#and always went on and on about how I would never understand I would never get it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sharieb · 2 days ago

Text

First Kiss Withheld for a Bittersweet Goodbye

Pairing: Rafayel x non-MC! reader

Genre: Angst Request: Helloooooo, I really love your works esp those non mc and I was wondering if i could request you to write about this idea of mine that popped up before I went to sleep.😭 it keeps bugging my mind although I'm having exam, I wonder how Rafayel would react to you not knowing how to kiss when he initiated the kiss first. But instead of telling him that you don't know how to kiss, you just dodged his kiss instead because somehow you isekei'ed into his world(and he knew it, not a secret) so knowing that one day you'll go back to your own world and leave him behind.(and knowing his love story with mc and how they tragically sacrificed for each other, how could you possibly accept these intimate gestures from him?) You just thought you didn't wanna do those intimate(though you both are dying for it, though you dont know how to kiss so if you guys kiss that'll make the kiss your first kiss while he already had his with her, mc. Somehow all the boys ive loved before reference) but instead you wanted to actually get to know him, the him aside from the game. So when the day that you're leaving finally comes, you guys bickered about who's gonna watch who walked away so you insist you watch him walking back and you watch him because you told him "it hurts less for you."(but who'll know what universe decided to do at that point? Will you be able to go back to your world or will he dragged along with you to your world? I'd choose the former since the world would go crazy if they know our sea god is real�� but feel free to go along with my idea or not 💋) and if they were to get separated, they will forever forget about this short term memory. You never isekei'ed into his world(he's still your fav game char) and he never has you in your memory. (Pls if u don't understand, u don't have to reply. It might be too confusing since English is not my first language😭🙏🏻)

I gathered pieces of each result that I thought were really good and combined them instead. Here is the finished draft

The waves lapped softly at the sand, a rhythmic hush that seemed to follow Rafayel wherever he went. He stood barefoot on the shore again, pant legs rolled up, his white shirt lazily unbuttoned. You found him where you always did—avoiding responsibility with a handful of shells, half-sanded and glimmering in the sun.

“I’m making paint again,” he said, as you approached. “Want to watch me crush innocence into powder?”

“You mean seashells?”

He smirked, not answering.

It was so typical of him, this blend of mockery and mystique. Of course, he’d skip his own meeting with Thomas just to gather shells. Of course,e he’d act like the entire world was optional, except you.

He dropped the shells into your hands like they were some kind of offering.

And then, without warning, leaned in.

His lips didn’t quite touch yours. Just a breath away.

You could feel the heat of him, sun-warmed and salt-sweet, close enough to taste the ocean on his skin.

You’d known this moment would come eventually. Rafayel doesn’t half-love anything, not a note, not a gesture, not a person.

But you couldn’t accept it.

So you turned your face.

Just enough to miss his lips. Just enough to shatter the illusion.

His breath hitched. Not a dramatic sigh, not the theatre he was known for—but something quieter. Realer.

“Am I… not what you want?” he asked, voice devoid of his usual glamour.

You opened your mouth. Closed it again. The truth clawed at your throat.

You’d known from the start: this wasn’t your world. You were a glitch in the rhythm, a background player in someone else’s grand symphony. Rafayel wasn’t yours to hold. He was the star of a love story already written in tragedy and sacrifice.

“You don’t understand,” you whispered.

He smiled thinly. “Try me.”

“I don’t know how to kiss,” you admitted.

Rafayel’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “You don’t?”

You shook your head. “If we kissed, if this were my first, it wouldn’t just be a kiss. It’d be a promise I couldn’t keep.”

He frowned. “Because I’ve had her before?”

You nodded. “Yes. You and MC, your story. You both sacrificed so much. How could I ever ask you to share that with me? To make this moment mine?”

The teasing in his eyes faded into something quieter, an ache you recognised beneath his aloof mask.

“You don’t want to be another fleeting memory,” he murmured, voice rougher than usual. “Like the sea washes away footprints in the sand.”

“All I ever wanted is to know you, not just your story,” you said. “The Rafayel who collects shells and makes pigments from them, the one who’s petulant and stubborn and scared inside.”

He smiled then, a real smile, half amused, half resigned. “So you’re not afraid of kissing me. You’re afraid of losing me.”

You looked away because the truth was too sharp to face.

Soon, some time has passed, and eventually, your time here has come to an end. You’re standing by the sea, the rift shimmered, the invisible tear pulling your two worlds apart.

Rafayel refused to look at it as you stood in between him and the rift. His eyes narrowed in quiet rebellion. His usual grace is nowhere in sight. The coat’s gone. His hair is wind-swept. There’s paint on his hands.

He doesn’t speak first.

So you did instead.

“You should go.”

“No.”

“Someone has to turn away first.”

“Then let it be you.”

“No,” you replied. “I’ll watch you walk away.”

He laughed, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “That’s cruel.”

“It hurts less for you that way.”

You tried to smile. Tried not to cry. You didn’t want your final memory to be of you breaking.

He flinches. Like that truth struck harder than any goodbye.

Still, he turns. Walks slowly back toward the studio. One step. Another. His coat, tailored, soft, dusted with sand, billowed behind him like a curtain falling.

You memorised every detail. Because you had to. Because once you stepped back into your world, all of this would dissolve.

You whispered his name once.

He didn't look back.

You wake up early in the morning in you're bed with sea salt on your lips. No explanation. No memory.

Just a strange ache in your chest and the overwhelming feeling that you forgot someone important.

You boot up Love and Deepspace. Rafayel’s character stands idle in his studio background, sketchbook open in his hands. His usual smile graces his face, unchanged.

When he speaks, it’s with the same line he always says.

Except this time… there’s a flicker.

A pause in his animation. A second too long.

As if something in him almost remembered.

As if some part of him still feels your absence like the ocean feels the moon.

divider: @uzmacchiato

#love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace #rafayel x non! mc reader #lads x non mc #lad x non mc #non mc reader

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rainrot4me · 3 hours ago

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I Not sure if you’re taking requests right now, but I’d love to see your take on trans Jeff the Killer!”

AHHHHAHAHAHAH YES LET ME SPEAK LET ME SPEAK SIT AND LISTEN. This is long, I have a deep love for raunchy transmascs.

── .✦

Afab tomboy kid to bitter transmasc adult pipeline.™

Jeff was always rowdy. Always scraped knees, dirt under his nails, running with the neighborhood boys, never wanting to wear the pastel dresses his mother picked. He’d have screamed if he had to wear a bow. Every time one of the other kids said “You can’t play with us, girls aren’t allowed.” He’d be getting sat down and scolded by his mother because he had given that kid a bloody nose out of anger.

He was that “problem child” who never sat still, roughhousing and refusing to act “like a girl.” It earned him constant lectures from teachers and endless sighs from his mother—the “why can’t you just behave?” moments that felt like acid on his skin.

He liked toy swords, monster movies, getting his hands dirty—anything that let him feel powerful, even if he couldn’t yet name why it felt right. He would hide bugs and tiny critters in his pockets and bring them home to scare his brother.

The second puberty hit, Jeff’s sense of betrayal was off the charts. His chest came in. Periods started. Suddenly the adults were trying to mold him into a “young lady”—and the body that had always felt mostly neutral in childhood turned into a prison.

He became angry. Bitter. His room went from messy-kid-chaos to total rage den: holes punched in the wall, broken pencils, fists clenched so hard they shook. This is where the mask of apathy starts—Jeff acting like nothing bothers him, but inside, he is rotting with confusion and dysphoria. The worst part? He’s completely lost in it.

He doesn’t know what transitioning is, doesn’t understand that he could change, doesn’t have the resources or the patience or the want to seek help. All he knows is that he’s angry and he wears clothes way too big for him.

By high school, he’s full-blown spiteful. Short hair, baggy clothes, fights every authority figure tooth and nail. When he hears “you’re such a bitch,” it’s a death sentence in his brain. He’d weaponize his rage, becoming known as the scary teenager that you didn’t want to look at in the lunchroom for too long. He’d lean into the violence, because being feared felt better than being pitied.

It’s only when Jeff hears about the first trans person in his school that he stops and thinks, for once. Everyone badmouthed them, preaching how nasty and weird it was. He just stayed silent, slowly clicking every puzzle piece together when he didn’t even know there was a puzzle to begin with. It just all suddenly clicks.

The “killer origin” moment (burning off his face, slicing his smile) is also a transition metaphor. He chose his name, his body, his power. It was a permanent break from being what everyone demanded. Even though it’s bloody and horrifying, there’s a raw beauty to how Jeff reshapes himself—no more being a daughter, no more being a girl, no more being told “you can’t.”

He over-corrects, though, with aggression. A brutal, controlling masculinity that’s almost satirical—picking fights, dominating rooms, refusing to show vulnerability. If you ever see him truly soft, you’re seeing a side only his closest do. His entire life he’s learned that boys are mean, men are brutal, and masculinity in its whole is anger. So that’s what he embodies, because that’s what he’s learned.

THIS IS FOR THAT ONE ASK I GOT, HERE YOU ARE ANGEL: If you headcanon him Latino, mainly Catholic based, that adds such a sting—a family that saw girlhood as “pure” and “holy,” a church that said his feelings were a sin. That made Jeff’s rebellion even more violent. The guilt stays with him, even as an adult. Sometimes after a kill, he’ll wonder if God is sitting there watching him ruin everything. He’ll spit blood on a cross just to feel in control again.

Post transition? He’s proud as hell. He uses the scars from his face as a kind of armor—they distract from what he used to hate about his body, and make him feel permanently, violently other. They gave him ownership over his own flesh. He still deals with dysphoria sometimes—certain clothing, certain angles—but Jeff is the type to overcompensate with bravado and aggression. He’ll joke about “having a bigger dick than anyone here” and absolutely believing it.

He’s DIY’d more things than he should. Ben sometimes jokes about “Frankenstein hormone therapy” because Jeff refused to go through proper channels and took T from thrown away vials or by swiping them in drugstores. He binds, because even after he’s threatened murder on EJ, he still won’t give him top surgery because he doesn’t care, “you smell like a man, isn’t that good enough for you?” while snarling his nose (not in a transphobic way, in a you fucking reek way).

He binds so tight it hurts to breathe, but he likes it that way. It makes him feel secure. Pre-wrap and medical tape that nearly tears his nipples when he takes it off (if he does, he wear that shit for days at a time, only changing it when it begins to fall on its own). Kinda feels badass lounging around with no shirt and covered in bloodied tape.

Gets serious muscle tone and definition from missions and wrestling people to the ground, becomes incredibly lean and strong especially in his biceps and shoulders, which helps a lot with the “man” image.

All in all, don’t fuck around with it. It doesn’t matter who you are, what you are, or how close you two are—one word about any of it and you’re gone. It breaches a sort of delusional sense about his transition, he truly unshakenly believes he has a dick and he’s hormonally a male and that every childhood picture is somebody else. It’s the mental illness, but it’s also a safe-block on his brain to keep him from spiraling into anything messier. He has enough going on, there’s no point in stressing his body and psyche further.

꩜ .ᐟ

#rainspastathoughts #creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta headcanon #slenderverse #jeff the killer #jeff the killer headcanons #jeffrey woods #jeffrey woods creepypasta #jeff the killer creepypasta

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honeyhonest · 2 days ago

Note

Here's another request~

But if it bothers you that I sent you more, I'll understand orz

A story about the first time Yuu and Fellow had sex. Was it good? Bad? Was there consent? Were they in love? And what about the first kiss? Did they have a room?

-Neo

"was there consent" you know me toooo well. honestly and truthfully I can imagine a thousand first-time scenarios for these two, it's all very dependent on the yuu. buuuuuuut... who am I to deny a little dubcon for this guy? it's always so deliciously in-character for such a scummy man

minors get blocked, 18+ interactions only

✧˖°. to fib

warnings: gn afab!reader (you/yours pronouns), reader is ADULT yuu, DUBCON (coercion, intimidation, stalking kinda) proceed with caution, penetrative sex, post-playful land, pussy/cunt/clit all used, "slut" and "whore" directed towards reader, creampie, fellow calls reader a virgin but it's not confirmed, vaguely dissociative, obviously evil sex blah blah, not proofread FUCK IT!!

characters: fellow

length: long wtf where did these words come from

It had really all felt like a bad dream.

Unlike the fire lotus ordeal in October, which had been the subject of many conversations between those who bore witness to the blazing inferno of flowers that spread through the appropriately-named city like a pandemic, like a plague, Playful Land had been...

...Well, it had been bad. But as if contained between the walls of the seabound vessel, the lingering fear you had felt that night had not burrowed beneath your skin, had not left a bitter taste on your tongue and in your throat. You had been combed through by overblot after overblot, balls of fire and winds of poison that had left marks visible on your body for all the world to see.

Not even the wood grain of Playful Land imprinted itself on your softened skin; it was truly as if nothing had ever taken root there in the first place.

The small group of classmates that had been with you, wrists bound in a line, until they went limp and hard and knocked together like the colorful blocks of a mobile in the wind, well, none of them wanted to talk about it.

"Weird," Ace, distinctly, had said, "Just weird."

Unlike the shriveled fire lotuses, the eternal penance and unpayable fine of Rollo Flamme's punishment, there was no place on the intricately detailed paper map of Professor Trein's classroom wall to put a pin in; Fleur City remained unchanged, its borders hardened by time and wars fought long before your tenure at Night Raven College, and with them, Rollo Flamme. Contained between the stone walls of the city that he lay prisoner of, you had, as Malleus Draconia had unnecessarily reassured you, nothing to fear of him.

There was a place, a date, and a name to what happened there. Azul still mumbled under his breath about the malady of breathing problems the ash of the fire lotuses and the stairs to the belltower had left him, though with no noticeable venom in his voice. Malleus still scoffed at that name, Flamme, the boy who thought he was fit to be God. Ruggie and Jamil still chuckled about things they feigned to with the others, Riddle and Epel still chatted fondly and exchanged nods for their bravery, even Grim had taken to grumbling about his empty stomach when reminded of the many breads and cheeses of Fleur City.

