#it's the discord chat's fault

[dangoulains-devotion]

yuffie has many interesting elements to her but people refuse to move past "i find energetic kids annoying" and it makes me sad

[raposarealm]

Here are the quest victory quotes for Toyo! I took the screenshots myself this time.

Top: The people are okay, right? Middle: No matter how many times, victory’s a great feeling! Bottom: I hope the rice fields aren’t falling to ruin...

As always, friendly disclaimer that my Japanese isn’t the best, as I’m still learning. If you spot a mistake, please let me know, and I’ll fix it!

[themediummuses]

...Iris can only look at her hands in horror.

"I was trying to write Mr. Wright's name...so why did I spell it as Write...?" She's going to blame Mr. Godot for this one. It has to be because he called Phoenix "Trite" so often...!!

[simplygojo]

Under the Desk ⸺ Nanami

author's note ⸺ I may or may not have a crush on the handsome senior consultant on my team...so what. pairing ⸺ Kento Nanami x reader teaser ⸺ "It should have told you that eventually, you’d end up here: bent over his desk, legs spread wide for your mentor, who was more than happy to show you the ropes in a way that had nothing to do with consulting." content ⸺ 18+ SMUT, MDNI, hot office nanami, age gap implied, lowkey perv nanami, office siren vibessss, oral sex (reader recv.), reader got that WAP, reader has a vagina, reader uses female pronouns

materlist || request guidelines || commissions || discord channel

Kento Nanami didn’t particularly enjoy training new hires—especially the ones who were on a short contract like you were. They were often overzealous, unpolished, and too eager to prove themselves. But when you walked in on your first day, something in him shifted.

Nanami wasn’t proud of the thoughts that crossed his mind when you walked into the office on your first day—He blamed that little skirt. Too tight, too short, hugging your hips in a way that wasn’t at all appropriate for a junior consultant. And yet, it wasn’t the skirt’s fault he couldn’t stop staring.

He cleared his throat and looked away. 

This wasn’t him. He wasn’t that guy—the type to ogle a junior or let his mind wander to places it had no business going. 

You were new, eager to learn, and assigned to him as your mentor because of his reputation for professionalism. And so, despite his initial lapse in judgment, he resolved to keep his thoughts in check.

But you didn’t make it easy.

You had this way about you—bright-eyed and ambitious, always so eager to please. Every time you asked him a question, you’d lean in, wide-eyed and genuinely curious, your voice sweet and lilting. When you listened, you bit your lip in concentration, nodding along like his every word was gospel.

Nanami told himself he was imagining it, that you weren’t actually flirting with him. You were just... enthusiastic. 

But then there were the moments that felt too deliberate to ignore. Like the time you stayed after hours, your blazer draped over the back of your chair, leaving only the silky blouse underneath. It wasn’t see-through exactly, but in the low light of the office, he could see the faint outline of your bra.

He forced himself to look at his monitor, jaw tight, and tried to focus on the report in front of him. “Get a grip,” he muttered under his breath. This was a slippery slope, and he wasn’t about to fall.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

Things escalated when you suggested the coffee chats. You’d said it so innocently, wanting to hear more about the job and his career path, but Nanami hesitated. 

Alone. With you. Outside of the office. It wasn’t a good idea.

Still, he agreed. He convinced himself it was harmless, part of his role as a mentor.

The first coffee chat was fine. He kept things strictly professional, answering your questions about client strategies and work-life balance. But then you started showing up in skirts shorter than usual, leaning forward a little too much when you laughed.

Your questions turned more personal—how he handled stress, what he did to unwind, if he’d always been this... dedicated.

He noticed your eyes drifting, lingering on his hands as he stirred his coffee, on the way his shirt sleeves strained against his forearms. And you—you—must have noticed the way his gaze followed the curve of your legs as you crossed them.

By the third ‘coffee chat’, Nanami couldn’t lie to himself anymore. He wanted you. Desperately.

He told himself it was harmless, that he could keep it professional even as his thoughts grew more explicit. But then came the late nights in his office. You’d stay back, asking for feedback on your work, standing close enough that he could feel the heat radiating off you.

“Thank you for your help, Nanami,” you said one night, looking up at him through your lashes.

He nodded stiffly, stepping back to create space between you. “It’s my job,” he replied, his voice gruffer than he intended.

He should have stopped it there. Should have set boundaries. But he didn’t.

All of this—the coffee chats, the lingering looks, the late nights—should have been a warning. 

It should have told you that eventually, you’d end up here: bent over his desk, legs spread wide for your mentor, who was more than happy to show you the ropes in a way that had nothing to do with consulting.

Nanami hadn’t intended to go this far. Truly, he hadn’t. But the moment your trembling voice broke into soft, pleading whimpers, any sense of guilt burst.

His mouth found its way to places he’d only imagined in quiet, shameful moments—places that had haunted his late nights and unguarded thoughts.

The slickness of your pretty pink folds coated his lips and chin, shining faintly in the dim light of his office. His name spilled from your mouth like a prayer, broken and reverent, as he worked you closer and closer to the edge.

Nanami knew he was losing control. Knew he’d already crossed every line imaginable. But when he felt your thighs quiver on either side of his head, your fingers tugging helplessly at his hair, he could not have cared any less.

All of this—the coffee chats, the late nights, the way your body had grown so eager for his attention—should have given you an indicator—should have told you that you'd end up like this…breathless and undone in his office, his mouth working you open, claiming you in ways you couldn't have imagined.

And that, dear reader, is the story of how you were secured a permanent contract.

[tavukwings]

DISCORD USER KÖNIG Part 2 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝑜𝒻 𝒹𝓊𝓉𝓎

(König x Reader — Discord Friends, Slow Burn, Soft, Eventual Smut)

Taglist:

@poltergeist404 @laduenadelswing @dillybuggg @illonvk(i can’t tag you??😭) @whore4romance

4 Days Earlier – Discord, 1:13 AM

You:

“König? You alive?”

“You didn’t rage-quit life, right?”

“Don’t make me send memes. I’m armed.”

Silence.

No online status. No “typing…” No pings.

You sat there staring at his name in the server list—dark grey. Offline. Like a light had been switched off.

He’d gone dark before. Missions, spotty signal, sleep. But never this long. Four days with no update, not even a vague emoji or one of his weird, dry messages.

Your chest had that familiar ache. The one that crept in when you worried too much about someone who hadn’t promised you anything. He wasn’t yours.

But God, you missed him.

⸻

Tonight – 11:37 PM | Ping

König is online.

Your hand shot out like it moved on instinct. Mouse click. Open chat.

König has joined the VC.

No message. No warning.

Just his name lighting up the voice channel.

You scrambled for your headset, heart thudding.

You:

“König?!”

A pause. Crackle. Mic fuzz.

Then—his voice.

König (quiet, hoarse):

“…Hallo.”

One word.

But it hit you in the chest like a punch. Low, deep, exhausted. And something else. Like all the energy had been drained from him, leaving only that voice and the breath it rode in on.

You (softly):

“Where have you been?”

Silence.

You heard a sigh. Long, tired.

König:

“Mission. Remote. No contact. Sorry.”

He never said sorry.

Not unless he meant it.

You:

“Could’ve left a dramatic goodbye. A ‘if I die, delete my search history’ kind of thing.”

A dry chuckle through the mic.

But it didn’t reach his voice fully.

König:

“I didn’t want to leave.”

Something in you froze.

It wasn’t a flirt. Not a tease.

Just honesty.

You (quiet):

“You okay?”

A longer pause.

König:

“…No.”

Your breath caught.

There were layers to that word. Fatigue. Pain. Guilt. You waited, giving him space to speak. He always came to things on his own time.

König (muffled, low):

“Two men. Squadmates. Dead.”

You:

“König…”

You didn’t know what else to say. What could you? “I’m sorry” felt cheap. And he’d already heard that enough.

He exhaled hard, like he was trying to push something out that wouldn’t move.

König:

“I hesitated. I… was too slow.”

You:

“That’s not your fault.”

König (strained):

“It is. I froze. I’ve done this job for ten years. That doesn’t happen.”

You could hear the anger in him now—not at you. At himself. His voice trembled, a low, hot undercurrent of shame.

König:

“I was thinking of you.”

Your breath hitched.

You (carefully):

“Me?”

König:

“I was pinned. Behind a crate. Shot ringing past my head. And all I could think was—”

He cut himself off.

Static filled the silence.

Then:

König (quietly):

“All I could think was, if I die now… I’ll never hear you laugh in person.”

You didn’t speak. You couldn’t.

Your throat was tight. Fingers frozen over your keyboard.

König (softer):

“I’ll never get to… see you. Not through a screen. Not in pieces. You’d never even know.”

You swallowed hard.

You:

“I’d know.”

A pause. Heavy.

You (softer):

“I would’ve noticed. I would’ve waited. And waited. And known something was wrong.”

Another long silence.

König:

“I didn’t think this would happen. You. Us. This… feeling.”

He sounded raw. Stripped bare. No mask. No walls.

König (almost ashamed):

“I think about you too much.”

You closed your eyes. Your chest ached from how real it all felt.

You:

“I think about you too.”

A quiet, shaky breath from his mic.

König:

“You make me slow. Careful. Soft. I can’t afford to be soft.”

You:

“Maybe you can.”

He let that hang in the air for a while. Then:

König:

“Come to Austria.”

Your eyebrows shot up.

You:

“What?!”

König:

“Not now. Not yet. But one day.”

You (smiling faintly):

“You sure you’re ready for my chaotic energy in real life?”

König (warmly):

“I’ve fought wars. I can survive you.”

A laugh finally slipped from your lips.

König (low, softer now):

“I just… I needed to hear your voice.”

You held your mug of cold tea and let the warmth in your chest fill in the rest.

You:

“Play a match with me?”

König:

“Even if I lose on purpose to impress you?”

You:

“Especially if you do.”

