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dreamcubed · 9 months

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i think he knows | theodore nott x reader

song; i think he knows [taylor swift] pairing; theodore nott x ravenclaw!fem!reader genre; not actually unrequited love, s2l, fluff word count; 3,1k timeline; half-blood prince warnings; swearing, theo's lack of communication summary; you had fancied the mysteriously quiet slytherin boy for as long as you could remember (since first year), and, quite frankly, your best friend was sick of you going on about it without ever making a move

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"wanna see what's under that attitude."

—————————————

Truth was, you knew you weren't special for having your attention caught by Theodore Nott. Despite his almost entirely anti-social personality and apparent grumpiness, many girls longed after him. You completely understood, of course; there was something enticing about a potentially misunderstood quiet boy, and the idea of becoming the one person they show affection to was self-indulging.

The fact of the matter, as your best friend, Cho, frequently pointed out, was that you had never even so much as spoken to him. You hoped he at least knew you existed, from the times you had been praised in class for your assignments, but you had no proof that he even recognised your face.

"Babe, it's sixth year now- that's over five years of you fancying Nott," Cho said as she caught your gaze lingering over to the Slytherin table again. It was your second day back after summer, so you had a lot of long-distance admiring to catch up on.

"Okay, so?" you replied, not even bothering to move your eyes away from the object of your desires.

"So, it's time that you do something about it," she continued, shovelling scrambled eggs on to both her plate and yours, "Do you really want to leave Hogwarts without any dating experience?"

You finally prized your eyes away from Nott, opting instead to meet your concerned best friend's gaze, "I don't think it's the sort of time to be thinking about dating."

"It's especially the time to think about it," she said, "Our lives may be shorter than we think they are - don't die with regrets."

You sighed, unable to argue.

"Plus, it really wouldn't hurt to have some positivity around here. You can feel how much heavier the air is than before."

That, you had to agree with. People were still laughing in their friend groups throughout the hall, sure, but there was a lingering sense of dread that had stuck with everyone since the Triwizard Tournament and reign of Umbridge, and it was only getting worse.

"Maybe," you finally concluded, picking up your fork to dig into your breakfast.

"You have nothing to lose," she added, "Your social circles are completely separate, and, you're pretty as fuck."

You couldn't help but smile at her compliment, "Even if that's true, I'm completely inexperienced."

"It's not that hard."

"Yeah, says the girl who had both Hogwarts champions drooling over her. No offence, babe, but you're biased."

"That could just have easily been you if you'd ever spoken to either of them."

"Whatever you say."

Cho sighed, deciding to not argue any further with you on the matter - for now.

***

It was amazing how potions went from your least favourite subject to your favourite after Slughorn took over from Snape. The lessons were no longer a fear-inducing chore, but instead a time of laughter and enjoyable learning: the way it should be.

Harry Potter especially seemed to be flourishing in the subject, much to the dismay of Hermione Granger, who usually took the spot at the top of the class. You were glad to not be a part of their constantly hectic lifestyles, although you had almost been when Cho had a thing with Harry the year prior.

Regardless, your main focus during potions was the gorgeous Slytherin boy who sat across the classroom from you - another of the best students in the class. Your seat was stationed at the perfect angle to sneak glances at him without raising too much suspicion: you definitely hadn't ensured that a few weeks ago during the first lesson or anything.

"Shit, I forgot the anjelica," you muttered to yourself, gazing at the list of ingredients in front of you as you had been wondering why your potion was a navy blue when it was meant to be a royal blue.

You left your station to head over to the ingredients cupboard, where you gazed at the arrangement before you. It was organised alphabetically, so your eyes shifted to the top left hand corner where you spotted the jar that you were after.

You stood on your tiptoes in attempt to reach it, but after failing, you huffed, going to pull out your wand instead. That was when a hard chest pressed against your back and a large pale hand grasped the very jar that you were in dire need of. You turned around quickly only to spot the guy you had fancied for an unhealthy amount of time - and his face was shockingly close to yours. His scent swarmed your nostrils, making your knees weak.

He raised an eyebrow at you.

Coming to your senses, you cleared your throat, "Uh, I need some of that anjelica- please."

His eyes shifted down to the jar in his hand as he stepped back slightly. The added distance meant that you could finally breathe.

Nott presented the jar to you, and you gratefully took it, thanking him in the process. As you went to open it and take what you needed, he left the cupboard and went back to his station, which was in view of where you were. You remained shocked for a few moments: did he not need some of the herb? His eyes locked on to yours from where he now was, making you panic and quickly depart the cupboard with the jar still in your hand.

Rowena, how did Cho expect you to ask him out when you couldn't even make eye contact with him?

***

The following morning, you were sat at breakfast with Cho and your other fellow Ravenclaws, busy discussing the latest ancient runes essay that you had to complete. Just as you began to discuss the difficulties you had with writing the conclusion, you were interrupted by the sound of owls from above. The morning post had arrived.

Typically, you didn't get anything. Maybe the occasional letter from your mother, but that was about it. So, you were mildly surprised to see an envelope drop in front of you.

It was a very small envelope: that was the most confusing part. You couldn't think as to why your mother wouldn't send a normal-sized letter, but you opened it nonetheless. Only, the contents of the envelope made your stomach drop as dread filled your bones and veins.

A tiny note was enclosed, that wasn't addressed or signed, and it simply read "I see you staring at me". Instinctively, your eyes looked up and over to the Slytherin table, where Theodore Nott sat, evidently having been watching you this entire time. His face was completely blank, until he arched an eyebrow at you - clearly a favoured expression of his - which made you begin panicking.

"Oh, fuck," you mumbled, "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

Only Cho, who was sat next to you, heard your profanities, and turned to you with confusion adorning her face. "What is it?"

You passed the note over to her, still gazing at Nott who now had the slightest of amused smirks tugging on his lips.

"Oh, fuck," Cho mimicked you, finally making you prize your eyes away from the boy, "Yeah, I see why you're panicking."

"This is going to socially ruin me," you sighed, "He'll probably tell the other Slytherins and then they'll bully me until the end of my school career."

"Okay, catastrophising much?" she said, gently slapping you, "Nott like never talks, I highly doubt he divulges his friends with personal information."

"Yeah, his personal information!" you whisper-yelled.

"I mean, maybe he likes you back."

"What?"

"He doesn't indicate at all in that note that he's mad at you for staring at him."

"Yeah, but, don't you think he'd go about it in a different way if he returned the feelings?"

Cho paused to think for a moment, "No, actually. Maybe he was pretty sure that you were staring at him, but needed to confirm it. So, he wrote that note to you, intentionally not signing it, to see if you would immediately look to him after reading it."

Your eyes widened with realisation, "Wait, are you saying I could have still saved myself, but instead instantly looked in his direction like a fucking idiot?"

"Y/N," she hit your arm, "I think this is a good thing. Try and be more optimistic."

"Easy for you to say."

***

You felt sick to your stomach as you arrived at your potions lesson that day, keeping your head down as you took your usual seat. Normally, this would be when you'd steal your first glance at Theodore Nott, but the thought of seeing his face again paralysed you with fear.

"Y/N, relax," Cho whispered to you, but her words were futile. Relaxation seemed impossible in times like this.

"Today, class, I want you to pair up with someone you don't usually work with," Professor Slughorn announced, "By that I mean, someone who isn't from your house and doesn't sit on your table."

You mumbled a curse under your breath as people began to move around, looking up to try and locate the nice Hufflepuff girl you sat next to in history of magic. Only, Cho had already disappeared to her side, and they were chatting happily with each other. Rowena, this was bad. You didn't have the biggest social circle.

"Excellent, everyone seems to be in pairs," Slughorn spoke, making you furrow your eyebrows.

Looking to your side, you were shocked to see that Nott had silently sat next you, and was gazing at you intently.

"Hi," you squeaked, flashbacks of breakfast flooding back to you.

He gave you a curt nod, and turned back to face the front.

You didn't listen to a single instruction that Slughorn gave after that, as your brain was much too pre-occupied with concepts of social suicide and humiliation. Was Nott just trying to torture you?