But Playful Land was not this. It was nothing more than what it had sold itself as: an illusion. A dream. A tear in the tablecloth of time and reality, where the crumbs of haughty boys and overconfident students of arcane academies fell through.

There, simply put, was nothing to talk about.

Not that anyone wanted to, anyhow.

It crossed your mind, once or twice, though you never spoke those pedantic thoughts: in one part, because of the uncomfortable nature of the memory; in another, because any reminder of how easily fooled the Night Raven College students were would set off a terrible argument about "who's fault it was", and you hadn't the energy nor interest for that, especially after having barely dragged yourself out of Diasomnia alive this past month.

Another overblot under your belt. How many more were you expected to take?

But, as Headmage Crowley had assured you, that was all in the past- STYX will keep a sharp eye on the school for blot accumulation, the necessary funds will be delegated to recovery and prevention programs, and, after all, the school year was almost complete.

The thought of three months of... nothing was as relieving as it was terrifying. No overblots, no attempted murders, no end-of-the-world, nothing but yourself, Grim, ghosts, and...

...No home.

Three months wasted sitting around your derelict dorm, kicking rocks and waiting for the Headmage to return, as if you were some loyal lapdog for him. You had no hopes of finding your own way back- you had spent these past few weeks of school pouring over every textbook, manual, encyclopedia, ancient tome, and web article you could get your hands on, with your dutiful friends at your side.

But not even Lilia could come up with any sort of spell, incantation, potion, door, portal, or person that might help you home, and so all you were given were the palms of empty hands.

Only a few more days until you were doomed to your dorm for months.

You almost felt grateful for the interscholastic Spelldrive tournament, which would be taking place over the weekend, as it gave you more than enough to keep you moving, on your feet, and out of your own mind.

Sage's Island is packed full of tourists, rivaling teams, TV crews, family members, and fans looking forward to the days of entertainment ahead. Vil and Neige superfans pour from both schools, expecting to catch a glimpse of their biases amongst the crowds. Spelldrive enthusiasts trade tall tales of Leona Kingscholar's athletic routine, hoping they might one day follow in his footsteps. Even the locals are enjoying the food kiosks and sidestreet spectacles. You had never seen the island so full of... well, everything. People, smells, magic, life, light, entertainment. Grim has been dragging you from stall to stall all day, draining you of the measly thirty thaumarks Crowley had allowed you for souvenirs on sandwiches and cheeses and kebabs and sausage and cakes and candies and pie, none of which you've gotten a single bite of yourself, though it's not as if you mind.

You figure that Grim should be spoiled a little before the school year ends. He'll get bored of your home cooking within a week.

Best not to worry about that now.

"I smell fish! Codfish!" he announces, tugging on your sleeve with such excitement you almost tumble into a few burly spelldrive players in blue uniforms- not that Grim notices, or cares.

"We only have five thaumarks left," you remind him. "The Headmage was very generous, but- don't you want to wait for popcorn or something when the game actually begins?"

Grim stops walking in the middle of the cobblestone to ponder on that, and you have to scoop him up to get him out of the way. You plop him down on a stack of empty mango crates in the alley behind an abandoned juice stall, the paper "CLOSED" sign indicating that its occupants had likely left to grab their seats in the stadium. You should also be doing that, but Grim...

"I dunnoooo..." he starts, crossing his little paws like a tiny businessman. "What if they don't have any fish at the game?"

You sigh, slumping against the wall. "I packed tuna in the bag,"

You can predict the disgusted groans and complaints of your friends (and of all the people sitting around you) at the strong smell of cat food. It's funny, and you almost smile.

"Hmmm... fiiine," Grim gives in. You almost get your hopes up, but before you can announce you should then go grab your seats-

"BUT! I want cotton candy, too."

And there it goes, your hope dropping lower than you blood sugar levels. "But- Grim, the special cotton candy stall is at the pier. That's a twenty minute walk from here- maybe more, considering all the foot traffic,"

There he goes, crossing his little cat paws again and pouting. Damn, he's good. You're trapped, and Grim knows it- you both don't want to disappoint him, and you don't want him to pitch a hungry temper-tantrum in the stadium.

But you had really, really good seat... Leona picked it for you himself.

"Hey, there you guys are!"

Your body reacts before your mind, and cold relief flushes the cortisol out of your system. You turn to the sound of your friends, both warm-faced and smiling. Deuce has a red splotch across his nose- sunburnt. Ace must've dragged him around as much as Grim has you.

"Hey, guys,"

"The first round is about to start," Deuce says. "Didn't you say you wanted to wish the team good luck before they head onto the field?"

You shrug. "Leona wanted me to, actually, but that's- um, I just need to make a quick run into town again, can you take Grim and save my seat?"

Ace and Deuce share a look, but it's more weary than suspicious.

"Grim forgot something, didn't he?" the former sighs. "You've gotta keep it together!"

Grim bristles. "HEY! I keep it together all the time!"

You throw yourself in between them before they can waste any more breath. "I'm just making a final snack run! I'll be back as soon as I can, just save the seats and don't wait on me,"

Ace rolls his eyes, but he's never one to deny you. Especially now, knowing that it'll be a long three months before you can see them again. Deuce, always one to entertain your whims, smiles and takes Grim's paw.

"We won't wait on you, then,"

"Just keep us updated, text us in case something happens," Ace grumbles.

You sigh. "Thank you both. Oh, and here- Grim's tuna,"

Deuce shoulders the bag, looking fabulously like a middle-aged mom on vacation. "See you there, Prefect!"

"See you,"

You don't wait for them to start; you only have so much time to bus back to school, and the cotton candy stand with the disgusting tuna-flavored sugar that Grim worships is a commodity that can only be purchased at the piers. Damn it, shouldn't have spoiled him... You wouldn't be in this mess if you were capable of saying "no".

The crowds are tight for only a few minutes of walking (or, rather, shoving, pushing and pulling, being elbowed and stepped on), and then they begin to thin as more people head to the arena in Night Raven College to watch the first match. Which is both relieving and worrying- you're not so sure that some dickweed second-year won't take your seat before Ace, Deuce, and Grim can get there- the numbers on your tickets won't mean anything once you're actually inside.

The sun beats down on Foothill Town like no day before- you hadn't had a summer in Sage's Island yet, and a part of you is concerned that every day will be this hot and humid. Ramshackle has no air conditioning, after all, and the blinds are broken in most rooms.

You flick some sweat off your forehead with a swipe of your palm and keep walking, the cobblestone hard and unforgivingly hot under the thin soles of your borrowed shoes, your feet aching from how much legwork you've done today alone. You had made a promise with yourself to enjoy this weekend to the fullest, but so far, all it had been is hot, crowded, and noisy. And Grim's going to be farting up the bedroom tonight for certain.

Who even thinks of tuna-flavored cotton candy, anyway? You grimace at the thought of the smell.

The blinding sparkle of the blue sea catches your eye, and you follow that to the sound and smell of waves pushing against the white sand. The pier comes into distance, and you slip between the bars and pubs and fish markets, now somewhat unnerved by how quiet it is. There's an old man snoring in a chair on a porch, and then there are the warehouses and storage containers, and then the abandoned boats of the dock.

No cotton candy.

Damn it. They must've moved to get closer to campus. If you had gone with Ace and Deuce, you probably would've seen the damn thing...

You should text and tell them that it's not here. Grim'll pitch a fit, but there's nothing that can be done now. You make a grab for your tiny phone, and find nothing at your side but air.

Fuck. Your phone was in the bag you handed to Deuce.

You slump, defeated and sweaty and dead on your feet, against the closest surface, and then-

OW.

You yelp in pain- the tin walls are burning hot.

Whimpering in pain and cursing at your stroke of poor luck, you limp yourself into a shaded, dark alley between two buildings you can only assume are used to hold fish- based on the smell, at least. It's cool enough here, though, and you stand beside a stack of empty barrels while trying to find a will and motivation to walk back to school.

You're supposed to be having fun this weekend, but all you've felt is miserable- miserable that you're not going home, miserable that your little friends are leaving you, miserable that you shouldn't be so mad about both of those things, but you are.

No fun. No fun at all.

"Pardon, there, would you happen to have the time?"

For a second time today, you yelp like a puppy who's tail had been stepped on. Who the fuck-? You were alone just a second ago, but now there's a shadow in the morning sun at the mouth of the alley.

Embarrassed enough by your sweaty, sorry state and the pitiful sound you'd just made, you look away. "No, sorry, I... uh, my friends have my bag, so no phone. Sorry,"

"Ah. Well that's certainly a shame, I wouldn't want to miss the big game,"

You almost groan. "It's already started,"

The man, tall and too gaudily dressed for summer (you could certainly tell from the silhouette alone, who wears a three piece suit in this sort of heat?) walks further, which is, perhaps, the exact opposite of what you were hoping he'd do.

"What's got you so down, hm? Lost your ticket?"

Your focus stays on your feet, aching and sore from the half-hour of walking you had endured to come here. Should have said no...

"I'm... I'm just..." you hate how chatty the strangers here are. What does it matter to him? "Just catching my breath."

He hums, stopping beside you and sitting on one of the fish barrels without a single regard for the smell or the strange pinkish slime that seems to be splotched across them. "Hot day, isn't it?"

Great. Small talk. "Sure is,"

"Say," he says, the shadow of his face coming closer to yours, trying to catch your downturned eyes. "Have we met? You look awful familiar, but I can't place my finger on it..."

"I doubt that," you say. "I just have... one of those faces. I could be anyone."

"No, no! I'm certain we've met! I would never forget anyone so cute,"

A shiver shoots up your spine, and the shadow of a cloud passes over the alley. Time to go, you decide. Compliments from strangers have never preceded anything good.

"Well, I can't say, I've met a lot of people," you say, hurriedly pushing yourself off the wall. "My friends are waiting on me, though, so I should go."

You don't wait for a response, turning to the open mouth of the alley, away from the strange man, when you're suddenly yanked back by the neck of your shirt. The motion is so sudden and violent that when you choke, it's more out of surprise than it is out of the force that this man is holding you by. Your fear is set off by a flicker of orange, and you're suddenly face-to-face with someone you most certainly have met, and had hoped you never would again.

"It's wrong to fib. Didn't anyone ever teach you that?"

You swallow dryly, held by the scruff of your neck like a disobedient kitten by none other than the former manager of Playful Land, that place you never thought of, never spoke of.

"I-I don't-"

"Tch, come, now. I'm uneducated," Fellow says, using his free hand to tug on the tie of your uniform. "Not stupid. Just save the seats, don't wait on me!"

He trills in an unconvincing imitation of your voice, and then chuckles. You don't dare move, though he shoves you against the cold metal wall anyway.

"I don't have any money," you lie again, feeling the weight of those final five thaumarks in your pocket. What would the Headmage say if you told them they were stolen? Would he believe you?

Fellow rolls his eyes and lets go of your collar, dusting off his hands on his patchwork pants. "I don't want your money,"

He says that word with such disgust that you might have assumed, if you did not know him (or know him enough, in your case), that he really meant it. But he was so willing, so utterly gleeful in stripping away your personhood for a little extra in his paycheck before- what would he do for the five thaumarks in your pocket?

"Don't give me that look," he scowls. "I'm not going to kill you. Why would I? It's all water under the bridge, isn't it?"

You open your mouth, and nothing comes out.

"Besides, I could always tell you..." he gestures vaguely at your sorry state. "...Were a... special exception to the Night Raven College rule. What was it? Pity? Scholarship?"

He smiles, as if that were a funny thought, fixing your collar and smoothing over your shoulders with his dirty-gloved hands. "I just wanted to give you a scare, that's all. Maybe catch up? Laugh about old times?"

You don't say anything, but the suspicion and unease on your face is noticeable. Fellow grins.

"Were you hoping for something else? I've got time,"

You force something, anything, to fall out of your parted lips. "Th-the game,"

"The game?" he scowls. "You'll live, not seeing those pampered brats pretend to beat each other black and blue on sticks."

"But-"

"Shut up," he says, though softly, an odd choice of words if he was going for soothing. Fellow's eyes drift down your body, stiff and unfeeling, your feet frozen to the ground. He checks over his shoulder for a moment, and, deciding that there won't be any consequence for it, he grips the plush of your hip and squeezes. A strangled gasp comes from your throat, startled, not aroused, though he likes it anyway.

"Missed me?" he teases, retracting his hand if only to force you against the wall again, his fingers dancing up your side. "You know, of all those fat-faced school brats, I always found you the most..."

Fellow pauses, as if carefully picking his words.

"...Fuckable. Though that's not a very gentlemanly thing to say, is it?"

"...No," you manage.

"Cute, then," he says. "But I didn't touch you, didn't see the point in risking my paycheck for pussy- I could've done that with any town whore, anyhow. Though, that was then."

You look to the side, as if pretending to yourself that there's a way out of this. You should make some effort, at least. Then you can say you fought back and won't be so mad at yourself about it later.

"And what luck that it was you I ran into here, hm? I dare say fate is rewarding me for good behavior," Fellow smile, tapping the tip of your nose. "Maybe you, too. I bet those private school pricks don't know how to treat someone like you, hm?"

"...It's not like that," there's your voice, at least.

Fellow rolls his eyes. "Oh, sure it is. They're teenage boys- I was once one myself, believe it or not- if they're not already thinking about sticking their dicks in, they will be. Unless they're as blind as they are oblivious,"

He pinches the fat of your hip between his fingers again, laughing and leering over you.

"It doesn't take a genius to see that you were made to take cock,"

"Uh-? But I-"

"I'd be surprised if you haven't been passed around already. You know how teenage boys are,"

"N-no," you say, firmly enough for how your voice is trembling. "They're not... interested in me... in that way. Nothing's happened."

