#[ Performance in progress (Crack) ] | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sixeyesonathiel · 25 days ago

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soldier satoru & nurse reader <3

it starts with a cough. not yours, not his, but the guy in the cot beside him—loud, hacking, dramatic. satoru barely notices it anymore. he's grown used to the chorus of war: the whine of distant mortars, the metallic clink of stretchers being wheeled past, the low moans of feverish men tangled in thin sheets. sometimes the wind pushes in through cracked windows, carrying with it the bitter scent of gunpowder and wet soil. sometimes, it’s just the stale, heavy air of waiting.

but then you walk in.

and suddenly, everything stills. not in silence, not quite, but in focus. it’s like the background noise takes a polite step back, just for a moment, to let the sight of you settle into his brain.

he's supposed to be asleep. or pretending to be. he has a routine for it: eyes half-lidded, an arm thrown dramatically over his forehead like he belongs onstage, a faint groan timed just right. it worked like a charm with every nurse before you. earned him extra blankets. sometimes dessert. once, even a pity letter home signed with a heart.

but then you happened.

you didn’t even blink at his performance. just came to a stop at the end of his cot, jotting something on your clipboard with the smooth, steady ease of someone too tired to be impressed. “private gojo,” you said flatly, “if you’re dying, at least wait until after i finish this shift. i don’t have time to clean up a dramatic corpse.”

he blinked.

and then he was gone.

he didn’t know it then, not really. just that your voice cut through the clamor in a way nothing else did. that your hands, when they pressed against the back of his neck to check for fever, didn’t flinch. they were cool. precise. careful in a way that made his pulse jump. like he might shatter if handled wrong. like he was something real, not just another body taking up a cot.

no one's ever treated him like that before.

he starts getting progressively worse. intentionally.

not in any life-threatening way—just enough. a button undone here, so you’ll fix it. a limp there, just to see you crouch, frowning, hands warm against his shin. once, he even faked a nosebleed with beet juice from the mess hall, just to see if you’d touch his face.

“you’re limping on the wrong leg, dumbass,” you murmur one afternoon, barely glancing up from your chart. your brows don’t even lift, but the corner of your mouth twitches.

“no i’m not,” he counters, switching legs mid-step with zero shame. “i’m ambidextrous.”

“that’s not what that means.”

“sure it is. look it up.”

“i’m going to hit you with this clipboard.”

he grins, soft and lopsided, a lock of silvery-white hair falling over one eye as he leans back on his cot, utterly pleased with himself. she’s so mean, he thinks, nearly giddy. he might be in love.

“you are the worst patient here,” you mutter another morning, tugging his blanket up far too tight, knuckles brushing against his chest in a way that makes his breath catch. the corners of your mouth twitch like you're trying not to smile.

“and yet,” he drawls, his voice low, playful, teasing, “you keep coming back. makes a man wonder.”

your sigh is exaggerated, practiced, but your fingers brush his wrist as you check his pulse—a beat too long. he doesn’t move. just watches your profile, the way your lashes flutter when you read, the way a strand of hair slips loose from your bun and clings to your cheek. he wants to tuck it behind your ear but knows better.

he notices everything.

the soft whistle in your nose when you’re concentrating. the way your lips part when you’re thinking. the little nicks on your knuckles from a day too long, a blade too dull. how, by the end of each shift, you smell faintly of antiseptic and mint and something warm he can't name. how your shoulders sag just a little more with each hour that passes, but your voice never wavers.

her kindness is blinding, he thinks one night, lying on his side and watching you from across the ward. you kneel beside a boy no older than fifteen, whispering something low as you bandage a wound that’s far too wide for his body. your hands don’t shake. but when the kid vomits beside the cot, you gag. audibly. eyes watering, face turning green.

“you okay there, florence nightingale?” he calls, lips twitching, voice slurred with sleep and stifled laughter.

“do not talk to me right now unless you want puke on your boots,” you bite back, a hand clamped dramatically over your mouth. your other hand is still stroking the boy’s hair.

you’re all thorns and sunshine. it’s disorienting. it’s you.

he's not used to kindness that doesn't want something. not used to someone who sees him, really sees him, and still rolls their eyes instead of looking away. you treat him like he’s not special. it makes him want to be.

“you ever think about running away?” he asks late one evening. the air smells of iodine and gunpowder. there’s a new hole in the ceiling and a bird nest in the rafters. your shadow is cast long over him as you tape gauze across his ribs. his breath hitches when your fingers graze his skin.

“every day,” you reply, your tone flat. then you glance up, eyes catching his—steadily, quietly. “but someone has to keep you from dying of man-flu.”

he winces theatrically, pushing his lower lip out in a pout. “it was a real fever. you said so yourself.”

“you microwaved the thermometer.”

“resourcefulness is a survival skill.”

“idiocy is not.”

your eyes crinkle. just barely.

he thinks he’s in love.

no—he knows it.

and maybe, if the sky doesn’t fall, if this godforsaken war ends, if the world lets them both live—he’ll tell you.

maybe.

if you haven’t already figured it out from the way he only fakes injuries when you are on shift.

#gojo satoru #gojo drabbles #gojo fluff #gojo x reader fluff #gojo x reader #gojo x female reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n

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wandaslovey · 9 months ago

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𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗, 𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚢

➺ step mommy!wanda x innocent!fem reader

wc ~ 2.8k

a/n: the people have spoken! the poll i posted was incredibly close between mommy!wanda w/ readers first time being with a woman and mommy!wanda corruption kink. i decided to just go ahead and combine the two. enjoy!

a/n: so i actually hate this buuut i figured i would post it anyways. any feedback is welcome, just please be nice :)) (im fragile🥹)

*not proofread*

cw: unspecified age gap, stepcest, mommy!kink, corruption kink, somnophilia, cunnilingus (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), mild humiliation (sorta?)

∴.·:*¨¨*:·. ☙.·:*¨ ¨*:·.♡ .·:*¨ ¨*:·. ❧.·:*¨ ¨*:·.∴

you were cuddled up in wanda’s arms as you lie on your side, facing the television with some old disney movie playing. she had her arm draped around your torso, holding your body back against hers. you had fallen asleep a little while ago, your breathing slow and even.

it was your last week of being home for summer semester before you had to go back to school. you had debated going back home for break, and not even because you had to face your notoriously neglectful father, but because you had to face your step mother—wanda. it had been a few years now that she had married your father. it was a marriage strictly out of convenience and stability. she had her twin boys to raise and wanted a father figure for them to look up to. what she didn’t expect was to inherit you. her beautiful, precious, innocent step-daughter. you were 18 at the time and a senior in high school. she easily took your under her wing and loved you just as much as she did her own children. her love for you started out innocent, but soon morphed into her own perversion. she loved how perfectly innocent you were—even as the years went by. the way your dressed, spoke and acted all seemed to drive her fantasies into an even more perverted corner.

she would often lay awake at night, touching herself to the thought of you. your soft, small hands squeezing and caressing her breasts. your full, pouty lips pressed against hers or better yet.. wrapped around one of her nipples. she knew you were inexperienced and that only drove her more insane. one of her favorite fantasies was having you in her lap, your little skirt bunched up at your waist as she had her wand vibrator pressed up against your cloth-covered pussy. she would try different settings, taking in your little gasps and whimpers as she takes note of just how sensitive you are.

“oh, does that feel good, baby?”

“mm, mommy loves watching you squirm like this in her lap.”

she would watch in real time as your panties become soaking wet, the material almost see through by the time she was done.

now you.. you were completely and utterly enthralled with wanda. she was so beautiful, elegant and seemed to perform every thing she did with grace. even down to the smallest domestic actions, you found yourself squirming in your seat as she went about doing the tasks. growing up, you never had much sexual interest in boys or girls. once your step-mother came into your life, boy, did that change. you found yourself instantly attracted to her femininity, her kindness, but mostly her nurturing disposition. having a narcissistic biological mother meant you lacked one of the most important female relationships in your life.

you craved her attention. since you were attending a local college, that allowed you to travel home often. you didn’t ever go back to see your dad (of course) but to see her. and if you were being honest, you did love billy and tommy as well. they were the greatest little siblings you could have ever hoped for.

each time you went back to visit, your fantasies and thoughts about wanda became progressively more explicit. it started with her holding you, gently stroking your hair as you were cuddled up. however, you knew your feelings were getting stronger when one day you were passing her bedroom and found the door open a crack. she was dressing into her night clothes and you caught a glimpse of her naked back. you couldn’t walk away even if you wanted to. you stood there gawking as she dressed, seeing more of her bare skin than ever before. there was a growing, slightly foreign ache between your legs as you watched her. you pressed your thighs together, mouth slightly agape as you stared at the sight before you.

from then on, anytime you were home you would make it a point to try and sneak a peak of her nakedness whenever you knew she might be showering or changing. in bed at nighttime, your mind ran wild with so many fantasies. you were innocent, but not clueless. you would imagine her perfectly manicured hands sliding down your bare torso, her fingers dipping into the hem of your sleep shorts. then after teasing you a bit, her pulling them off your legs. she would be slow, soft and gentle with her touches. her voice (which you could listen to all day) murmuring sweet praises as she drew small, tight circles around your clit. her kissing and marking your neck. you would proudly wear her love bites.