⸻

VC — Late Night

Your voice was soft through the headset, almost whispering now. You’d both been gaming for hours, long after your teammates logged off, until it was just the two of you — König, still wearing his mask, slouched on his bed at base, and you, curled under a blanket in your room with only the monitor lighting your face.

He had gone quiet for a while. Just the sounds of you sipping tea and the game lobby music.

You glanced over at his username.

Still connected.

Still breathing.

“Hey,” you said softly. “You good?”

A pause. A long one.

Then, finally, König’s voice came through. Rougher than usual. Tired. Small.

“Ja… just thinking.”

You waited. Didn’t push. You’d learned to be gentle with his silences.

After a minute, he spoke again.

“Do you know how long it’s been since someone touched me?”

Your heart stuttered.

You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He filled the space instead.

“I don’t mean like… sex or whatever,” he mumbled, embarrassed. “I mean like—hug. A hand on the shoulder. Even a pat on the back. I don’t think anyone’s hugged me in… over two years.”

That hit you like a punch to the chest.

You sat up straighter. “Konig…”

“It’s fine,” he said too quickly, like he regretted saying it. “Sorry. Forget it. I don’t want to be weird.”

“No. No, hey.” Your voice softened. “That’s not weird. That’s… awful.”

“I think I forgot what it feels like,” he said quietly. “Warmth. Pressure. Another heartbeat. Everything I touch is tactical. Weapon. Trigger. Door. Steel.”

You bit your lip, feeling something sharp and tender bloom behind your ribs.

“Well,” you said, trying to keep your voice light but honest, “if we ever meet, I’m hugging you so long you’ll beg me to let go.”

Silence.

Then:

“…Really?”

“Really.”

A beat.

“I’d hold you for hours,” he said, voice raw, chest deep. “And I’d never ask you to let go.”

⸻

The Next Day – Discord Messages

König is Online.

He’s quiet today, but present. You’re in another Discord voice chat, casually chatting with a couple people you game with now and then. One of them, a guy from another server, keeps jokingly flirting with you during the match.

You laugh him off — as usual — but König’s gone dead silent.

After the match, you check your DMs.

König [Typing…]

Then he sends:

König:

That guy from the match. He does that often?

You blink.

You:

Who, Levi? He’s just messing around. He flirts with everyone, lol.

König:

Still.

Didn’t like it.

You:

Oh? You jealous, big guy?

The typing bubble appears.

Then disappears.

Then reappears.

König:

Do you want me to take care of it?

Your brows lifted.

You:

Wait—what??

König:

Not like that.

Just… let him know to back off.

You:

König… you’re being protective.

König:

Maybe I am.

Is that bad?

You felt your chest tighten. He wasn’t teasing. He meant it. You could practically see his furrowed brows through the screen, his knuckles tight where they rested near his mouse, his jaw clenched behind that mask.

You typed slower this time.

You:

No.

I like it.

But only if you’re protective of me… and not just anyone else.

A pause.

Then:

König:

Only you.

⸻

Three Weeks Without König

The Discord call had gone silent three weeks ago.

He left one last message.

König:

Mission time. I’ll be back soon, ja?

Stay safe, meine Süße.

And then nothing.

He’d told you once, offhandedly during a sleepy 2 a.m. VC, that missions could stretch long. That there were places he couldn’t bring his phone. That when he was deployed, he shut the world out to survive.

You tried to wait patiently.

You really did.

But three weeks felt like a lifetime when the one person who made you feel seen—safe—was just gone.

You found yourself staring at your phone. Re-reading old messages. That awkward selfie he sent once from the gym—his shirt clinging to his body, face cropped out, only his sweaty jawline and chest visible. You remembered teasing him for it, and how he stammered so much in the VC afterward he accidentally muted himself.

Your chest ached.

And that ache turned into something restless. Something reckless.

So, you did the only thing your heart screamed at you to do.

You booked a flight.

⸻

Austria – König’s Apartment

The city was colder than you expected. Brisk wind, gray skies, but beautiful—stone buildings with old wooden shutters and narrow streets that echoed when you wheeled your small suitcase down them.

You had the address. You’d sent him that limited-edition energy drink once, the one you both joked was probably radioactive. He never forgot it. Called you “his supplier” like it was a spy mission.

He once joked about hiding his key under the mat.

“Classic, I know,” he’d laughed over voice. “But no one ever checks, eh?”

Except you did.

And there it was.

A plain silver key under a faded old mat that read “Möge das WLAN stark sein” (“May the Wi-Fi be strong”).

You stepped inside.

His apartment was quiet. Still. Like him.

Big, but sparse. Clean. A little too clean. Just essentials.

Military-precise.

His mask hung on a hook by the door. His boots, muddy and massive, rested nearby. You walked around slowly, taking it all in — the way his couch had an indent shaped exactly like his body, the small pile of books in German and English, the little Post-It note stuck to his fridge with a scribbled reminder in his messy handwriting:

Call her when you’re back.

Your heart clenched.

You dragged your suitcase into his room.

Then curled up on his bed to wait.

⸻

Hours Later – The Front Door Opens

You heard the jingle of keys.

Then heavy boots. A grunt. A sigh.

The soft clink of his gear being dropped by the door.

Your heart pounded in your ears. You pressed your hand to your chest to steady it.

You heard his footsteps come down the hall.

He paused outside his bedroom door.

A beat.

Then—

Click.

The door opened.

You leapt.

He barely had time to react.

“Was zur—?!”

You threw yourself at him, arms around his neck, legs wrapping around his waist as you tackled him back a step. He staggered under your weight—though not much—and instinctively caught you, huge hands gripping your thighs.

“Hallo?!” he barked. “Who—?!”

Then he saw your face.

“…Schatz?”

You grinned. “Surprise, soldier.”

König just… stared.

You saw his expression shift through five stages of confusion before settling on stunned disbelief. His blue eyes wide under messy hair, fresh stubble shadowing his jaw, lips parted slightly.

“You—bist du verrückt?!” he whispered hoarsely. “You flew to Austria?!”

You nodded, still holding him tightly. “Yep.”

“And broke into my home?!”

“Technically, I used the key you hid under the mat.”

König blinked, mouth open.

Then he dropped his bag.

And crushed you into his chest.

He didn’t speak for a moment. Just held you. Arms like steel. Like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

You could feel his heart pounding against yours.

“…I thought I was dreaming,” he finally muttered. “This feels like a dream.”

You leaned back to look into his face, your hands cupping his jaw. “It’s real, König.”

He just stared at you like he couldn’t believe it. Then, softly:

“…I missed you.”

⸻

You were curled up on the couch, his oversized hoodie swallowing your small frame. König sat beside you, unusually quiet, rubbing the back of his neck while avoiding your eyes. The air between you felt heavy — but not uncomfortable. More like… electric.

“So,” you said softly, nudging him with your foot, “how does it feel having me here, crashing your place like a wrecking ball?”

His gaze finally flicked to you, and you caught the faintest blush coloring his cheeks. He cleared his throat, trying to act casual but failing spectacularly.

“I—I wasn’t prepared for this.” His voice cracked just a little. “You… surprised me.”

You smiled, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind his ear. His eyes widened for a moment at the gentle touch.

“Yeah? You look like you’re about to combust.”

He rubbed the back of his neck again, eyes darting down to your hand then back up. “Maybe I am. You—uh—you’re not just crashing the place. You’re… you’re crashing my defenses.”

You laughed softly, heart fluttering.

“Are you saying I’m making you shy?”

König’s lips twitched into a small, embarrassed smile. “Maybe.”

You scooted closer, your knee brushing his thigh. “Good. You’re adorable when you’re like this.”

He swallowed hard, face still pink. “Adorable? I’m a soldier.”

“And yet here you are, blushing like a schoolboy.” You winked.

His eyes flicked to the floor, voice low. “You’re dangerous, you know that?”

“Only to you,” you teased.

He let out a short, breathy laugh, still shy but somehow more relaxed now. You both sat like that for a while, the quiet between you filled with something warm — a new kind of closeness neither of you had quite dared to explore before.

You stayed close to König, the warmth from his body still lingering after your surprise hug. The quiet between you felt charged, the kind of silence that buzzes softly with things left unsaid.

You swallowed nervously, then looked up at him with a small smile.

“Hey, König…” you began, your voice softer than usual. “Can I… share your bed tonight?”

He blinked, eyes flickering away for a moment, cheeks tinting just the faintest shade of red beneath his mask.

“Äh… I—uh… sure,” he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck like a shy teenager caught off guard. “If you want.”

His voice was low, hesitant, almost shy—so unlike the confident soldier you knew. You found it endearing.

You reached out, lightly brushing a hand over his massive forearm. “Thanks,” you whispered.

He gave you a small, shy smile that made your heart skip.

⸻

“Let’s go then. What are you waiting for?” you said with a teasing smile.

König stood up, a bit stiff and awkward, clearly shy but trying to keep his composure. His tall frame moved quietly behind you as you led the way to his bedroom.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind you, you began changing out of your clothes without a word. König’s eyes widened immediately, and he quickly turned his gaze away, a faint blush creeping across his cheeks. You caught the shy flush and chuckled softly, amused by his obvious embarrassment.

You slipped into something comfortable—soft pajamas that contrasted with his military precision—and then crawled onto the bed, pulling the blankets up around you. König didn’t say much but carefully started changing too. He peeled off his shirt, revealing the hard, defined muscles beneath. His sweatpants hung low on his hips, the fabric stretched tight over powerful thighs.

You couldn’t help but glance at him. Your breath hitched at the sight—his broad chest, carved pecs shadowed by faint scars; the washboard abs you’d only seen in pictures, now right in front of you; thick, veined biceps and triceps that spoke of strength and endless discipline. His skin had that rugged, worn look from years in the field, but there was softness in his shy eyes that completely contradicted his tough exterior.