"L/N," a deep voice snapped you out of your thoughts. That was it. The first time you had ever heard Theodore Nott speak.

You turned to him, only to realise that everyone was standing up and getting ingredients - had you really been that spaced out?

It must have been evident in your facial expression that you had no idea what was going on, because Nott opened his potions book and pointed at the potion that you were making. You looked at the ingredient list, but you couldn't say that you were actually taking any of it in.

Clearly, Nott was aware of this fact, and let out a small sigh that made you feel exceptionally guilty. Regardless, he walked over to the ingredients cupboard himself without another word and soon returned with everything you needed. In the meantime, you had snapped out of your stupor and set up the cauldron and cutting board. You didn't want him to completely regret pairing up with you.

What potion were you even making? You finally processed the words on the page: amortentia. Your eyes widened.

This might not end well.

***

You had never thought being a remarkable potion maker - who was collaborating with a fellow remarkable potion maker - would be a bad thing. It turned out that it very much could be when the steam from your concoction wafted up your nose, overwhelming your senses with the smell of intertwined chestnut and paper money. As if the faint scent of Nott that you picked up on whenever he walked past didn't make you nervous enough, now it filled the entire room, since you certainly weren't the only capable potion makers in the class.

"Alright, class, it seems that we have all about finished," Slughorn clapped his hands together, "And, now, for my favourite part."

You had a feeling you knew what was coming.

"Miss Parkinson, what does the potion smell like to you?"

"Uh," the girl flushed a bit, her eyes flicking towards Draco Malfoy, "I don't know how to describe it - clean, expensive. Like a really fancy fragrance."

"Fascinating, most fascinating," Slughorn replied, his eyes gleaming, "Mr Nott, what about you?"

Were you already about to hear him speak for the second time? He hadn't spoke throughout the entire potion making process, which, to be honest, you were kind of glad for.

"Coconut," he said simply, "And vanilla."

Your breath hitched.

You used coconut shampoo.

Your favourite perfume was a vanilla scent.

"That is most interesting!" Slughorn grinned, "It is fascinating to hear what enraptures you all the most!"

You didn't realise that your eyes had glued on to Nott as Slughorn proceeded to ask other students what amortentia smelled of to them until the Slytherin boy turned to face you and raised a singular eyebrow.

You felt warm underneath his gaze.

He smirked.

***

You packed up at the end of the lesson, preparing to return to the Ravenclaw tower until dinner time along with Cho who was still across the room. Just as you were about to walk over to her, Nott grabbed your arm and jerked his head in the direction of the door. It was a silent invitation to walk with him somewhere, from what you could gather. You turned around to tell Cho where you were going, but she had already disappeared, much to your confusion.

The first few minutes of the walk were in silence, and the awkwardness was killing you. It was only once you had emerged from the dungeons that Nott finally said something.

"You aren't subtle."

A lightning bolt of shock and nerves shot up your spine and made you stiffen up as you walked. You managed to force out a mumble of, "I know."

He shrugged, "It's cute."

Had you heard him right? No, you couldn't have. You just weren't used to hearing his voice.

"I thought you were shy," you muttered, but he heard and chuckled a bit.

"No. Just quiet."

You clutched your books close to your chest.

"You're shy," he added.

You nodded.

He chuckled again, and silence ensued for another couple minutes.

"Hogsmeade," he said.

You hummed in surprise.

"This weekend. Me, you."

Your jaw dropped - did he mean a date? A Hogsmeade invitation had certain implications among Hogwarts students.

But he didn't clarify, not once on the way to the Ravenclaw tower.

***

"Relax, Y/N, you'll be great," Cho assured you, wrapping your scarf around your neck since the autumn breeze was nippy in Scotland.

"I don't even know if it's a date."

"Of course it's a date," she shook her head, "Everyone knows what inviting someone to Hogsmeade means."

You grimaced, "I don't know if Nott is the most up to date with social norms."

"Regardless, he's not a fucking idiot."

You gave your best friend a small smile.

"Now, he'll be waiting for you in the courtyard, so hurry!"

***

You had only ever seen Theodore Nott in casual clothing from afar before, catching a glimpse of him before he disappeared amongst the other Slytherins. But, Rowena, you had been missing out on quite an indulgent sight.

How could a man make such a simple outfit of a knitted jumper and baggy jeans look so good? You didn't understand it, unable to feel anything but self-conscious in your own ensemble.

He didn't smile at you as you approached, but instead gave you a curt nod. And, as you both began walking towards the carriage, the silence was truly beginning to suffocate you. So, you reached inside the crevices of your brain to talk about something - anything - and finally landed on informing him of every little thing that had happened to you that week. It wasn't particularly interesting, mainly because you were omitting the details about him, but it meant that the quietness was filled with your babbling.

Which was how it went the entire journey to Hogsmeade.

At first you weren't sure he was listening, but when you paused mid sentence for a moment, he raised his eyebrow at you and gestured for you to go on. So you did.

"...and honestly, I don't know why Cho thought that was a good idea," you sighed as you both stepped out of the carriage, "She nearly set her hair on fire!"

You heard a small chuckle erupt from the boy next to you, making you look over to him in surprise.

"What about you? How's your week been?" you asked cautiously, nervous to see his reaction to a question that required a wordy response.

He shrugged.

It was frustrating.

You chewed your lip for a few seconds, "Look- I get you find communication difficult. But, please, I need more to work with here."

He gave you a surprised expression, and stopped walking, making you halt too. Nott looked around pensively, completely unreadable.

"Nott?"

He looked at you and scowled, "Theo," he corrected.

"Theo- what are you doing?"

Letting out a loud exhale, he grabbed your hand and pulled you away from the main street of Hogsmeade and to a more hidden area behind some of the houses. When you turned around, you realised that he was right in front of you - to the point that you could feel the warmth of his breath on your face.

"I'm not good with words," he mumbled.

You hummed in agreement.

"I don't like talking to people," he continued, "But I want to talk to you."

Your breath hitched, "Really?"

"I'm not an idiot- I've known that you've fancied me for years."

You felt your ears heat up.

"But this year, when we started back, I-" he paused, trying to piece together the words in his mind, "I saw you, and it was different than before. I wanted your attention."

A smile crept on to your face as you gazed up at him.

"So, I know I need to work on being open - but I want to try. For you."

You don't know where the wave of confidence came from, but you found yourself pressing your lips against his and combing your fingers through his hair. He gasped at the sudden contact, but quickly reciprocated the affection until you pulled apart.

"Rowena... I always thought you knew. I can't believe I was right."

"Horrifying?"

"A little," you nodded, "But it's obviously worked out."

————————————————

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written; 03/06/2023 —> 15/08/2023 published;17/08/2023 edited; —/—/——

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willowworkswithwords · 2 years

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I see it in your eyes

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Steve has a relentless habit of setting his perfect, scrubbed Nikes up together by the door of any house he visits. Even his own house, where there’s never been anyone to tell him to do it or to tuck his shoes into line for him.

Eddie is staring down at two muddy Nikes.

One is standing straight up, balancing on the heel against the wall. The other lies beneath its shoeprint on the opposite wall, laces limp against the spotless tile.

“Steve?”

Robin had called. Had said something about Steve needing to get his ass in bed, which Eddie couldn’t agree with more on general principle. She’d been flippant but her worry hadn’t escaped him. When he’d been nearly out the screen door of the trailer, Wane had hollered after him about takin care of his damn friends all the time, how they needed to take care of him for once. They both knew it was more bark than bite. Wayne loved the Party, was starting to like Steve despite how he’d heard Steve’s last name too much in his life connected with hurts and bloody knuckles. But when the Beemer had peeled into their strip of gravel driveway just after Wayne had gotten back from work on a freezing October morning and Steve had spilled out, face bruised and breaths frantic, Wayne’s nephew’s name on split lips, Wayne had started to gently, carefully, reel Steve in.

Nowadays it’s never bite.

Eddie picks his way down the hallway now, looking for something, anything, that’ll tell him Steve’s safe, that he’s just being an asshole on accident, that his behavior had slipped his own mind and he was actually, genuinely sorry for the mud and mess.

