, he might have make the girl worse.

[batsarebetterthanpeople]

The more I think about it the more I think that the Kraken happened because of the insurmountable level of self hatred that episodes 8 9 and 10 saddled Ed with. Disclaimer: I believe that there is also a level of self preservation going on here with Izzy threatening his life and with the Kraken historically being an abuse response for Ed. But things, especially things like this can be about more than one thing and I want to talk about how Calico Jack, Stede, and Izzy just absolutely trampled Ed’s self esteem, which probably lead to the ending being the way it was, perhaps more than anything else.

Now Calico Jack is probably the least at fault here, and his and Stede’s hand in this was purely accidental. Only Izzy did it on purpose. But I just want to lay out events from Ed’s perspective, starting with Calico Jack and Stede meeting each other. Ed’s got this buddy that he hasn’t seen in a long time and they’re having fun, too much fun, maybe, for Ed to properly notice that his new friend, who he’s madly in love with, isn’t having fun. And then suddenly the rug was pulled out from under him. Stede said “I don’t like who you are around this guy” But the problem with that statement is that Ed isn’t being any different than he usually is. Like the first time I watched it I thought he was being a lot different but the more I look the more I think, no, he’s just having a lot of fun. Is he mirroring Jack? I tend to read it that way, but it’s probably because he likes him. He’s not changing his whole personality he’s just acting like Ed but with a Calico Jack energy level. He’s acted like this before in episode 5 at the French party. That’s just what he’s like when he’s having fun. To Ed, if Stede doesn’t like who he is around Jack, that means that he doesn’t like who Ed is period. “But this is who I am.” He tries to walk it off of course, but after Karl’s death, he’s obviously still thinking about that line from Stede. When Stede and Jack are both looking to him to make a choice between them, Ed concludes that going with Jack is better, not because he wants to but because “You(Stede) were always gonna realize what I am.”

Then he spends the night in a puddle of his own piss on the shore with Jack feeling sorry for himself. If I know anything about Ed it’s that unless Jack pulled out all the stops in trying to get him not to think about it, he marinated in that shit. The next morning he has seaweed and rum for breakfast and gets in a dinghy to leave Stede forever because he thinks Stede doesn’t want him. Then the reveil with the English happens, and Jack is kinda mean to Ed here for the first time. Like he’s been being mean to Stede all episode but he finally throws shade at Ed. He’s clearly someone Ed cares about, and he’s echoing the shell of a man sentiment that Izzy hit Ed with in episode four. He just talks about how the old Blackbeard would have been smarter, would have seen him coming, would have known what going to Blind Man’s Cove meant.

So Ed leaves. He goes back to Stede, and he literally throws everything away for him. He gives up his freedom by going back to the ship, he risks his life when he jumps in front of the firing squad, he gives up 10 years of his life when he signs the act of grace, he gives up Blackbeard when he shaves. And then Stede sees and his response is to scream in shock. I know it was a surprise response from Stede, and I know Ed acted like it didn’t bother him, but it had to have, right? Like the man you love screams when he looks at your face? that has to do something to a guys already fragile self perception. Then he runs away from the conversation. Ed goes after him, he confesses his love, he kisses him. Stede seems receptive but there’s definitely trepidation there. Then Ed sets everything up for Stede. Stede doesn’t have to do anything for this plan to work. But he still doesn’t show. (yes I know Stede was kidnapped but we’re discussing Ed’s perspective on this whole thing so keep your Stede apologia out of the post. Ed can’t hear you). That one was clearly the biggest blow. To Ed this is Stede proving that Ed should have seen the signs when Stede screamed, when he said he didn’t like who Ed was. Stede didn’t want him and who is going to say that to Blackbeard’s face.