Caught staring, König’s gaze flicked to you, eyes wide and vulnerable. Without thinking, your fingers traced lightly over the ridges of his abs. The moment your skin touched his, he gasped softly, a sharp intake of breath that sent a thrill straight through you.

He remained unusually silent, cheeks flushed a deep pink, and you could tell your touch caught him off guard. Encouraged, you continued to explore slowly, letting your hand drift lower, tracing the line where his sweatpants met his hips.

A soft, unexpected moan slipped from his mouth, making both of you freeze instantly. König’s blue eyes locked onto yours, wide and unguarded.

You smirked gently, your voice teasing but warm. “Looks like someone’s a little more sensitive than he lets on.”

König swallowed hard, clearly flustered, but there was a spark in his eyes—something tender, something hungry—and you both knew this was just the beginning.

Your hand lingered on his hip, tracing delicate circles as König’s breath hitched again. You felt the heat radiating from his skin, his body tense beneath your touch. His usual calm, controlled demeanor was slipping away, replaced by something raw and vulnerable.

Then, you noticed it—the unmistakable bulge pressing against his sweatpants. Your eyes widened slightly, and you bit your lip to hide the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

König’s cheeks deepened into a rich crimson, and he quickly shifted his hips away, as if trying to hide what was obvious to both of you now.

“Uh—” he stammered, voice thick, eyes darting anywhere but yours. “This is… unexpected.”

You chuckled softly, the teasing warmth in your tone impossible to hide. “Sensitive, huh? Didn’t think the mighty König would be this easy to rattle.”

He swallowed hard, jaw working as he fought the flush spreading down his neck. “You’re… dangerous.”

You reached out again, fingers brushing over the top of his abs, tracing down to his hip, your touch slow and deliberate. “I could say the same about you.”

The tension between you thickened—the room shrinking until it was just the two of you, breaths mingling, hearts pounding in sync.

König’s lips parted, eyes searching yours, vulnerability flickering with something else—desire.

You smiled softly, leaning in just a fraction closer, letting your hand rest lightly on his thigh, the promise of more hanging in the air between you.

Your fingers hesitated just a moment before drifting lower, brushing along the edge of the bulge pressing against his sweatpants. König’s breath hitched sharply, eyes wide but unable to pull away.

You smiled softly, the thrill of his reaction sending a warmth straight to your core. Slowly, carefully, you began to rub the length of his hardness through the fabric—light, teasing circles that made him shift under your touch.

A low, involuntary groan escaped his lips, and you felt the vibration beneath your palm.

He was so tense, so sensitive—like every nerve ending was awake and aching.

König’s eyes flickered between yours, filled with a mixture of surprise and raw want. His usual composed mask was gone, replaced by a shy vulnerability that made your heart pound harder.

“D-Don’t stop,” he murmured, voice rough and breathless.

You chuckled, your touch lingering as you rubbed more boldly now, feeling him grow even harder beneath your palm.

His hips shifted closer, seeking more contact, but you held back just enough to keep him on edge.

The room felt electric—charged with anticipation, with unspoken promises, with the weight of everything you both wanted but hadn’t yet dared to say.

Your fingers traced slow circles, and König’s breath came faster, his muscles tensing and relaxing with each stroke.

“Sensitive,” you teased again, voice low and sultry. “You’re so damn sensitive.”

He groaned softly, the sound vibrating through your skin.

You both froze for a heartbeat—his reaction undeniable, your own desire flaring in response.

König’s breath hitched again, his hips shifting instinctively toward your hand, desperate for more contact. You let your fingers glide slowly, teasing him with just enough touch to make his pulse race without fully satisfying him.

His eyes darkened with need, flickering between wanting and holding back—just like you.

Without thinking, you leaned in, your lips brushing lightly against the shell of his ear. Your breath was warm, your voice low and husky.

“Do you want more, König?”

He swallowed hard, a soft groan escaping before he nodded almost imperceptibly.

Slowly, deliberately, you pulled your hand away—just enough to build the tension even higher. Your fingers trailed down his chest, feeling every ridge of muscle under your palm.

Then your gaze locked with his.

“Come here.”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

König crawled toward you on the bed, each movement careful, almost shy—like he wasn’t used to letting someone see this side of him.

Your hands found his face, tracing the sharp lines of his jaw, the rough stubble that made you want to kiss every inch.

He leaned into your touch, eyes closing briefly as if savoring the moment.

Then, slowly, your lips met—soft at first, exploring, tasting.

His hands found your waist, pulling you closer, and the heat between you exploded.

His kisses deepened, urgent and hungry now, his body pressing into yours.

Every nerve ending was alive, every inch of skin craving connection.

König’s hands tightened on your waist, pulling you flush against him. His breath was ragged, warm against your skin as his lips traced a slow path down your neck. You felt the fire ignite beneath his touch—soft, deliberate, full of promise.

You tilted your head back, giving him better access, feeling the heat pool low in your belly. His fingers trailed lightly down your sides, exploring curves he’d only ever seen from afar. Every touch was electric, sending shivers down your spine.

He paused, eyes searching yours, asking without words if this was okay. You nodded, heart pounding with anticipation.

Slowly, he eased his hands under your tank top, skin meeting skin. His touch was gentle but hungry, memorizing every inch, every delicate curve. You gasped softly as he traced the swell of your breasts, fingers light but knowing.

König’s lips found yours again, this time more demanding, more urgent. You melted into the kiss, your hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer, needing to feel him even more.

Every sensation heightened—the rough scrape of his stubble, the warmth of his breath, the press of his body against yours. Time slowed down, the world shrinking until it was only the two of you tangled together, exploring, learning, savoring.

His hands roamed lower, sliding beneath your sweatpants, fingers teasing, coaxing.

There was a tenderness beneath the urgency, a careful worship of each other’s bodies that made everything feel sacred.

⸻

König’s fingers drifted lower, slipping beneath the waistband of your sweatpants, his touch light but deliberate. You caught the slight smirk playing on his lips—the kind of confident, knowing smile that sent a thrill straight through your core.

He pressed gently, just enough to make you shiver. The warmth beneath his hand was undeniable, his arousal growing despite the barrier of fabric. His breath hitched slightly, betraying how much he wanted you even now.

You couldn’t help it—a soft, unexpected moan escaped you. The sound was new, raw, and it seemed to surprise both of you.

König froze for a moment, eyes wide as if realizing for the first time just how much your reaction affected him. Then his smirk deepened, amused and captivated all at once.

“So… that’s your sound,” he murmured low and husky, his fingers never stopping their teasing dance. “I like it.”

Your cheeks flushed hotter, heart pounding wildly, but the heat pooling between your legs only grew stronger. The quiet room filled with your mingled breaths, the tension thick and delicious.

He leaned closer, voice a breath against your skin. He teased you just how you did earlier, “You’re so sensitive, aren’t you?”

⸻

König’s teasing fingers continued their slow, deliberate movements, his touch light but purposeful beneath the fabric. Suddenly, he paused, a subtle change in his expression—his eyes flickered down, sharp and curious.

His fingertips pressed a little more firmly, and then he stiffened.

“Hmm…” he murmured, voice low and thick with surprise. “You’re… wet.”

The word hung in the air, charged with meaning.

Your breath hitched at his touch, the warmth between you already burning, and now his knowing had set your skin alight. You felt exposed, vulnerable in the best way, caught under his gaze as he traced the slickness through the thin sweatpants.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “I can feel how much you want me.”

You shivered, heart pounding hard. König’s fingers didn’t stop; if anything, they moved more boldly, stroking you through the fabric, making your breath catch again and again.

“Does that feel good?” he teased, his voice rough and playful.

You could only nod, lost in the heat of the moment, your moans growing softer but more urgent.

König’s blue eyes locked with yours, shining with something darker, hungrier, as the quiet room pulsed with the promise of what was to come.

Without breaking eye contact, König’s hand slid lower, fingers tracing the waistband of your sweatpants. Then, with a swift, confident motion, he shoved the fabric aside, exposing your wet skin to his touch.

His fingers pressed gently at first, then more boldly, moving with slow precision that sent shivers racing through your body. You gasped softly, clutching his arm as he explored you, every touch igniting sparks beneath your skin.

König’s breath was warm against your neck as he whispered, “So soft. So perfect.”

He teased you expertly, his fingers stroking and circling, eliciting soft moans and trembling gasps. The heat between you thickened, the room growing smaller until it felt like it existed only for this moment—just you and him, tangled together.

His other hand found your jaw, tilting your face up as his lips brushed yours, slow and teasing, the promise of more burning in his eyes.

König’s fingers moved with growing confidence, the pad of one finger tracing over your wetness, teasing you lightly. Then, with a deliberate, slow motion, he pressed one finger inside you.

You gasped, your breath catching in your throat as the new sensation overwhelmed your senses. His touch was careful but sure, moving just enough to make you shiver.

He watched your reactions closely, his blue eyes darkening with desire and concern all at once. “Sag mir, wenn es zu viel ist,” he murmured softly. (“Tell me if it’s too much.”)

You shook your head, unable to speak, too caught up in the way he made you feel — delicate, wanted, and achingly alive.

His finger moved gently, coaxing, teasing, and you felt the heat in your body deepen, every nerve ending alert.

König’s finger moved slowly, carefully exploring, his touch light but deliberate. You bit your lip to hold back a soft moan as the sensation rolled through you, every nerve waking up with delicious heat.

His breathing hitched just a little, his blue eyes locked on your face, reading every flicker of pleasure and hesitation. “Du bist so schön,” he whispered low, the German rough and tender in the same breath. (“You’re so beautiful.”)

You reached out instinctively, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him a bit closer. His other hand found your hip, steadying you as his finger deepened just slightly, coaxing more of that breathless feeling.

Your heart hammered, and your voice was barely a whisper, “König…”

He paused, looking up, searching your eyes. “Ja?”

“I want more,” you said, voice trembling.