her gasping with you as she inserts her fingers into your virginal pussy for the first time…

as the movie played on the screen, wanda found herself unable to focus on the scene unfolding before her. instead, she was watching you—your chest rising and falling steadily. she propped herself up, peeking down at your face to make sure your eyes were closed. her libido was burning hot. your body held firmly against hers was enough to get her mind running a mile a minute. you sigh softly in your sleep, wiggling your ass further against her front. wanda smiles to herself, finding the image of you sleeping so soundly in her arms just adorable. but what would be even more adorable? hearing your little whimpers and moans as she touches you. she had never touched you in a non-innocent way before and honestly—she was tired of being good. she wanted her way with you, and tonight she was going to have it.

she began slowly tracing her fingertips up and down your arm, goosebumps rising in their wake. your skin was so soft under her touch. her hand slid to your torso, her fingers slipping under your shirt and running up your waist. she stopped when her fingertips felt the fabric of your bra. she shifted herself carefully so she was propped up on one arm, her body hovering above yours. her free hand now traced slowly up your knee, her fingers on a sinful journey to your soft, milky inner thighs. she gently squeezed the squishiest part, wanting to do that since she saw a glimpse of them whenever you wore your bikini’s at the pool. your legs parted for her and she smiled at your body’s natural instinct to open up for her.

her fingers teased the edges of your panties and she noticed there was already a small wet patch on the material. oh you were a needy girl, weren’t you.

she quickly became desperate to see more of you, but she didn’t want you to wake—yet. she gently pulled your shirt down, the material bunching just past the middle part of your bra. she then leaned down, pressing slow, wet kisses along the tops of your breasts. her tongue snaked out, dipping behind the material and grazing over your nipple. you shifted slightly, a small whine sounding past your lips. wanda paused her movements briefly, glancing up at your face to make sure you were still asleep. once she was satisfied you weren’t going to open your eyes, her fingers resumed their teasing of your inner thighs and panty lines. she dragged her tongue across your chest to your other breast, this time swiping her tongue more firmly over your pert nipple. the hand that was teasing the seam of your panties finally slid past the material, seeking your now inexplicably wet heat. her finger dragged down your slit, gathering the wetness at your entrance and then swirling it up around your clit. you began to stir slightly, your hips gently rolling up into her ministrations.

she kept you on the edge of unconsciousness, being careful not to rouse her little girl prematurely. once she thought you were sufficiently worked up, she maneuvered herself until she was laying between your legs. she gently lifted one of your legs so it bended for her, your unconscious body seeming to assist her as you rest your foot flat on the couch, your leg leaning to the side for better access to your core. she leaned down, her eyes intent on your face as she didn’t want to miss a single reaction. her warm tongue drew a line up your panty-covered slit. your body twitched at the sensation, a small hum in the back of your throat. she repeated the action, gliding her tongue up and down a few times before she needed the offending garment off your body.

her hands caressed up your thighs before grabbing onto your panties and sliding them off of you. she was mindful to take them all the way off, tucking them away in her pocket for later. returning to her previous engagement, she watched your brow furrow slightly, a small gasp leaving your lips as her tongue parted your wet folds. she hummed softly at the flavor of you and fought the urge to delve in right there.

wanting to see those pretty eyes of yours now that her head was between your legs, she licked a firmer stripe up your slit, her hands squeezing your hips. you began to stir again, a feeling of confusion washed over you as you realize there was something hot and wet against your core. you gasped, suddenly awake all at once as you look down and see your step-mother with her head between your legs, her tongue swirling all over your heat. “w-wanda?” you panted out, confused. while you had hoped for something like this to happen, you didn’t think it actually would.

“hmm, hi sweet girl,” she murmured into your pussy, her eyes gleaming with wicked intent as she looked up a you. her tongue expertly explored your folds and you couldn’t help but whimper softly, the sight before you almost overwhelming.

“what’re you doing?” you whimpered. your hips gently rolling into her face at their own accord.

“shhh, baby. let mommy have her fun, hmm? i promise you’ll like it.” you didn’t really need much further encouragement, so you let her proceed without further protest.

“that’s it, huh? were you hoping i would do this to you? were you hoping mommy would finally cave and eat her little girl’s pussy?”

you moaned, her words only making your head more cloudy. she chuckled and you could feel the vibrations reverberate through your core.

you were getting lost in the sensations when she suddenly stopped. “tell me,” she insisted, her eyes were intent on your face as if searching for the truth.

“y-yes mommy..” you whimpered, feeling embarrassed to have to admit this to your step mother. “yes what, baby?” you squirmed under her scrutiny, not wanting to reveal your naughty fantasies out loud. with your hesitation, she decided to tease you further, her finger coming up and circling your entrance. she teased your opening, dipping just the tip of her finger in and out. you whined, her ministrations pleasant but not enough. “please,” you whined. she persisted with her teasing motions, careful not to give you too much stimulation. “tell me the truth milaya moya..i want to hear your say it.” you swallowed back some of your nerves, your fuzzy mind making it harder to want to hide the truth from her. “i’ve wanted you to touch me like this for so long, mommy..” your voice was breathless, your body became more desperate as her fingers continued teasing you.

“have you? what a naughty girl.. and here i was thinking you were a sweet, innocent little thing.” she cooed, her touch becoming more pleasurable as she rewarded your honesty by drawing firm circles around your clit. you moaned, your eyes slid shut wanting to savor every sensation she was pulling from your body.

“ah ah ah, open your eyes. watch mommy.” her voice was gentle yet commanding; you had no choice but to obey. you opened your eyes and find that where her eyes were once green, they were now almost black with desire. “have you ever stuck your fingers inside here before?” her finger gently prodded at your opening, you body wiggling at the sensation.

“o-once..” while the experience wasn’t entirely unpleasant, you didn’t understand why girls would pleasure themselves that way. it just didn’t feel that good to you. “and you didn’t like it?” she gently probed, the hand that wasn’t teasing your entrance caressing the outside of your thigh.

you shook your head, opting to remain silent to answer her question. “that’s perfectly normal, baby. you know what though? i’ll bet mommy can find that special spot inside of you. will you let me try?” truthfully, she was going to try it regardless of what you said. she knew she would be able to find that sweet, spongy spot to curl her fingers against, drawing white hot pleasure from you. you nodded your head slowly, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth nervously.

with how wet you were, wanda was sure two of her fingers could easily slip inside. she watched you as your eyes were locked in on her hand that was between your legs. when she slipped her two fingers inside your hole, you gasped. there was a slight pressure from the stretch but you found it only added to the pleasure you felt. her face contorted with yours and she mimicked your facial expression, wholly invested in your pleasure as if it were her own.

her fingers moved slowly at first, but soon after picked up the pace. you threw your head back, your eyes shutting once again.

“open your eyes, pretty girl. look at me.” you whimpered, reluctantly opening your eyes again to look into hers. she chose that moment then to curl her fingers up against that spongy spot inside you. your mouth formed an “o,” your brows pulling together as you whined, the feeling surprising you. she quickly picked up the pace, her fingers curling and rubbing up against your g spot with fervor. “that’s it baby. you feel that? you feel mommy inside of you?” you moaned and bucked your hips into her hand, feeling her thumb start to circle your clit.

you felt the pressure building in your lower abdomen, your heart starting to pound in your chest as you get closer to your climax. one of your hands clutched onto her wrist of the hand that was pumping in and out of your wet hole.

“mommy! gonna cum!” your body was writhing and shaking under her touch. you finally become unraveled as she leans down and wraps her lips around your clit, suckling the bundle of nerves into her mouth. the moan you let out was downright pornographic as she helps you ride out your high; her fingers slowing and her tongue giving you little kitten licks until you were fully back down to earth.

you chest rose and fell heavily as you tried to catch your breath. wanda crawled up your body, her legs on either side of your hips as she gently rested her upper body atop of yours. she brushed some stray hairs behind your ear, taking note of your adorably flushed cheeks. your eyes were closed as you gathered yourself and when they peeked open to look at hers, they were met with a sea of green. a small smile was tugging on the corners of her lips.

“hi,” you whispered quietly, your eyes slightly hooded as your orgasm only made you feel sleepy again. “hi, baby love,” she smiled at you, her eyes crinkling and her nose scrunching. you give her back a small smile of your own, your brain and body feeling fuzzy and light. “mmm i feel like jello, mommy.” she chuckled gently at your chosen word to describe how you feel. “yeah?” she leaned in and began peppering light kisses all over your face, relishing in your cuteness. you giggled softly, wrapping your arms around her neck to keep her there. she scooted over, maneuvering herself so she was lying next to you with your body pulled close against hers.

you two lie there in silence for several minutes, just enjoying each others company. “wanda?” you questioned, your voice soft and a little hesitant. “hmmm?”

“how long have you wanted to do that to me?”

wanda smiled to herself which you didn’t see with your face tucked under into her neck.

“a long time.” she said simply.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maxmoff x y/n #wanda x you #mommy wanda #corruption kink #somno k!nk

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a-griffin-in-the-sky · 1 month ago

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Male Pattern Aggression

when a guy shrugs off a woman celebrating something as simple as not shaving her legs with a bored “who cares,” that’s not just casual dismissal. that’s male pattern aggression sneaking in like a snake.

it’s a power move disguised as indifference. the message isn’t “i don’t care,” it’s “your choice, your joy, your body none of it matters to me.” it’s about control, about making sure her expression of freedom feels small, silly, and unworthy of attention.

male pattern aggression loves to weaponize apathy because it’s quieter, sneakier. instead of yelling, it erodes confidence. it gaslights women into thinking their voices and choices are trivial or annoying. it says, “you should care what i think, not what makes you happy.”

so next time you hear that “who cares?” remember—it’s not really about leg hair. it’s about trying to keep her stuck in the cage of not bothering the status quo.

there’s a tired trick where people hear a woman’s poem raw, angry, real and just say, “oh, it’s just edgy,” like that shrinks it down to nothing. like slapping a “too much” sticker on her truth to shove it in a corner.