"Nothing's happened?" Fellow asks in a mocking tone, feigning shock with wide eyes and an O-shaped mouth, the look of innocence, before falling into a smirk. "Well, then- I was going to let you run off, but now that I know that, I think I should at least give you your first load before letting you go back to that spoiled rich place."

Ah, fuck.

Your eyes widen. "Um- I- I..." where are you going with this? "...Is that really how you speak to strangers?"

"No, just you,"

"...Right," you mutter. "M-maybe we should... talk about this, first-"

Fellow scoffs, though he's smiling, as if your complaints are funny to him. He presses you firmly against the wall of the alley, forcing a knee between your thighs and reveling in the wince you respond with.

"What, you don't like me? Think I'm diseased?"

You look away. "...No,"

"Well, you'd be right to worry," he mutters. "Come on, honey. Do I really look like a bad guy to you?"

You make a face at him, and he laughs.

"Oh, don't tell me you're still upset about that thing? That was months ago! I've reformed, changed! I'm an honest man now!"

"...You don't expect me to believe that-"

"I expect you to stop talking so much," he mutters, stopping his incessant petting of your side to pinch your cheek, and then squish your face between his hands. "You're too damn cute for those lazy pricks. It's a shame they haven't been using you the way you ought to be- though, I'm glad they haven't. Does that make me selfish?"

He knows the answer to that. It's hidden in his smirk, snarky though more sincere than before. He's enjoying himself, pinching and squeezing you and groping you like a stress ball.

"Just relax. It'll be over before you know it,"

Not promising, though you know he's not exactly concerned with your personal pleasure. You might as well be a porno mag or the warm touch of his palm, nothing more than something to entertain himself with.

It made you sort of dizzy, though you couldn't pinpoint exactly where that was coming from.

"...I can't keep them waiting," you murmur in a gentle admission of defeat. Fellow smiles, his fangs digging into his lower lip.

"That's alright, sweetie, that's alright," he coos. "We won't keep them waiting, will we? We'll be nice and quick."

His hand rests on the back of your head, cradling you- no holding you in a firm touch, his fingers squeezing around your neck, digging into the soft flesh as his lips press against yours. The kiss is not as brutish or bruising as you were anticipating. It is, rather, gentle, dozens of kisses peppered onto your waiting lips, pressed softly and quickly, though despite their delicacy each feels distinctly like he's stealing something away from you- your breath, your resistance, your sense of time. It's only when you've melted a little, become docile and small in his hands, does his forceful, unforgiving side return, his tongue filling your mouth and demanding yours in return. Everything to do with this man is an exchange. A kiss for a grope, a favor for a service, an eye for an eye. He forces your body closer to his with his free hand, digging into your hip and pressing you into the apex of his thigh, making you grind on him. It feels good, despite your better wishes not to enjoy this as much as Fellow is.

He pulls away, leaving the bitter taste of metal and the sting of last night's alcohol on your bitten lips, if only to use both hands in his pursuit of getting you wet enough not to tear anything. He's gentlemanly enough in that regard, you think, giving him an encouraging moan (why?) when he gently bounces his thigh under the beguiling movement of your hips.

"That's it... that's it..." he mutters, his body curved around yours in a certainly uncomfortable manner, shielding you from the world outside of his shoulders and chest. "You weren't lying, huh? They really don't fuck you at that school. You're so desperate for it, you're practically easy... taking it from a stranger... I bet your buddies would pay to see that, eh?"

"Don't want to think about them," you murmur into his shoulder.

He laughs. "Oh, but it'd be funny, wouldn't it? They'd be wide-eyed and slack-jawed, watching their cute little class crush moaning against a strange man's shoulder like a needy whore," his fingers dig deep into your hips and he forces you further onto him, the unforgiving friction sending a jolt of sensitivity through your clit. You yelp. He grins into your hair.

"I've fantasized about fucking you in that shitty control room for months. What I wouldn't have given to go back to that moment and bent you over the control panel. Would've put load after load in you- fuck,"

He stops himself, a strangled whine escaping his throat as you slide further down his thigh and push against his crotch.

"Ugh," he gasps. "Your pants, off."

It's amazing what the simplest of touches will do to him. If you were braver, and bigger, maybe you could have challenged the weak thread of authority he was clinging to- how easily it snapped the second you touched him, even if by accident. You almost wonder what else you could break in him, but that's a subject you're better off not worrying about now.

You peel off your pants, practically drenched in sweat and damp with wetness around the crotch (how you hate your excitable body) and let them crumple on the dirty gravel. Fellow wastes no time nor breath, forcing a hand between your legs to cup you through your underwear, feeling the heat coming off of you.

"Slut," he says, though it sounds more like an observation than an insult. As if he were talking about the weather.

He doesn't ask you to undress him, like some men would. He's perfectly happy with keeping his own pockets, empty as they are, far from your wandering eyes and prying hands. You almost don't want to look when he works out his cock, already erect and leaking to a comically lewd degree (and he called you the easy one...)

"It's rude to stare," he teases, even though his weak, breathy voice.

Fellow lifts one of your thighs as high as it will go, around his hip, forcing you to lean against the tin wall behind you with some difficulty. He doesn't feel the need to warn you when he's about to sink in, and so one moment you're thinking about the smell of metal lingering on your clothes, and the next you can't think of anything but the distinct sensation of something pushing between the walls of your cunt. It nearly knocks the wind out of you, though, all things considered, it's rather underwhelming. There's only the feeling of pressure in your lower stomach, and the trembling of Fellow's body beneath yours.

"Oh, f-fuck..." he mumbles, obviously having the time of his life. "Ah... fuck, damn it, shit..."

Is that how he's going to talk the whole time? Though you dare not speak; you're not sure you even could if you tried.

"...I knew it," he finally mutters, forcing more and more of his cock inside, or, rather, forcing you to take more by the firm grip he has on your hips, pulling you closer to him.

"You were made for this."

Some awkward, strange moaning noise comes from your throat, and he laughs, though his own voice is breathy.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum. Hold still," he demands, keeping you in place until he's calmed himself down enough to start thrusting, though, again, weakly and shallowly, little movements of apathetic effort, or of barely constrained lust, you can't decide.

The tiny thrusts are enough to send shockwaves of arousal up your body- you had forgotten the simple feeling of pleasure, of lust, you had been trapped in this world and this tired, emaciated body for so long. When was the last time you truly had a moment to yourself? You were always with someone, misunderstood and mistreated by the people of this world, surrounded by their smiling faces and soft hands that never quite touched you, that never felt your body as if you were a person with weight.

There was something, then, gratifying about this encounter; disgusting as he was, and as shameful as you felt, Fellow Honest did not see you as some untouchable artifact, some ugly, divine thing. You were as human as he was, as fucked up and weak and poor, as desirable as any normal person should be. Not a ghost, not a beast, not a thing, not an alien, not an angel, just a lonely, disgusting little animal who needed to be fucked like one. Deserved it, maybe. Miserable little thing you were.

Maybe you liked the attention. Maybe you liked the thought of existing outside of Night Raven College, if only for a few minutes of unprotected sex with a dangerous stranger in an alley, clit sensitive and swollen but receiving no attention as his cock twitches inside you. It's almost summer. You're not sure if you'll even exist in a few months, when school has returned, but you exist now; perhaps more than you had before.

Playful Land had felt like a fever dream; but right now, being fucked by its former manager, is the most awake you've felt in months.

In a disgusting, vulnerable, human sort of way, like an open wound.

"Fucking- mm, fuck, I'm- you want to take my load, don't you?" Fellow mutters, fangs grazing against your shoulder, threatening to sink in. "You're gonna be a good whore and let me fuck my cum into you?"

You nod, not thinking twice about it- it feels as natural as the breeze coming from the sea some ways west.

"Good, fuck, you're so good-" he stiffens, legs shaking, shoving you hard against the wall again to take some of your weight off of his own body. You can only vaguely register the warm feeling of cum filling you, or at least the feeling of it dripping out, gravity at work.

Fellow pulls away after a moment, panting weakly, though there's that smirk on him again.

"You're a doll," he mutters, wiping tears you hadn't realized you'd cried off your cheek. "What'd I do to deserve such good treatment, hm?"

Nothing. You shrug, tired despite not having cum. You don't really feel like seeing the game anymore- nothing sounds more appealing than a good nap, except for maybe sitting on Fellow's face for a few hours.

"Mmmhm," he mutters, snapping your underwear back into place when he pulls out, the red lines of friction indented in your skin where it had been forced to the side. "I haven't had virgin pussy in..."

He pauses, stuffing his limp dick back in his pants.

"...Well, ever, I suppose. A man could get used to that."

Fellow offers you your pants back, pointlessly brushing some gravel off of the front. You don't want to go through the trouble of redressing yourself, but you do. Not like you have a choice. And you couldn't say no to him, anyhow.

"Done now?" you finally ask, watching Fellow zip up his pants. He shrugs.

"Guess so. Thanks for the pick-me-up, sweetie,"

You grimace, something gross settling in the pit of your stomach as he heads for the mouth of the alley. Off to become another dream, another memory you don't speak of, a pinless location on a map.

"Wait,"

Fellow stops, turning over his shoulder, his eyebrows arched in apathetic half-curiosity, his ears perked up.

You hesitate, open your mouth, hesitate again, and-

"Do you... need a place to stay, for a few months?"

#twst smut #twisted wonderland smut #fellow honest x reader

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dulcecherub · 3 days ago

Text

Endlessly

Authors note: thank you so much to @loverafestarkey for the idea! I hope I did it justice. Sorry this took so long! I was having major writers block with this. But here it is now! Sorry for the really extremely long wait. This is circa season 3.

Rafe had been very cautious after he’d hook up with Sofia. He wasn’t sure if she was using him for his money and the last thing he wanted was to get wrapped up in his feelings. Especially if he was being used. Especially by a Pogue.

If he was being honest, Sofia surprised him. She wasn’t the typical Pogue. The ones he knew were always stealing. Always doing dirty work to get far in life. But not Sofia. She was so sweet. So kind, he was sure she was trying to use him.

He was ever weary, he wasn’t the type of guy girls went after. For a fuck, yeah sure. Or because of his status and money. But to pursue anything further than that. It never occurred. People found him to be strange. He was too wrapped up in getting the cross to care. But with Sofia, it was like he wanted to impress her. He wanted nothing more to just be near her.

He never assumed he would be the kind of person who fell in love. Usually he could separate what he felt when he hooked up with a girl. But the moment he had her, he was hooked. She was all he could think about. His mind would rear towards her, like she was the only direction worth walking toward.

But fear kept him in place.

It didn’t help how intimate they would get after sex. Her fingers would etch across his face. His fingers would do the same, their lips dancing against the others. He didn’t understand if she was acting like she cared or actually cared.

“Uh Sofia?”He stood near the edge of the bed. Unsure how to bring his thoughts into the conversation.

She looks up, wearing his shirt. Her hair a rumbled mess. But still, her beauty shines through it regardless. His breath hitches, still not used to it. Still blown away by her, her essence. Her presence.

“Yeah?” She blinks and he feels his heart begin to race.

“I need to ask you something. It’s nothing bad… I don’t think. I mean I would hope it’s—”

Sofia lets out a giggle. “Rafe, you can tell me. You don’t need to beat around the bush.”

He nods his head, his eyes still on hers. He couldn’t even move them away if he tried.

“Just be honest with me. Okay?”

“Okay.”

He rubs the back of his head before crossing his arms. He nods to himself.

“Do you want me?”

Sofia blinks in surprised, he can tell she’s not sure what to say.

“Huh?” Sofia sits up straighter on his bed. Her brows furrowed.

Rafe rubbed at his cheek, “D-do you want me?” His eyes moved away from her briefly before landing back on her. She was sitting up now, staring at him in shock. Her hazel eyes wide.

“Of course I do.” Her hand lands on her chest, he nods.

“T-this means something to you, right?” He can’t help but hear the desperation in his voice. He winces slightly at his tone. But he needs to know.

“Yeah, it does. A lot actually. Why?”

Rafe taps his fingers against his night stand, looking away to process what he’d just heard. His brows furrowing, his attention maneuvers back to Sofia.

He smiles at her.

“No reason, just asking.”

He makes his way back to the bed. Laying his body down next to hers, she readjusts herself. Her head on his stomach.

“You’re cute when you’re overthinking.” She whispers, kissing his forehead. His cheeks warm up.

“Yeah, yeah.” She smiles at him before laying her head back down to his stomach.

He could do this forever if he had to. And the sudden realization came upon him. He really would. He could do this forever. Just her and him. Them.

#rafe x sofia #outer banks #rafe cameron #sofia outer banks #sofia x rafe #rafe x sofia fanfic #Spotify #rafia #rafia fanfic #outerbanks rafe #rafe outer banks #outer banks sofia #sofia and rafe #rafe and sofia

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alexbkrieger13 · 12 hours ago

Note

https://www.theguardian.com/football/2025/jun/26/pernille-harder-denmark-euro-2025

P wrote an article 😊

I went back to the team where it all started. I am able to be the role model I never had

I recently spent time coaching 80 girls at FC Midtjylland, the team where I began my career but had to leave in my teens as they had no women’s team.

i will be on a plane on Monday with Denmark heading to Switzerland to take part in my fourth Euros, but before the tournament I went back to where it all began for me, to Danish side FC Midtjylland. I was there to spend time coaching 80 girls from the age of eight to 13.

More than 20 years ago, I began my own journey there and things looked very different then. There was no women’s team and no women who played football. For me to go back as a role model these girls gives me a lot of energy. There is no better way to ground yourself than to be reminded where you came from.

I’m really happy I am able to be that role model I didn’t have myself, but most importantly it’s fun. I love being around these young girls, some who are really good and all who are just happy to be on a pitch.