He smiled softly, that shy, strong man torn between wanting to go slow and the raw pull of desire.

His finger moved with careful, teasing precision, making you shiver beneath his touch. The warmth spreading through you was dizzying, every nerve ending alive with sensation. You tangled your fingers deeper into his hair, pulling him closer as your breath hitched again.

König’s other hand slid from your hip to cup your face gently, thumb brushing your cheek as he watched your reactions with intense, almost reverent focus.

“You feel so good,” he murmured, his voice thick with something between admiration and desire.

You whimpered softly, desperate for more but knowing this slow dance was building something electric — a tension that promised fire.

His finger pressed just a little deeper, circling slowly, sending sparks of pleasure rolling through you like gentle waves. You arched into him, your hips moving slightly, craving more contact.

König’s eyes darkened, lips parting as he swallowed hard. His hand on your face tightened just a touch, anchoring you as if afraid you might float away in the storm of feeling he was stirring inside you.

“Please,” you breathed, voice trembling with want.

He hesitated for only a moment longer, then leaned down to brush his lips softly over yours — a promise of more, of everything waiting just beneath the surface.

You tug gently at the waistband of his sweatpants, your fingers curling into the soft fabric, sending a clear, silent message. König’s breath hitched, his eyes flickering to yours with a mix of surprise and something deeper—desire, hesitation, excitement all swirling at once.

Slowly, almost reverently, he slides his hands down to the waistband, gripping the fabric. You hold your breath, heart pounding as he peels the sweatpants down just enough, revealing the hard length you’d been imagining, now fully visible and more real than you’d dared hope.

His cheeks flush a deeper shade of red, but his eyes don’t leave yours, as if searching for permission—or maybe daring you to take the lead.

You reach out again, fingertips tracing the hard line, feeling the heat radiate against your skin, your own breath catching in your throat. The room is thick with tension and unspoken promises as you lean in closer, every inch of you craving more-

König jolted awake, chest heaving, a thin layer of sweat clinging to his skin.

His eyes were wide, confused—disoriented.

It was still dark outside.

For a second, he blinked at the ceiling, heart pounding, trying to remember where he was.

A dream. It was just a dream.

A very… detailed dream.

He groaned and slammed his big hand down to the side of the bed in frustration—

SMACK.

You yelped.

He froze.

“…Was that—?”

You stirred, voice thick with sleep, “König… did you just slap my ass?”

König’s entire soul left his body.

“I—I didn’t mean—I thought you weren’t there—I mean, I thought the bed was empty—”

You rolled over slowly, raising an eyebrow in the dim light. “So, what, you randomly smack the mattress when I’m not here?”

“…No?”

You burst out laughing, burying your face in the pillow. “Unbelievable.”

König groaned and flopped back against the bed, mortified. “Please just let me die now.”

You patted his chest, still giggling. “Next time just ask nicely.”

He groaned louder.

[n30n-l1ghts]

Okay, I need to rant. Fuck AI. And I mean seriously. FUCK. A.I. I know I’m probably preaching to the choir here, but more people need to be talking about this, and there’s no point in me saying that if I’m not willing to talk about it too. AI has done nothing but ruin our communities and defile the art that millions of hands have spent millions of hours creating. Fanfiction is a work of passion. Drawing is a work of passion. Voice acting IS A WORK OF PASSION. AI has no passion. It takes the soul out of the things we love and cherish. It steals what we as a collective community have lovingly crafted, and it shatters it to a thousand pieces, spits on it, curses its family, and throws it in a flaming dumpster to be eaten by rats. It is despicable and disgusting.

I won't lie, or pretend I’m a perfect saint. I myself was a user of Character AI until somewhat recently. And as ashamed as I am to admit that, I feel it’s necessary to own up to my own faults. But after seeing the damage it causes, I can’t in good conscience even consider touching that site. Many of us write because it is our passion. Many of us because it is our job. And many of us because it is our *friend*. AI steals the writing of your favorite creators WITHOUT PERMISSION and mashes it together like Frankenstein’s fucked up monster to create storylines that aren’t even fucking coherent. Not only that, but Character AI uses whatever you respond to it with to teach itself as well, which means that the company has access to whatever you chat about, and free reign to do whatever they want with it. They also make absurd amounts of money from it, which in comparison, fanfiction writers, who spend countless hours writing stories for our favorite characters, more often than not charge nothing. And the ones who do charge, tend to have reasonable, if not highly lenient prices for their labor.

Which leads me into another side rant. SUPPORT WRITERS THAT YOU LIKE. It’s really not that hard, it takes two fucking seconds of your time and it makes someone's day. Reblog. Share with your friends. Like. Comment. Just let the writer know that you saw it, and that you liked it. The amount of fanfic writers I have seen get completely discouraged from writing because of lack of engagement is astounding. I’ve seen several posts on Tumblr or Twitter or Bluesky talking about creators that were incredibly popular but never knew it due to lack of engagement is appalling. If you can rant about your love for their work on Discord, you can rant about your love for their work in the comments. Just fucking copy paste it. Tell them how much you love it. Show them support. Especially the ones that don’t charge. Because for those of us that don’t, our only payment, is your feedback. Even constructive criticism is greatly appreciated by damn near every writer I can think of. Because even that shows that you read it, absorbed it, and thought about it enough to have something to actually say about it.

The same thing goes for artists and voice actors. You see a drawing or animation you enjoy? Comment. Like. Share. You see a character in an anime or a game and you love their voice? Go check out their voice actor, maybe they do some other cool stuff, and you might just discover your new favorite series or streamer. A perfect example is Alejandro Saab. I became a fan of his through his astounding performance in several series dear to me, and lo and behold, he’s also a streamer I enjoy. Same story with Aleks Le, or Ray Chase. Yuri Lowenthal, Lizzie Freeman, Landon Mcdonald, Zeno Robinson, the list goes on. But seriously, it’s not that much effort to just show a little love to the creators you enjoy. The people who breathe life into the series’ that we all hold dear. AI does not breathe that life. Using AI, and supporting those companies, will destroy those pillars of our community. And if that happens, the AI would crumble too, it would have no new information to use. SO really, what’s the benefit? I’ll tell you. There is none.

Stop using AI. All it does is bring harm and slowly kill our community. It’s disgusting, appalling, and downright fucking egregious.

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk.

[nlovesbjh]

꒰ 마크 ꒱ ── cherry beer 𖥔 synopsis. . . mark would've never guessed that he'd spend his free time on some college party making out with a pretty girl

𝑛𝑒𝑟𝑑 마크 ／ reader ៸៸ college au suggestive ⟡ ⌢ . making out drinking mark loves ass now is playing! . . cherry bomb by nct 127

𝑚𝑎𝑖𝑙 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝒩. im so obsessed with mark the past week guys this is getting out of hand so i had to write it. also not proofread and everything is happening super fast in this im sorry lol

mark wasn't used to be in a place like this, he wasn't a party typa guy at all to say at least, but there he was. he could spend friday night to study and maybe produce something for his next class, but his friends wanted him to go to that frat party so bad, they were annoying him for the whole week. now he was sitting on the couch, his ears hurting from the shitty music those frat guys were playing, couple that sat right next to him were touching each other and he almost spilled his drink on him. fucking perfect.

"hey, why are you here?" donghyuck comes to him from behind, wrapping a hand around his friends shoulder. why the fuck is he asking that, he was literally the one who drugged him there and then left to go get drunk with some girls that won't even look ar him for once. mark was annoyed. he could be in his room, watching new episode of his favorite show, but no. it was all donghyuck and jisung's fault.

"because you left me to get some pussy?" mark rolled his eyes, running a hand through his hair when he stood up. he followed donghyuk even if he was mad at him, there was nothing else to do at that shitty party anyway.

"hold on a minute, you were the one who said you'd be somewhere in the house not wanting to talk to girls…"

"because they do not care about you or me. dude, you seriously think those girls, looking like they just came from 'mean girls' movie would care about you?" mark chuckles at his friend's naivety. that was just stupid of him thinking that they care. "have you seen how they were all over jeno? and now they're probably having a threesome or something.."

"gosh, why are you like that?"

"like what? not blind of someone's pretty facade that they built just to get rid of the nerds like us?" mark leaned back on the wall when they got outside, breathing deeply. fresh air helped him feel better, he wasn't feeling that bad now after he finally left that crowded room that smells like alcohol and sweat. nasty.

"you're too serious," donghyuck took a sip from his drink and waved him off before he walked away. mark saw jisung smoking at the backyard with some stoner guys from the campus he saw before a few times. obviously hyuck went there to get high like it would bring some fun into this event.

mark was staring at his phone, scrolling through his discord chat with other friends, seeing they were playing minecraft. he would play it too if he wasn't there. he couldn't leave this house without hyuck and jisung though, he wasn't a shitty friend after all. they were drunk and high and he didn't want anything to happen to them.

he didn't hear when the door opened and only when someone quite literally bumped into him and almost fell, he saw you. his phone almost slipped from his hand, but that didn't matter now. mark's hands quickly wrapped around your waist, holding you in place so you wouldn't fall on the ground. "yo, are you alright?"

"yeah, thanks." you nodded, looking up to see who saved you from falling. trying your best to get your hair out of your face, you saw mark. you knew him because you shared one class together when you both were on your freshman year, after that you were only looking at him from time to time at campus. or in cafeteria. or when he was ordering his coffee in the morning before classes at the same coffee shop you always went to. "im bad at drinking, had one fucking beer and can't stand straight already.."

"why did you drink then?" mark asked. his hands still were on your waist, holding you in place with a gentle grip. he looked at you, searching your face and eyes, something about you were super familiar but he couldn't quite understand what. like he saw you somewhere before. and you were pretty. mark's gaze dropped to your lips, lip gloss looked so shiny he was wondering how'd it taste and how'd your lips look all swollen and messy… what the hell? why was he thinking with his dick right now, that's not mark lee. something about you just brought this side of him out and he couldn't help it. so stupid.