Underneath that, he looks for blood, for strewn nails, for a bleeding body.

His feet thunder up the stairs when he comes up empty.

Mr. and Mrs. Harrington’s door remains closed. The bathroom door is open and Eddie slams the light on and then promptly thwacks his hand right back down on the switch because Steve is there, on the floor, not bleeding but with bile on his shirt and a keening sound on his lips.

“…Steve?”

Steve makes anther desperate noise. From the light filtering in from the hallway Eddie watches one hand pull away from where it’s snaked across the toilet seat and weave itself into Steve’s hair and pull.

Eddie finds himself on his knees.

“Hey, hey hey hey, what’s going on, Steve?” And he keeps his voice low and gentle, one hand on Steve’s back while the other rests atop the hand that’s hell-bent on pulling Steve’s hair straight from the roots and tries to get Steve to relax. He’s wound up tight, the noises falling from his mouth sounding more like they’re from tennis shoes squeaking against linoleum than like they’re from a human being.

Eddie waits a long moment for Steve to get out a response. His jaw is clenched so hard Eddie can see where the tendon sits taut in his cheek.

“Migraine.”

Oh.

The clenching in Eddie’s own stomach releases all at once and he realizes he hadn’t breathed in fully for ten minutes. But a migraine. A migraine was something manageable, something non-life-threatening. A normal, mundane, painful part of existence that no doubt came from Steve’s impressive number of Upside Down adjacent head injuries. But not cosmic, not supernatural, not aiming to have him dead by midday.

Eddie lets out a long sigh and presses his hands more firmly where they rub soothing circles. Eddie’s only been present for one of Steve’s migraines, and according to Robin it could have at most been categorized as a 4.6 out of 10. At the time, Eddie had thought she’d been ridiculous because Steve had been bent in half, eyes squeezed closed looking for all the world like someone had socked him in the gut again. But now…

“Ok, ok. You wanna stay or move?”

He keeps his voice low, watching Steve’s face for any nonverbal response. Even when it wasn’t a migraine, sometimes the words left Steve and body language was just easier.

Steve clutched to toilet bowl a little tighter, which Eddie hadn’t realized was possible.

“Ok, Stevie.”

They wait it out. From what Robin always says, Steve’s migraines usually hit hard and fast, sticking around much longer than you’d expect, so Eddie makes himself as comfortable as he can on Steve’s bathroom floor, grateful for the plush bathmat underneath him, ignores the twinges in his sides as he’s scrunched up for a while. He’s sure Steve’s own sides are hurting like a bitch right now, still more healing wounds than scares quite yet.

Steve throws up two more times and Eddie wonders if he should worry about dehydration. He doesn’t know how long Steve was throwing up before he got here, but he’s betting it was long enough that Steve’s gonna get himself into a bad place if it goes on much longer. He thinks about calling Wayne and decides to wait on it, tucking that into the back of his mind. He can take care of Steve for now. As much as Wayne and Steve were beginning to get along, Steve was still jumpy around him, around any man over forty, and Eddie didn’t want to push him.

“Alright, hey let’s um, you think you’re ok for now?”

He tries to keep his hands still and firm against Steve, waits him out.

Steve nods.

The walk from the bathroom to Steve’s room sticks out in Eddie’s mind, but looking back he can’t remember how long it took or if they fell or how many tries it took before he got Steve levered against him. It’s just the sound of Steve’s panted breaths and his own reassurances that have etched themselves into his memory.

He’s been pushing the feelings Steve keeps bringing up in his gut right back down for weeks, because what he and Steve has is good. It’s one of the few good things he’d been able to cling to without pretense because Steve knew, he’d been there right alongside Eddie in the worst hell of his life, the whole way through. The guys from Hellfire, they’ll never stop being Eddie’s friends, not as long as he has a say. But it was different with Steve, good different, safe and easy even though it was hard won, and he didn’t want to screw it up.

So. Bottling it up.

The excruciating journey ends and Eddie gently lays Steve down against his pillows. He waits a sec, waiting for Steve to take the lead here because this is new territory. The room, no. Eddie’s been in Steve’s room before. But Steve is hurting. Eddie has taken care of his uncle, not friends who’ve always had their families. They’ve never needed him quite like this before.

Steve rolls over onto his side, facing his wall, curled up and whimpering. Eddie doesn’t make any noise. He sits on the side of Steve’s bed and reaches for Steve’s socked feet.

“Socks on or off, Stevie?”

Steve pushes his feet together in a couple little kicks. Eddie lets himself laugh, just the slightest.

“I gotcha.”

Steve is listless through it, even when Eddie takes the far edge of the comforter and pulls it around him. Eddie almost thinks Steve has dropped into sleep. He turns to go, thinking of sleeping on the couch downstairs just to be safe, thinking of calling Robin and Wayne, when a shaky hand grabs his wrist.

“Stay?” Steve’s face is smashed against his pillows, eyes still squeezed shut and the crease between them deep and pained.

Eddie pushes the wave of oh I want this to be more down down down and squeezes Steve’s hand back.

“Okay.”

It had been early evening when Eddie had followed Steve into bed. He hadn’t expected to sleep, but when he opens his eyes next the room is dark except for a shaft of light cutting across the floor to shine on the closet. His brain takes it’s time coming back to him, sensations seeping in like they only ever do when he’s slept hard and deep. He’s warm. Something tickles the back of his neck. A weight is slung over his stomach, pressing a line from scar to scar. He lets himself lay in it for a moment. This was…really nice.

The warmth pressed against him shifts and the tickling at the back of his neck turned to a soft snuffle.

Steve.

Steve was the weight pressed around and against, the tickling his nose against Eddie’s neck, Steve’s soft breaths the noise Eddie hadn’t been able to quite place.

Eddie tenses, he knows he does, because him and Steve are friends, sure, and Steve hasn’t seemed to mind Eddie being in his personal space too much on movie nights or when they all hung out but they’re in Steve’s bed.

“M’ning,” Steve breathes against Eddie’s neck.

Eddie keeps still, waits for the moment Steve’s mind comes back to him, waits for the migraine fog to slip away and for Steve to realize he’s cuddling Eddie in his own bed.

A cautious moment passes where Steve doesn’t move or speak or show any sign of lashing out, of pushing Eddie out of the bed and onto the cold floor.

“…Good morning.”

Eddie whispers it, a deep gut feeling coming up inside him. He pulls a lock of his hair across his mouth, waiting waiting waiting.

“Thank you for staying.”

Eddie sucks in a breath.

“Yeah man, wasn’t gonna leave you in a puddle on your bathroom floor.”

Steve chuckles then winces.

“Shit man, still got a headache?”

Steve sighs, tapping his forehead against Eddie’s shoulder a few times.

“Yeah. It’s not as bad now, but this one’s not letting up.”

“Is there anything I can get? Like, you got meds or something?”

“No, I took the last of the painkillers I have before I threw them up.”

Eddie doesn’t hesitate, thinks of Wayne’s hidden worry.

“I’ve got stuff at my place, if you’re feeling up for a drive?”

“Stuff?” Steve’s voice is teasing.

“Just regular old painkillers, Stevie. You’re not getting anything else from me until you can look around without squinting.”

Steve smiles and Eddie feels his lips curl against his neck. He’s not sure he quite hides the shiver that passes through him.

Getting Steve downstairs and to Eddie’s van is, blessedly, not as hard as Eddie anticipates. Steve groans when he sees the scuff marks his shoe made on the wall but shoves his feet into his Nikes without trying to clean it up, which makes Eddie walk a little closer to him. Steve, Eddie has found out, is a neat freak by both nature and nurture, which means he’s an absolute menace most of the time and will fight tooth and nail to make sure things, especially his house, are tidy. Eddie knows a little about Janet and Richard Harrington, and he’s been speculating a lot more, with each habit of Steve’s he learns was grown from fear.

But now the backs of Steve’s shoes are folded inwards where Steve shoved his still sockless feet into them, and Eddie places one hand in the middle of his back when he climbs into the passenger seat. Just the short trip has put that crease back between Steve’s eyebrows.