There was no future for me at the club and when I was about 14 I had to move to another one an hour’s drive away. Now, these girls are in here early – maybe a little too early – and are already started in small talent teams with high-quality training. They are being given an opportunity to develop in a way my generation was not.

In 10 years’ time, these girls are going to be so good. I was lucky I had parents who were supportive and willing to take me to a team I could play in, but there were a lot of girls who didn’t have the same opportunities and support. It’s crazy to think about how much talent was wasted. Now, these girls can play and train in the city they come from and the setups around them are of a much higher quality.

I can see the growth in the talent pool and the quality of the young players coming into the national team or the Denmark youth teams. The technique and control of the ball is so much better than that of my generation when we were coming through. It’s very interesting to see they have a natural understanding of the game as well.

It would be easy to think I would feel slightly envious of what is available now and it would have been interesting to see how good I could have been if I had the same setup. However, I gained in other ways from having to try to figure out for myself how to get better as a player.

View image in fullscreenThe Guardian named Pernille Harder as the best female footballer in the world in 2018 and 2020. Photograph: Susan De Klerk

They have different challenges though. There are a lot of things that are more difficult for them today. There is a lot more pressure from social media on the newer generation. That can affect their game, make them worry too much about making mistakes and then they’ve grown up constantly comparing themselves on social media and trying to get likes and follows. These are not good things to have in sport: you need to be confident in yourself and be able to play without fear of criticism or comparison.

It’s weird reflecting on the platform football has given me. When I was a kid I never would have considered I would be able to advocate for women’s rights, equality, the environment, for young people and speak up on so many other issues. These are the things you don’t realise you will reflect on as being as important – if not more – than the titles won. That platform wouldn’t exist without the titles, but even when I reflect on those, I spend more time thinking about the moments with teammates rather than lifting the trophy.

There is always pressure in major tournaments, but when women’s football is developing so quickly across Europe, knowing the effect of a good tournament more widely back in Denmark adds more pressure. If we get to the knockout stage and if we do well there, that is something that brings the country together. In the past few years there has been more and more attention on us so if we do well it could be hugely positive for the development of women’s football.

There is no denying our group is tough, with Sweden, Germany and Poland in it. We had a tough end to the Nations League, a 6-1 loss to Sweden, who we play in our first game in Switzerland, but I don’t think that loss has taken too much of our confidence from us. It’s motivation to show it was just a one-off.

Having played them so recently we don’t have to spend too much time on tactics and formations, it’s about being ready from the first minute, it’s about all 11 players having to be on it, it’s about the duels and it’s about the energy. When we play against the better teams it is as much about the mentality.

There is a personal edge to the game for me. Although we have played with and against each other many times, it is very special that I face my partner, Magda Eriksson, at a Euros for the first time.

How do we interact before a big game against each other? I don’t talk about our tactics and she doesn’t talk about their tactics, but we know each other pretty well and so do the countries. It’s hard for our families though – they get very nervous about us playing against each other because they want the best for both of us. That’s the difficult part, you want the best for each other, but not in that moment.

#omg why did I cry reading this #pernille harder #magdalena eriksson #woso #fc bayern frauen #fcb frauen #denwnt

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peterm4rker · 2 days ago

Text

(𐙚⋆.˚) TSQ

⋆ 𐙚 ⭑.ᐟ [jisung x reader] ...୨♡୧... wc. 5.3k w. angst ! angst with no comfort ᶻ 𝗓 �� .ᐟ

hey siri! play TSQ by humbe on spotify!

no te voy a decir que no ¿para qué te miento? sí, te extraño aún no entiendo la razón de dejarme, si no te hice daño

february, 2025

when jisung first met you, he would've never imagined that he could feel anything negative because of you.

he had always thought of you as sunlight; constant, bright and warm. a light to guide him home even in his darkest days. and it wasn't like he imagined it, or as if he made up a perfect version of you in his head, you really were like that.

not all sunshines and smiles, but real. you cried, got mad and swore like a sailor, but nothing about that took away from the sheer comfort you brought into his life. you were there, you were real, and you were his.

until you weren’t.

if he was being completely honest, he didn’t quite understand what had happened; what had changed in the way you looked at him from one day to another. well, he guessed leaving him wasn’t a decision you took overnight, but that just made it worse, in his opinion. because there he was, weeks later and still wondering for how long his eyes shone with a love that yours no longer had.

had you been uncomfortable sleeping by his side? had you been disgusted whenever his lips touched yours?

oh, he was feeling sick at the mere thought of it.

it really didn’t help at all that he could find you everywhere he went. the ice cream shop by the corner where you had your first date, the bench you always went to at the park; even the store where he bought the promise ring that was now sitting on the deepest corner of his sock drawer.

and he missed you. he missed you so much that he felt a constant hollow on his chest, and his hand was way too cold without yours to warm it up.

at some point in your relationship he had become so secure about you that he never even allowed himself to think about what he would do when he no longer had you. and god, did he wish he had. because he had never felt lonelier than walking through the park as if he would find the answer to his dilemma between the absurd amount of people that surrounded him.

he had no idea how to be without you, even less how to not miss you to the point of constantly being nauseous.

pero sigo creyendo que no somos amigos cercanos pues yo sí te sigo queriendo

march, 2025

jisung had never felt so stupid in his life.

stupid because if there was anyone that knew that he was not prepared to see you, it was him. And yet, there he was, at mark’s house as he watched you giggle away at something your best friend had said.

it wasn’t anyone else's fault but his, really. mark had even warned him you would be there, his voice apologetic as he explained that he couldn’t just stop seeing either of you. and jisung understood, of course, because it wasn’t like he wanted to stop seeing you. doing so had never made him anything but happy.

it was new to feel like he was repeatedly being stabbed on the chest every time his eyes found you. and unfortunately, his eyes still looked for you every time he entered a room.

because he wasn’t the one that stopped loving you out of nowhere.

not like he had any type of resentment, of course.

“you sure you’re okay?” chenle’s voice dragged jisung out of his very own dramatic inner monologue as he settled next to him on the couch.

“hmh, never better,” the boy spoke, clearly lying through his teeth as he teared his eyes away from you for what felt like the millionth time that night.

“good, because she's coming this way,” his best friend said, clapping his shoulder with sympathy as he laid back on the couch.

jisung’s heart stopped in his chest as you walked into his field of vision once again, smiling away at everyone. god, you looked beautiful.

“dude, it was not like that!” renjun’s voice resonated once jisung began tuning into the conversation once again. “i never hit on you once.”

“yes you did! stop lying!” donghyuck spoke with a loud laugh, pointing at his friend accusatorily. “that one time where you got wasted at ji and yn’s apartment!”

jisung really wished a jolt of pain didn’t go through him when he remembered that wasn’t your apartment anymore. and he could see the way your eyes travelled to him, as if to see his reaction to that fact. so he looked away, focusing on his hands and the rings he was wearing.

look at that, you had gotten him more than half of them.

he let out the faintest sigh as he pulled them off, pocketing them without a word before looking back at where his friends laughed and shouted obnoxiously. he wished he didn’t, because he wasn’t prepared to see the heartbreak in your eyes as you watched him.

he immediately wanted to reach out to you, pull you into his arms and tell you that he would never take them off again. but he couldn’t, so he gave you a small smile and focused his attention on hyuck, who had apparently moved on from renjun’s flirting (or lack thereof) to terrorize mark instead.

soon enough, you jumped into the conversation. your laugh resonated through the room as you joined forces with the honey skinned boy, taunting your best friend as if your life depended on it. and jisung wanted to cry, really. he had always admired the way you could move past being upset to find happiness again, except that now he kind of wished you didn’t. still he tried to focus some of that energy into himself, so he put on a smile and spoke up, joining the conversation.

if he could pretend everything was fine, then maybe you would make your way to him again.

que la vida es testigo de cómo mi alma va haciendo su infierno intento imaginar que todo fue un sueño

march, 2025

nothing but sheer relief washed over jisung's body when he opened his eyes and found your sleeping figure right next to him on the bed.

you were there, and it had all been a bad dream.

he smiled and moved closer to you, his hand coming up to lazily brush a strand of hair away from your sleeping face. he swore right then and there that he had never seen anything more beautiful than you in the morning. so natural, so trusting, so comfortable around him. he was so in love with you that he would do anything in the world if that meant seeing you happy. the stars weren’t out of reach, the ring wasn’t that expensive, nothing was impossible if you were the one to ask.

and god, he was so grateful that the stupid bad dream was over, and that his hands were littered with rings again.

as you shifted awake, his heart almost exploded. he could see how sleepy you were as you smiled at him, immediately moving to cuddle closer to his chest and throw an arm over his waist without even opening your eyes.

it was nice to finally be back home with you.

he left a kiss on your forehead and pulled you even closer, letting you rest until you were ready to open your eyes.

except when you did, everything crumbled around him. since when were your eyes a different color?

then, he started to remember. the heartbroken look in your eyes, the boxes full of your stuff, his rings put away next to the ring.

oh.

it wasn’t a dream, this was.

and the issue about the whole thing wasn’t the fact that he was trapped in a dream; it was just that he didn’t want to wake up from it and face his depressing reality. so he held you closer, pressed his lips on your forehead and closed his eyes again to feel the warmth of your hold once again. it was the best feeling in the world, even when it was just his head playing tricks on him.

still, when he woke up and there was a cold pillow instead of you, he wanted to cry again.

he found himself crying a whole lot more often now.

que seamos eternos que en el mundo no haya calibre de bala que pueda vencernos que mis días comiencen contigo sería todo un privilegio espero que esto ya no todo sea un sueño

november, 2024

“ji! can you come here please?” you called out from your shared room. jisung, who had been patiently waiting for you to finish getting ready, stood up from the couch and went straight to you.

his lips immediately formed a smile when he caught sight of you, squeezed into the tight black red he had gotten you a couple months back.

“what’s up, pretty girl?” he asked as he got closer to you, hands finding their way to your hips as if it was where they meant to be.

he could see the small smile that escaped you, the way your eyes shone at the sight of him so obviously enamoured by you. “i need help putting on my necklace, pretty please.”

he nodded, but didn’t move from his position. instead, he pulled your body closer to his and ducked down slightly to catch your lips in a kiss. god, he would never get over how good it felt to kiss you. even after three years of being together, his heart did backflips on his chest and butterflies surged into his stomach every single time. and the way you smiled on his lips? he could give up every single thing in his life if that meant he would have you forever.

“ji, necklace,” you reminded him between kisses, doing very little work to pull away from him when he unconsciously chased your mouth.

“just a little more,” he mumbled, right before he pressed his mouth against yours again.

minutes passed until you were able to push him away (not like you were trying very hard, either), but jisung’s hair was now messy with the aftermath of your hands, and your lipstick was smeared all over his lips.

“we’re going to be late,” you let out a small giggle, looking up at him with adoration filling your eyes.

it was the prettiest sight he had ever seen.

“we’re already late,” he nodded, the smile ever so present in his lips, “so we should kiss for a few more minutes.”

you rolled your eyes with amusement, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from how beautiful you looked at every single moment.

“jisung.” you said, trying your best to keep your tone serious.

“what? i’m just committing to our fashionably late bit,” he said in exchange, throwing his hands up in surrender. he looked so handsome when he smiled at you like that.

“sure you are,” you smiled before placing your hand behind his neck and pulling him back onto your lips.

there wasn’t anywhere in the world that he would rather be.

para nada pienso mal de ti pero no te quiero mentir

april 2025

jisung didn’t know why you hadn’t made it to donghyuck’s party, and in all honesty, he was trying really hard not to care. he did, obviously, but he was trying not to. it would just set him back, like he did every single time he saw your face.

and that wasn’t the worst part, really.

the worst part was that he was slowly feeling the pain turn into resentment, and he once swore he would die before ever hating you.

“so you aren’t together anymore?” one of the girls that sat around him and sion on the couch asked, raising an eyebrow at him. her smile was too close to a smirk, too pleased for his liking.

“uhm, no,” he denied, his awkward persona shining through once again at being put on the spot. “we broke up a couple months ago.”

“oh really?” she asked, her lips forming an exaggerated pout. “why did you dump her?”

“i didn’t,” he spoke, too fast to even process his own words. his eyebrows were furrowed in a frown, almost confused at the idea that anyone would think he would ever leave you, “she broke up with me.”

“oh! what did you do?” the girl asked, continuing her overly high pitched voice as she looked at him with somewhat of a teasing smile. “did you cheat on her or something?”

jisung had never been so appalled in his life.

why would he ever cheat on you? and why on earth did this girl seem so enthralled by the idea?

“no, i didn’t,” he said, his expression so incredibly unamused that she caught on immediately. “i would never do that.”

“a loyal man, i like that,” she said, trying to get back into whatever game she thought she had going on. “so she left you for no reason? what a bitch.”

and that is where he drew the line.

“you know nothing about her,” he stated, standing up from where he was with an expression that could scare anyone off. “she is everything but a bitch, and she had a reason.”

the girl seemed to catch on to the fact that whatever she wanted was not happening, so her expression changed to a darker one as she tilted her head in mock curiosity. “yeah? and what was that?”

jisung’s words got stuck in his throat, because he had no idea.

he didn’t know why you left him, you hadn’t given him a reason.

and he couldn’t pretend that he hated it, that he didn’t want to call you and force you to tell him why three years went down the drain overnight. because maybe, just maybe, you had done it without a reason.

“that’s enough, let’s go,” sion stood up, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder before turning him around to get him to walk away.