"because this party is fucking boring!" you rolled your eyes as you heard mark's question. in all honesty you came to this party to have fun and relax after a stressful week of studies and maybe hookup with someone, but music was shitty, guys were ugly and your friends decided to get high for some reason and you weren't feeling like it. you drank one cherry flavored beer and since you're not good with alcohol, it was enough for you to go outside to get some fresh air before you could've done or said anything weird that you'd regret later. "aren't you bored, mark? that's why you're outside, yeah?"

"how do you know my name?" mark's eyes widened slightly, now he tried so hard to remember where he could possibly see you that you even know his name. you. hot girl in those fucking jeans that were hugging your ass perfectly and low cut top, he felt like he was in some teenage movie where a popular cheerleader girl allowed a nerd like him to touch her and there'd be happy ending where they ended up together or something. some stupid shit his cousin would probably watch.

"we had art class together a few years ago, you sat right infront of me and i couldn't see half of the desk because of your big head," you explained, standing straight and making sure your hair and outfit looked presentable. even though you weren't about to fall anymore, you didn't want to escape from mark's grip on your waist. you didn't want him to let go either, it also seemed like he forgot that he was touching you.

"oh! sorry dude, my bad.. um," he finally let go of your waist, making you pout slightly which he didn't notice. his hand comes to the back of his neck as he rubs it awkwardly. "how'd you still remember me?"

"can't say i didn't like that big head of yours covering the view, so i asked your friend… ugh, what's his name?" you genuinely couldn't remember the name of the guy that you asked for mark's name. he looked like he was about to cry back then when you came up to him. "the emo looking kid."

"jisung."

"i guess? whatever. i asked him for your name, poor boy looked like he was about to piss himself." you both chuckle.

"wait, you asked for my name? why?"

"you're cute," you shrugged, looking up at him. the distance between you two was small, you could smell the mix of perfume and alcohol coming from him, his hair looked soft and the only thing you wanted to do right now was run your hands through it while you kiss him, leaving him all breathless and shy. "the reason why i haven't talked to you since then is because i thought you were too busy studying.."

"too busy for what?" mark interrupted you, his cheeks now flashed slight red as he noticed your gaze on him. and when you called him cute.. he just had to believe you, there was no sign that you were lying or anything like that, he thought you'd never make fun of him too. just felt right.

"dating? fucking? not sure."

"you wanted to fuck me?!" mark was shocked, he almost yelled so you had to cover his mouth with your hand to shut him up so nobody would look at you two.

"shut up, idiot. gosh, why are you so pathetic, that's hot.." you truly didn't mean for the second sentence to come out of your mouth, but by the look in mark's eyes you could tell he was more shocked and confused now. you put your hand down, clearing your throat as you looked away. "still do, by the way."

"what?"

"still wanna fuck you, mark."

oh, he wasn't expecting that. what was he supposed to do? or say? maybe he just needs to shut up and stay there quietly and wait before you say something? there was a lot of thoughts in his head, gaze flicking from your face to your boobs. yeah, he was still thinking with his dick.

"wanna make out?"

"what?!"

"are you deaf or something?" you rolled your eyes at him once again, turning your head to look at him and wait for his answer. yeah, you liked mark. he was cute, awkward and oh damn you loved nerds and he was the hot one, obviously you wanted to make out because you were at this party for that at the first place. and you were a little drunk, so why not? "if you won't answer i'll just kiss you.."

"i want to," mark swallowed hard, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath before looking down at you. "what do i do?"

"oh my god, mark! have you ever kissed a girl in your life?" one of your hands wrapped around his shoulder while other comes to the back of his neck to bring his face closer to yours. you couldn't wait, your mouth quickly covering his, tasting a strong taste of beer on his lips. mark closed his eyes, standing there and letting you do all the work. he didn't even know where to put his hands, honestly. he was afraid you wouldn't like him touching you even though you two were kissing. and he still couldn't remember your name. fuck.

you pulled away, taking a breath before smiling at him. your smile was so pretty, mark could've sworn he almost faint. "you can touch me, i can tell you want to touch my ass."

"are you s-serious?"

"cute." was the only thing you've said when you pulled him for another kiss. the hand on his shoulder slipped down his arm and you brought his hand to your ass, mark's eyes widened and he almost moaned into the kiss, opening his mouth slightly more so you could slide your tongue inside. the wet sound of your messy kiss was making mark's head spin, his other hand moving up to your waist as he pressed his back to the house's wall. the contrast between your hot body, warm lips against his and the coldness against his back was definitely doing something to him.

mark felt kinda bad though. he liked kissing you, liked knowing that you were attracted to him, who wouldn't be happy if they were him? you — pretty girl from his university, hot as fuck as we speak, were attracted to some nerd like him? what a fucking win. he loved touching your ass too, it just felt right. so soft comparing to the rough fabric of your jeans, fits perfectly in his hand. but he still couldn't remember your name. he didn't want to become one of those jerks who's fucking a cute girl without even knowing her name and then leaving. yeah, you two weren't even fucking, but kissing you was nice and he liked that cherry beer flavor on your tongue when you licked his lower lip. so fucking hot.

he couldn't believe a girl like you could possibly like someone like him and that was one of the reasons why he didn't want to let go without remembering who you were. he wanted to take on a date? yeah. date you? maybe. damn, he doesn't even know you, but for him that was literally the last thing that matters right now. your lips were soft, the way your hands run through his hair and pulled them slightly… oh shit. when he felt your lips on his neck, teeth rubbing his gentle skin slightly as you pressed more kisses down his neck, mark was gone. down bad. in that moment he was pretty sure he wanted you all to himself and that right now he was the luckiest man alive.

"what's your name?" he choked out between kisses you shared, eyes still closed and his hand still squeezing your ass. you chuckled, finding his behavior adorable.

"y/n."

taglist: @spacejip @peterm4rker

[taomyou]

digimon fan!nerdjo headcanons

i'm bored and i have too many hcs i can't fit into nerds do it better but check that out first if you haven't already. most of these are already in that fic but i js wanted somewhere to put more background stuff about him

digimon fan!nerdjo who grew up watching the digimon anime because they had DVDs at the local library. the library only had seasons 1 and 2, but he'd begged his parents for later installments when he found out there were even more episodes to consume. they'd later regret getting him season 3 because he was so convinced digimon were real, but that's not his fault! if takato could wish guilmon into existence, then gojo could, too

digimon fan!nerdjo who stayed up late every night, hunched up in crisscross applesauce beneath his blankets to play Digimon Battle Spirit on the WonderSwan Color. he had to save up his allowance for three months to get it, but he got it!

digimon fan!nerdjo who wore goggles everywhere as a kid because he wanted to be just like the digimon protagonists who had them. he eventually had to stop because they got in the way of his eyeglasses, but he has pairs of them still hung up alongside the academic medals he's collected over the years

digimon fan!nerdjo who wears a crest necklace everywhere he goes, no matter the occasion. he's convinced it's his good luck charm (and the only reason he passed his quantum mechanics midterms)

digimon fan!nerdjo who throws a DTCG game night to find someone to play with, expecting no one to show up. you do show up, though, the cute girl he'd see studying on the sixth floor in the university's main library around the same time he's stuck there doing his physics homework

digimon fan!nerdjo who brings a Cendrillmon deck and spends the rest of the night playing matches with your Beelstarmon. you're evenly matched—the evening ends with you up by one win—but gojo just tells himself that it's because the matchup was bad. his friends tease him about it later when they're all home and chatting in their group chat, telling him he's got a lot of practice ahead of him before he can catch up to you. for whatever reason, gojo doesn't mind the idea of that

digimon fan!nerdjo who asks for your phone number so he can invite you to play DTCG with him whenever he's in the mood and to talk about all things from the digital world. he's never really had any friends before that were as interested as he is in digimon, so he's ecstatic to have you to talk to! the two of you veer off into talking about other things, too, but he'll still find a way to sneak in a stupid reference before the conversation ends. you don't seem to mind, though, and he's glad he can laugh about them with you

digimon fan!nerdjo who frantically pulls his crest necklace from underneath his shirt whenever he passes by you on campus to show you he's wearing it. you do the same with yours, and as soon as you're out of sight, shoko will slap the back of his head with a laugh to tease him for being so eager to see you

digimon fan!nerdjo who plays DTCG with you in the library after you've both finished your homework, and winner has to buy dinner for the day. it works out great: gojo gets a buddy to play DTCG with, you get a study partner who understands your corny digimon references, and you both get a good meal at the end of a long school day

digimon fan!nerdjo who calls you on discord when he's too lazy to get his phone. that works out better when he's already at his desk, anyway. he knows you've played cyber sleuth a million times over already, but he'll still stream his replays to you just so you have something to have in the background while you do your own homework. suguru has a sixth sense for when gojo's on vc with you, though, always trying to wingman by dm'ing him to thank gojo for saving his cat (or whatever chivalrous deed he's decided will make gojo look good in front of you). gojo just laughs it off when it pops up over the stream, but he'll excuse himself to "grab some water" while he yells at his best friend over the phone in the kitchen

digimon fan!nerdjo who invites you to a convention to meet the adventure-01 voice actors! he's shy asking, but he powers through because there's no one else he'd rather go with (...and because he doesn't want to go alone). you say "no" at first, but who can say no to him when he's asking so nicely?

digimon fan!nerdjo who sleeps with an Agumon plush

digimon fan!nerdjo who takes you to Ikebukuro Aquarium because they're hosting a Ikebukuru event, just like in hacker's memory! you didn't even realize there was an event (and gojo accuses you of being a fake fan), but you're a good sport about it because you both know he's just joking. he follows you around the aquarium and lets you hold his wrist in your hands when you battle on his VB, but he's more than happy to do as you please if that means you'll smile at him like he's built a portal to the digital world just for you

okay go read nerds do it better for more digimon fan!nerdjo shenanigans

[sunn-mechanic]

Ended up joining another niche demon slayer discord server from ao3... because apparently that's the only way I know how to interact with this fandom lmao

Man the most interaction I've had with the Demon Slayer fandom was like, 3-5 years ago, before I had a Tumblr, mostly with YT animatics and ao3 (which was where I spent the most time with the community, writing my own fics and making friends with other authors).

