#I left that behind in twt lmao

[rt-nique]

my tiktok fyp has been a crazy fucking experience today, from Max x Bradley ship edits (FROM THE GOOFY MOVIE) to dsmp nostalgia discussions 😭😭

ANYWAY this tiktok audio that goes

c!Dream: If you can't kill me, does that make me some kind of god?

(Challenging and smug(?) tone + almost mad, power tripping?)

c!Tommy: you're a monster

(deadpan, negative in denial but not sad, slowly losing hope?)

c!Dream: I'm a god, I'm actually a god!

(Showing off, smirk, reveling in power)

This audio plus a religious Tommy itches my brain right because he sees dream as someone dirtying what it means to be a ‘god’. Tommy believes in Prime who provides him wealth and is overall a helpful and caring powerful being.

Meanwhile this green dude that tortures him claims to be a ‘god’. How dare he, a sadistic man, dirty the title of being a god? How could he compare himself to a being at the same level as Prime? Prime who he worships, built a church for, and who provides for him and graces him with wealth?

[foreverinthesun]

Me anytime someone tries to invite me

[livelaughlovesubs]

Heeeeya, Nini! How's it going? I can't believe its already been a year! I've been here since before that time you accidentally deleted your blog XD. Congrats! you've dominated the sub! bsd tag for forever and I'm living for it XD. For the event, can I please request Fyodor (bsd) with the prompt, 'Keeping their hands bound to make basic tasks difficult or impossible. Bonus: punish them for failing or making a mess'. Bro, I have an inability to be all that sadistic, even in fiction TwT, so for the punishment part, can I request something like tickling? Is that allowed?! LMAO- As always, feel free to delete/decline this if it makes you uncomfy, and have an awesome day. And again, congrats on one year!

AHHHHH DONT REMIND ME OF THAT TIME can’t believe how dumb I was 🥲 but thank you for being a long time follower hehe, the idea with tickling is very cute I love it

Dom!reader x sub!fyodor - reader is gn

Warning: humiliation, teasing, a tiny bit of degrading, tickling >:)

Anniversary event

Thud thud thud

Someone was hammering on your door in the middle of the night, and they just didn’t stop. You’ve been trying to ignore it for the past minutes, but the sound only got louder.

Thud thud thud

“Ahhhh which fucker is it?!” In the end, you gave in and cursed, stomping to the front door before opening a small crack. “What is-” to your surprise you knew the person behind the door, it was fyodor, your boyfriend. “Huh?? Fedya? Why didn’t you use the bell?” You immediately swung the door open and invited him in, he gave you a bashful smile before entering. Then you shut the door behind him.

“You see…” he said, while he let his coat slip from his shoulders, revealing his hands which were bound tightly behind his back. “It proved to be pretty difficult to ring the bell three times, so I thought kicking the door would suffice.” That was the secret code you two agreed on, so that you’d know if it was him who’s standing on your doorway. “Ah…” you stared at his restricted limps, then at him, giving him a questioning glance. He didn’t provide any explanation or answers.

The male turned around to face you, who were still standing next to the door. “Well? Aren’t you going to help me?” He rushed you, but kept his soft smile. “Actually no, not yet.” You replied, crossing your arms in font of your chest. That attitude, were you mad with him? “…y/n, what do you want.” Finally he dropped the good-guy act, seemingly irritated by your behaviour. Normally you’d help without being this difficult, except when you aren’t in a good mood, something that seems to be the case here.

You walked past him and sat down on the couch, making yourself comfortable before saying, “bring me the remote.” Fyodor looked a tad baffled, though he didn’t think too much about it and walked to the shelf to the left of you, pondering for a moment on how to grab it, before using his mouth to bite the object. Then he brought it to you like an obedient puppy, right into your hand and cheeks flushed a bright shade of red. “Good job.” You praised him, scratching the underside of his chin a bit, intensifying his blush.

“Now bring me a scissor to cut those ropes. You can find it in the kitchen.” He glared at you when you didn’t stop ordering him around, especially since he found his actions pretty shameful. Nevertheless, he bit back his complains and went to the other room to get whatever you wanted. Once he found the scissor, he bit the handle of the tool, and carefully got back to your side. “That took you a while.” You chuckled, to which he scoffed, “are you done with the games now?” How furious he sounded, he wasn’t having half the fun you had huh?