“bye bye! say hi to yn for me!” she exclaimed as they walked away. her words were meant to sting, to hurt, but they didn’t even register in his head as his mind was completely stuck on you.

guilt clogged in his throat as he walked, because maybe he did think it was wrong for you to leave him like that.

maybe you were a little bit of a bitch. día y noche por tres meses yo sufrí me morí, reviví cuando te descubrí

june 2025

it had been three months since jisung had last seen you.

three months without hearing your voice, without looking at your smile. it was supposed to be for the best, so love wouldn’t turn into hate as he watched you continue your life like you hadn’t completely wrecked his. but in reality, jisung had never felt worse.

he missed you so much it physically hurt, as if someone had just taken away his lifeline and left him to fend for himself. even after you broke up, seeing you was a breath of fresh air that stung his insides like no other, and he had even begun to miss the sting.

and still, he listened to the people around him and took his time and distance from you, because how could he ever get over you if he constantly saw your face? it didn’t make much sense.

nothing ever made sense after you left, but that was a thought for another day.

so as the boy walked around the grocery store, throwing things into a cart because chenle had told him he couldn’t continue living off take out, he tried his very best to shake you off his mind and focus on the list his best friend had made him.

but then again, when did anything ever go the way he wanted it to?

“jisung?” a voice he knew too well spoke from behind him as he reached for his (your) favorite cereal from the top shelf. he was scared to turn around, knowing that the prettiest sight he ever saw would be waiting right there for him. maybe he could pretend he didn’t hear you and you would go away. “i know you heard me.”

fuck, you knew him too well. the boy took a deep breath before he turned around, bracing himself to see you for the first time in months. would it hurt? would he want to die again? maybe you would look worse than you did before even if he knew that was impossible. all those thoughts crossed his head in the second it took him to turn around and meet your gaze.

and oh, there you were.

you could see the way he physically melted when your eyes met; his shoulders fell, his eyes softened completely.

because it was you, and you were right in front of him, and his heart soared like it did the first time he saw you all those years ago.

“hi,” he breathed out, looking so dazed by your presence that you had to stop yourself from grimacing at the guilt that settled on your chest.

“hi,” you said back, quietly contemplating if you should’ve just walked away from him and let him continue his very obvious efforts to avoid you. “i haven’t seen you in a bit.”

jisung’s insides churned so hard he had to stop himself from wincing because of the softness of your voice, the clear regret in your eyes. he would love to be delusional enough to think it was regret of leaving him, but he knew you far too well for that.

“i haven’t been going out much,” he said, trying his best to shrug off the bitter taste that began infiltrating in the joy of seeing your face again.

“i know,” you nodded, eyes shifting to the floor because you knew you were the reason for that. “the boys miss you.”

do you?

he almost let himself slip, say his thoughts out loud, but he caught himself before he did.

“i’ll see them soon,” he nodded, pursing his lips a little awkwardly.

you nodded back, letting out a small sigh before looking up at him, giving him one of your charming smiles that didn’t quite reach your eyes as you prepared to walk away from him again. “alright, it was nice seeing you, ji.”

oh no, please don’t leave.

his heart was borderline screaming for you, needing to have you close to him and never spend that much time without you again.

his hand twitched in efforts not to reach out, and he felt the crunch of the paper of his grocery list. chenle would kill him if he fumbled.

“yeah, you too, yn,” he smiled softly before turning back around and closing his eyes harshly once that you couldn't see him.

he had to get better, for his friends and for himself.

¿será que la vida ya me puso aparte? ya no me quiere dar tiempo de más para darte ¿por qué es difícil amarte y hacerlo sin yo lastimarme? ya solo queda mandarte las partes de un corazón que aquí dejaste que me dejaste

july 2025

for the first time in months, jisung felt good.

he didn’t think about you as much, and had learned to accept that maybe he didn’t have to. it was okay for him to grow, and to leave behind all the bad things he had felt through those past few months to leave room only to remember you fondly.

he was good, ready to be your friend.

so that’s the mentality he took to mark’s party, ready to walk into the room and be the best friend he could be to you.

except when he walked in and saw you almost pressed up against a wall, giggling at something kamden whispered into your ear, he wasn’t so sure he wanted to be.

he wasn’t prepared for the beautiful walls he had made around himself to be destroyed completely in the matter of seconds, but then again, he should've seen that coming; seven months were not enough to get over someone like you.

he could give you credit and admit that your expression fell when your gaze met his, and that you pushed kamden off gently; but he didn’t want to give you credit for anything at the moment. he turned around and walked to the kitchen where he was sure to meet one of his friends that could talk him out of the crimes he was planning against himself.

“jisung! you came!” mark cheered happily when he entered his line of sight, swinging an arm over his shoulder and ruffling his hair. “we missed you around here, man!”

warmth swelled in the younger boy’s chest again, because at least someone had missed him. “i missed you guys too,” he smiled, although it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

mark took immediate notice of his clear bad mood, and his expression fell slightly, “you saw her?”

jisung didn’t have to hear your name to know who he was talking about, considering your friends never referred to you by your name when talking to him now. “yeah.”

“i’m sorry, i should’ve told her not to bring him,” his older friend said, eyes shining with guilt.

“nah, she can bring whoever she wants,” jisung assured him, giving him a reassuring smile before moving to make himself a drink. it wasn’t his place to dictate where or not you could take people, and it was your best friend’s house anyways, so he had no right. still, he did wish mark had told you not to bring him.

so he stayed in the kitchen, far away from you and kamden and close enough to the makeshift bar. it wasn’t a good idea, in retrospect, but there was nothing he could do about it now that he was already feeling lighter.

“yn! hey!” he said cheerfully when you walked into the kitchen, carrying two cups he assumed you had to refill.

“hey ji,” you said, far quieter. you knew the boy like the back of your hand, and saying he was drunk was an understatement. “how much are you drinking?”

“probably less than your boyfriend,” he said, shrugging so casually that if you didn’t know him so well you would miss the way his jaw clenched subtly.

“not my boyfriend,” you said; short, clear, warning.

“he will be soon,” jisung shrugged again as he moved to grab your cup out of your hands, instinctively making the drink you always had with ease only recognizable as muscle memory. “and that's fine, you know? at least you dumped me for a reason.”

his words hit you like a truck, guilt taking immediate refuge on your chest. “ji, i think you drank too much, please stop.”

out of all the reactions you expected, a dry laugh wasn’t one of them. “i’m totally fine. i’m an adult and i can drink whenever i want,” he stated, handing you your drink with a cynical smile on his face. “besides, you’re not my girlfriend anymore, i don’t see why you’d care.”

he could see the way your expression visibly changed to one of hurt, but honestly, he couldn’t be bothered with feeling guilty. not when you hadn’t.

“i still care about you,” you said softly, voice quieter than usual. “you’re still my friend.”

“you can’t expect me to believe that.” he stated, and his voice carried more sadness than he wanted to. “we were together for four years, you don’t get to throw that away and expect us to be friends after.”

well, now, he did feel a little guilty at the sight of your face morphing with a devastating amount of sadness. but still, he knew he was right, and it kind of felt good to finally voice it out loud.

“yn, i-” kamden spoke from the door, peeking his head until his smile fell at the sight, “my bad.” he spoke, disappearing right out of the door.

jisung felt his heart clench at the way you kept your eyes on him, but maintained his firm stance. “your boyfriend is looking for you.”

he could see the annoyance, the hurt and all the words stuck in your throat, and he was ready to hear them all. but you had apparently learned how to hurt him the most, so instead, you turned around and walked out of the kitchen.

at least you took the drink he made you. pero sigo creyendo que no somos amigos cercanos pues yo sí te sigo queriendo

august 2025

after the showdown at mark’s party, you kept your respectable distance from jisung.

you avoided hovering and going out of your way to talk to him, giving him the space he so clearly needed from you. strangely, jisung didn't feel half bad about it. even with the pounding headache and awful hangover he had the night after your little spat, he had realized that it was exactly what he needed; to have a break from you without feeling guilty about it.

so he kept hanging out with his friends, and let himself do things he enjoyed without needing to be thinking about how you would react, or what you would think. at the end of the day, he was stuck with himself, not with you.

and that realization kind of freed him, really. nothing had ever come more as an epiphany to him; he had to be the most important person in his life because he wasn’t it in yours. so he started his healing process from an entirely different perspective.

little by little, life got easier without you by his side. he learnt to do the things you used to do for him, and to love them because they were now his.

it was like he was reclaiming his life from the grasp you once had in it. with time, he learnt that wanting to heal didn’t have to come hand in hand with not appreciating the time he had with you. even in his worst moments, he never regretted you. he resented you, hated you with the passion that only love can create; but never, not once, did he regret you.

you had been the most beautiful four years he had lived, but he had so many years to be lived still. and with that, peace finally came.

peace with his friends, with himself, and ultimately, with you, too.

that didn’t go unnoticed by anyone. not when he seemed lighter; when his shoulders stopped tensing when you walked into a room; when he smiled at you and his eyes didn’t scream out in yearning to hold you.

he was done with yearning, and he was ready for friendship. careful as ever, not willing to give away all he had accomplished, he started approaching you again. you weren’t close friends, not even the slightest speck of closeness you had before, but you could look and smile at each other without the room becoming tense, and that was enough for him.

“not it!” chenle screamed out from his place on the couch, his finger flying up to touch the tip of his nose. he was followed by everyone in the room in attempts to free themselves of the burden of having to go pick the food up to the restaurant a block away from hyuck’s house.

jisung was blessed with many things, but speed was unfortunately not one of them. his finger flew from his nose a tad too late, and he let out a groan immediately. “i thought we said we weren’t doing not it anymore!” he exclaimed, upset.

“oh, stop crying!” renjun said back, pushing the younger boy’s shoulder lightly in reprimand. “you’re not the youngest anymore, so now we can play again.”

it was completely and utterly unfair, if you asked jisung. he moved his gaze to yushi, a newly adopted friend that was a glorious year and a month younger than him and had replaced him as the friend group baby. the boy smiled, shy as ever, and jisung almost felt bad for the absolute glare he was giving him as he stood up.

“fuck all of you,” he said with an exaggerated sigh, sticking his middle finger out to renjun as he put on his jacket. he ruffled yushi’s hair on the way out, just as a reassurance that everything was okay, something he wished his older friends had done with him.

the doors of the elevator were about to close when you stumbled into them, rushing to put on your jacket as you settled into his side.

“hi. sorry, didn’t want you to go alone,” you said with a shy smile as your eyes met his. jisung’s heart didn’t clench in his chest, and it was so nice.

“thank you, i swear those assholes would send me alone to fucking sri lanka,” he joked, leaning back on the wall as he looked in front of him, not wanting to risk looking at you too much.

“they would send anyone alone to sri lanka if they knew they were bringing back food,” you chuckled back, mimicking him.

the trip to the restaurant wasn't long, nor awkward or anything of the sorts. it felt good, to be able to talk to you without feeling like drowning.

que seamos eternos que en el mundo no haya calibre de bala que pueda vencernos que mis días comiencen contigo sería todo un privilegio espero que esto ya no todo sea un sueño, oh-uh

november, 2025

waking up next to you was once jisung’s favorite everyday occurrence. with time, it became his favorite dream; and now it was a once every month event that didn’t really give him any special feelings.

with the periodical healing of your relationship, the monthly sleep overs at jeno and jaemin’s apartment had finally returned. and although they were far different from before, with you waking up a couple beds over from him, they brought him the same amount of happiness they did before.

he had healed, he was finally himself again. and it kind of all made sense in his head as he watched you from his place on the bed he shared with chenle. your hair was tangled like it always was in the morning, your eyes sleepy and your smile as radiant as ever.

he remembered himself in the same position; watching you meticulously as you spoke to jeno animatedly. the way your eyes crinkled, how you recoiled into the blanket to hide your laugh; it was all the same as back then.

the only difference was that his heart didn’t hammer in his chest, nor did he struggle with the need to pull you into his arms. this time, he was filled with warmth. the kind of warmth that overwhelms you when you see a person you love shine and be happy; the same warmth he felt for every other person in that room.

he knew you weren’t like them, you weren’t one of many. you were different, special, and you would always be. his first love, the girl that rocked his world so hard he took months to get over her, and now, his close friend once again.

people say that relationships are a loop. strangers, friends, lovers, and back to strangers. but as you tugged on hyuck’s hair, jisung felt incredibly grateful that you made it back to friends as well.

𐙚 blue's corner ;; i have been writing this fic for a whole MONTH and it's finally done so yeah! hope you enjoy it 𐙚 taglist ;; @neozon3nha @winwintea @spacejip @dudekiss3r @yizhrt @lyvhie @mae3xoxo @morkiee @taroddori 𐙚 back to the masterlist. 𐙚 please do not copy, adapt or steal any of the content !!!

#park jisung #jisung #nct dream #jisung x reader #park jisung x reader #nct dream x reader #☘︎˖˚ ⋆𐙚 blue's archives !#☘︎˖˚ ⋆𐙚 jisung

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sequinsmile-x · 2 days ago

Text

Scared To Call Them My Friends and Be Broken Again

Emily overhears a conversation between JJ and Penelope, and it upsets her more than she thinks it should.

-x-

Hi besties,

This has been living rent free as an idea in my head since I saw the clip of JJ and Penelope in 18x04 where JJ calls her 'the best friend' floating around on tiktok.

Naturally, my brain went straight to 'what if Emily overheard them saying this' and here we are. I hurt my own feelings a little bit with this one.

Also, make sure to check out songs of innocence and of experience by @ssaemilyhotchner, it's an amazing post ep fic for the same episode, and is more proof as to why Hotchniss should have happened xoxo

As always, let me know what you think <3

-x-

Warnings: mentions of grief/loss

Words: 2.4k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

“You’re the best.”

“I know.”

“No…I mean, you’re the best friend.”

“I knew what you meant.”

She wasn’t meant to hear it; she knew that. It was an exchange she wasn’t privy to, but one she’d caught the tail end of when she stood outside Penelope’s office, her hand stuck frozen in mid-air where she’d raised it to knock on the door. She’d left without saying anything, unsure why she had gone in the first place, distracted by the gut punch she hadn’t seen coming and didn’t entirely understand.