Calling it “edgy” isn’t a compliment; it’s a shutdown. a way to dodge the uncomfortable message hiding beneath the sharp words and jagged lines. because if they actually heard what she was saying, they might have to reckon with it. And that’s terrifying.

it’s a sneaky form of silencing that whispers: “your pain is performative, your anger is a phase, your voice is background noise.” it’s a way to keep her small, to make her doubt her own power and meaning.

but here’s the truth: edgy is just a code word for uncomfortable, and uncomfortable truths are exactly what the world needs more of. So don’t let them gaslight you into quieting your poem, is fire, not a fad.

when a grown woman gets called “girl” like she’s some clueless kid, that’s not cute or casual that’s a power play. it’s a way of saying “you’re smaller, less serious, less worthy of respect.” it’s the first crack in the foundation of basic human dignity.

Then comes the move where your real, lived concerns get twisted into a “savior complex” like you’re just some crazy person imagining drama. That’s gaslighting, pure and simple. It’s a way to silence your voice and put the focus back on their feelings and control.

And then, oh, the kicker, they brag about trying to get “railed by a dom,” acting like their wants erase your boundaries. That’s male aggression wearing a mask of entitlement. it screams: “my desires matter more than your comfort or consent.”

this is how they keep the power by shrinking you with words, by turning your care into a weapon against you, by ignoring your grown-womanhood and your right to say no.

so when you hear that “girl” and that dismissive bullshit, know this: it’s not about you being “too sensitive” or “overthinking.” it’s about them trying to keep you small, quiet, and under their thumb.

And honestly? watching how some trans activists jump to erase women’s boundaries and gaslight their concerns it’s hard not to see the mirror cracking. sometimes it feels like they’re just MRA activists in disguise, swapping the red pill for rainbow flags but still playing the same old power games. all talk about justice, but at the end of the day? it’s control dressed up as progress. i’d love to have a real conversation honest, open, no bullshit. but here’s the truth: they’re not actually worried about a small minority of people struggling. no, what they really want is to swing their dicks around, flex some power, and make women feel small and guilty for just existing. it’s less about care, more about control. and until that changes? The conversation’s just noise. keep responding if you want every word you type just shows me who you really are. and if you block me? well, that just proves you’re scared. scared of what I say, scared of the truth I’m writing. so go ahead, hide behind that block button. it won’t silence me.

Edit/Part two[5/16/2025] Link here please read

#tra reciepts #thank you for the inspiration #voice to text #radical feminism #radfemblr #radblr #radical feminist community #radical feminist safe

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astra-ravana · 4 months ago

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Easy Curses for Beginners

Here are some simple yet unusual curses for beginners. These curses are low-energy, easy to perform, and require minimal tools. They are subtle and perfect for those just starting their baneful practice, but still pack a punch. Always be mindful of your intentions—curses can carry karmic or energetic consequences. Always start the curse process by protecting yourself and end it by cleansing yourself. Remember to do your own research before using baneful magick.

The Rotting Fruit Curse

Causes a person’s luck, relationships, or finances to decay over time.

Needed:

• A piece of fruit (apple, orange, etc.)

• A slip of paper

• A black pen

• A dark place (cupboard, drawer, or under the bed)

Instructions:

Write the target’s name on the paper. Place the paper inside or beneath the fruit. Hold the fruit and focus on your intent—imagine the person’s life slowly rotting just like the fruit will. Place the fruit in a hidden, dark place and leave it to decay. Once fully rotted, dispose of it far from your home.

The Knotted Thread Curse

Traps a person in misfortune, confusion, or stagnation. The target experiences obstacles, delays, and problems that keep them from progressing in life.

Needed:

• A piece of black thread or string (12 inches long)

• Your voice and breath

Instructions:

Hold the string in your hands and focus on the target. With each knot you tie, say a phrase like:

• "With this knot, I trap your fate."

• "With this tie, your plans fall apart."

Tie nine knots while envisioning the person becoming stuck, unable to move forward in life. Hide or bury the thread somewhere secret.

The Echo Curse

Makes a person’s words return to them, causing gossipers or liars to suffer their own consequences. Their own words work against them—exposing their lies, making people distrust them, or causing them to face social backlash.

Needed:

• A mirror (small handheld one works best)

• A marker or lipstick

• The person’s name (or just "liar," "gossip," etc.)

Instructions:

Write their name (or a word representing their offense) on the mirror. Hold the mirror and say:

"What you say returns to you, every lie and every word untrue."

Place the mirror facing a wall or inside a dark drawer, so their energy is reflected back to them.

The Cracked Egg Curse

Causes a person’s stability to fall apart—relationships, money, confidence, or mental clarity. The target experiences instability, whether emotional, financial, or personal.

Needed:

• A raw egg

• A marker

• A place to smash the egg (outside, near their path, or a trash bin)

Instructions:

Write the person’s name on the egg. Hold it and whisper your curse into it, such as:

"May your life crack like this shell."

Imagine their stability shattering like the egg will. Smash it on the ground or in a trash bin.

The Slipping Shadow Curse

Causes a person to lose focus, forget things, or make mistakes. They struggle with their memory, lose track of things, and make more mistakes.

Needed:

• A black candle

• A piece of paper

• A pencil

Instructions:

Write the target’s name on the paper. Light the black candle and hold the paper over the flame (don’t burn it yet). Whisper:

"Like a shadow slipping through the cracks, your mind stumbles, your focus lacks."

Let a few drops of wax fall on the name, then crumple the paper. Blow out the candle and throw the paper in a busy place (so their energy is scattered).

The Splitting Roads Curse

Causes confusion, indecision, and emotional instability. The target struggles to understand what's happening and make the right choices.

Needed:

• Two twigs or sticks

• A piece of string

• A crossroads or a place where two paths split

Instructions:

Tie the two sticks together at one end, so they form a V shape (symbolizing a forked path). Hold them in your hands and say:

"Your choices split, your path unclear, may confusion follow near."

Leave the sticks at a crossroads or place where two paths meet.

The Ink Spill Curse

Causes a person’s words (spoken or written) to be misunderstood, ignored, or turned against them. Everything they say becomes misinterpreted, loses power, or backfires.

Needed:

• A pen

• A piece of paper

• A cup of water or ink

Instructions:

Write the person’s name and a word representing their harmful speech (ie: “lies,” “gossip,” “manipulation”). Hold the paper and whisper:

"Your words twist, your message lost, what you say will bear the cost."

Drop the paper into the water or ink and let the words dissolve. Dispose of the soaked paper in running water (sink, river, or toilet).

The Cold Shoulder Curse

The person experiences social isolation—people ignore them, avoid them, or lose interest in them. This will eventually lead to profound loneliness.

Needed:

• A small ice cube

• A photo of the person (or just their name written on paper)

• A freezer

Instructions:

Place the ice cube on top of their name or photo. Whisper:

"Like ice, you freeze in place. No warmth, no friends, no welcome space."

Wrap the paper/photo in a piece of cloth or plastic and place it in the freezer.

The Crumbling Foundation Curse

Causes a collapse in a person’s relationships, home life, or work environment. The target experiences instability in their personal life making it harder for them to maintain relationships or stability.

Needed:

• A small handful of graveyard dirt

• A piece of paper

• A black pen

Instructions:

Write the person’s name on the paper. Hold the dirt in your hand and whisper:

"Your foundation weakens, your roots unsteady. That which holds you crumbles already."

Sprinkle the dirt over the paper and then fold it, with the dirt inside, like a little packet. Throw into running water or the rubble of a collapsed building.

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controlledhues · 21 days ago

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“ A-and nice! And somewhat velvety to the touch? I mean, you seem to be like that ahahahaah... ”

She's saying he's old.........................

#[ Performance in progress (Crack) ]#haematophiliac #/ / she's not helping i'm sorry

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the-oblivious-writer · 3 months ago

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I Will

Shauna Shipman x Reader

One-shot

Summary: You weren't sure when your crush on Shauna Shipman blossomed; maybe it was when she tripped Randy Walsh down a flight of stares because he kept stealing your glasses and calling you four-eyes, or maybe it was when she practically carried you off the field when you sprained your ankle during practice... it could have been a number of times. Either way, you never pursued your feelings towards Shauna, assuming they were one-sided. However, a cliché game of spin the bottle proves you otherwise.

Warning(s): Mild alcohol references (so underage drinking), kissing/making out (not explicit but certainly passionate), light sensuality, and no crash au.

Notes: watch episode six whenever you get the chance (idk how I'm gonna make it through another week without my girls 💔).

The Yellowjackets victory party was in full swing, the living room of Jackie's house transformed into a teenage playground of questionable decision-making. Music thumped through speakers, empty pizza boxes created precarious towers, and the distinct scent of whatever Misty had mixed into the punch lingered in the air.

You sat cross-legged in a circle of your teammates, acutely aware of Shauna Shipman's knee occasionally brushing against yours. The same knee that had impressed you earlier with its precision during that game-winning penalty kick.

"Alright, ladies!" Jackie's voice cut through the chatter as she placed an empty bottle in the center. "Time to elevate this championship celebration. Spin the bottle—with a twist."

Taissa groaned. "Please tell me the twist isn't something Misty concocted."

"Hey!" Misty protested from across the circle, adjusting her glasses indignantly.

"Seven minutes in heaven," Jackie announced with theatrical flair, gesturing toward the hallway closet. "Spin lands on someone, and you both disappear for seven glorious, uninterrupted minutes of... whatever."