“We’ll get you those sweet, sweet painkillers in no time, Steve,” Eddie says as he settles into his seat and turns the keys. His hand shoots out right in time to crank the volume knob down, Dio beginning, softly now, in the background. The corners of Steve’s mouth quirk up.

They’re off, the fifteen minutes across town passing by slower than Eddie thinks they should. Steve’s forehead remains pressed against the cool glass of the window, eyes closed and mouth pressed into a thin line. Eddie drives like most people, for once, turning gently into the entrance to Forest Hills and down the lane to the new trailer, a double wide now, that the government gave him and Wayne. Wayne’s car is still parked in front. It’s one of his one night off, and Eddie realizes he never did call him earlier. There’s still a glow through the curtains. He turns the keys and Dio splutters out, making Steve peek his eyes open.

“We’re here.”

Eddie doesn’t move for a second and neither does Steve.

“Hey, uh, is your uncle gonna have a problem with me over this late?”

Eddie laughs, still keeping it quiet, and looks at Steve.

“Nah man, he’s used to me by now. Plus, he still stays up most of the night on his night off so he doesn’t screw up his sleep schedule.”

Steve seems hesitant, beyond migraine-pain hesitancy. He and Wayne had been good for a while now, so Eddie doesn’t know what to make of Steve’s nervous twiddling fingers.

“He’s not gonna care, Steve. When I left he wanted to make sure you were ok too.”

Steve’s head whips up.

“He did?”

“Yeah man, he did.”

Neither of them move for a second, and Eddie lets Steve think until Steve winces and Eddie tries to open up his door as quietly as possible, crossing in front of his van to the passenger side, trying again to sidestep the creaking of the door. Steve slides his legs so they hang out the door, taking a deep breathe then pushing himself out. Eddie hovers right next to him the whole seven steps to the door, sliding in front of Steve to unlock it and carefully let Steve go in first.

Wayne is sitting on the couch with a beer, watching baseball. He tips his head to the side, mouth open as if he was going to say something, then closing when Steve is all he can see for a moment before Eddie enters behind him, closing and locking the door.

Steve wobbles and Eddie slides up right next to him, left arm sliding almost all the way around his waist. Steadies him.

“Well hey boys. Wasn’t expecting you so late.”

Eddie squints his face up at Wayne, aware of his teasing beneath the worry in his voice.

“Yeah well, Steve here still isn’t feelin’ too hot and ran out of pain killers,” Eddie says, voice an exaggerated whisper. “We’re just gonna head to my room, kay?”

Wayne eyes Steve, turns the TV volume way down, and makes eye contact with Steve that Eddie is surprised Steve keeps.

“You get feelin’ better soon, son.”

He turns back to the TV. Eddie adjusts his grip and peers at Steve. Steve’s face is half pain, half confusion, and Eddie tightens his hold again and begins to walk them down the hall. Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie sees Steve mouthing ‘son’ over a few times.

Bathroom. Painkillers. Eddie tosses Steve a pair of sleep pants. Steve miraculously doesn’t fall over during the whole process, even while both change with their backs to each other.

And then, for the second time in less than twenty-four hours, Eddie is back in bed with Steve. Steve is on the inside, facing Eddie. Eddie slips into his sheets and hesitates for just a second, then turns his back to Steve.

A moment passes. Eddie’s heart is creeping up his throat as he slides one of his feet in between Steve’s behind him.

Neither moves.

Eddie’s glad Steve can’t see his face.

Steve doesn’t breathe for just a moment, his soft breaths just barely brushing Eddie’s hair stopping and Eddie’s heart is falling fast.

Then Steve’s hand touches Eddie’s side, waiting.

Eddie shift back against Steve.

Steve snakes his arm around Eddie, still light still tense.

“Whatever makes you comfortable, Steve.”

Eddie whispers into darkness, but Steve replies.

A sigh rustles Eddie’s hair at the base of his neck and the soft breathes from earlier that night are back. Eddie breathes out, long and deep. They relax into one another and Eddie doesn’t push the feelings away. He cradles them, relishes them, hopeful hopeful hopeful, and falls asleep warm.

#i'm nervous but very excited to post this #I'd love to hear what y'all think!#steve harrington migraines #eddie munson #hurt steve harrington #hurt/comfort #supportive wayne munson #minor vomiting #not graphic #not so unrequited love

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topgunruinedme · 11 months

Text

Admiring from Afar

Relationships: Background Javy/Bradley, Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw/Javy "Coyote" Machado, Robert "Bob" Floyd/Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Tom "Iceman" Kazansky/Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Reuben "Payback" Fitch/Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia

Word Count: 1.98k

youtube

Am I allowed to look at her like that

A gentle breeze brushed against his skin, causing the trees to sway and leaves to fall from their perch. Gleeful screams followed the wind as Jake’s voice travelled through the house, reaching him from his spot leaning against the doorway to the patio, slightly hidden by the kitchen but somewhere nice and quiet to take a moment to relax. Jake roared playfully and the kids screamed as they attempted to get away from him, squeezing between his legs or ducking behind furniture as they giggled. Clearly having the time of their lives.

Could it be wrong when she's just so nice to look at

He watched as Javy stepped past Bradley with a pile of plates slapping the mustached man on the back, momentarily pulling the older man from his conversation with Maverick to grin at each other. Maverick let out a small laugh shaking his head in amusement, taking a sip from his drink as he leaned back in his chair to catch the eyes of his husband nudging his head towards the pair. Callie and Nat were laughing together with Jake's older sister Veronica, the woman held a little blond babe on her hip. He looked like a spitting image of his mother, it almost hurt to look at. Her husband hovered by her side, his hand on her lower back as he beamed up at her.

And she smells like lemongrass and sleep

Mickey was lounging back on a sunbed, Reuben had somehow managed to curl into his boyfriend's lap his head on his partner's chest as Mickey tiredly ran his hand through the man's hair. Chuckling lightly as he talked to Neil and Billy, Neil was leaning against the pillars of the under cover patio while Billy had laid out on the grass taking in the sun.

She tastes like apple juice and peach

Jake's smile was simply blinding. He caught his niece around the waist lifting her up into the air with a dramatic grunt causing her to squeal. Her brother roared out a battle cry as he attempted to tackle Jake's legs causing Jake to stumble.

“Uncle Javy! Help us” his niece cried out, unable to stop giggling as Jake's fingers attacked her sides with a grin.

Javy glanced over at the pair shaking his head with a chuckle, “You're on your own kid, I’m not getting in the mud for you today” he turned back to Logan and Brigham, helping the men set out plates.

She tastes like apple juice and peach

It made his chest swell in pride with how far the blond had come. From that arrogant prick to see him like this in a family setting. It gave him hope.

Oh, you would find her in a polaroid picture

He took a sip of his warming beer, glancing around the yard with a satisfied smile. He let out a soft sigh as he listened to the family around him. There was no other way to explain it, they had all become so closer over the last year, to him. They were family.

His silence was broken by the sound of a cupboard opening in the kitchen, hinge squeaking as someone shifted something around, he tilted his head when a cupboard shut in the kitchen, offering a smile to the woman who exited the room with an apron tied around her waist, her hair pulled back under a Stanton that he had quickly learnt was a family tradition.

“Are you going to be joining us?” Mrs Seresin asked, stopping by his side with a crystal bowl filled with a salad.

And she means everything to me

Jake lifted his niece above his head, swooping her down in careful persecution, something he's seen the man do in his jet as he lifted her up again in the pre-tense of flying a plane.

She laughed “Jakey! I'm flying!”.

His blond hair glowed under the Texas sun, his skin had tanned slightly making him look all that much more of a god under his rolled up flannel. He let out a laugh filled with pure happiness grinning as his nephew chased them cheering them on.

“Yes. yes you are Holley”.

I'd never tell

No I'd never say a word

He shrugged quietly, “I wouldn't want to intrude” he offered. Shifting to face her fully, his mother having drilled manors into him at a young age that he still couldn't shake. The older woman was smiling at him gently, she tutted slightly, shifting the glass bowl.

“Nonsense” she scolded. She glanced past him to her son, “He’d want you to join us”. She huffed in irritation “That’s why you're here after all”.