“You’re the best.”

“I know.”

“No…I mean, you’re the best friend.”

“I knew what you meant.”

On her drive home, Emily keeps replaying JJ’s words to Penelope in her head. A vicious loop she tortures herself with as sadness and something close to rejection swirls in her gut, feelings she’d locked away decades ago breaking out of the box she’d put them in. She feels nothing short of ridiculous for how upset she feels, or for how she has to blow out a slow breath and tighten her grip on the steering wheel as her vision briefly blurs with tears.

She’s 54. She shouldn’t care about hearing her friend refer to someone else as her best friend, but it hurts because she isn’t only 54. She’s also 6. And she's 16. And she’s always the new kid with loneliness as her only true companion, flitting from place to place in a way that had often made her wonder if her classmates ever remembered she’d been there at all. It’s a feeling that had never quite faded, no matter how long she was in one place, no matter how long she’d been in DC now, no matter how strong her foundations were, there was always a thought in the back of her mind that it could all slip away. A feeling that something was behind her, ready to reach out and snatch it all away, the phantoms of her past always in her peripheral vision, hiding in the corners of every room until she turned to look at them, always gone as quickly as she had seen them.

It was something that had only been made worse by Will’s sudden death. A long, lingering fear that always sparked in her gut if Aaron took a little too long to reply to her texts, or if the kids were a little late home from school, suddenly ignited.

“No…I mean, you’re the best friend.”

Her relationship with JJ had changed since Will died. She knew it was because she was her boss, because she had to be the one to gently push back on her decision to come back to work so soon. Emily was responsible for her, she was responsible for the whole team, and sometimes that had to come above the friendships with them that she held dear.

She knew that wasn’t all of it, that the change in dynamic between her and JJ was, in part, because her family was still intact. She had her husband, and her kids had their dad. That was something JJ and the boys would never have again. It made Emily feel guilty in a way she knew she couldn’t do anything about, and whenever she got home - especially with the onslaught of cases recently and Voit being Voit - she’d immediately snuggle up with Aaron, wrapping her arms around him wherever she found him to try and soak in some of the love he always had ready and waiting for her.

She clenches her jaw as she pulls up onto the driveway, tears burning in her eyes again now that she is home. It’s something that happened more than she’d care to admit, just the sight of her house enough to remind her what she had, what she’d fought so hard for. The thought of the love and safety and warmth that filled their home in abundance enough to make the walls around her heart she’d once prided herself on, the walls that had never been as sturdy as she always allowed people to think, to shake and crack.

“No…I mean, you’re the best friend.”

She shakes her head at herself as she turns off the engine, “Get it together, Emily,” she mutters under her breath. She grabs her bag from the passenger seat, wincing as she catches a glance of herself in the rearview mirror, sadness and exhaustion shining in her eyes in a way she knows Aaron will notice immediately.

She’s still digging around in her purse for her keys when she hears the lock in the front door click, and she sighs in relief when she looks up and finds her husband standing in the doorway waiting for her.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

She smiles and she steps words him, stamping her lips against the corner of his, her hand on his waist as she slips past him, “Hi,” she says, turning to look at him as he closes the door behind her, “Were you waiting for me?”

“Always,” he says, winking at her as she playfully rolls her eyes, “I heard the car,” he says, taking her purse from her before he pulls her into a hug. She leans into him, her arms around him in an instant, her hands on his shoulders as she anchors herself to him. She feels more than hears the way he breathes in, a sharpness to it that settles in her chest as he holds her back just as tightly, “Are you okay?”

She chokes on a sound she thinks is supposed to be a laugh, and she presses her face against his neck before she pulls back to look at him and shrugs, “I don’t know.”

“Want to talk about it?”

She nods, but she looks around. “Where are the kids?”

“Well, Jack is in New Haven,” he quips, and narrows her eyes at him, unable to fight the smile he makes break out across her face just like it did whenever she thought about the fact their eldest had gone to her alma mater, not Aaron's. “Oscar is at Dylan’s birthday party, so he’ll be home in a few hours, hopped up on sugar,” he continues, reminding her about how enthusiastic the 11-year-old had been that morning when he talked about his best friend’s bowling party and the gift they’d got him. “And Alice is reading in her room.”

She hums, “I’ve never met a 9-year-old who loves reading as much as she does.”

“She’s smart,” he replies, cupping her cheek to make her look at him, his warm palm against her skin the first time she’d noticed that her gaze had drifted to where their daughter’s room is, “Just like her mom,” he adds, pressing a kiss against her lips, “Shall we go talk in the kitchen, dinner is almost ready?”

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” she says as she links her fingers through his, letting him tug her towards the kitchen. There’s a bottle of her favourite wine already open on the counter, the cork out so it can breathe, and she turns her head to kiss his shoulder, “You’re the best husband I’ve ever had.”

“I’m the only husband you’ve ever had,” he quips, smiling as he pulls out a stool from the kitchen counter for her to sit on.

“And you’re well on your way to keeping it that way,” she replies, winking at him as he pours her a glass of wine. He sets it in front of her, and she wraps her hand around the stem, letting herself get distracted by the feel of the glass against her skin. He waits her out, makes a point of doing so as he continues to make dinner. He knew her better than she knew herself some days, and this was one of them. “I…” she trails off and blows out a shaky breath, feels it rattle around in her lungs as she laughs humourlessly at herself, “I overheard JJ and Penelope talking and…it made me miss my friendship with them.”

He tilts his head curiously at her when she looks up at him, his expression neutral as he focuses on her entirely, the sauce he’d made for dinner now on a low simmer, “What do you mean, sweetheart?”

“Since Will died, I’ve had to be the boss, you know? I’ve had to have hard conversations and make decisions so I can keep us all safe,” she says, her lower lip trembling as she looks down at her hands, twisting her wedding rings around her finger, “It makes being JJ’s friend hard, because on one hand if I lost you…” she swallows thickly at the thought of it, her throat tight as she has to shake her head to rid herself of the image, “If I lost you, I think I’d do the same thing. I’d throw myself into work. You did the same thing after Haley, so I get it, but…as her boss…”

“You know how dangerous it can be,” he finishes for her, and she nods, grateful that he’s closer now, his hand on her knee as he slips onto the stool next to her. “It’s not easy being in charge.”

She chokes on a sound she can’t name, and she rests her head on his shoulder, “It isn’t. I don’t know how you did it for so long.”

He kisses her temple, “Well, I had a pretty good view of your desk from my office, so that helped.”

She laughs, for real this time, and she pulls back to look at him. She runs her fingers through his hair, it was longer now than it ever had been, salt and pepper flecks at his temples, and she loved it, loved that this version of him had only ever belonged to her.

“I…I heard JJ tell Penelope she’s her best friend,” she says, scrunching her nose up as she says it outloud, her cheeks burning pink with the way it sounds. “It hurt more than I think it should,” she shrugs, “I feel stupid for being upset about it.”

“It isn’t stupid, Em,” he says, reaching out to catch a tear that falls from her lashline before it can hit her cheek, “You’re allowed to be upset.”

She hums, “I don’t know, it feels selfish and juvenile,” she shakes her head at herself, “But the moment I heard it I felt like a teenager with no friends again, even though I’m in my mid 50s for fuck sake,” she looks down at their hands, embarrassed to say the next part out loud, “I guess I always thought I was their best friend too.”

“You, Emily Prentiss-Hotchner, are the least selfish person I’ve ever met,” he says, his eyes soft when she smiles at the use of her married name, “And you know they both love you so much. Things are just hard right now, and it will all settle down in time,” he smiles at her in a way that never fails to make her stomach flip, “And in the meantime, if it helps, you’re my best friend.”

It makes love swell in her chest, the admission somehow more powerful than an I love you would have been in that moment, and she leans forward to kiss him, her forehead against his when she pulls back.

“You’re my best friend, too.” She tries to breathe him in, but is met with the smell of burning instead. “Honey, the sauce-”

He’s up and on his feet before she’s even finished talking, cursing as he lifts the pan off the burner, and the pure domesticity of it loosens the heaviness that had settled into her chest. She hears a familiar set of footsteps coming into the room, and she turns to look at Alice.

“Hi sweetie,” she says, opening her arms up for a hug that her little girl immediately returns. “Did you enjoy your book?”

“I finished it,” Alice replies as she pulls back to look at her, “I need a new one from the library tomorrow.”

Emily chuckles and pushes Alice’s hair behind her ear, “I’m sure we can arrange that.”

“Why don’t you two go sit in the living room?” Aaron suggests, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he looks at the ruined sauce, “I’ll try and rescue dinner.”

Emily looks at Alice, “Does that sound good to you, sweet girl?”

Alice nods enthusiastically and wraps both of her hands around one of Emily’s as she stands up. As soon as they are in the hallway, she stage whispers, purposely making sure Aaron hears her, “Do you think Daddy will order in pizza because he ruined dinner?”

Emily laughs and winks at her daughter, “I think he might.”

When they sit on the couch, Alice settles against her side and rests her head on Emily’s shoulder so she can look up at her, “Mommy? Can I tell you a secret?”

Emily nods, running her fingers through Alice’s hair again, mentally making a note that she and Oscar were likely overdue a haircut, “Anytime, baby. You know that.”

Alice looks over her shoulder to make sure they’re still alone and whispers for real this time, “You’re my best friend.”

It takes everything in her not to burst into tears, because she realises Alice must have heard some of her conversation with Aaron, and her sweet, beautiful, little girl was now doing her best to cheer her up. Emily smiles, desperately trying to hide the shake in it, and she kisses Alice’s forehead.

“Can you keep a secret?” She says, matching Alice’s whisper, smiling when she looks up to see Aaron standing in the doorway with a pizza menu in his hand, and she winks at him, a silent acknowledgement that he was there, that this was a moment they were all sharing, before she looks back down at their little girl. She feels better than she has in weeks, lighter than she thought was possible in the fog of grief and sadness that had laid over them all since JJ had called about Will. It would take a long time to get back to normal, but this was a start, and a well-needed reminder that she wasn’t alone and that she never would be again. “You’re my best friend, too.”

#aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #emily prentiss fanfiction #hotchniss fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #aaron x emily #hotchniss #hotchniss fanfiction #hotchniss fan fic

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yuma-mukami-garden-god · 1 day ago

Note

How would the boys handle a s/o that's the polar opposite of them? And how would their first kiss be like with them?

Sakamaki Brothers

Shu

You’re: Energetic, upbeat, hardworking, a little sunshine engine who never stays still.

He’s lazy and apathetic, so at first? You annoy him. But over time, your brightness starts to unsettle him—in a good way.

“Tch… you’re exhausting… but for some reason… I don’t hate it.”

First Kiss:

You’d be rambling about something silly, and he’d just pull you down on top of him, tired of waiting. It’s slow, deep, sleepy—but full of unexpected warmth. His hand lingers too long behind your neck.

“Shut up for a sec. Just… stay like this.”

Reiji

You’re: Free-spirited, impulsive, soft-hearted. You follow emotion, not logic.

He does not understand you. At first, he lectures you. Scolds you. But the fact that you feel deeply and forgive easily unravels him.

“Your chaos… is intolerable. And yet, I find myself drawn to it.”

First Kiss:

It happens during an argument. You say something raw and emotional, and he just—grabs your chin and kisses you, hard, like he's trying to understand you through touch. He lingers like he’s surprised by his own feelings.

“…You really are dangerous.”

Ayato

You’re: Calm, modest, quietly brilliant, and not impressed by his loud bravado.

He hates that he can’t shake you… and then realizes he likes the challenge. You don’t scream or worship him—you just see him.

“Tch, what are you, some kind of weirdo? You’re supposed to fall for Ore-sama!”

First Kiss:

It’s impulsive. He’s trying to fluster you, and you stay calm, so he growls and kisses you rough and fast. But then it slows… because your lips feel like home.

“D-Don’t tell anyone I went soft, got it?”

Kanato

You’re: Emotionally stable, grounded, kind to everyone—even when it’s hard.

At first, he mistrusts you. No one is that calm. But when you don’t flinch at his tantrums, he slowly breaks. You give him what no one else ever has—patience.

“Stop… being so calm. It makes me feel things.”

First Kiss:

He cries first. Maybe after a meltdown, when you hold him. Then he looks at you—eyes wide, lost—and kisses you so softly it hurts.

“Don’t disappear. Not ever.”

Laito

You’re: Innocent, pure, selfless—but not naive. You choose light over darkness.

He calls you boring at first… but your emotional honesty cracks his mask. You’re not pretending—you’re just good. And he’s addicted to that contrast.

“You really think someone like you should be near someone like me?”

First Kiss:

It’s teasing at first, like always. But when you don’t push him away, and instead kiss him back gently, he freezes. For once, he’s the one breathless.

“…Nfu~ You’re… gonna ruin me, aren’t you?”

Subaru

You’re: Fearless, emotionally open, affectionate, not afraid to challenge him. He panics. You're everything he doesn’t think he deserves—but you stay. That loyalty breaks him.

“Tch… why won’t you just leave me alone already?! …Please don’t.”

First Kiss:

Messy, desperate, loud. He grabs you and kisses you like he’s drowning. You cup his face mid-kiss and he melts—tears might fall.

“…You’re really not scared of me?”

Mukami Brothers

Ruki

You’re: Wild, stubborn, emotionally intense. You don’t follow orders—you question them.

He sees you as unruly at first. But you fascinate him. You make him feel. You chip away at his control, and he lets you.

“Livestock… what spell have you cast on me?”

First Kiss:

Calculated at first—he corners you like prey. But when your lips part with a sigh instead of fear? His control slips. He groans softly, hands trembling.

“This… is far more dangerous than I intended.”

Kou

You’re: Grounded, serious, unimpressed by fame or flirtation. You treat him, not his persona.