Your eyes inadvertently flicked to Shauna, who was busy examining her fingernails with sudden, intense fascination.

The game progressed with typical teenage awkwardness. Van spun and landed on Taissa, their seven minutes returning them both with conspicuously mussed hair. Lottie and Laura Lee somehow spent their time discussing biblical interpretations of closet spaces, according to Lottie's cryptic explanation.

Then Shauna's turn arrived.

She spun with surprising force, the bottle rotating in hypnotic circles before gradually slowing. Your heart performed an impressive series of gymnastic maneuvers as the bottle neck inched past Jackie, past Misty, and landed—unmistakably—pointing at you.

"Well, well," Jackie smirked, "our midfield dynamic duo gets some quality time."

Shauna's eyes met yours, a complex blend of emotions swirling behind them. "Ready, teammate?" she asked, her voice carefully neutral despite the slight crack on the last syllable.

You managed a nod that you hoped appeared more casual than you felt.

The closet was smaller than it appeared from the outside. Coats pressed against your back, and the distinct smell of Jackie's family's fabric softener surrounded you. The door clicked shut, plunging you into darkness save for the thin strip of light beneath the door.

"So..." Shauna's voice came from somewhere very close. "Seven minutes."

"Approximately four hundred and twenty seconds," you replied, immediately regretting the nervous calculation.

A soft laugh escaped her. "I didn't realize we had a human stopwatch on the team."

"Sorry, I just—"

"Don't apologize," she interrupted. Your eyes had adjusted enough to see her outline, the curve of her profile as she leaned against the wall opposite you—all of twelve inches away. "It's cute. Your brain does this... thing... when you're nervous."

"I'm not nervous," you lied automatically.

"Right," Shauna whispered. "And I didn't spend the entire second half watching you instead of focusing on defense."

The air between you seemed to compress, heavy with unspoken words.

"We don't have to do anything," you offered, though your racing heart betrayed a different preference. "We could just talk about the tournament or—"

"Is that what you want?" Shauna asked, suddenly closer. "To talk about soccer strategy in a closet?"

Your breath caught. "Not particularly."

You felt rather than saw her smile. "Good. Because I've been thinking about kissing you since that practice where you nutmegged Coach Martinez."

"That was three months ago," you managed.

"I'm aware of the timeline," Shauna replied dryly, her hand finding yours in the darkness. "I've been keeping track."

When her lips finally met yours, it wasn't the hesitant exploration you'd imagined. Shauna Shipman kissed with the same focused intensity she brought to the soccer field—purposeful, skilled, and utterly captivating. Your back pressed against hanging coats as her hands found your waist, steadying you both in the cramped space.

You responded with equal fervor, fingers tangling in her hair, drawing a soft sound from her that you immediately committed to memory. The kiss deepened, months of sidelong glances and lingering high-fives transforming into something electric and undeniable.

"I should have spun that bottle weeks ago," she murmured against your neck, her breath warm and sending shivers down your spine.

"Technically," you replied between kisses, "you could have just asked me out instead of waiting for party game divine intervention."

Shauna laughed against your lips. "Where's the drama in that?"

Your response was cut short by her mouth finding yours again, more insistent this time. Time became meaningless, measured only in heartbeats and shared breaths.

When Jackie's voice eventually called "Time's up!" from the other side of the door, you reluctantly separated, both breathing heavily.

Shauna reached up to gently fix your disheveled hair, a surprising tenderness in the gesture. "So," she whispered, "want to discuss strategy over coffee tomorrow?"

"Soccer strategy?" you asked with a raised eyebrow.

Her smile was visible even in the dim light. "Among other things."

As you stepped back into the bright living room, met with knowing smirks from your teammates, you caught Shauna's eye across the circle. The look she gave you promised far more than seven minutes.

Jackie glanced between you two and rolled her eyes. "Well, that's one way to improve midfield communication."

Shauna's deadpan response—"Very efficient use of practice time"—sent the team into howls of laughter, while her fingers discreetly found yours behind the cover of Jackie's throw pillow.

Some victories, you decided, were even sweeter than championships.

#shauna shipman x you #shauna shipman x reader #shauna shipman #shauna yellowjackets #yellowjackets x you #yellowjackets x reader #yellow jackets #yellowjackets

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brningcigs · 11 months ago

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- you catch kirishima watching p-rn and ask to watch with him. can you guess what happens next? 🤭

note: this could also go for kaminari too UGHH

cw: (COLLEGE AU!) virgin!kirishima, virgin!reader, piv (female genitalia!), oral (f receiving) i think that’s all!! if i missed anything lmk!

you didn’t mean to ease drop. you were on your way to his dorm when you heard strange noises coming from inside, halting your fist just before your knuckles hit the door to press your ear against the wood with wide eyes. you couldn’t believe your ears, your bestfriend was watching porn.

you opened the door and kirishima couldn’t be more quick to practically slam his laptop shut, wide eyed with parted lips as he stared back at you. “were you just watching porn?” you question even though you already know and he shakes his head frantically to which you laugh and point a finger at him. “you totally were!”

his face is beat red at this point, bending his elbow and hiding his face behind his forearm and bicep, rambling on about how embarrassed he was. :(((( he’s so cute.

“can i watch too?”

he’s baffled that you would even ask such a thing, slowly lowering his arm to give you a questionable look, eyes slightly narrowed. he almost thought he was hearing things at first. “uhmm… sure…”

so you sit beside him on his bed, both criss crossing your legs causing your knees to touch and he presses play sheepishly. you guys sit in silence for a few awkward seconds, watching the grossly over exaggerated performance but you eventually start cracking jokes which causes him to laugh.

the both of you end up talking about the general idea of sex and it comes out that you’re both virgins. eijirou purses his lips as he glances back down at the laptop for a moment and suddenly without thinking, asks you if you wanted to try it out with him. although when he realizes what he said he’s back to being all embarrassed, trying so hard to defend himself.

“i mean… maybe we could figure it out together… UH-i mean like if yknow you ever wanted to- or-.. just forget i said anything.” he’s such a stuttering mess it’s adorable!!

you giggle and happily agree to his offer and he’s stunned. if any more surprises hit him tonight, he’s afraid he’ll have a heart attack.

you two end up trying what you saw in the video you watched - you started with innocent kisses; soft and sweet with both your guys’ hands cupping each others face as you both giggle into the kiss. and than the kissing progressed, a full on make out sesh that grew more intense. you end up in his lap and he’s grabbing onto anything he can touch. your shoulders, your waist, your thighs. and every time his short nails graze against your skin your humming with approval and he’s sooo dizzy.

he’s getting desperate and needy and you’re not far behind him, his hands guiding your hips against his painful hard-on, the room filled with breathy moans and gasps and all sorts of other desperate noises youre both probably embarrassed of.

you’re getting impatient, gripping his soft red hair to pull away and he’s chasing your lips.

“do you have condoms?”

he practically tumbles over the side of his bed and you erupt into a fit of giggles as he yanks open his bed side drawer and pulls out a condom.

the SECOND he pushes inside you his face pales over because shit he already feels like he’s going to cum. he’s mumbling incoherent nonsense under his breath and praying to GOD that he doesn’t embarrass himself and he’s so grateful you need a second to get used to the feeling of penetration before any movement happens.

his muscular body is hovering above you with his blanket covering you both and when you give him the go ahead to start moving he grows more anxious. he drags his hips out and his face is contorting and twisting in pleasure, a shaky groan leaving him as he slowly pushes back into you.

hearing that high pitched gasp when his tip kissed your cervix has his hips snapping back to push right back into you, wanting, needing to hear that sound again. over and over, he’s met with soft moans that has him running, sprinting to the finish line, leaning down to nip at your neck as you hold onto him and lock your legs around his waist.

“kirii..” you whine out, clenching around him and practically pulling him back in every single time he winds back and that was the literal end of him.

before he can even warn you his cumming into the condom, arms tightly wrapped around you as he fucks into you desperately, moaning into your neck and rambling incoherent praise.

when he’s realized he came in the first three minutes his face is as red as his hair and he’s pulling away to look down at you in a panic of embarrassment.

“i-i’m so sorry! fuck you just felt so good i couldn’t help myself.. did you finish?”

he’s horrified when you giggle and shake your head despite the content look on your face and he’s shoving his own face into the nape of your neck, apologizing over and over again and you only laugh.

“it’s okay kiri, i swear! it’s normal, you don’t have to be embarrassed.” you soothed but he wasn’t convinced.

“nono, i’m not gonna leave you unsatisfied.. that wouldn’t be manly at all.”

you’re shocked as you watch him shuffle down the bed and move in between your legs, about to object but we’re cut off by his tongue pressing flat against your core. your body jolts and you cry out at the stimulation, and kirishima has a sparkle in his eyes at the effect he has on you.

he’s like a kid in a candy store, lapping at your little bundle of nerves with a firm hold on your hips. he moves his tongue just like he saw in the video, flicking your sensitive bud and wrapping his lips around it. he’s making out with your heat like a starved man, moaning into you as if eating you out is causing him some immense amount of pleasure.

the vibrations from his voice against your clit is enough to make you finally come undone, legs shaking and your toes curling and you SWEAR you saw stars.

kirishima is cleaning you up, drinking down your cum and you squeal at the over stimulation, pushing against the top of his head. “too much!”

the red headed boy pulls himself up with a wide smile and a wet chin, his tongue darting out to clear any of your remaining essence off his lips. “i never thought i’d love doing that so much!” he exclaims and you shake your head with a dopey smile, still coming down from your high.