He frowned in confusion, tilting his head, the bottle falling limp in his hand knocking against his thigh, “I’m sorry?”. Why he was here?

“Jake, my son” her lips lifted in amusement, “The pain in the arse?” He snorted lightly, the woman laughed. “It’s why you're here, if he didnt want you, he wouldn't have invited you” she says bluntly.

And oh it aches

But it feels oddly good to hurt

“He invited you here,” she smiled. “He invited you all. It was quite a shock honestly” she let out a small laugh “Jake’s never brought anyone home before and now suddenly he wanted to bring an entire unit back”

“Squadron” he corrected absently causing ehr to shake her head in amusement,

“Two peas one pod” she rolled her eyes fondly, “You're too alike for your own good”.

He blinked, glancing out at Jake. The man liked them enough to bring them home to meet his parents when no one else was worthy of it. His heart jumped seeing the blond play so well with his family, how family oriented the man was. He wanted the man to stand in their living room and play with their children like that.

She smells like lemongrass and sleep

“He arranged the room’s you know” Mrs Serein added causally there was a mischievous hint to her smile. Almost as if she was saying something she shouldn't have.

He hummed questionably, where was she going with this? His brows furrowed slightly as he looked at his…friends? Mother who looked downright feral, terrifying with the calm sweet smile she gave him.

She tastes like apple juice and peach

“We have a big ranch, lots of places to stay and make beds. Yet, he chose to double you up” she gave him a pointed look that he didn't understand, “You want to know where he put you? You were easy, first person he placed” she scrunched up her nose “Took him 5 seconds”.

He felt weary, it would make sense to pair couples or by pilot and wso, it's not like they hadn't shared rooms before. But she made it sound so ominous. He still wasn't sure how Jake felt towards him.

“He chose to room you with him, darling. To share a bed despite there being enough for all of you”. His heart jumped, chest warming as he yearned for the other man's affection. Jake chose him? Did he want him too? Or was he just the easiest to pair off?

“He chose me?” he asked hopefully.

She leaned in and kissed his check, “He picked you honey”. She gave him a soft smile before moving back out the rest of the daggers.

Oh, you would find her in a polaroid picture

He wasn't sure how long he stood there trying to comprehend the information, his hands shaking slightly as he took a sip of his drink, starting when the glass side door opened. Jake entered, giving him a slightly concerned look.

“What are you doing in here Bobby?” he asked brows furrowing but there was a carefully placed ensuring to smile and let him know he's joking. “Hiding?” he teased, coming to his side and nudging him gently.

And she means everything to me

His lips curled up slightly as he tilted his head slightly to look at Jake, “I've just been talking to you mum” he said lightly watching as Jake shifted unconsciously.

“Oh?” Jake prompted.

“I‘m rooming with you?” he asked gently. Watched Jake glance around uneasily biting his lip.

“I can move you if your not comfortable with that-”

“Jake” he interrupted firmly, catching the man's chin, forcing him to stop chewing on his lip due to the lack of a toothpick. Something he had noticed the man doing not long after the mission. He couldn't help but brush his thumb over the slightly stumble forming, the prickly hair brushing against his skin roughly. “It’s fine, it's sweet,” he added.

Oh, oh

“Sweet?” Jake croaked.

He hummed in confirmation refusing to enhance on it, his thumb gently brushing against his jaw fingers dancing across the skin of his neck feeling the man's pulse jump under his fingertips.

His heart pounding in his chest, blood rushing to his ears as he smiled gently, “Like you” he admitted softly.

and I'll be okay

Admiring from afar

Jake swallowed thickly. The charged air between them was affecting them both. “Bob-”

“Foods ready!” Mickey shouts with a cackle as it was soon followed by a startled squeak.

He stepped back away from Jake, forcing on a smile “I'll see you tonight then…partner”. He ignored the sight of Jake staying there half leaning down, head bowed in his grasp letting him tug him around as he wished. Jake cleared his throat behind him before following.

Cause even when she's next to me

We could not be more far apart

He spotted Neil splayed out on the grass looking slightly dazed as Mickey dropped himself over the top of him happily. It made him smile briefly, he wondered how hard the tackle was. He had been on the receiving end a few times but he doubts they had ever used their full strength against him. Despite all his muscle and having proved multiple times that he could keep up with them, his baby face made them treat him like he was weaker, younger, like he needed protection.

He hated it.

Cause she tastes like birthday cake, and storytime, and fall

But to her I taste of nothing at all

He took his seat down beside Natasha who tilted her head slightly at him offering him to cuddle into her side silently, she was too perspective. He could never get anything past her. He watched as Callie attempted to drag him into their conversation and get his attention of what could possibly happen tonight.

And she smells like lemongrass and sleep

She tastes like apple juice and peach

Jake was smiling as Javy leaned on his shoulder, kicking his leg out to cause Bradley to stumble. Laughing as the man swore violently on to be scolded by Mav and Iceman. The two older pairs had relaxed in chairs beside each other, although he had a suspicion it was really just Iceman keeping his husband on a short leash for when the fireworks were brought out.

You would find her in a polaroid picture

And she means everything to me

Jake glanced up smiling wide and caught his eye, there was something soft there. Almost as if the man had wanted to say something so desperately important but couldn't. He smiled briefly, turning his attention back to Callie, missing the way Jake's smile flattered.

Yes she means everything to me

His chest screamed as it tightened painfully, he refused to ruin this friendship, no matter how much he wanted to. No matter how much he yearned to wake up with Jake curled around him every morning. To see his soft tired face under the morning sun or how he wanted to kiss the man goodnight every night for the rest of their lives.

She means everything to me.

He would just…admire from afar.

#Youtube #top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun fandom #top gun maverick #topgun #pete maverick mitchell #icemav #jake hangman seresin #robert bob floyd #Bob floyd x Jake Seresin #Floydson #jake “hangman” seresin #not so unrequited love #friends to lovers

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crimsonhj · 2 years

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are we more than just this?

summary: confessions can't stay packed away forever, and park seonghwa is cracking. all it takes is a late night and some tea before he shatters.

rating: teen

genre: fluff, light angst, one-shot, non-idol au

pairing: seonghwa × hongjoong

warnings/tags: not so unrequited love, friends to lovers, literal sleeping together, tea-making, sleepy cuddles, i do not ship them irl please don’t kill me

word count: 2.3k

read it on ao3!

Seonghwa is just finishing up making tea when Hongjoong walks in. One look at the clock confirms the time: 2:17 AM.

“Why are you still up?” Hongjoong asks, dropping his keys in the dish and kicking off his shoes. Seonghwa winces. It can't be that hard to put them on the shoe rack, but the younger fails spectacularly in doing so every time.

“I’m making tea for you. What does it look like I’m doing, hm?” Seonghwa bends his head as he pours the tea into Hongjoong’s favorite mug, the one with lyrics from that one song he adored. What was it again? Aurora, yeah.

He sets down the kettle and takes down the sugar and a spoon. The tea couldn’t be bitter or else. There’s the soft shuff shuff of sock feet shuffling across the white kitchen tile before arms come around Seonghwa’s abdomen and pull him into an embrace.

Ah. It must have been a hard day for him. Seonghwa spares a hand to rest atop Hongjoong’s as he spoons in 4 teaspoons of sugar and stirs it, the metal clinking like a gentle bell against the black porcelain. He tries to ignore how nice it is for Hongjoong to hug him. It used to be rare, but nowadays, as the producer took on more jobs of a higher caliber, he had more and more rough days that sent him flying into Seonghwa’s personal space and staying there for as long as possible.

He adds the cream, letting Hongjoong press his face between his shoulder blades and huff.

Seonghwa always tries not to let it show that he loved Hongjoong as more than just a friend. He always tries to be the dutiful friend who gives Hongjoong affection when he needs it the most and curled up in his own bed and cried when he was so touch-starved he would give anything for one hug. He tries his best.

Seonghwa places the spoon in the sink and squeezes Hongjoong’s hand when the cream is stirred in.

“Your tea’s done. Let’s go sit down.”

