when nick nelson transfers to a quiet english school, he meets charlie spring - pale, shy, and impossibly kind. nick thinks he's just fallen for another boy. he doesn't realise he's falling into a century-old secret. charlie's family don't eat. they don't age. and yet somehow, their house feels more alive than any place nick's ever known. from the rain-soaked classrooms of windsor to the candle-lit glasshouse at the edge of town, this is a love story about restraint, discovery, and the strange warmth that only arrives when you touch the cold. he's heartstopper soft. he's twilight haunted. together, they learn that you don't need a heartbeat to love. TRIGGER WARNINGS * emotional abuse (past, referenced) * mild violence & blood imagery (non-graphic) * body horror (transformation, sensory detail) * grief and loss * anxiety / panic depiction * self-control & restraint themes * queer identity stress / internalised fear (the tone stays tender and PG-13; focus is emotional, not gore.) --- hey lovelies ♡ this story re-imagines heartstopper through a twilight lens - keeping alice oseman's honesty and tenderness while exploring what immortality does to softness. read with the lights low, and your heart open. 🕯 - tommy h.

you didn't mean to be seen. not in the crowd, not under the lights, not by him. but when marcus gunnarsen sings that line and the whole room disappears, you realise some moments aren't just for the stage. one rose. one backstage pass. a night that tastes like rain and questions you'll never forget. and a boy who asks if you'd have looked at him the same way if he were just another stranger in the queue. from the crush of the concert to the stillness behind heavy doors, this is the story of how a single gaze can change the tempo of everything - and how, sometimes, the real connection starts after the encore.

Jamie never expected to meet Justin Bieber at a remote wellness retreat tucked into the hills. No phones. No press. Just long baths, quiet walks, and silence thick enough to hold the parts of you you've never spoken aloud. Justin is quiet now-worn soft at the edges. He isn't the boy Jamie used to love from posters and playlists, but he's *still him*. And maybe that's enough. They read beside each other. They plant lavender. They don't talk much-but something grows between them anyway. Something real. This isn't a fanfiction about fame. It's about two people learning how to be quiet together. A love that doesn't ask for performance. A body worshipped without shame. A silence that heals, gently.

seven years of almost- two boys who grew up side by side, best friends who never said the words, love that lived in glances and quiet touches, and a seventh year where everything almost breaks, and maybe, just maybe, everything finally begins. this is a story about queer denial, repressed longing, and the courage it takes to say "i love you" without words.

on a too-loud london rooftop, two boys meet in the middle of their own silences. jamie-soft, grieving, unsure how to be looked at. tom-famous, tired, and aching to be seen without performance. what begins with barefoot dancing under fairy lights turns into something tender: coffees without cameras, shared lyrics scribbled on napkins, and the kind of closeness that doesn't ask for applause. but when the world catches up-blurry photos, breathless headlines-jamie has to decide if he's ready to be known, and tom has to choose if being seen is worth being real. a love story in second person. quiet. aching. true. for anyone who's ever wanted to fall in love when no one's watching.

seventh year. no voldemort. no war. just the weight of growing up. hogwarts is quieter now-its halls echo with what never happened. harry and draco, unexpectedly named co-head boys, are forced into the same dormitory. one desk. two beds. too many silences. they're not enemies anymore. not really. they're just two tired boys who keep almost reaching for each other. this isn't about saving the world. it's about choosing each other. in glances. in margins. in the spaces between what's said. a slow-burn drarry story filled with parchment notes, soft-spoken confessions, shared blankets, and the kind of love that feels like exhaling for the first time.

You're twenty. Soft around the edges. Trying not to want too much. He's Johnny Orlando-famous, exhausted, and nothing like you imagined. But in hotel corridors and green rooms, on tour buses and café benches, something begins. Something shy. Something real. First touches. First glances. First times.

a summer writing retreat by the sea. you weren't looking for anyone. not really. just somewhere quiet to write, to ache, to not be watched. but then you meet him-kit. curled on a windowsill with a book in his lap and the kind of quiet in his eyes that feels like home. this is a story about soft boys and sea salt. about being seen. about the things we don't say until someone stays long enough to hear them. maybe it's not a love story. maybe it's a *truth* story. no need to be brave. just true.