So he goes back to the ship and wallows for a bit, then fucks around and writes a song. Enter Izzy hands. Stede and Jack set them up so that Izzy could knock them down. Ed’s self esteem is already on the fucking brink. It’s been a week max since the most devastating breakup of his life. “I don’t like who you are” is still echoing in his brain. And then Izzy. Fuckin Izzy man. What Stede implied Izzy said out loud. “I should have let the English kill you. This, whatever it is that you’ve become, is a fate worse than death.” Like remember how low you, dear reader, felt after the worst breakup of your life. Now imagine that that breakup had contained the like “I don’t like who you are” and only a few days after that breakup your best friend(strong words for Ed and Izzy I know but they are the closest thing that either of them has to a friends so besties by default unfortunately) says to you “You’re better off dead than being the person that you are.” And follows it up with “Watch your fucking step”

And then the next time we see Ed, he’s becoming exactly the person that Izzy wants him to be. I just think that maybe he thinks he’s worthless. No one likes him, and he knows how to get Izzy to like him so he does that. The crew of the Revenge could abandon him at any moment so he abandons them first. He understands what makes Izzy tick, so might as well have someone in his corner even if it is that little rat bastard. No one likes the real Edward Teach, but someone likes Blackbeard, so become Blackbeard. have one whole friend.

I just feel like over the course of OFMD Ed goes from “I’m not a good person” to “every breath I take is a waste of oxygen” because the people around him constantly reject him, be it on purpose or on accident. Yes I know the crew gives him positive feedback, but I think he’s convinced after the Izzy thing that the other shoe is going to drop there. That it’s only a mater of time before they find out that he’s awful and they hate him too.

[frankcastleonlyfans]

hello again!! omg I'm so glad you liked the idea thank you for answering! it's really sweet of you and you seem so comforting for me! actually, i'm in my angst era too, so... you know... i've got too many angsty fics thoughts.

if you don't mind, i want to talk more about dad!daemon x mom!reader or just husband and wife. maybe it's an unpopular opinion, but i love reading about their interactions. ('5 moment between us' got the best of me) i like reading or just witnessing relationship's crisis, as you said. and marrying (esp if being forced to do it and trying to live in this reality) is quite a change while having children!! is a huge crisis. it's just so interesting to see how these things affect a couple. like that postpartum depression and how they try to handle it together. just imagine daemon saying 'i love you' to his wife for the first time after her first childbirth and peppering her face (or even the whole body) with kisses thanking her for giving him an heir and just worshipping her. how they comfort each other after a fight with the children ('family feud'.. i felt SO sorry). missing and finally having each other (not in a sexual way but like... as a person. just pure adoration and being madly in love). BEING ABLE TO TAME THE ROUGE PRINCE! omg every time you use this line my heart ACHES! it's just another level of wife x husband relationship, so married(ly) domestic, so spiritual for me! i've just realized i need some hcs on this line. like daemon being absolutely whipped not by his children (it's sweet but) but his wife! totally can imagine him being able to sleep after a nightmare only in her arms ('mommy is dead' is a '!!!' i cried so much). liking her braiding his hair and kissing his hairline. being furious and ready to literally kill and turning into a putty when she touches his shoulder. loving waking up beside her and staring lovingly bc omg she's so perfect and she's mine??? hugging her protectively while she's crying. suggesting to buy her just anything and everything while she just asks for a day off with their family. omg i'm gonna cry again... sorry, it's a little too much.

if you ever feel like it, it'd be great but i just wanted to share my thoughts. i guess i've just got too whipped by this image... so yeah. if you don't mind, i'd really like to talk to you more! but you can always tell me to fuck off if ever feel uncomfortable!

oh no, please feel free to share your thoughts with me anytime you want to! 🫶🏽

this love scenarios between y/n and daemon are keeping my heart warm 😩💖 i like to think daemon helps her to deal with the weight of being a mother of four, even thought he couldn't handle it himself. he looks at her with admiration like with this constant look in his face

he worships her body like a temple, the temple that brought children, his blood, into the world. he goes into battle with confident feeling that the only thing that could kill him is his love for her. he loves her, no other woman could have his beating heart in the palm of her hand like y/n does. he would kill for her, and he would die for her

i need to write this comfort scenarios sooooo bad, i live for them and their children 🥺