It takes a few minutes, but soon they’re settled onto the leather sofa, Hongjoong curled up against Seonghwa’s side with his tea in hand and Seonghwa’s arm around Hongjoong.

“So tell me what happened,” Seonghwa says, squeezing the other’s shoulder.

Hongjoong launches into a long story about some producer who couldn’t just decide on what he wanted and instead insisted Hongjoong keep making and remaking the track over and over, demanding he start over when one little thing was off. He takes almost nervous sips of his tea as he talks like he’s afraid someone other than Seonghwa will hear his ranting.

“And what’s worse is every time. Every. Time. He insults my producing skills as if his are any better! He’s coming to me to produce his track!”

“He sounds awful,” Seonghwa sympathizes and rubs Hongjoong’s shoulder.

“I just don’t understand!” Frustrated tears gather at the corners of Hongjoong’s tawny brown eyes. They spill over in a flurry, making his cheeks glimmer in the dim light of their living room.

“He’s just being rude, Joongie, there’s nothing to understand except that,” Seonghwa says, taking the mug from Hongjoong’s trembling hands and placing it on the coffee table before their sofa gets another stain in it that Seonghwa can’t get out.

“What if he’s right though? What if-” Hongjoong hiccups. “What if the stuff I produce is subpar and unworthy of any sort of merit?”

“Kim Hongjoong!” Seonghwa exclaims, squeezing him tightly. He can’t believe this guy wants to insult one of the top producers in the nation. Especially when one of the tracks that Hongjoong wrote, composed, and produced has been at the top of the charts for almost a month now. “Don’t believe a thing that man says unless he says your work is amazing! Would a subpar producer top the charts? No!”

It’s almost instinct when Seonghwa kisses the top of Hongjoong’s hair, nose buried in his candy-red hair. Horror coils in his gut when he pulls away and realizes what he’s done, but Hongjoong doesn’t freak out, isn’t disgusted. No. He sniffles and tucks his head under Seonghwa’s chin.

“You’re too nice, Hwa,” he mumbles, hands fisting in the older’s loose grey shirt.

“It’s not nice if it’s facts,” he replies after a moment. The horror has dissipated, leaving a heavy feeling. This situation is only serving to remind him that of course, Hongjoong wouldn’t freak out. It was cool for friends of ten years to kiss each other on the head or the cheek. Wooyoung and San proved that every day, even if they had eventually turned out to be more than just friends.

They sit for a few quiet minutes, Hongjoong clinging to Seonghwa like a lifeline.

A clock chimes somewhere in the city, signifying the changing of the hour. 3 AM.

“Come on. Bedtime,” Seonghwa mutters, petting Hongjoong’s hair the way he knew he liked it.

“Okay,” Hongjoong replies, “but I’m sleeping with you.” His voice sounds rough like a cheese grater has been taken to his vocal cords.

Seonghwa’s heart skips a beat before he mentally face-palms. Duh. Hongjoong meant sleep in his bed, not with him .

"Of course, Joongie. Let me just take care of the tea," he replies. He goes as quickly as he can allow himself to, washing the cup, kettle, and spoon twice like he always does. He leaves the dishes to air dry in the rack and dries his hands on the plaid towel hanging from the stove handle. Taking a deep breath, he turns off the light and returns to Hongjoong.

By the time they both go to bed, it's nearly 3:30 AM, and Hongjoong almost looks like a dead man walking. Under his eyes, purples and blacks mottle the skin, almost like a bruise. His face just has eternal exhaustion carved into it.

Seonghwa wishes for nothing more than to convince Hongjoong to sleep for days if only to see him well-rested. Maybe he'll be able to convince the younger to rest longer than normal as it's technically Saturday now.

"You're thinking so loud I can't sleep," Hongjoong says, curled up, back against Seonghwa's chest. His voice is muffled by the blanket he has tugged up to his face but clear enough Seonghwa doesn't have to strain to catch his words.

"Sorry," Ask me what I'm thinking about. Ask me. But Hongjoong doesn't, and Seonghwa tries to crush his thought process. It's easier to analyze how light from the street filters through the blinds, bathing the soft cream of the bed linens in tangerine. It's easier to think about the whirring of the HVAC system and how he could never sleep without that sound. It's easier to do those instead of focusing on how warm Hongjoong is or how his presence makes Seonghwa want to curl around him and never leave.

It hurts. This taste of what he would never have fucking hurts. Vicious sobs try to crawl out of his throat, try to make themselves heard, but he fights them down. Hongjoong needed to sleep, not deal with Seonghwa's breakdown over unrequited love.

Hongjoong's breathing is slow and even, and Seonghwa allows himself the one indulgence to bury his face in the other's hair and inhale softly. The smell of watermelon is staggering and steadying at the same time, a scent he knows all too well. It's easy to hold Hongjoong a little tighter, to give himself this one time to pretend that Hongjoong could be his and he could be Hongjoong's.

His breath hitches as the first few tears spill over unbidden. He forces himself to pull back some, to not get his tears on Hongjoong in case they wake him. But now that they've started, he can't stop them.

His shoulders shake as the salty liquid wets his cheeks, not unlike how Hongjoong cried earlier. Seonghwa pulls away completely, lets go of the redhead so he can go cry in the living room and not wake him up.

His chest aches, like he's been struck by a battering ram. His heartaches. Why can't I just get over myself? It's ridiculous and cliché to fall in love with your best friend. I'm so stupid. I don't even deserve someone like him. He couldn't love a mess like me. A quiet but ugly sound rips itself free of Seonghwa as he rolls away from Hongjoong and sits up.

"Hwa?" his sleep-drenched voice asks from behind Seonghwa. "Are you okay?"

Idiot. Can't even cry alone right. You didn't even wait a full ten minutes for him to fall asleep fully.

Seonghwa takes a shuddering breath. "Yeah." His voice cracks, and it's so pathetic that he cringes. Tears still drip from his eyes. He can't get them to stop. He idly wonders how he must appear to Hongjoong. Hunched over, scrubbing at his eyes, head bent. Pathetic.

Sheets rustle behind him and then Hongjoong is sitting beside him, pajama-clad legs swinging over the edge of the bed.

"What's wrong?" Hongjoong asks. His voice is hesitant like he doesn't quite know how to approach the situation.

Seonghwa turns his head away, unable to face him. He woke him. He was awful. "Nothing."

"Liar," Hongjoong counters.

"It's nothing." Seonghwa is surprised that the tears have slowed but not upset. If only he could just convince Hongjoong to just go back to sleep.

"What's wrong?" Hongjoong repeats, standing up and grabbing Seonghwa's jaw. It's gentle but too firm for Seonghwa to pull away as the other forces him to look up. "Why are you crying?" With each question, Hongjoong visibly gains more confidence. He's no longer hesitant in his questioning.

If Seonghwa's heart hadn't hurt so bad, he might have laughed at the sight of the petite man looming over him in baby blue pajamas.

"Hwa, what's wrong?" he asks again, voice soft as the hand that runs through Seonghwa's night-black hair. The gesture is filled with so much affection, he breaks.

Fresh tears spill over. Even that little love pained him. Gods, it hurt. It's worse this time, chest heaving as Hongjoong draws Seonghwa against him. He sobs his soul out, hands useless at his side as Hongjoong comforts him, unaware that the older is crying over him.

The redhead runs a soothing hand through his hair, over and over like a broken record, like he doesn't quite know how to help.

"Tell me, tell me, tell me," Hongjoong whispers, over and over.

It's you. It's you.

"I'm here, I won't judge, please tell me."

It's you .

"I don't want to see you hurting. Hwa please."

It's you. It's youIt's youIt's youIt's youIt's youIt's youIt's youIt's you

"Please."

And he sounds so broken, so scared, that Seonghwa does, hands finally clinging to Hongjoong's clothes so he doesn't lose himself in the ocean of sorrow that's finally cracked open.

"Oh, Seonghwa," he mutters after Seonghwa finishes. "I'm so sorry."

It sounds like Hongjoong can't handle this, can't stomach the fact his best friend is in love with him. Seonghwa pulls away, bracing himself for the crushing denial he's about to face. His vision is still blurry from tears.