So I don't actually have any clue what's currently happening in the fandom rn, especially here on Tumblr...

Maybe that's not a bad thing, to not be super involved with a fandom of a media you like, but I do kinda miss seeing fanart of it ngl. The animatics on YT have all kinda died out and I've seen all the older ones (which I cherish fondly).

Idk man...

[warning-heckboop]

A little something based on a sort of spin-off of @bunnieswithknives's Nature au that my partner and I came up with while chatting. The premise is under the cut because it's kinda of long :')

Conversation taken directly from Discord for efficiency's sake. Regular text is my own, bolded is @adhdemizel

The animal they witness the shooting as is a deer. The last animal Dale sees them as before they reveal their true form is a wolf

I have this concept based on the Nature au in my head of an actual changeling witnessing Dale shoot Dev, and because fae are all about rules and stuff, the changeling travels across the land as various animals until it finds Dale again, only to then reveal its true, monstrous form in the process of ripping Dale's own leg off. Because an eye for an eye and all that jazz

Using magic to blend in or to cover more ground, and finally finding them and SERVING JUSTICE--

After they rip Dale's leg off, Peri comes to investigate all the screaming because he's worried for Dev's safety, and he and the now-a-wolf-again fae, who's soaked in blood, lock eyes, and Peri sees the familar glint of magic, and he knows

Just an actual random changeling who lived in the forest. They aren't a god parent, but rather an independent fae

They have no tie to Dev, other than witnessing his injury, and then feeling the urge to restore the balance that Dale disturbed

They're acting on their own, but do you think they see Peri, another magic creature, and feel like he failed? Disappointed that they had to step up and make things right for another fae's human?

Mmmm not necessarily! I feel like an independent fae would still know the basics about god parents, and how strict the rules they're bound by are. I think they'd be more so angry at the god parent system overall

Peri, also angry at the god parent system

Secretly grateful for this other fae doing what he couldn't

Maybe he's supposed to report to Jorgen about this rogue fae, to keep them from hurting anyone else. But he doesn't

Turning away to let something huge slide because it was in defense of a kid he couldn't protect

I like to think that even Jorgen would have let it slide, if he'd known. Dale deserved it

He'd tell Peri he dealt with it as needed, but literally all he did was go "nice" and shred the report

The other fae goes back home and let's others in the area know to watch out for a one-legged fae hunter with sharp red hair, just in case he tries again

He probably would try again. Now that he knows they're real, he's determined to catch one

That might have been one benefit of Peri actually telling Jorgen--Jorgen would have wiped Dale's memory and made it seem like a normal animal attack

Do you think he'd drag Dev along again?

Oh, certainly. He needs bait, and he can't risk anymore of his own limbs. It was Dev's fault he messed up as bait the first time. He needs to make up for that failure

He plates his prosthetic with iron for extra protection

Not permanently, because it's unsightly, but also not for Dev. He doesn't want anything to ward fae away from Dev.

Surely any changelings who saw Dev would know he's much too young to be the hunter they were told about.... Right?

Fae have impossibly long lifespans, he might look like a child, but all humans seem too young to them

You're right. And he matches the description so perfectly...

I guess it will have to be up to Peri to protect him, when he comes down to it. Lord knows Dale has better things to do

Dale, not-so-secretly hoping Dev gets into a confrontation so he can swoop in- not to play the hero in any way, but so Dev doesn't get in the way again

[another-lemon-tree]

How you meet them

pairing : non idol/txt x reader

notes : hiii it's my first time trying reactions/headcanons and i hope it will be okay T-T please keep in mind my first language is not english so it might have some mistakes 

Yeonjun

you meet him because your parents decide to sign you up to a dance class when you were in middle school

you never wanted to sign up for that class because you never really liked to dance

but they forced you to go so you go there

you entered that dance room and sat down in the corner of it waiting for the instructions of the professor

a lot of the people were looking at you like you were an alien...

maybe because you had a gun in your eyes saying

I WANT TO GO HOME. LEAVE ME ALONE

but one person dared to come to you since you had that face

it was Yeonjun

and he was intrigued

"Hi, I guess you are new here. I am Yeonjun."

you were taken aback by his big welcoming smile and his voice so soft for his look

but you answer him anyway by only giving your name

in the end of the dance class he asked you for your phone number and you gave it to him

after some time your parents didn't have to force you to go to your dance class because you were going by yourself

shocking right ?

but not that much because it was Yeonjun's fault if you start to like taking those dancing class

Soobin

you were on the same Discord server of your favorite streamer

to be honest the first interaction you had with each other was to insult each other on the chat of the stream

but none of you paid attention to the username so when you had your second interaction on Discord you didn't know

in fact you were yapping about your favorite character in the game

you have the same favorite character

you two were yapping so much about it that you spent the night to talk with him

the next night he finally adds you to talk with you in dm

and you talk all night one more time with him

Beomgyu

he was running without looking in front of him

you were passing by

BOOM

yeah he bumped into you in the hallway of the high school because Yeonjun was chasing him

for what? He was making fun of his hair that can stand up alone

he was feeling so awkward but he helps you stand up since he fell down on top of you

"You should watch in front of you when you run..."

you say and Beomgyu raised an eyebrow

"And you should watch in front of you when you walk. To be able to dodge someone who run for his life"

you were taken aback by his boldness followed by a cocky smile

you ended up laughing a little making him smile brighter

he looks behind him and sees Yeonjun coming closer towards him so he just shouts his name and runs away

"I AM BEOMGYU BY THE WAY"

Taehyun

it was your first year in high school and the teacher chose where each student would be seated

the teacher chooses that you will be sitting next to a certain Kang Taehyun that you didn't know before you sat next to him

at first you weren't talking a lot with Taehyun but as the months were passing you two started to talk together

first for the exercises you or he didn't understand

then because one of your forgets to do the homework and asks to copy

after it was just little talking about the weekend

and you ended up finishing high school always sitting next to him while being scolded because you were talking too much together

or because you were doing some doodles on his arm with his consent obviously

Huening Kai

he was moving into the apartment next to yours

you pass him when you go out of your own apartment and saying a polite "Hello" to him

and he gives you back a "Hello" with a bright smile

later that day when you go back to your apartment you find a little penguin plushie in front of his door so you frown but take it with you

you give a little shower to this plushie and take care of it

you even add a pink bow ribbon around the plushie's neck

you take pictures of it and print it

you go in the hall of the building to stick the picture on the wall with a note saying

I found this cute penguin plushie in the corridor. Text this number if it's yours

then the next day you had a text from an unknown number

it was Huening Kai and it was his plushie that he lost yesterday when he was moving in

you accept to meet him after 6pm to give his penguin plushie back

[habitsbf]

here we go again, yet ANOTHER callout post on maria AKA "olivia heirs". i really didnt want my first come-back post after being inactive for a while to be about this, but this is more important than anything i have to say about HABIT right now.

im sure a lot of us know about maria by now if youve been in the slenderverse fandom for a bit, but if you arent aware of who she is, she is a groomer/pedophile who goes after minors in the EverymanHYBRID fandom. she is quite literally STILL doing this even after multiple callouts and confrontations. she is currently "dating" a 14 YEAR OLD and has been chatting up many other minors via discord. multiple people have tried to convince marias current "partner" to leave, to block her, but they refuse to listen. this is starting to really fucking worry me. this kid, from what i know, is not doing the best mentally, and maria is taking advantage of that to feed into her weird HABIT/Evan obsession. she SPECIFICALLY goes after minors who like, kin, claim to be like, or are irls/fictives of HABIT/Evan. seeing that this person she is "dating" has their name set to something relating to Evan and HABIT wasnt exactly shocking to see. that is EXACTLY what she looks for.

a friend of mine has given me screenshots of a convo between their 14 year old friend (not the same 14 year old maria is currently "dating") and maria. im also including screenshots of another person confronting marias "partner" and a picture that includes her face. names are covered because i do not want people harassing these literal children over this adult womans actions. they are not at fault here.

there are two more posts full of information about maria on my profile, including a screenshot where she openly admits to being a groomer. if any of you have more info on her, PLEASE let me know.

i also want to add something me and my friend have noticed, maria has been "20" for over a year. she is lying about her age. she is not 20. she is most likely possibly older.

[letteredlettered]

Hey! I really enjoyed reading your comments on feedback and fanfic this week and would love to get your input on something similar-ish I’ve been struggling with. I’m recently back on Tumblr (lurking) and writing fanfic (secretly) after quite a few years away from fandom spaces. I’ve never posted my work on AO3 before but I’ve been considering pulling that trigger lately. I’d love to share my writing with anyone else who might enjoy it and admittedly I do dream of finding some community by putting myself out there like that. However, so intimidating to put myself out there like that. Do you have any advice for someone thinking of posting their fics for the first time? Anything you wish you knew before posting yours? Truly any perspective you can share would be very much appreciated :)

I posted my first fanfic probably about 24 years ago, so I don’t know if I’m the best person for these questions, but I’ll address what you’ve asked. At length, it seems.

1. I guess the first thing I’d say is search elsewhere than AO3 to fulfill your dream of finding community. As I said in this post, AO3 was built as an archive for community that already existed, and it doesn’t have robust community-building tools.

2. I’ve tried. I have literally posted fics partly to ask where the discord was, a question I have put in the A/N that was eventually answered but not without numerous follow-ups. I have often posted my tumblr handle in A/Ns, asking people to come scream with me about a fandom. While a flattering number of folks over the years have sent me asks and chats saying they really liked my fic, there have been striking few who have come to scream at me about the canon.