“hey, you up for another round?”

kirishima asks sheepishly after sitting up to reveal that he was hard again and you just sit up and pounce on him.

it’s safe to say you two did a lot of that in your guys’ free time after that. 🤗

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sevsevteen · 22 days ago

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introducing ..

𝑺𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏'𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒉

sevsevteen's original works // main masterlist

check out my requested fics for more work :]

🎈 - fluff //⚡️- angst // 🧸 - hurt/comfort // 💫 - personal favs

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗

What began as petty bickering during practice turns into a raw confrontation, forcing buried insecurities into the open - and reminders that sometimes being seen means letting someone in

> read it here 🧸

After a draining day of harsh criticism and silent guilt, you find quiet comfort in the presence of Jeonghan and Seungcheol

> read it here 🧸

Being the only girl in Seventeen meant you saw the quiet cracks the others missed - and when the teasing went too far, it was up to you to draw the line no one else dared to

> read it here ⚡️

When a sentimental vase mysteriously shatters, the members brace for Jeonghan’s fury - only to watch in disbelief as he lets you off the hook in a split second, exposing his shameless favouritism

> read it here 🎈

After a sudden role switch and mistreatment on set leave you flustered and overwhelmed, the members firmly step in, proving you’re not just part of the group, but also protected like family

> read it here 🧸

When you share a lighthearted moment with rookie juniors TWS, the members accidentally catch you laughing a little too brightly

> read it here 🎈

When a misunderstanding sparks tension between you and Dino, a surprising turn of defense and compassion reminds everyone what it truly means to be a team

> read it here 🧸

After being overlooked backstage during a collaboration stage, you swallow your disappointment and perform flawlessly - only wanting to unravel in the quiet safety of the dorm The heavy thoughts of the performance gets interrupted by Wonwoo, reminding you that you don’t need to fight for space where you already belong

> read it here ⚡️// pt. 2 🧸

An argument between you and Seungkwan spirals into chaos - only to be defused by leader Seungcheol who hoists you into air "time-out," breaking the tension and leaving the members in stitches

> read it here 🎈🧸

During a live stage mishap of an outfit malfunction, a graceful slide, precise choreo and Jeonghan’s quick moves, things played off so seamlessly that fans think it was part of the performance

> read it here 🎈

When a fanmeet takes a chilling turn, you doesn’t hesitate to confront a hidden predator in the crowd - proving that even under the brightest lights, courage sometimes comes with sore butts and a shaking voice

> read it here 🎈💫 // have a bite 🎈

A late-night practice fueled by exhaustion and fraying tempers, a sharp exchange between you and Vernon escalates, leaving the entire group shaken - and painfully aware of how fragile even the closest bonds can feel under pressure

> read it here ⚡️

When an off-camera insult during an interview shoot belittles Seventeen's achievements, their unity is put to the test - until you stand up for everyone with a quiet strength that makes every member rise behind you

> read it here 🧸

When you finds yourself nearly erased from a video you had poured your heart into filming, it quietly shatters you - until you're reminded, in a loud and loving way, that you were never invisible

> in progress! read it here

~ coming soon ~

want more? check out my requested fics for more work

Credits - uploads on pinterest, where pictures are from / creators i take inspiration from (ily thank you!)

#seventeen 14th member #seventeen imagines #seventeen drabbles #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #svt 14th member #svt imagines #seventeen #svt scenarios

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controlledhues · 6 days ago

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#[ Performance in progress (Crack) ]#baaaaaa

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synity · 23 days ago

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MOON-STRUCK

(Lee Jihoon x FemReader)

*Slow-burn Romantic Drama with Emotional Angst & Idol Slice of Life Tender Fluff Unspoken Longing*

Y/N had always been the type to pour her soul into her art. Three years into her solo career, she remained underrated by industry standards yet loved deeply by those who had discovered her. Her fans, mostly CARATs, admired her honesty, the way her lyrics cut straight into the heart, how her voice didn’t beg for attention but instead earned it.

Despite her quiet success, she never let the pressure mold her. She was vibrant behind the scenes teasing stylists, dancing with backup performers, laughing like she didn’t carry the weight of self-composed albums on her shoulders. SEVENTEEN knew her before she debuted. They had trained in the same building, shared ramen at 2 a.m., offered encouragement during late-night practice runs.

Over time, she became more than just an industry friend. She became one of them.

Among all the members, it was Woozi who surprised them the most.

Lee Jihoon, the man of quiet glances and endless hours behind the studio door, had taken a silent liking to her from the very beginning. It wasn’t loud or dramatic. It was in the way he always saved her a seat. How he offered her drinks without asking. How he remembered her favorite chord progressions. The way his laughter came easier around her, how his smiles lingered longer when she was in the room.

And yet, Y/N never noticed.

She was always kind to him like she was to everyone. She never saw how he’d look at her when she’d run choreography barefoot just for fun, or when she giggled at her own offbeat counts, or when she lent her voice to harmonize with a demo she thought no one would ever hear.

He wrote songs about her dozens of them. Some released, most not. They sat in his hard drive labeled under vague codes like “Project M” or “Midnight Ver.” Lyrics about her eyes, her chaos, her calm, the way her voice cracked when she got emotional during studio runs. He never told anyone. He didn’t need to.

One day, he asked her to collaborate.

“I’ve been working on something,” he mumbled, handing her a USB. “You don’t have to say yes, but I think… you’d suit it.”

Y/N smiled, cheerful as always. “Of course, Woozi! I’d love to.”

She didn’t see the way his ears turned pink when she said his name.

They began working together immediately. Hours passed in studios where she danced across the room, lyrics in one hand, iced tea in the other. She hummed random melodies mid-conversation, always sparking some new idea. Jihoon was quiet, watching, always calculating but never cold. If anything, she made his presence warmer.

She never realized how careful he was with her.

He tuned her vocals more delicately than anyone else’s.

He brought snacks he knew she liked.

He adjusted his schedule just to match hers.

And he never said a word.

Dance practice was a mess but in the best way. Y/N teased the dancers, mimicked moves badly just to make the room laugh, often collapsing on the floor out of breath. Jihoon barely danced, but he always came to watch. He sat in the corner with a water bottle, hiding a smile whenever she did something ridiculous.

“She’s got something,” he murmured to Hoshi once after a practice. “She’s lightning in a bottle.”

The final product was a song called Moonstruck a moody, sparkling track that told the story of falling for someone when it’s already too late to back out. The lyrics were poetic, haunting. A little too real.

Y/N didn’t question them.

She loved the song. Said it felt “like being drunk on starlight.”

It racked up 94 million views in twenty-four hours. Both fandoms exploded with praise.

From that point on, variety shows and interviews swept them into the public eye together. But to Jihoon’s quiet dismay, she was often paired with Dokyeom. They were chaos personified bickering like siblings, laughing until they cried, bantering in a way that had fans convinced they were a couple.

Y/N, of course, didn’t mind. It was just work. Just friendship.

Jihoon… minded.

He watched from behind the camera. A soft frown on his lips. Never interfering. Never mentioning it.

Instead, he wrote.

Another unreleased file. Titled: Moonstruck (Alt Ver). An echo of the original track but rawer. Sadder. Full of things he could never say.

Woozi’s POV

She didn’t even know what she was doing to him.

Maybe that was what made it harder.

Watching her laugh with Seokmin during their latest variety taping, Jihoon tried to focus on his water bottle, on the call sheet in his hand anything but the way her fingers reached for Seokmin’s arm when she doubled over with laughter.

It wasn’t like she was flirting.

That’s what he kept telling himself.

She was just… Y/N.

Loud, radiant, carefree.

Exactly the same way she’d been since the day they met when she barged into the vocal practice room without knocking, asking if anyone had a charger for her phone and whether or not they were good at harmonies because she needed someone to sing with her.

She didn’t change. He did.

The feelings crept in slowly, uninvited. The admiration was innocent at first he liked the way her music sounded like a heartbeat. Raw, imperfect, real. Then it became the way she scribbled in her notebooks with her tongue slightly out in concentration. The way she challenged choreography counts like she was solving a math equation. The way she wore her pain quietly in lyrics and healed in front of the mic.

He saw all of her.

And now, it was too late.

Their collab, Moonstruck, had broken every expectation. A haunting duet about two people orbiting each other, never confessing, never quite reaching. Fans called it their “emotional love story.”

Jihoon called it the truth.

Every line he wrote, every harmony they layered, every glance he risked while she wasn’t looking it was all him. Her, too. She just didn’t realize it.

She never noticed the way he tuned her voice like glass, afraid to crack the emotion. She never realized he skipped meals just to match her late-night schedules. That when she asked “Want anything from the vending machine?” and he said no, he actually wanted her to come back safely more than he wanted food.

And she sure as hell didn’t realize how much it hurt when other people got to see the side of her he cherished most.

“Hyung,” Seungkwan nudged him gently backstage. “You okay? You’ve been staring at them for five minutes.”

Jihoon blinked.

Y/N and Seokmin were still on stage, dancing like fools for some silly game. She looked happy. Light. Like she belonged anywhere but in his arms.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Just tired.”

It was a lie, and everyone knew it.

Even Seungkwan gave him that look half sympathy, half “why don’t you just say something?”

But how could he?

Y/N didn’t see him that way. She smiled when he offered her a jacket. Said “thanks, Woozi, you’re the best” when he fixed her key without being asked. She trusted him like a friend. Admired him like a producer. Counted on him like family.

She never saw the way his hands trembled after she left the room. Or how he replayed her demo takes at night just to hear her voice in the quiet.