"I'm so sorry you dealt with those emotions alone," Hongjoong says, following Seonghwa back and running a hand through his hair yet again. "I'm sorry I was too blind to see it. I'm so sorry that you thought I didn't love you back."

Seonghwa sniffles, wiping at his damp face. Thought? What did that mean?

"Come on. Look at me please," he coaxes. Seonghwa complies this time, shuddering at the look on Hongjoong's face. It's blazing with an emotion he's never seen on the younger's face. Something akin to sorrow and love all at once.

"Seonghwa, baby."

The nickname sends a full-body shiver throughout Seonghwa.

"Of course I love you back. I've loved you for years, but I didn't think you loved me. So I told myself, for your happiness, I had to be okay with it. But obviously, I hurt you."

Seonghwa can't believe it. He must be dreaming.

"And for that, I'm sorry." With those words, Hongjoong bends his head and kisses Seonghwa gently, like lovers who have been together for years waking up in the morning. Seonghwa has to tilt his head back, fresh tears spilling over. But this time, they're tears of relief. Hongjoong loves him. He loves him .

"I hope those are happy tears," the redhead says after breaking the kiss.

"Yes." Seonghwa nods. He cracks a smile, joy filling him as Hongjoong cradles his face in his small hand.

Hongjoong stoops down and kisses him again, deeper. Seonghwa sighs into the other's mouth. Content fills him. This is right. This is home. Hongjoong straddles his lap, a hand wiping away stray tears.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Hongjoong pushes him back until they're lying down, tangled in each other's arms.

"You're so sweet. My sweet star," Hongjoong mumbles, placing lingering kisses all over Seonghwa's face. "We should sleep. I'll be right here."

Seonghwa wraps an arm around Hongjoong and the younger rests his head on Seonghwa's chest.

"The song I wrote a while back, Thank U, you asked me why I didn't sell it," Hongjoong says suddenly, shifting so he can look up into Seonghwa's face.

"I did," he replies. It was a beautiful song, he had always thought so. Hongjoong could have made a bunch of money by selling it to some idol group, but he'd kept it and refused to tell Seonghwa why.

"I didn't sell it because I wrote it for you. It just felt wrong if someone else sang it."

"That's…that's touching. Thank you." Seonghwa brushes back Hongjoong's hair, giving him another smile. Quietly, voice a bit rough, Hongjoong sings to him.

#ateez ships #ateez #ateez soft hours #seongjoong #matz #ateez fluff #ateez angst #friends to lovers #cuddling #not so unrequited love

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quality-on-a-patch-of-awesome · 3 months

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Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Call of Duty (Video Games) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick & John "Soap" MacTavish Characters: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, John "Soap" MacTavish Additional Tags: Angst, Lashing Out, Unrequited Love, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Swearing, soap and gaz say mean things to each other because they're sad, Author Has Played Call of Duty, author does not have a great grasp of writing the scottish accent yet, technically ghost is there too but he only has one line so i didn't tag him, gaz is stupid in love with price, soap is stupid in love with ghost, emphasis on the stupid, Mentions of Violence Summary:

Starting a fight with Soap would be so easy and so monumentally stupid given that he had been in a foul mood for days, for reasons unbeknownst to everyone, that had led to the entire base giving him a very wide berth. But the common sense that he usually prided himself on had long since gone out of the window.

Gaz is miserable and lashes out at an equally miserable Soap

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday7 #call of duty #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mactavish #unrequited love #not so unrequited love #gaz is stupid in love with price #soap is stupid in love with ghost #emphasis on the stupid #swearing #mentions of violence #they're just sad and lashing out at each other

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wolkenleere · 9 months

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And I wondered what it was like to be chosen. I was never chosen. I was a maybe, a probably, sometimes even a definitely but never the one, never the chosen one.

Unknown

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sscarletvenus · 7 months

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i love unrequited love, i love blind devotion, i love guard dogs. i love being desperately obsessed with the object of your affections. i love when devotion rots into cruelty, i love when love doesn't know any better, i love when love is ugly. i love defanging and declawing yourself just to be loved. i love when a character will wait for the next time they will be loved like a bird or a dog at their beloved’s door. i love when love is insanity and by the LORD do i love betting on losing dogs

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overwhelming-thoughtss · 9 months

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I want to give up. It's really really hard to keep going when all you want is to give up. I want to be done.

#depressing shit #depressing quotes #i miss u #sad aesthetic #unrequited love #im so tired #heartbreak #i love u #im sorry #depressing life

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whirlwindofstuff · 1 year

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dollopheadsandclotpoles · 11 months

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Due to that post I made re: why it's hard for aros/aces to imagine a future for themselves because society tells you a romantic partner will always take priority, a lot of people (aros/aces and allos alike) are sharing stories about how they have been discarded by their close friends and it's breaking my heart. But allos and aspecs coming in and sharing how they have the same amount of love for their partners and their best friends/siblings is healing it.

Still, there are people in the tags saying that aros/aces can "never offer their partners the kind of intimacy they need" and so they shouldn't be "surprised" when they feel closer to partners than their friends. You guys are missing the point.

The point is that we should NOT be ranking our relationships. People aren't there to be ranked on a scale of "This person is my number one and this person comes after that." The point is that you need multiple people in your life. One person cannot - and should not - be responsible for giving you everything you need. Different people will give you different things that you need in life and you should value all of them.

The idea that a romantic partner will give you every single thing you need in life is a toxic idea in itself and puts undue pressure on said partner and the relationship as a whole. A best friend won't give you everything either. You NEED multiple people in your life and they will all give you a part of what you need, but there is no one perfect person out there who perfectly gives you exactly what you want. We need multiple people and they should all be valued by you. Love is not limited.

#aro stuff #ace stuff #aroace tag #aro #ace #aromanticism #asexuality #aromantic #asexual #aroace #This idea that a romantic partner comes before everything and everyone else is a very Western idea too #I'm grateful that I live in a culture where family and community are important parts of life.#I'm lucky that my best friend considers me as important as her husband #i'm lucky that I'm close to my family and have unconditional love from them #why do I have to rank the relationships in my life #a mother with two kids can love and prioritise them equally #as my own mother does #why is it impossible for some of you to imagine doing that with other relationships in your life?#(i wrote this when I was sleepy and wrote unrequited love instead of unconditional love i'm so dumb lol #i do return my family's love)

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saturdaysky · 17 days

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a little morning pick-me-up

A morning on the way to Baldur's Gate. The party booked themselves into an inn and enjoyed real beds, hot baths, and privacy for the first time since the Nautiloid.

Gale and Mayhew shared a room, of course. They were filled with the relief of surviving the shadows and the glow of finally getting together, so their private room was probably a blessing for the whole party, honestly.

This was some ascended anatomy practice! Referenced some great stock from @null-entity.

#some people speed run the galemance but i played it as the world's longest slow burn #act 1 was fuuull of uneven feelings and perceived unrequited feelings and slow-building respect #mayhew was immediately down bad & suffering after the weave scene. Plus Gale's lukewarm reaction to flirting felt like people-pleasing #gale slowly emerged from his depression hole much later and only then caught real feelings - but the orb put paid to acting on them #so in my game they simply had a very loaded laden-with-unspoken-feelings friendship until near the end of act 2 #they got like one (1) week of happiness before the horrors of act 3 hit. starting with Mayhew getting unwillingly astral tadpole'd #it's tragic and i love it #also: chubby gale. tumblr do you see my vision #mayhew sees my vision #please also appreciate mayhew's bed head and the too-big-for-gnomes dishware. i chuckled about those #my art #mayhew #gale dekarios #gnome tav #gale x tav #bg3 #baldur's gate 3

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hairmetal666 · 3 months

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Nothing Else Matters plays softly from the little cassette player Steve keeps next to the fridge. Eddie walks in and immediately pulls Steve into his arms, slow dances him around the kitchen.

The song ends and they laugh, wrestle around. There's something about the brightness in Eddie's big eyes, the blush across his cheekbones that gives Steve butterflies, has warmth gathering deep in his stomach.

They're not together.

But for the first time Steve realizes maybe there's a reason he hasn't gone on more than a first date since 1989.