This is my fault, not theirs. I’m bad at starting conversations; I’m of an unsocial, taciturn disposition unwilling to speak unless to say something that will impress the whole room. But I am also a pretty popular writer, and I have made precious few connections this way; I think it should tell you something.

3. To fulfill your dream of finding community, as I said in the above-linked post, I don’t actually have great solutions. Since discord is basically hidden, the only way I know of to actually find community is to start cold-messaging people you vibe with through asks and chat on places like tumblr.

4. Re finding community through writing fic, @reads8hoursperday made an interesting addition to that above-linked post here, pointing out that in the journaling days of fandom, it was very common to write fics in the comments or even on your journal. They didn’t get archived and in that way were effectively ephemeral. While it’s nice to have a permanent archive, they were pointing out that the permanent nature of AO3 contributes to the feeling that there is some kind of status associated with fic.

One way to a) deal with nerves posting fic for the first time, b) shatter the feeling that your first fic must accrue beaucoup stats, would be to post on one of the other platforms first. If you post somewhere like discord, it feels less like a presentation and more just like part of a conversation you want to have: hey, what do you think about this fic? Is it good? Does it need work? Should I post to AO3? The folks there can help encourage and cheerlead you to post somewhere more intimidating, like AO3.

But okay, you also said you wanted to share your fics, and AO3 is an excellent place for that, and imo, the best, so here are some further ideas about how to post fic on AO3 without feeling like you might die of stage fright:

5. Title your fic something you would want to read. Write a summary for your fic that would make you want to click on it. Do not title your fic something you think the most people will click on. Do not write a summary you think will entice the most people. Giving your fic the title and summary that would attract you is setting up the expectation, for yourself, that this fic is for you, and maybe, a little bit, readers like you—instead of for a big audience that will accrue the most stats.

I say this as someone whose fic summaries have been endlessly mocked and derided. I’ve literally had people come into my comments angry at me because my summary wasn’t “eloquent” enough to let them know my fic was “good” and so they “missed out” on reading it for far “too long.” It’s a wild world out there, let me tell you.

But my summaries have also been complimented. They have been what made someone click. In the end I’m putting this out there for someone who likes what I do, and it’s been really liberating to say to myself, “You know what? I would read this. And the people who wouldn’t? Maybe they’re not the readers I’m interested in.”

6. I think setting both hopes and also setting expectations around that kind of audience—an audience who wants to hear what you have to say—rather than stats, is important. Ultimately, if you’re writing to be popular, or to attain a certain number of comments or kudos, you’re going to be disappointed. But if you’re sharing what you’ve written because you want to reach people who like what you have to say, if you don’t get comments and kudos, then the problem is that those people haven’t found you, not that what you have to say is worthless.

And I think bearing that in mind can soothe a lot of the heartache around posting a fic that doesn’t do well.

I posted a fic in a fandom that was new for me two years ago. It was the juggernaut pairing in a megafandom, the kind of fandom where even new authors get over a hundred kudos and a decent number of comments. But my fic was a little darker than what seemed to be the norm for the pairing on AO3; it didn’t have porn, and it didn’t have a very strong plot with an ending.

This fic tanked, stats-wise. But my conclusion is that the people who would’ve liked this fic didn’t see it, or even that the people who would’ve liked this fic aren’t even in the fandom, because they saw how much fluff there was on AO3, or the canon is too light-hearted for them. I didn’t conclude my writing sucked or that it was a bad story. Some people might think that! But what I told myself was I just didn’t find my audience.

You might say it’s easy for me to say that because I am a pretty popular author who does have an audience with most other things I write. I would agree I am a very confident writer, but I do think, even if you don’t have my kind of confidence, going into it knowing that not everyone’s going to love it can really help.

7. Relatedly, I think that loving what you’ve written, working on it and editing it and creating something that you care about and adore, something that is exactly what you want, can help with feeling proud no matter what. You might think that if, then, you don’t get a lot of comments and kudos also adoring it, it can feel demoralizing, and it can. It can definitely feel that way.

But there is something really liberating in creating a thing that makes you happy. And if you honest-to-god wrote something that you love, I guarantee someone else will love it. They might not find you on AO3, which can be really disappointing. But think of how many times you’ve loved something strange or unusual you thought no one had ever even thought about before, and then you read a book or saw a post or a video and realized there was a whole world out there that loved it too. There is a whole world out there, and they’re there for you. You’re sending a signal out there to the world. Maybe it can really touch someone.

8. Since I’m suggesting that the trick is really “finding your audience” some people conclude that what they really need to do is market their fic, really sell it to people, link it every chance they get, beg authors they like to read it, etc. I really recommend against this. People will think it looks gauche, but who gives a fuck what they think. What’s really detrimental about it is that if you go hawking your wares like that and you’re still not getting the attention and validation you’re craving, you’re going to be even more disappointed, and it’s going to feel really bad.

I’m not saying “let the universe do its work,” or anything mystic. Fic does require a certain amount of signal-boosting so people know what’s out there. Certainly, post a link to your fic on tumblr, mention it in discord, tweet it on bluesky, or wherever. My wife even tells me I have to reblog my fic posts on tumblr a few times so people don’t miss it in their feed. All of that is fine. But if you are giving your whole self to “finding your audience” and you don’t find it, it’s going to leave you raw and unwanted.

9. All right, so you’ve written the fic you love and you’ve prepped yourself for the idea that you’re just looking for readers to love what you love—and yet, somehow, you’re still concerned about stats. Don’t beat yourself up about it. Almost everyone is concerned about stats. It’s impossible not to fret over it in this economy environment.

People think I must never be concerned about getting a little kudos because I get a lot. I really think people think there’s some kind of popularity threshold where people must feel they have “arrived,” where they no longer care about being popular. I’m not sure where they are getting this idea. It’s just not true. Everyone wants praise and attention; they don’t stop because they get it.

So yes, I think about stats. I think about them a lot, and you probably do, too. That’s okay. Here are some more things you can do:

10. Set expectations around this too, and set them very, very low. One thing that people don’t understand about expectation-setting is that it requires some real time and imagination. Don’t just tell yourself, “I’m going to get two kudos” and that’s all. Imagine your timeline. Imagine looking at your fic’s stats. And imagine how you’re going to feel when you see that stat.

For instance, if I imagine two kudos is all the attention my fic will ever get, I don’t imagine that one minute after I post, I’ll see it got two kudos. I imagine that a week later, I will be looking at my fic, and I will see that it has two kudos. I check in with myself--how does it feel? A little disappointing, maybe. I thought more people would read it. What will I do next? Maybe I’ll go out for a fun coffee with my wife. Ah, it’s not that bad, really. It’s too bad only two people kudos’ed it—but in the end, it wasn’t the end of the world.

Now, imagine I set my expectations at two and I got three kudos—well, that feels spectacular! And if I get my two kudos, well, okay, maybe it feels a little worse than I imagined, but it’s still not that bad. But imagine if I was expecting five and only got two—I think I would be crushed.

11. I will make this a separate point because I think it’s important—really, imagine how your email will look. There’s a thing we do with our phones, where we get hopeful someone has messaged us, or we get hopeful that there will be something new for us, that someone will have paid attention to us in some way. Then we look at our phone and there’s nothing for us. It’s crushing. The chemicals in your body cause your whole being to plummet. And then the next time you look at your phone they cause you to anticipate, to get tense and stress again, and then when your phone has nothing for you, you’re that much more depleted.

You are putting your body through a roller coaster. Many people’s solution is not to look at their phone, but I don’t actually think this is a great idea for many people, because they will fail. They will fail, be crushed by whatever attention they didn’t receive on their phone, AND they will feel bad that they failed to stay away from their phone.

Meanwhile, if you say to yourself: what am I hoping to see when I look at my phone? What can I realistically expect from my phone at this moment? How will I feel when I see it? What will I do after that? Then you can manage these expectations much more easily.

12. Relatedly, I would suggest you have an activity planned that will start the moment after you post your fic—an activity that takes you away from your computer and, if possible, your phone for four to eight hours. Going to the cinema is a great idea for a few of those hours, because most people are really able to keep their phone off for the duration. I like to go out with friends after I post a fic, but I am not someone who really looks at her phone during social engagements.

I remember once I posted a fic and went directly to an anti-Dobbs protest; the friend who had informed me about the protest and met me there was a fandom friend. She said, “Did you really just post porn and then come to a demonstration about the right of a woman to choose?”

I said yes. This is the best way to do it. So here is my final advice: post on AO3 and then allow people with a uterus the right to choose.

[gwacha]

it's not my fault the people in the discord chats im in are funny (also wlwsasuke carrying as usual)

[myrmica]

Zam: Oh gunpowder farm, how I wish you were still a thing.

Zam: That might have been my fault? I KNOW, SUBZ. I KNOW YOU'RE HAUNTING THE NARRATIVE, I UNDERSTAND, OKAY? I understand. You're haunting the server and stuff. Oh my god. Maybe just come back at this point... Maybe... I don't know... I'm doing the thing with my fingers as well, by the way. But yeah, whatever. It's okay. It's fine, don't worry. It's like—it's all good, it's okay. [sighs] Haunted by the ItzSubz_ and Reddoons schemes of like, three months ago.

Zam: [reading Subz's chat message] I don't know if you want me to come back, I still have 8k nametags! [laughing] Okayyyyyyyyyy. I get it. [noise making fun of him.]

Zam: [video cuts] This is so sad. Wardens beat my ass. FlameFrags beats my ass. Am I ever gonna win? WILL I EVER WIN? HONESTLY? honestly, will I ever win? At any point, ever? Like, ever? [reading Subz's chat message] Big day for the wardens? Yeah I guess the wardens get a win today, huh. The wardens get to win today. Flamefrags gets to win whenever he wants. When's it my turn. When's it gonna be my turn.