Later that evening, when the dorm lights were low and the others were asleep, he opened his laptop.

Moonstruck (Alt Ver) still sat in the folder. Unreleased. Unsent.

It had a different second verse. He’d written it after seeing her perform on stage with Seokmin when they both wore matching ear cuffs for the concept shoot, laughing like they shared a secret. It wasn’t their fault. Jihoon knew that.

Still, it bled out of him in lyrics:

saw your name on the screen, Paused for a sec, didn't know what it means. Ghost in the corner of my feed, Why does silence cut so deep?

His fingers hovered over the keyboard.

He could send it. Just a voice memo. Just say: “Thought of this for the deluxe version.”

But he didn’t.

Because if she knew… If she heard what he really felt—how deeply, how fully he might lose her altogether.

So instead, he saved it. Closed the lid.

Pretended it wasn’t real.

Pretended she wasn’t his moon, his muse, his reason for creating music that didn’t feel hollow anymore.

But fate, he was starting to realize, had a twisted sense of humor.

Because lately, every time he turned around, there she was.

Not just in the studio. Not just in dance practice.

But at the same café he stopped at for coffee. Two tables away, humming into her straw.

At the same bookstore he escaped to on Sundays. Laughing with her manager in the art aisle.

On his recommended feed, in his dreams, in the quiet moments where he thought he could finally breathe.

She was everywhere.

And Jihoon… he didn’t know how much longer he could stay silent.

Y/N’s POV

I wish I could lie and say it was just admiration.

I’ve told myself that lie a hundred times, repeated it in the mirror like a mantra. "You just look up to him. You respect him. That’s all."

But then I’d catch myself watching him when I shouldn’t. Not during recordings, but in between takes. When his brow furrows just before hitting playback. When he closes his eyes to feel the mix. When he laughs not the public kind, but the unguarded one, head tilted slightly back like he forgot the world existed.

That’s when I feel it most. Whatever this is.

It’s been three years. Three years since I entered SEVENTEEN’s circle, and it still feels like I’m tiptoeing across thin ice every time I stand too close to him. Woozi Jihoon is not like the others. He doesn’t flirt. Doesn’t compliment casually. Doesn’t say things just to be kind.

So when he does say something, it stays. Like when he told me, “That bridge you wrote? It hurts in the best way.” Or when he stayed late in the studio with me just because I was having a rough day, quietly handing me a hot drink without asking why I’d cried earlier.

He always notices. He always cares.

And that’s what makes it so hard.

Because I don’t think he sees how I look at him.

He doesn't see how nervous I get when our hands brush. Or how I save the messages he sends about music like they’re love notes. I’ve written dozens of songs I’ll never release. Lyrics filled with him. Questions I’m too afraid to ask.

If I fell, would you catch me? Even if it hurts, I’d still run to you. You faded out so quietly, But your echo still lives in me.

But I don’t say anything. Because it’s better to have Jihoon in my life even as just a friend than risk losing him to truth.

Still, there are moments I can’t ignore. Like today.

He was quieter than usual. His smile a little more reserved. His eyes lingered longer when I joked with Dokyeom. I thought I imagined it. But Seungkwan gave me a look later, that knowing one.

“You’re brave, hanging around Woozi hyung like that when he’s clearly losing it,” he teased.

“What do you mean?” I played dumb.

Seungkwan only raised a brow. “Nothing. Just don’t be surprised if he writes an album out of jealousy.”

If only he knew I’d do the same.

Woozi’s POV

I’ve written over two hundred songs in the last few years. Some never made it past the demo stage. Some debuted on stages before tens of thousands. And then there are the quiet ones tucked away in folders no one has heard. The ones I label under “Private.”

Most of those are about her.

I never planned for it to be this way. Y/N was supposed to be a friend. Just one of us. A ridiculously talented soloist who somehow managed to fit into our chaos like she’d been there from the beginning.

But over time, something changed. Not in her but in me.

I started watching her more often. Noticing things. Like the way she stretches her arms above her head during breaks. How she taps her pen against her lips when she’s lost in thought. The small frown she makes when she’s unsatisfied with her work but no one else would ever notice because she hides it behind a bright smile.

That smile. It kills me every time.

And yet... I don’t think she sees me that way.

She treats me just like the rest of the guys. She teases me when I get too serious. I’ve grown used to hearing her laughter echo across the studio, but sometimes, when she laughs at something DK says, something uncomfortable twists in my chest.

I hate the feeling.

Jealousy. That’s what it is. Not of Dokyeom, specifically. But of the way she looks at him. The way her eyes soften, how she leans into his shoulder when she laughs too hard. It’s innocent, I know. But it still stings.

Today was worse.

She wore that oversized hoodie she always paints in splattered in color, loose around the sleeves, a brush tucked behind her ear. We were working on our second collaboration track. I suggested we co-produce this time. She agreed immediately, eyes lighting up like I’d given her the world.

I couldn’t stop watching her as she hovered near the soundboard, bobbing her head to the demo.

“You’re staring,” Hoshi whispered behind me.

I jumped slightly. “No, I wasn’t.”

Hoshi didn’t bother hiding his smirk. “You do this every time she walks into a room.”

I didn’t answer. Because he wasn’t wrong.

Later, when we were taking a break, I walked into the practice room and saw her choreographing with one of the dancers. The music was playing softly from her phone, and she was humming along, sweat dripping down her temple, eyes alight with passion. She didn’t see me.

But I saw her.

And then something happened.

She turned, suddenly, laughing at something the dancer said—and her eyes met mine. For a split second, her laughter faltered. Just slightly. Like she hadn’t expected me to be there.

Then, she smiled.

It wasn’t different. Not really. But something in my gut twisted.

She walked over casually, tossed me a water bottle, and leaned her head against my shoulder for a moment. “Don’t judge the chaos yet. It’s going to be good, I promise.”

“I never doubt you,” I said before I could stop myself.

Her head turned. Her eyes searched mine for a second longer than necessary.

And then she smiled again, this time quieter. Like she was hiding something.

I should’ve asked. But I didn’t.

I’m Woozi. I don’t chase what I don’t understand. But lately… I think I’m starting to understand too much.

Because the way she looked at me it felt familiar. Like the way I’ve always looked at her.

But that can’t be, right?

Right?

I had rehearsed the song a thousand times.

Every lyric. Every chord. Every pause where her name echoed in the silence between the lines unspoken, but present.

The studio felt different tonight. We’d finished the second collab. It was a hit already trending on every platform, with millions of views in hours. The staff had celebrated, champagne was popped, people laughed, but I couldn’t feel it.

Because she was there. Smiling. Looking at me with eyes that knew nothing of the storm inside me.

I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t keep writing songs she didn’t know were for her. I couldn’t keep smiling every time she laughed at someone else’s joke, or pretend it didn’t sting when she called me “just a friend.”

So I stayed behind in the studio that night. Asked her to meet me again after hours.

Just us.

When she walked in, hair tied up loosely, hoodie half-zipped, a sleepy smile on her face I almost lost my nerve.

But I didn’t. I couldn’t.

“Sit,” I said gently, pointing to the couch. “I want to show you something.”

She blinked, confused, but obeyed. “Is this another demo?”

I shook my head. My fingers hovered above the keyboard, heart pounding like it never had before not even before a concert. “It’s… something I wrote. A while ago.”

I pressed play.

The piano poured through the speakers soft, hesitant, like footsteps into unknown territory. Then my voice followed.

Not producer Woozi. Not idol Lee Jihoon. Just me. Singing about her.

“You sit next to me like it’s nothin’, But my heart skips like it’s somethin’. You say “good morning” with sleepy eyes, And I’m already stuck in butterflies”

I heard her breath catch. But I kept going.

“You talk about dreams, about moving away, And I just hope I’m in them someday. Not asking for forever, just a chance To maybe hold your hand if we ever dance."

Silence.

When the last note faded, I finally turned.

She was sitting there, frozen. Eyes wide. Her hand was over her mouth, her chest rising and falling quickly.

“Y/N…” My voice was low. Raw. “That song every one of them… they were all about you. All this time.”

Her lips parted, but no words came. She looked like she couldn’t breathe.

I walked closer, heart crashing in my chest. “I don’t know when it started. Maybe when you helped me rearrange that bridge at 2 a.m. Or when you laughed so hard at Seungkwan’s joke you snorted and didn’t even care. Maybe it was when you cried in the studio because your verse felt too vulnerable and you thought no one would understand but I did. I always do.”

She was crying now. Tears falling quietly, mouth trembling.

I knelt down in front of her, gently taking her hand. “I’ve loved you for so long, Y/N. And I’m scared to say it. I’m scared it’ll ruin everything. But I can’t keep pretending you’re just another friend. You’re not. You never were.”

And then finally she spoke.

“You idiot,” she whispered, a laugh breaking through her tears. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve loved you too?”

I froze. “What?”

“I didn’t say anything because I thought you didn’t feel the same. You were always so distant… so careful. But I saw it. The way you looked at me when you thought I wasn’t watching. The way your songs sounded like home.”

My breath hitched. “Then why didn’t you?”

“Because I was scared too,” she said softly, pulling me closer. “But I’m not anymore.”

She cupped my face, thumb brushing my cheek as I leaned into her palm. I closed my eyes, overwhelmed. For the first time, it felt like the song I’d been writing all my life finally had its chorus.

And then our foreheads touched, and she whispered, “You were always the one, Jihoon.”

My arms wrapped around her waist as hers wound around my neck, and we both sank to the floor on our knees, holding each other like the truth might shatter if we let go.