You see through his mask. It destroys him—in the best way. He starts showing you the real Kou, the scared boy underneath.

“You’re not supposed to get close to me. So why does it feel so good?”

First Kiss:

He pretends it’s a joke—but your calm affection cracks him. You reach up and kiss him gently mid-laugh. He freezes. Then slowly… melts into it.

“Damn… I’m never letting you go.”

Yuma

You’re: Soft-spoken, delicate-looking, emotional but strong.

At first, he thinks you’re fragile—but then you surprise him. You stand up for yourself. You hold him when he’s hurting. You ground him.

“You’re tiny… but you’ve got guts. I like that.”

First Kiss:

He kisses you like he’s starving—but the second you shyly kiss him back, he softens. One hand behind your head, lips slower now. Protective. Deep.

“Didn’t know somethin’ could feel this right.”

Azusa

You’re: Bold, warm, confident. You speak up for what you want.

He’s terrified of hurting you… but you never flinch. You hug him first. Tell him he’s good. You show him what safe love feels like.

“You… don’t mind… when I’m broken?”

First Kiss:

Shaky and slow. He asks first—so gently it breaks your heart. You kiss him softly, then again. His hands tremble.

“This is… warm. I want more…”

Tsukinami Brothers

Carla

You’re: Cheerful, passionate, unpredictably human.

He’s confused by you at first. Your light clashes with his ancient quiet. But you make him feel alive. He starts wanting things—you included.

“Your foolishness… brings color to my world.”

First Kiss:

Very slow. Reverent. He cups your cheek and kisses you like a vow—like he doesn’t deserve it, but can’t help it.

“To be chosen… by something so pure…”

Shin

You’re: Timid, soft-spoken, easily flustered—but brave when it counts.

You confuse the hell out of him. You blush when he teases you, but you stay. And slowly, he realizes you see him. Not just the wolf.

“You’re too cute for your own good. And I’m addicted.”

First Kiss:

You’re hiding your face, and he just grabs your chin and kisses you anyway. Playful, hot, a little wild—but when you kiss back? His pupils blow wide.

“Shit… say you’re mine already.”

#asks open #anon asks #anime and manga #diabolik boys #diabolik lovers #diaboys #dialovers #all diaboys

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kell-5 · 3 days ago

Text

Wing's secret

Warning: romantic content, mild jealousy, hint of a more intimate moment, gender-neutral reader, possible spelling and lexical errors

addressing : you, your, yours, they, their

Character: Wing x reader

____________________________________________

The Crystal City glowed, as always, in cool shades of blue, but your heart was hot with tension. You, the Archivist of the Circle of Light, were sorting through old archives when you came across the unexpected - Wing's holorecord, hidden among the training reports.

He started playing and his voice was usually calm, it sounded gentle and thoughtful

"I will never forget you. You were my continuation, my strength.." - the audio holorecording sounded

You didn't immediately understand who he was talking about, as a thought occurred to your processor, what if he was talking about his ex-partner, you thought it would be worth asking him who this "continuation" was, you weren't one of those who gets jealous, since you trust Wing, but now you felt a slight twinge of this jealousy, you were interested in how often he mentioned his ex, your fingers squeezed this recording, but you loosened your fingers in time so as not to break the datapad, you exhaled trying to calm down.

Suddenly the door to the archive opened, you threw the record away with a serious face and continued sorting through other datapads, the one who entered was none other than Wing

"Are you busy?" His voice was calm, but his optics were meticulously studying your servo wires, which were too quickly translating the datapad to "deferred"

You didn't look up, but your energetic movement of the servo wire betrayed your confusion.

"Yes. Archiving. Usual work"

He came closer, you didn't move from your place, so as not to show your embarrassment even more, your optician looked for a moment at the drawer of your desk where the record was, and immediately returned to her task, sorting the datapads

"You are so diligent with me" he tilted his steering wheel, his voice was warm, and curiosity played in the optician "found anything important?"

If you could sweat you would be covered in sweat in an instant, you didn't plan on talking to him about it right now so you forced out while still trying to keep a serious tone

"No"

Silence

Wing reached out the servo cable - not to you, but to the nearest rack and took a random datapad

"Then ....I won't interfere" he diverted the datapad in the servo cable, but his gaze slid to your table "if you need.... help ..."

You had to run, or confess, or ....

"...Maybe it's time for a snack?" You stood up, locking the necklace

Wing looked at you in surprise, then laughed quietly

"Snack?" He put the datapad back in place "okay."

......

Crystal Bridge. Circle of Light Training Hall.

Wing stood in the middle of the hall, his sword gleaming in the cold light of the crystal walls. He was sharpening the blade—not because it was dull, but because the routine helped to organize his thoughts.

He knows that his Conjunx Endura, the archivist, but today they were very tense, it was noticeable in their gestures, the way they tried to hide their emotions under seriousness.

Wing already guessed that they had found something in his past, nothing shameful, but there were things he did not talk about.

...

You thought about how best to ask Wing about what you had seen and heard.

So a little later you went to the training room, where Wing was. Wing had just finished another training session, he turned around as he heard someone enter the training room, Wing smiled at you.

You came closer

"Aren't I distracting you?" You asked

"Not anymore" his calm, light smile was still on his face

"Wing ....I have a question.."

"I'm listening to you, worldspark"

"Did you have someone before me?" You asked a little innocently

You looked at Wing in anticipation, you held the datapad you found behind your back in the servo wires.

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, did you have someone before me?" You asked more directly, you showed the datapad and gave it to Wing

Wing watched the recording again, but to the end where it said that he was talking about a sword, and you didn't have time to watch it to the end, your optics widened from understanding how you looked

"Sweetiapark I was talking about a sword" Wing smiled looking at you, his smile still remained light

"What? Really?" You were surprised and didn't know where to go from shame, because you started to be jealous of Wing for his "ex" who turned out to be a sword, if you could your face plates would be very, very red

"You were jealous of me for a sword?"

"... A sword? A sword?!" Your processor froze for a second. If there was a way to get through the ground, you would have used it.

Silence. Even the hum of the fans seemed too loud.

You stared at the floor, where your fingerprint was already starting to burn out in shame.

“It was... an emotional breakdown,” you whispered, quite ready to disappear.

Wing put a hand on your shoulder:

“Flame, if you had watched the recording...” He turned on the hologram - the image of the blade appeared in the air. “...you would have known that I would never trade you for a weapon.”

Pause. Then - his eyes flashed:

“Although it did look good in my hands.”

You pushed him desperately in the chest, but Wing was already laughing, pulling you closer.

Shame turned to something warm as Wing held your servo, his fingers sliding over your wrist.

“You know…” his voice was low, on the verge of irony and tenderness. “If I were to truly compare you to a sword, it would only be because you are the only one who can break me.”

You were getting excited, but he didn’t let you say a word. His lips stopped a moment before touching, deliberately provoking:

“Say, flame… Do you really want me to stop joking?”

“No.”

Your response was instant. You gripped his shoulders, finally closing that damn distance.

The kiss was passionate and hot, so hot that your cooling systems had raised their activity level to mid-level.

Wing's digits traced the contours of your details on your waist, studying them and memorizing what they felt like.

After the kiss, he looked at you and smiled his usual smile, but there was a faint tenderness in the smile.

"Here... too open," you whispered, feeling his energy field hum at a low frequency.

Wing stifled a laugh in your neck module:

"You know the rule if no one sees the violation, it doesn't exist."

Suddenly, footsteps in the hallway.

You fell to the floor in a perfect battle roll, pretending to practice dodging. Wing stood above you with his sword as if demonstrating a technique.

The door opened. Dai Atlas froze in the doorway.

"Are you... training?" his voice was full of suspicion.

Wing calmly lowered his blade: "Yes. Yesterday the flamethrower lost to me at chess. Today he's working off his debts."

When Dai Atlas left, Wing opened a hidden equipment compartment, cramped but large enough for two.

"No one will find us here," his voice merged with the rustle of the ventilation system.

You felt his fingers find the sync connector on your back:

"You're not against unconventional training, are you?"

Your answer disappeared into his mouth module.

————————————————————————

(this was supposed to be a short fic, but whatever, I'm happy with the result)

(English not my native language)

#transformers idw #cybertronian reader #transformers x reader #idw wing #wing x reader

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anisaeee · 3 days ago

Text

Hey guys! This is my first post on tumblr and honestly, I have no idea how this works. I will learn as I go, but here is a short intro to a gryffreader×theodorenott story.

2k+ words

I do not know how this works exactly yet, but i will learn as i go. This is a short write up, I'll elaborate ilon the plot if readers gather!

Do drop your thoughts and let me know if you want a part 2!

It was your last year at Hogwarts. Soft, gentle breeze makes your hair flick around as you make your way to the defence against the dark arts classroom. You were going to miss this place. It hadn’t been easy making it to final year really. You were born and raised in the Muggle world. It wasn’t until your year had reached third year that you received an owl from Professor Dumbledore, informing you of your admission to Hogwarts. Your magical abilities had been dormant, likely a result of an ancient ancestor who’d unknowingly married a wizard.

You had always been a bright student back in your Muggle school. Straight As, top of the class. Magical studies? You were fascinated. You spent extra hours with professors, attended tutoring sessions on weekends, and studied relentlessly. You caught up quickly. Academically, you held your ground with the other witches and wizards your age.

But keeping up with them didn’t mean you fit in. You had missed the first few formative years. The common rooms, the late night laughs, the bonding over shared detentions and Quidditch matches. You weren’t part of any close-knit groups. So, you kept to yourself. More often than not in the library, devouring texts, chasing your dream of becoming one of the most skilled witches Hogwarts had ever seen.

It didn’t mean you were friendless.

Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, had found you crying by the Black Lake one evening. You’d been missing home, missing your mum, your cat Flubbers, pizza, and very very frustrated that you couldn’t so much as call your mum, thanks to Hogwarts' ban on technology. He didn’t pity you. He just sat beside you in silence, understanding. He became a friend soon after. Ron and Hermione followed.

But being close to Harry came at a cost. Draco Malfoy and his loyal Slytherins had a new target. You held your own. You never cowered. But some days, you felt exhaustion down to your bones.

You wanted to graduate. Pass your N.E.W.T.s. Leave the whispers, the looks, the constant sense of otherness behind.

Then… there was him.

Theodore Nott.

"No. No, no, no. NO. " you muttered to yourself, shaking the thoughts away as you made your way around the hallways. Why was he on your mind now?

He had caught your eye the day you arrived at Hogwarts. Tall. Disarming. That rare kind of quiet confidence that drew attention without demanding it. At the Slytherin table, he sat like he belonged to another world altogether. Detached. Watching. Girls swooned at the arch of his brow, the offhanded curl of his lips. You weren’t immune to his effortless charm either.

You’d caught yourself staring more than once. In the Great Hall. In the few classes you shared. Every time, you’d force yourself to sit as far from him as possible, because you couldn’t explain why your eyes found him so easily, or why your pulse faltered and quickened around him.

Class went on as usual, you, of course, being the brightest student in the room. 'Mione was irked when you answered all the questions before she could. You giggled, knowing she's going to be muttering curses and fussing with her books all day now. You deliberately waited a beat longer to leave class, spinning an excuse about cleaning up your notes just so you could linger until he left first. Theo. By the time you left the classroom, the corridor was almost empty. Your arms wrapped around your notes as you moved quickly toward the spiral staircase. That’s when the voice came.

“Still pretending to belong here?”

Draco Malfoy.

You didn’t stop.

“You’d think after five years, the mudblood would get the hint,” he added, this time louder.

You did stop.

Spinning on your heel, you faced him, wand already sliding into your hand.

“I don’t have time for your obsession, Malfoy.”

He laughed—lazily, arrogantly. Crabbe and Goyle smirked behind him. Pansy twirled a strand of hair and looked bored.

“And I don’t have time to explain to Muggle rejects how this world works.” He took a step closer.

You raised your wand.

But before either of you could speak—

“She doesn’t need to hear it from you.”

The voice was even. Cold. A hint of anger and yet somehow, calming.

Theodore Nott stepped out from the side corridor, hands in his robe pockets, his gaze fixed on Malfoy like he was the one out of place.

“Really, Draco,” he drawled. “Isn’t it exhausting? All this barking with nothing to bite?”

Draco narrowed his eyes. “Are you really defending her now? The mudblood? ”

Theo arched a brow. “No. Just tired of listening to your voice.”

For a moment, no one moved.

Then, with a sneer, Draco turned on his heel and stalked off, muttering under his breath. The rest followed. You were left standing there, stunned. Breathing hard. Theo looked at you once. Briefly. A flicker of something unreadable in those dark eyes.

“Watch your back,” he said. Then he walked away.

You didn’t sleep that night.

After that day, something shifted. You noticed him more. More than you did before. It was suffocating. His presence. Demanding to be noticed. And he was always, around you. The way he passed you ingredients in Potions without asking. How his hand would linger just slightly too long when he passed parchment back. The fact that he started showing up in the library—never sitting beside you, but always close enough to notice.

You never spoke about it.

But tension? It hummed between you like the low throb of a cursed object. Slow. Irresistible. Sometimes he'd speak. Little things. Comments under his breath that made you smirk.

“You brew like a Slytherin,” he’d murmur one day, nodding at your perfectly-executed Draught of Peace. "Oh please don't. I brew like a Gryffindor. I'm good at it". He'd just smile. The kind of smile you wouldn't notice unless you really paid attention. The little twitch of his lips. The way his eyes softened momentarily. The way he looked, at you.

“You always watch people the way you read books?” he asked another evening, not looking up from his Arithmancy text. It was getting to be too much. Your heart was hammering in your chest. Everytime you were in his vicinity, blood rushed to your cheeks and your usual calm demeanor broke. He was reeling you in, and you let him. Last year isn't it? This should be okay.