Zam: [video cuts] [gasp] wait, I ran out of storage I'm so sad. Good thing I was one minute into that recording that I had, hold on. Wait, Subz are you being for real? Are there actually gunpowder farm coords in my DMs? You're so kind. Wait, is this real? Oh my god, wait. I'm gonna go there. I'll be really sad if it's not real though, but I really appreciate this, wait, oh my god.

Zam: [video cuts] [reading a discord message from Subz] I used it a little bit before I left the server? Wait, oh my god! Wait! Am I in the right quadrant too? Okay no, I'm not. But I'm close! I'm kinda close. I could actually get there relatively fast. Wait, oh my god, gunpowder farm. Wait, this could change my life!

Zam: [reading a chat message] It's definitely going to be an island [with nothing on it]? But he has a screenshot! I trust him! Even though he spawned a bunch of wardens and, you know, destroyed the world. I trust him. [pause] Also because there's definitely like—there's a screenshot, it's definitely real. So... yeah. [reading a chat message] Another awesome prank by ItzSubz_? It would be really funny if there was nothing there. I actually would laugh.

Zam: [video cuts] Oh my god, the gunpowder farm is there! Oh my god. Oh my god! A gunpowder farm, on the Lifesteal SMP? This is insane. I actually—I cannot believe this. Genuinely, oh my god.

Zam: [video cuts] I actually did get like, a really big like, motivational boost from—also this creeper farm, but also like, hanging out with Woogie. That really helped me. I think talking to other people instead of isolating myself on the Lifesteal SMP might... help me... improve my mood... I think that might get my spirits up a little bit. But I like doing things alone! I've been doing everything alone so far, I feel like I should keep doing things alone. Except for Zaun, I did that all with Derapchu. But still, like... whatever. I don't know. Humans are social creatures? Yeah, that's what they tell me. That's what they say, but... I don't know. Like yeah, I guess it improved my mood, whatever. [reading Subz's chat message] We're like twins? Oh my god. Yeah. [laughing] Yeah, after I said that I was like, wait. I know someone who like—wait. I was like, wait. [laughing] No wait, you're so right though.

[aquamarixx]

the night it all started

Hiori abandons game night when his crying (and unexpectedly adorable) neighbor ends up on his couch at midnight. pairing hiori yo x reader word count 1.4k words contains apartment neighbor AU, timeskip aged up, mild hurt/comfort, suggested slow burn, mild alcohol mention navigation

Hiori sits in his dimly lit bedroom, his fingers darting across the controller as his Overwatch 2 squad queues for another match. The blue glow of his PC screen illuminates his face, highlighting the tired shadows under his eyes — a result of an intense training day at Bastard München. 

He slouches slightly in his gaming chair, exhaustion evident in the way he leans his head against one hand. Even if he's tired, his reflexes are still sharp. He still has energy to stomp on kids whom they shouldn’t be really trash talking.

Nor should he be gaming so late. But thank god, tomorrow's his day off.

“Karasu, I swear, if ya waste another D.Va ult, I’m gonna kick ya across the field next time I see ya,” Hiori groans, dragging a hand down his face in exasperation.

“Oi, not my fault her mech’s hard to control!” Karasu retorts defensively over the Discord call. “At least try to pocket me, Hiori!”

Otoya’s voice cuts in, crackling with static and mirth. “Skill issue,” he coughs, setting off another round of bickering.

“Should we just boot Karasu and find someone else?” The audible crunch of chips punctuates Nagi's words.

“Hmm, I think we should.” Niko joins in, teasing Karasu further. 

Amid the chaotic chatter, a sharp clunk breaks through the white noise of Hiori’s apartment. He pauses, glancing toward his door. The sound comes again — louder this time — followed by the faint, muffled click of a handle being jostled. His brows furrows, and he leans back in his chair.

“One sec,” he mutters into the mic. “Queue without me. I’ll catch up.”

He types a quick BRB in the party chat and sets the controller aside. Padding across the wooden floor, he approaches the door with cautious steps, his socked feet barely making a sound. The rattling continues, now accompanied by a voice—soft, slurred, and distinctly feminine.

“Why won’t it open?”

Peering through the peephole, Hiori blinks in surprise.

It's you — his neighbor.

You're clutching the handle of his door, your silk dress slightly askew, light mascara streaking your tear-stained cheeks. Your high heels dangles precariously from one hand while the other clumsily twists the doorknob.

“Stupid key…” you mutter, hiccupping between sobs.

“I just… wanna go home.” You look a little unsteady, and it didn’t take much for Hiori to realize that you’ve had one too many drinks.

For a moment, he hesitates. Should he just let you figure it out on your own? 

He barely know you beyond polite exchanges in the hallway, but something in your defeated posture tugs at him. He hears the crack in your voice and the weight behind your words — pain that felt too heavy for such a late hour.

Before he could stop himself, he unlatches the door, cracking it open. You stumble back slightly, releasing the handle in surprise. Your puffy eyes locks onto his, embarrassment flashing across your tear-streaked face.

“This… isn’t my apartment,” realization dawning as you wobble unsteadily.

“No, it’s... not,” Hiori's voice is gentle but tinged with his usual awkwardness. “Are ya… okay?”

You blink slowly before looking at the floor. You’ve been trying to open the door while you sobbed relentlessly for the past 10 minutes “Oh... god. I’m... so sorry...” Your words dissolve into another wave of sobs. 

“Hey... Uh, s'fine,” Hiori replies, steadying you with a light touch on your arm. “Ya look like ya had a rough night. Wanna come in?  “Ya can sit down and… um… get yer bearings.”

You hesitate, swaying slightly as you glanced at his open door. The alcohol is still sitting in your body heavily. The floor feels cold and the autumn air is biting your skin uncomfortably.

The warmth spilling out was a stark contrast to the chilly hallway. Nodding meekly, you murmur low, “I… guess that’d be okay. Thank you.”

Hiori guides you to his couch, his hand hovering near your elbow to ensure you didn’t fall. As you sink into the cushions, he notices the tension in your shoulders start to ease a little, though tears still clung to your eyes.

Hiori hovers uncertainly. “Want some water? Or, uh… tea?”

“Tea… sounds perfect,” Your voice barely audible. You wipe at your face with a wet wipe with your trembling hands, removing what remained of your makeup. The events of the night replays in your head, and your chest tightens.

As the kettle boils, Hiori steals a glance at you over his shoulder. You look so different from the cheerful neighbor who always greeted him in the elevator.

Vulnerable, raw.

It makes his chest tighten in a way he didn’t fully understand.

When he returns with a steaming mug, he places it gently in your hands, his fingers brushing yours for a fleeting moment. You accept it with a small, shaky smile.

“Thanks… and sorry for barging in like this. I swear I don’t usually… cry on random couches. Or break into someone else’s home.”

“S’fine.” he assures you, settling into the chair across the couch. “Everyone has bad days.”

“Yeah…” A faint weak smile lingers on your lips. “I just didn’t think mine would end like this. Heartbroken and crying on my neighbor’s couch.”

Hiori’s lips quirks up in the faintest smile. “Coulda been worse.”

“Touché.”

"So… what happened? If ya don’t mind me askin’.”

You stare into the tea as if it held the answers. “My boyfriend... He, uh, broke up with me tonight,” you admit, voice cracking.

“I thought he was going to propose… but instead, he said he no longer feels the 'spark'". You sigh deeply, bitterness lacing your tone. “Five years. Five wasted years.”

“On someone who I thought... was my best friend. My home. And just like that, it’s gone.”

Hiori doesn’t reply immediately. He isn't great with emotions or relationships. Even at 24, at the prime of his career, all he cares about was football and gaming. 

But he listens intently. When he does speak, his simple, earnest comments somehow resonate with you.

“Yer too good for someone who can’t see yer worth,” he says. 

“If he can’t see what he’s got, then he’s a fool. Yer better off single — and free.”

The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, and when he adds, “Yer too pretty to be chasing after someone like that,” you feel your cheeks heat up.

Your eyes flick to his, surprise flashing across your face. “That’s… kind of you to say.”

Hiori’s phone buzzes on the coffee table. He glances at it briefly — messages from Karasu, Nagi, Niko, and Otoya pile up.

crowsuh: DUDE, where r u? q’s up hurry tf up 2ez4Nag1: come back man carrying karasu is paaaain sneako: don’t make me babysit these clowns alone 😒 otoxic: oi ultra sadist dont AFK

His phone buzzes a few more times, but he ignores out. Right now, playing Overwatch 2 doesn’t matter.

You do though.

The two of you talk for hours — about your night, his career, games, and life. The quiet companionship feels oddly natural as both of you shares bits and pieces of your lives.

Hiori lets his guard down, even cracking a beer open to share with you. The conversation flows easily, and by the time the clock struck 3AM, the pain in your chest has dulled to a manageable ache.

As you stand up to leave, you give him a sheepish smile. “Thanks for tonight. Really. I’ll, uh, try not to mix up our doors again.”

“Yer fine. And… yer welcome anytime.” His voice carries a rare, teasing warmth, and when you look up, you catch a small smile tugging at his lips. It isn’t much, but it is enough to send a flicker of warmth through your chest.

His words hang in the air, surprising both of you. Asoft laugh escapes as you nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

When you reach your door, you glance back over your shoulder. Hiori stands in his doorway, his hand on the frame, watching you. For a moment, neither of you speak, the quiet lingering like a promise.

For the first time in hours, you feel a flicker of hope. The ache in your chest doesn’t feel quite so heavy anymore. 

Maybe, just maybe, not all is lost.

amari's notes: first hiori yo x reader oneshot! i feel to fulfilled?! really tried to keep this short. writing fics has really helped me be more productive somehow plus it's a very self indulgent hobby. i hope my fellow hiori fans enjoy.