I buried my face in her shoulder, her scent grounding me, her presence finally finally mine.

“I’m still writing a hundred songs about you,” I mumbled against her skin.

She laughed through a sob. “Then I’ll listen to every one of them.”

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wickedgamesoyaoya · 1 year ago

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❧ prompt: "Why are you so worked up?" "Because they wouldn't stop fucking staring at you like they wanted to eat you." From here.

❧ the act’s performers: kiyoomi sakusa x f!reader

❧ wc: 1.7k

❧ warnings: swearing, jealousy, kissing, insecurity (let me know if I missed stuff)

❧ a/n: just a little something lolol idk I hope ya'll like it!

"You're not my type."

"And you think you're mine?"

Sakusa Kiyoomi could not believe the conversation he was forced to participate in. A mixture of disgust and amusement contorted his features at the woman staring up at him with a devious glint in her irises. Over the last year, it was almost nonstop bickering between the two of you. Well, according to Atsumu it was flirting on your end and bickering on his friend's end.

To be honest, a study needed to be conducted on why your presence alone could drive the wing spiker to insanity. From the way you would push past his physical boundaries without hesitation to the siren-like expressions, you would toss his way during class. It stripped him of his rationality and delivered him straight to madness.

All he wanted was to focus on college and volleyball, and yet sometimes all he could focus on was you.

"If I'm not your type, why do you only bother me?" The black-haired male surveyed your face for a nonverbal answer to his question. However, as always, he was greeted with a flirtatious bat of your lashes rather than a clue as to what was going on in that head of yours.

"How are you so certain that I only bother you?" Bringing your index finger to your mouth, you lightly bit down on your nail with a grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. Your answer evidently caught the male off guard, as there was a momentary crack in his usual nonchalant demeanour. "How arrogant of you to think you're the only one."

"If you have other toys, go bother them instead. I'm busy." Sakusa shifted his gaze away from you, with tension applying to his jawline. He had to bite back the urge to pout. Where was his mask again? Why did you have to catch him in a moment when he was shieldless?

"Really? You won't miss me, pretty boy?" The hand that was once near your mouth was now extended so that you could guide his attention back to you. To both of your surprise, he did not stop you immediately when your finger applied light force on his chin. Though once his dark eyes landed on yours, he was prompt in swatting your hand away.

"First, don't call me that. Second, why would I miss you?" The volleyball player's words were coated in venom, but he ignored the bitter taste. It was nothing in comparison to the emotion flooding his chest right now.

And the last thing he wanted to admit was that his heart was drowning in jealousy.

"Okay, pretty boy. Just remember... Be careful what you wish for." After dipping an eyelid into a wink, a harmonic laugh follows your words as you step away from the male.

Sakusa instantly regretted his choice of words, and yet all he could do was glare in response.

****

Silence and peace accompanied Sakusa for the following two weeks, along with bright warm spring days. His volleyball team even secured a win against their rival, one that had the hallways of the college buzzing in excitement. But the male could not find himself satisfied with his victory - not when someone was missing from the stands. A certain someone who attended his every game to shamelessly flirt and ward off the fangirls.

It was becoming progressively clearer just how much your absence impacted his daily life. Just how much he did not truly care for quiet days. And just how much he missed your mischievous mannerisms.

Atsumu practically snapped at his team-mate on day 13 - claiming that Sakusa was merely ruining his own chances with the girl he obviously liked. Sakusa cursed out the blonde-haired boy in response, but he secretly agreed with everything that was said.

But what was stopping him from seeking you out? Over the last year, you were the one who pursued him. Should the tables not turn anyway at some point? It was only fair that he chase after you now. Even if that meant going against his better judgment.

Who said emotions were supposed to make sense?

It was day 16 when Sakusa was finally successful in diminishing the distance between you two. Well, rather than being successful in his mission, it was pure luck that caused him to accidentally stumble onto your location. However, luck was truly a nasty creature, as the scene he had entered was one that had a storm brewing inside of the male's chest.

A sickening realization had suddenly plagued the male.

He hated the idea of you "bothering" someone else. Why the hell did he send you into the arms of another!?

"If I had known there were such pretty girls in Japan, I would have come here earlier." The blue and blonde-haired male towered over you with a smirk on his mouth. Based on his accent, he was a foreigner who likely transferred to the school recently.

"I'm flattered that you think I'm pretty enough to move across the globe, Kaiser." A cheerful smile painted across your lips as you interlocked your fingers behind your back. It was more friendly than flirtatious, yet Sakusa felt rage burn in his palms.

When he made the comment about your other toys, he did not think you'd actually give him space. In the past, he had made all sorts of snarky remarks. How many times did he tell you to go away? He had lost count. But what mattered was that you never acted upon his harsh words.

What changed now? Were you fed up with him?

"I'd do a lot more than that for someone as pretty as you, y/n." This time the male named Kaiser lightly grabbed onto your chin, forcing your head to move skyward. And as he leaned in closer, his eyelids dropped just a smidge which even had someone like you blinking in slight astonishment.

But before you could register what was occurring - a new individual entered the stage. Warm fingers were wrapped around your wrist, and with one swift motion, you were pulled away from Kaiser. A familiar scent of laundry detergent tickled your nose. It didn't take you too long to realize whose chest you were currently pressed against.

"Kiyoomi?" His name was breathed out with a fascinated laugh as you peered up at him. Although, his consideration was not on you at all. No, he was engaged in a staring match with the foreign soccer player.

"Y/n. I didn't know you have no standards." The comment comes from Sakusa who refuses to release your wrist. A grimace moulds your features at his incorrect and disrespectful assumption.

"Oh-oh, what do we have here? You didn't tell me you had a boyfriend, y/n." Kaiser raised an eyebrow with a humourless chuckle vibrating in his chest.

"I don't have a boyfriend, that's why." Sakusa tensed up at your retort, which only brought laughter to flow past your lips. "But I do have a grumpy cat it seems." A quick glance was stolen of the male beside you who remained focused on what you realized he considered his love rival.

"But your heart isn't owned by the grumpy cat, now is it?" The soccer player discovered far too much entertainment in the situation. Sakusa was practically sending daggers in his direction, and yet it was all just simply amusing. Kaiser was not interested in you enough to willingly enter a fistfight. But he could not keep himself from teasing the unknown male. "I'm sure I can satisfy your needs much better than he can, my sweet y/n."

"We're done here." It's the latter comment that has the wing spiker suddenly dragging you down the hallway. However, right before leading you away, he released your wrist and instead tangled his fingers with yours. Butterflies sang a melody inside of your stomach as a number of curses were mumbled against the fabric of his mask, causing you to stifle back a titter.

"Why are you so worked up?" The inquiry is posed once Sakusa leads you into an empty classroom. The black-haired male only realized he was holding your hand when his feet stopped carrying him to his destination. A light blush could be seen peeking out from the top of his mask.

It was ridiculously adorable.

"Because he wouldn't stop fucking staring at you like he wanted to eat you." His words were huffed out as his fingers were sent to toy with the strings looped along his ears.

"Eat me? Oh, I'm sure he wanted to do much more." Since ending the physical contact, Sakusa remained a meters distance away from you. A calculated decision on his part, clearly. But you were prompt in destroying that distance with a few steps forward. "I thought you wanted me to play with my other toys, hm?"

The volleyball player elected to remain silent, instead his dark irises bore into yours. Even when you extended your hand to lightly remove his mask, he did not utter a word. Nor did he disturb your movements.

When he brought you here he was not thinking straight, he had no plan. He just wanted to separate you from that man.

"Kiyoomi, if I had known you were such a jealous boy, I would have used this to my advantage earlier." The admission was exhaled with a dramatic sigh, but the playful edge to your tone was difficult to miss. "If you want me, pretty boy, I think now is the time to confess. Unless, you want me to go back to -"

The soccer player's name was swallowed back down as Sakusa's lips suddenly crashed against yours. There was no way in hell he would ever allow you to say another man's name in a romantic context again. The pads of his fingers brushed over your cheeks so lightly you could have confused it for a breeze. The earlier feelings of jealousy melted away with each passing second, as Sakusa bathed in the thrill of finally giving in to his desires. And when you broke the close proximity to catch a breath of air, he was quick to bring your mouth back to his in an urgency you had never expected from the male.

Well, it was needless to say... Operation jealousy was a success.

#sakusa x you #sakusa x reader #sakusa x y/n #sakusa fluff #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x reader #sakusa imagines #sakusa kiyoomi #haikyuu sakusa #hq sakusa #haikyuu

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controlledhues · 1 year ago

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❝ W-with all due respect, sir, I am not doing anything wrong . . . ? I just like the cold . And the breeze . And the snow . It's nice around here . ❞

"Are you going to behave and leave, as I said, when I do?"

#prmafrost #/ / he's going to jail for false claims #[ Performance in progress (Crack) ]

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totalswag · 1 year ago

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Hello lovely I love ur writing abt Drew & Reader actresse sweetheart it's so good <3 I have a little request to make to you if you don't mind, Drew react to the Reader acting in the horror film masterpiece (like the movies Suspiria and Climax vibes) of which she's a part of the main cast

I'm just curious if he would be terrified or blown away by this kind of role that she plays like this one or not ;) thank u !!!

unbelievable performance — DREW STARKEY

authors note aw thank you lovie! that means so much to me. by the time you are reading this, my second fic with drew x actress!reader is out (the first date). i have never seen either movies that you listed in your request but i did look them up to get a gist.

summary drew was impressed by your performance in your latest horror film.

warnings mentions of kissing, horror films

masterlist

Tonight marks the premiere of your new horror film, in which you star with some amazing actors. After many hours of continuous filming, sequences are officially wrapped. You're extremely proud of yourself and your casemates.