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #fluff #oblivious steve harrington #eddie falls first steve falls harder #best friends to lovers #not so unrequited #nothing else matters #it feels so on the nose to make this steddie but also i'm gonna #anyway eddie cries the first time he hears this song cause he's so in love with steve he can't bear it

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willowshimmer · 3 months

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Honestly I do not ship staticradio but UNREQUITED staticradio is JUST SO CANON!

Honestly it's funny cause Vox still remembers Alastor after a seven year absence and still remembers him!

Like if that's not something idk what.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #vox hazbin hotel #staticradio #it's so fun to imagine!#unrequited love #willow shitposts #willow rambles

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shadebloopnik · 1 month

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Unrequited/One-sided Radioapple but it isn't treated like an angsty end of the world thing.

Imagine they slowly get closer after all the banters, and eventually becoming close friends. Lucifer ends up catching feelings for him, and after a long while, decides to confess and ask Alastor if he felt the same.

Alastor admittedly does not feel the same.

He's getting uncomfortable, struggling to keep his composure because he's DONE this before. He KNOWS how this ends. He remembers Vox and all his insistent declarations of affection and desperate pleas for Alastor to reciprocate; the possessive entitlement. He remembers how all those sickly sweet words morphed into something venomous when he didn't give the lowlife what he wanted. He remembers the anger, the ridiculous notion that it was Alastor's fault why he was so mad, that Alastor led him on and that he obviously deserved something in payment for it all-

So yes, Alastor knows how this ends.

It doesn't mean he isn't disappointed though, because he actually LIKES Lucifer, far more than he ever did Vox. Perhaps not in the way the king might have wanted, but he did. He treasured their little talks, their drinking sessions, their shared love for their instruments, Lucifers singing, their little duets, the banter, the playful jabs, the sparring.

He'd even slowly grown accustomed to the other's touches, not feeling the same surge of disgust and discomfort whenever the shorter man would grab at his arm in excitement, forgetting his usual thoughtfulness of Alastor's touch aversion for the short moment of whatever distracted him. Alastor even enjoyed it at times, relaxing at the feel of soft feathers beneath his claws, or the sensation of gentle scratches against his ears.

Difficult as it was to admit, Alastor had grown to care for the angel, the same way he had for Rosie orv Mimzy.

But no matter how fond Alastor was of Lucifer, it didn't change the fact that he didn't feel the same way romantically, or even sexually. No way in the 7 rings of Hell was he going to lie to Lucifer about either, not going to even entertain the idea of pretending he reciprocated for Lucifer's sake. He respected his friend too much for that.

So a clear, direct rejection it is. It was a shame, but nothing could be done. He said his piece concisely, and waited, shoulders set, back straight, smile and eyes a careful blank canvas as he prepared for the inevitable.

Lucifer nodded, a normal soft smile still in place, "Thank you for your answer, it means a lot."

Which......what? Alastor expected an outburst, or at the very least sharp words.

What he did NOT expect was....acceptance? And not just that but, a happy one? Contentment?????

"You're....alright with that?", he had to ask, he had to. Lucifer was clearly just very good at masking his upset.

But the damn angel just smiled?? And it didn't even look fake, just as bright and soft as his normal smiles, albeit a little confused?? Lucifer smiled at him, his brows furrowing in a bit of confused disbelief, as though Alastor is being the weird one here.

"Uhh, yeah??? Why wouldn't I be??? Yeah I may have some feelings for you but its not like you're obligated to feel the same. Above anything else, we're friends first and foremost and i'm alright with that..."

Then he seemed to have reached his own little conclusion as his words trailed off, because suddenly Lucifer's eyes widened in realization of something, and his words picking up with a sense of panicked urgency.

Alastor would really like to know what Lucifer's supposed realization was about himself because he had absolutely no clue.

"I mean, we ARE still friends right?? I don't- I- I hope this doesn't like- change your opinion of me. You're not- oh gosh I'm not making you uncomfortable am I? I- I won't mention it! You can even forget this whole confession ever happened! We can just go on as before! I don't feel any different or would act any different! Honest! I mean, I don't regret confessing because you deserve to know and I'm not ashamed of my feelings, but I don't want you to be uncomfortable! It doesn't change the way i'll treat you! Or change any aspect of our relationship! I don't even think I like you more as a lover than as a friend! I really, really do love our friendship, it matters more to me than any thoughts of being in a romantic relationship with you! So please just forget it all-"

Alastor let the word vomit wash over him, every word leaving him more confused by the minute.

Because yes, there's the desperation he expected, but...it was more about, convincing Alastor to remain friends?? Reassuring Alastor that nothing has to change?? That their friendship is the most important thing here??

(If anyone asks, no Alastor's heart didn't swell. Only lesser beings would have had the urge to cry, and Alastor is anything but.)

Lucifer is unknowingly reassuring Alastor of every single one of his insecurities about the situation. Because Alastor DID want to remain friends, he cared too much about the man to let it go so easily. It was rare to find people who treasure friendships above romantic relationships.

"I don't tend to forget easily, nor will I forget this one in particular.", he spoke, finally finding his voice. At Lucifer's defeated, pained expression( is their friendship really that important to him?), he continued. "But....yes. I'd like that.. To remain...friends."

He didn't often say the word out loud, being comfortable enough with each other that it need not be reassured with the label. But with Lucifer brightening up like his namesake, relief and happiness palpable, Alastor felt no qualms at declaring their friendship out loud.

So life went on as usual. True to his word, Lucifer remained basically the same. The following weeks were a bit stilted for Alastor, as he put some rather painful distance between him and the angel; limiting their interactions, their usual touches.

Anytime now, Lucifer would break and show his true colors, Alastor would think, waiting for the boot to drop. Lucifer would end up angry, and dissatisfied, and that was that.

But it never happened. Lucifer never expressed discomfort when Alastor avoided him, seeming to be understanding of the others need for space. He was just as affectionate as before, though initially a bit held back, as though gauging Alastor's comfort.

Months would pass, and the king never faltered. Their friendship remained strong, if not growing ever closer than before. Alastor found himself even growing more comfortable with the man. Affectionate touches were becoming common, hugs and head pats and cuddles being a welcome thing, with the reassurance that the shorter king would never disrespect his boundaries.

Lucifer seemed genuinely happy about it, despite being clearly told that none of Alastor's actions hinted at anything romantic. In fact, he seemed ecstatic that Alastor was getting more affectionate towards him as a friend. The embarrassment the radio demon felt at having Lucifer basically tear up (no really, he was crying so hard, full on drama sobbing) with joy in front of him was intertwined with the sheer incredulous fondness he felt for the man at that moment.

They were sitting at a couch one night, more than a year passing since that confession. Lucifer was leaning back, resting against the cushions, while Alastor had his head on the smaller one's shoulder, nuzzling at the crook of his neck, legs tucked close to his body. Both had a book in hand, two nearly empty cups of tea on the table in front of them. Every so often, Lucifer would flex his fingers that rested on Alastor's head, running a digit against the other's ear, often prompting the demon to lean into the touch. White wings enveloped the two, blanketing them against the chill of the night.

As Alastor turned the page of his own book, relaxing into the touch of his dearest friend, he wondered how he ever got so lucky in hell.

#this may have gotten away from me lmao #this was supposed to be a rlly short prompt of 'Unrequited love but overbrimming friendship' but instead i typed out this word vomit-#i don't know if im labeling things right here??? this may not look platonic tk others but ig im sort of projecting here #bc i want friendships like this soo badd. i mean this is still platonic right??? this is normal friendship behavior like come onnn #I've been teased about being ace bc of this mindset but i always just go RIGHT this is how friendship works y'all blind😭😭😭#bloopnik writing #bloopnik rambles #radioapple #appleradio #platonic radioapple #platonic relationships #aroace alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor #duckiedeer #unrequited feelings #BUT NOT UNREQUITED LOVE HELL YEA #one sided radiostatic #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel #THEY LOVE EACH OTHER SO MUCH AND ITS BEAUTIFUL #queerplatonic #i think #fic #fanfic #radiosilence

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