One night, during a storm, you both ended up in the Room of Requirement—accidentally. You’d needed quiet. He’d needed solitude. The room gave you both. You sat across from each other in a makeshift greenhouse filled with magical plants glowing in the dark.

Neither of you moved to leave.

That night, he told you he hated blood supremacy. That he didn’t believe in Voldemort. That he didn’t trust most of his House. That night, you realized, he was different. He was stuck in this without a choice.

That night, you realized Theodore Nott was baring his soul to you.

That night, you realized you wanted to protect the sweet boy under all this, darkness he was trying to escape.

That night, you realized you didn’t hate him.

While both of you had some sort of secret friendship brewing that nobody else in Hogwarts knew about, it all shattered that winter night.

December snow had blanketed the courtyard. The Room of Requirement had shaped itself into a forgotten tower—stone walls, a fireplace, cushions on the floor. You met him there every other night now. He stood by the window that night, tense.

“What’s wrong Theo?” you asked, sensing it immediately.

“They're watching,” he said. “The Carrows. Even Snape. Things are changing.”

You approached slowly. “Are you in danger?”

He didn’t answer. Just turned.

“I can’t keep doing this,” he said finally, voice low. Strained. “Whatever this is.”

Something inside you cracked.

“What...you mean me...?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

“I mean…” He looked at you—eyes darker than you’d ever seen them. “You. Us. Hogwarts isn’t safe. You need to focus on surviving. Not… this.”

The silence that followed was the loudest thing you’d ever heard.

You stepped back.

“Then go.”

He didn’t. Not for a few seconds. But then... He turned.

"Don't you dare walk away unless all of this meant.. Nothing.. to you Theo. Unless, I, meant nothing".

He stood, almost frozen for a second. You could hear his breathing, ragged. You hoped, you really hoped he'd turn around again. You didn't want words, or any meaning to all these shared secret conversations and memories between you two. You just wanted him to stay. Just to know that it meant something to him, not even as much as it meant the whole entire world to you now. Instead he left. The door closed behind him like the snap of a wand breaking.

And you… you didn’t cry. Not yet.

But you knew, with that same painful certainty you once felt staring at your first Hogwarts letter, that the magic you’d found—whatever fragile, forbidden thing it was—had just been lost. The dull ache in your chest sharpened. Your throat constricted, like you had been cursed. You sank to the floor. Finally letting the sobs rip through you.

#theodore nott #theo nott x reader #gryffindor reader #draco malfoy #mauraders #fanfic #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #fanfiction #the mauraders #theo nott #draco

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vcnillababy · 17 hours ago

Text

CAFES AND COMFORT

bokuto kotaro x shy! reader

clinking of cutlery against plates, the buzz of different groups of friends, families and couples having simultaneous conversations, and of course, the smell of coffee beans and pastries were the reason this particular cafe was so popular— especially in your eyes— the semi-loud atmosphere was oddly comforting, especially with BOKUTO KOTARO sharing his apple pie with you.

the bell above the blue door chimed, signalling the baristas of a new customer. you glanced at the figure, it was a familiar one— one that you could never forget— it was him.

your eyes couldn’t help themselves, gazing at the door for what felt like ages— well, that’s what bokuto told you— he furrowed his brows, snapping you out of your trance.

“pumpkin, what’re you looking at?”

you grimace. this date was supposed to be a chance to catch up— with classes taking up your time, and practice needing his full attention 24/7, this was one of your few chances to talk to each other with no distractions— but right now? your attention was fully captured by the hunk of junk at the counter ordering his meal.

big brown eyes, soft black hair, and sharp features that you recognised. the same features that you used to hold, kiss, and comfort during hard times— his hard times.

you shut your eyes, resetting your memories as you flutter them back open, landing on the owl-like boy in front of you, his golden eyes looking in yours filled with concern.

“sorry, kou..” you whispered in shame.

“who is that? is he an old friend?” bokuto questions, glancing at the counter.

your eyes followed his, landing on the figure that once clouded your mind for days on end. “you could say that.”

“an ex?”

“guess so.”

the once light and breezy atmosphere turned tense and somber. still, bokuto couldn’t help but pry— i mean, it’s his girlfriend we’re talking about! of course he’d want to know every single thing about her ex and how to outdo him in every single aspect— “ended on bad terms, huh?”

you reluctantly nod. “my fault.”

you remembered everything clearly. how he chased you first, how you were too shy to reciprocate, and how he was too impatient and immature to wait until you were ready. but you couldn’t blame him, not when you were so painfully insecure and only felt like you were holding him back from his full potential.

bokuto couldn’t believe it— anything being her fault— she was sweet, always has been. sure, chasing after her took time, but it was all worth the wait.

“mind telling me what happened, princess?” he further inquires, his large hands fidgeting with the teaspoon in his mug.

“same thing that you went through.” she shrugged, as if it wasn’t a big deal.

“what are you talking about? you’re as sweet as my apple pie!” he flails his arms, exaggerating his point.

you let out a soft sigh, your hands picking at the lint on your sweater. “you know..”

he scoffed, growing tired of the back and forth. “no, i obviously don’t. y/n, just tell me.”

you chew on your bottom lip, slightly reluctant to tell him about your faults in the relationship. “i uh..” would he understand? or would he blame you like your ex did?

it was bokuto. you could trust him— or at least you hoped you could— “i was, like, really shy during the three months we were together.”

bokuto’s golden eyes widened, his head tilting in a mix of confusion and curiosity. “what’s wrong with that? it’s who you are.”

“no, kou— you don’t get it.”

“what don’t i get? you can’t keep saying that and not tell me how to understand!”

“i was stupid, okay?” she snaps. “i-i avoided him cause he was always with his huge group of friends— and they were always so loud! always hollering at us and he blamed me cause i couldn’t talk to him when his friends were around— which was practically all the time..”

bokuto’s hand reached for yours, his touch soft and tender. “baby..”

“soon enough, he got bored of the awkward back and forth, and well..” you pause, not knowing how to continue her story. “when the next school year came around, he finally found a prettier girl— a younger girl— and they started dating under a week of our break up.”

he was quiet for a moment, processing your little story time as he squeezed your hand tighter. “that’s bullshit.”

“what?”

“he— because you were shy? oh, come on!” bokuto lets out an exasperated groan. “he should’ve known what type of girl you were before you two even started to date! why is he surprised that the shy girl he asked out is actually awkward and timid?”

bokuto tilts your chin up, locking eyes with you. “y/n, listen.”

his gaze was stern, in contrast to his usual carefree personality. “it’s not your fault that he was impatient— that he didn’t even try to understand how you felt!”

you shake your head, your eyes fixating on the plate of croissants and muffins in front of you. “but that’s not the problem— i kept avoiding him when his friends were around.. you know how i get when there’s a lot of attention on me—“

“that’s not your fault.” he stops her. “he knew that you’re a reserved person, y/n. and he didn’t do anything to make you feel comfortable around him— that’s his fault. he’s an idiot.”

bokuto’s grip on her chin loosens, instead combing through his hair as a feeble attempt to calm himself down. “he’s an idiot for letting you go.”

“kou, he was perfect back then. everyone knew him, everyone liked him—“

“if he was so perfect, he wouldn’t have done any of those things to you. he would’ve been understanding and helpful— not unkind and condescending.”

he takes a breath, his gaze tender and loving. “he’s an idiot for jumping at the first opportunity to go after a pretty girl. that’s not the type of guy you’re looking for, is it?”

“no..” she whispers, her eyes finally meeting his. “you are.”

bokuto’s lips couldn’t help but twitch into a smirk. “damn straight.”

the coldness in the air quickly disappears, turning to the same calm atmosphere she could always count on it being whenever she was with him.

“you’re perfect to me, alright?” he starts, “you’re smart, pretty, kind, and so, so caring. any guy who’s willing to throw you away is an idiot— which i am not— and i’m never gonna let you go.”

you felt a bashful smile tugging at your lips, your cheeks flushing with a warm hue.

“the chase to get you took months, sure, but it was all worth it.” he grins. “especially when i get to spend my time with you after the ‘hardships’ i endured.”

“oh, kou..” she chuckles, her hand reaching for his under the table. “i love you.”

he squeezes her palm, touch warm and welcoming. “i love you more, darling.”

── .✦

╰┈➤ “if you can love the wrong person that much, imagine how much you can love the right one.”

you always thought that you were the problem. that you couldn’t be loved because of your hesitant personality and insecurities despite the positive traits that other people see, but being with the right person taught you otherwise.

with the right person, you could be yourself— they don’t judge you or try to change you to fit their image. you’re you and that’s all that matters.

────୨ৎ────

hii! it’s been a while since i uploaded any fics hehe. i’ve been spending my time watching new shows and movies.

i might start uploading fics for different fanbases (dps, harry potter, wednesday, etc.) but, we’ll see!

#fanfic #hq #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #bokuto x reader #bokuto koutarou #bokuto kotaro #bokuto koutaro x reader #hq bokuto #bokuto fluff #hq fluff #haikyuu fluff #bokuto x you

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kanalynn · 1 day ago

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Percy Jackson x daughter of Dionysus! reader headcanons

a/n: these are just short headcanons that i wrote quickly without even checking. i hope it's not as bad as i think and you'll like it!

Percy first met [Name] on his first day at camp; he wasn't in the best of health, his mother had just died (or so he thought) and he was a demigod - but once he saw her, everything went to the wayside.

She was the prettiest and kindest girl he'd ever met - so much so that he spent a few moments just staring at her, blushing, wondering if he was dreaming.

(He really hoped he wasn't dreaming.)

[Name] was amazing - she was concerned about his well-being, she accompanied him around camp, she defended him to Annabeth - had he mentioned how amazing she was?

Percy fell in love with her instantly.

His feelings were terribly obvious - he was always trying to spend time with her or help her with something, and every time someone distracted her from him, he got upset.

When Percy found out the identity of his divine parent, [Name] was one of the few (if not the only one) who continued to communicate with him as if nothing had happened and supported him as best she could.

This made him fall in love with her even more.

It wasn't long before he found out that [Name]'s father was Mr. D, and it... well, it definitely came as a shock to him.

How could such an arrogant and unpleasant god have such a kind and sweet daughter?! Percy couldn't understand it.

It seriously took him a while to come to terms with that fact. As a result, he even decided to be more polite with Mr. D (!), so as not to upset [Name] and, perhaps, at least a little, please her father.

(Of course, it didn't work out... realizing that Percy was in love with his beloved and only daughter, Dionysus began to treat him as if a little more dismissive and hostile... In the end, after many years of Percy proving himself a loyal and brave hero, he softened, but, of course, he didn't show it.)

Thanks to [Name], Percy also managed to make friends with [Name]'s two older brothers - Castor and Pollux. He never thought that he would actually succeed, but the twins turned out to be good guys with whom he managed to become friends. Percy probably even helped them with their sword training.

[Name] had never been on quests - at least not official ones. It was probably some kind of trick by Dionysus to protect his daughter. Percy was only too happy about it - he didn't want [Name] to be in danger either.

When he was out on his own quests, he was constantly thinking about [Name], and wanted to get back to camp as soon as possible.

Percy is in awe of [Name]'s ability to grow grapes, strawberries, and such. Of course, he's in awe of everything about [Name], but still!

He really loves the things she's grown and always claims that they're some of the best things he's ever eaten (and he's absolutely not lying).

When [Name's] brother Castor dies, Percy spends time with her, trying to make her feel better. He understands what a terrible loss it is for her, and tries to help her as much as he can and support her.

Unfortunately, during the open war with Kronos, [Name] still has to go out onto the battlefield, but... things don't go as Percy expected.

Accustomed to the fact that the pinnacle of [Name's] magical abilities, inherited from her father, is growing plants, he was frankly shocked to see how she plunges the soldiers of Kronos' army into madness.

Percy did not expect this, but seeing how [Name] skillfully maneuvers between the combatants, driving them crazy with just one touch, forcing them to attack their own, and smiling sweetly, but sinisterly at them—

Gods, he finds this one of the most attractive sights in his entire life.

He probably even stops several times during the fight, unable to tear his eyes away. It was as if he was falling in love with her more and more every moment he looked at her.

Anyway—

[Name] is obviously participating in the Battle of Manhattan along with all the other demigods from the camp, but Percy tries to keep her away from all the really dangerous parts of the battle.

He's obviously not doing this just because Mr. D asked him to. Percy would have protected [Name] anyway because he genuinely loved her, so being literally ordered to do so by her father didn't really affect him.

Anyway, the battle, like the war with Kronos, ends. Percy has fulfilled his role in the prophecy, and it makes him feel a lot freer and calmer.

He doesn't have to worry about his status in the prophecy affecting [Name's] fate anymore, so the first thing he does when all the formalities are finally completed is immediately seek out [Name] and confess his feelings to her.

Of course, she accepts it - she has been in love with him for a long time too - and they start dating!

Mr. D... is not happy about it, of course - he grumbles and gets irritated a lot, but after Percy risked his life to protect his daughter, he involuntarily softened up a little towards him. Of course, this did not save Percy from a long conversation about 'how should you treat my daughter if you don't want me to turn you into a dolphin'.

Percy will immediately want to introduce [Name] to his mother! [Name] can't help but be nervous (despite the fact that Percy has told her many times that his mother is literally a saint and, of course, will love her), and even grew strawberries herself as a gift to Sally.

She was nervous in vain, because Percy's mother really is a saint, and her son has already told her so many good things about [Name] that it would be enough for several separate volumes; so, everything went just great (although [Name] sat there all red all evening because both Percy and Sally did nothing but praise her)!

Sally really liked the strawberries!

All in all, Percy still loves [Name] as much as he fell in love with her many years ago. He will do everything for her... and make sure that everything is okay with her and protect her even at the cost of his own life, of course.

#x reader #pjo x reader #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x reader #hoo x reader #divider by hyuneskkami

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