You were the staring lead in the movie. Getting the part after auditioning was a blessing in disguise. This being your very first staring lead role in any movie you’ve been in, you were so proud of yourself.

Everyone is seated in the theater. Drew, your boyfriend, also came with you. The entire cast stood in front of the stage as your director discussed the film a bit.

You shifted your focus to Drew, who was already looking at you in admiration, which made you smile and making you blush.

When you stepped up to your seat, he leaned down to your ear and whispered, "I want you to know that I'm so proud of you, and I know you did an amazing job on this movie," before kissing the top of your head.

“I love you baby, so much” you answer with your voice already starting to crack before tears wanted to burst out.

“Me more.”

Drew was so excited to watch his beautiful girlfriend on the big screen. Non-stop talking about the movie with you and his predictions on what will happen.

Everyone in the theater began to applaud as soon as the lights went out. Drew's hand moved easily down your thigh and gave it a little squeeze. Your skin began to tingle from his touch.

The movie begins with a hauntingly beautiful dance routine in which the camera swirls around the dancers in a way that is both captivating and unnerving. Drew is instantly captivated. As the story progresses, he observes your character navigating a world fraught with psychological pain and supernatural fear.

Half way through the movie, it’s been jaw dropping and incredible.

He is always on the edge of his seat in every situation you are in. You capture the dread and lunacy of the film's twisted narrative with an unvarnished and honest performance.

He's afraid and enthralled with the story at the same time, amazed at your ability to portray such raw emotion. Never once did he take his eyes off the screen.

The way the movie came out was unbelievable. The editors did wonders on this movie and made it into something viewers will want to keep watching.

Once you two arrived home after eating dinner at the after party, Drew and you took a shower together in your shared bathroom, changed into pajamas, then went into bed with the tv playing.

Later that night, back at home, Drew can't stop talking about the movie.

"You know, watching you in that role allowed me to see a completely other side of you. You were fierce, vulnerable, and incredibly compelling. "It was like watching an acting masterclass."

You laugh quietly and rest your head on his shoulder. "It means a lot hearing you say that. I was concerned about how you would react."

"Are you kidding?" I loved it. "I'm just glad I wasn't watching it alone in the dark," he jokes.

my taglist!

✰ if you would like to be added to my taglist and be notified whenever i post please let me know in the comments or in my ask box. if there's a line across your name that means i couldn't find your account.

@winterrrnight @chenslucy @rosezza @diqldrunks @runningfrom2am @ethanthequeefqueen @rafeyslamb

#drew starkey/rafe cameron 🍒#drew starkey #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey imagines #drew starkey x actress!reader #drew starkey x you #drew fic #drew starkey x female reader #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey x #drew starkey x oc #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks blurb #outer banks imagines #obx

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alanisstonedd · 2 months ago

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marine!rafe holds you on a hard day…

cw: lil angst to comfort, fluff, sickly sweet, emotional intimacy, marine!rafe x black!reader

an: self indulgent again… this made my day just a little bit better! and i hope it does the same for one of you baddies. kisses! love you lots

you didn’t plan on crying today.

you’d made it through most of the week relatively unscathed. relying on that fragile mask you’ve gotten so good at putting on — smiling when people expect it, typing out “i’m good!” with dead eyes, making it to every obligation on time just to sit there feeling like you’re drowning in tar.

you’d justtt convinced yourself you were okay. that it was just a bad stretch. that if you kept going, kept pushing, kept performing, something would click. that if you just kept swimming like you always do, you’d feel better. that the exhaustion, the utter defeat, was just a phase…

but the pressure just kept building. the endless tabs. the unanswered emails. the work piling up that you just couldn’t seem to get you grip on. the little voice in your head whispering: you should be doing more. you should be further by now. why can’t you just figure it out? why can’t you just do it?

so when rafe walks through the door after some early morning business at base, duffle slung over his shoulder, you can’t even bring yourself to look at him. you barely even look up from your laptop. you think — he doesn’t need to be burdened with your issues. with how hard he works? he’s probably just as burnt out…

you’re curled up on the couch, still in the same exact spot you’ve been in since noon. trying to will yourself to make some progress, or even just manifest a positive attitude about it. the room smells faintly of burnt coffee but looks exactly as it did when he left this morning. the glow of your screen paints your tired face in blue, your eyes glassy from how long you’ve been staring at it.

you don’t say anything, but he sees it. instantly. he sees you.

he doesn’t ask how your day was. doesn’t crack some joke or doesn’t tease you about the coffee. he sets the duffle down quietly and walks over to you, crouching in front of you until his face is level with yours.

“hey,” he says, voice low and soft. “look at me, baby” he rubs your knee, trying to get you to unlatch yourself from the work.

you look. barely. sour mood overpowering the rush of excitement you’re usually hit with every time you lay eyes on him. not even having the words to get into it with him right now.

but the second he sees the tears — rimmed around your lashes, shining in your tired eyes, a single droplet wetting your radiant brown skin — his face changes. that confident, easygoing rafe softens into something gentle. still. steady.

he doesn’t ask questions, knowing right now, all you need is a safe space and someone who loves you. and lord, does he.

he just reaches for your laptop, closing it slowly, and sets it aside — eyes never leaving you form. even when you’re distraught, he cant stop himself from admiring how painfully stunning you are.

he moves to sit beside you, his hands find yours, cradling them, thumbs stroking over your skin.

“talk to me,” he says, his voice dripping with love and concern. you’re his person — when you’re upset, he’s upset.

you try, just for him. you open your mouth, then close it. shaking your head, struggling to force the words stuck in your throat out into the open, without crying again.

“i’m just…” your throat catches. “i feel stuck. like i’m failing. like I’m falling behind and i don’t know how to catch up.”

his brow pulls together slightly, heart aching for you as he watches you try to swallow it down — just like you always do but… it’s not working this time.

“i’m just trying so hard, rafe. and it still feels like i’m not doing enough. like I’m not enough...”

and that’s all it takes for the dam to break. he pulls you into him, arms around your back, as you try unsuccessfully to choke hot tears back down. his one hand cupping the back of your head as he guides your flushed face to his shoulder.

“come here, baby. i got you.”

you let it happen, no strength left to keep hiding it. you let yourself lean into him, bury your face in his chest, let your tears soak the fabric of his shirt. his arms wrap around you tighter, trying to squeeze all his love into you. his palm runs slow circles along your spine, letting you know he’s right there, physically and emotionally.

he holds you like you’re fragile. but not broken. like you matter. his rock. his precious girl, that he can’t stand to see so upset.

“you’re not failing, baby,” he finally murmurs, voice low and warm against your ear. “you’re fighting. you’re surviving. you’re doing the best you can with what you’ve got. and that’s enough, baby. it really is, believe me.”

you sniffle, not wanting to use his shirt as a tissue even though you know he wouldn’t mind a bit. “damn sure doesn’t feel like it...”

“i know, baby. i know it doesn’t,” he says, rocking you gently, hoping his embrace quells your sadness just a little. “but it is. you’re allowed to feel overwhelmed. that doesn’t make you weak, baby. it makes you human.”

you don’t say anything for a while. you just let yourself be held. feeling the warmth of him melting the ice you’ve felt trapped in for so long. letting his love fill every gap and hole you left unfixed inside.

when your breathing slows and your shoulders stop trembling, rafe leans back slightly, thumb brushing under your eyes to wipe away what’s left. always there to help you face your fears. always there to help gather the pieces of yourself that you let fizzle, and see them for what they are — parts of the woman he loves. the woman he cherishes like the priceless treasure she is.

his personal vow to love and care for you sitting right up there at the forefront of his mind, of equal importance to his vow of service — of even more importance than his service, he believes.

his forehead rests against yours, tucking a few braids away from you face so he can see you.

“baby, look at me. you are not behind. you’re not broken. you’re not failing. you’re growing. and growing hurts sometimes.”

you sniffle, lips trembling. “but it feels like everyone else is so far ahead of me.” you spill your insecurities out to him, feeling so safe in his arms that your heart pushes it out of your mouth like it knows you should.

he shakes his head gently, knowing you don’t see yourself the way he does. but still holding you like you’re the most valuable thing in the world, because you are to him.

“everyone’s path is different. you’re not meant to be anyone else but you. this?” he says, warm hand tilting your face up to his and locking eyes with your teary ones, “this is your journey. you’re doing the best you can on it. and that’s enough, it always will be.”

you start crying again, quietly this time. from relief instead of frustration. from the overwhelming feeling of being seen and heard. from the reassurance he’s gives you, the love and encouragement you can feel seeping through this words.

he kisses your forehead. then your cheek. then your shoulder. feeling content that he could bring you back to yourself, even if just a little.

“i’m so proud of you,” he whispers with his whole chest, almost choking up himself, truly meaning it with all of him. “even when you don’t see it, i do. every damn day.” his words ground you, the weight of your own expectations floating away from you slowly but surely.

you let out a shaky breath, a timid smile spreading over your face, “you’re gonna make me cry again.” you chuckle, his embrace unscrambles you. you feel at peace. the love he pours into you unfurls throughout your body, warm and comforting like the sun on your skin.

he smiles, pressing his lips to your temple. “good. you deserve to feel all of this love, baby. it’s all for you. every drop of it.”

hope y'all liked this! comments, likes, reblogs and all the rest are much appreciated!!!

xoxo, lana 💋💋💋

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