You tilted your head to the side, acting like you were thinking about it, then said, “one last thing.” Before giving him a big smile. The male rolled his eyes at that, at least internally. “Bring me a glass of water, that’s my last request, promise.” After you finished your sentence, you raised your pinky finger, then said, “ah silly me, you can’t reciprocate it after all.” Fyodor mumbled, “you are unbelievable.” Then he made his way back to the kitchen. What else was he supposed to do, he needed your help.

Through much resilience and great efforts, he managed to get a cup out of your shelves. And he even managed to fill it with tap water! Afterwards he bit the handle of the cup, finding that to be the easiest course of action, and slowly walked over to you. This was now his third time running a stupid errand for you, and he really hoped this would be the last. On his way back, he accidentally spilled the water in the cup all over himself and the floor, causing him to yelp a little, “hmmm..!”

You turned your head to the source of the noise, giggling at the sight but not helping him. His blush darkened even more, and he closed the last bit of distance between you two. Without any commentary, you took the cup and put it on the table, grabbing the scissors and cutting through his binds. He didn’t expect you to not make fun of him, so consider him grateful.

Though after you were done, you got up from your seat, grabbing his shoulders as you sneered, “gosh, fyodor, you couldn’t even bring me a glass of water?” Guess he jinxed it. Even though considering the circumstances he was in, failing his task was a very possible outcome, he still felt humiliated by your words, or at least embarrassed. He wanted to argue, to try and keep some shreds of dignity when you bested him to it, saying, “shouldn’t you get a punishment for that?”

“A punishment?” As soon as these words left his mouth, you pushed him into the couch and tickled him. Attacking his stomach while responding through a huge grin, “yep! A punishment you can’t evade!” “What- ha- ahaha.. no, wait haha…! Stop!” He laughed involuntarily, kicking his legs around and trying to peel your hands off his body. “Haha.. s-stop, hahh.. really, hahaha~ I can’t-!!” Tears were forming in the corners of his eyes already, his clothes and hair all disheveled. “Hehe.. alright, the punishment is over.” You eventually said, reaching out to his face to wipe his tears away.

As if hit by the realisation, he abruptly stopped smiling, still blushing furiously as he gasped for air. When he breathing calmed down, he pouted, then wrapped his arms around your neck as he gave you a quick kiss on the lips, “you-… you better make it up to me for being mean.”

[nerujikam]

Old Sweater

ushijima wakatoshi x fem!reader

tags 18+, fluff and smut, timeskip!ushijima, pwp, sleepy sex, clothed sex, cunnilingus, creampie, aftercare, pet nickname, i was ovulating

words 2,174

a/n and so, behold... my first smut... *thunder cracks* this was a pretty old draft dating back to may '22 lmao. figured i'm a lot more comfortable in my writing now, why not post it? this was crossposted on ao3 ! anws, happy reading or something!

art is @hk_smith_man’s on twt

Ushijima comes home late again. This time he finds it a little odd when the only source of light that came from the living room was the table lamp beside the couch, with a book you’re reading under it. You never forget to turn off every light when you go to sleep. Though, it does feel kind of lonely since you were practically a night owl on your working days. Now that you finally got your days off, you started to sleep earlier than usual. He misses the sight of you in the late of night, you can say.

He turns the lights off after putting his shoes on the rack. A faint beat can be heard from your shared bedroom, questioning him whether you’re awake or not.

Your body slump under the blanket. Though the heater’s on, the winter wind seems to have its own way seeping through the walls, shuddering you under the covers. Just like how you left it before, the small reading light next to you was still on.

He walks up to you, eyes closed as your breath steady. Seems you got defeated by your own drowsiness while trying to continue reading another book in your hands. He takes it away from your hand, placing the bookmark in the current page before putting it down next to the table lamp. He decides to turn it off later after his shower.

Ushijima closes the bathroom door from the inside, not wanting to wake you up with the loud noise from the hairdryer. He brushes his teeth, puts on his night cream, and turns off the bathroom light before joining you under the cover. He realized that the sweater from his high school volleyball team framed your body. He’s an even bigger and stronger guy now compared to then, yet his sweater still fits loosely on your frame. He wonders if it would make any difference if he met you in high school.

The thought of that tightened his arms around your waist, causing you squirming under him. He realized he woke you up when he heard a faint, “Toshi,” and a cold palm on his cheek. He grabs your cold hand to warm them, placing longing kisses on its knuckles, “sorry, did I wake you up?” You shake your head, turning back to your former position.

“I don’t mind,” you reassure. Ushijima pressed his forehead on your nape and kissed in between it and your spine, carrying out a soft “I missed you,” from your lips.

Ushijima never was a person who relies on verbal affection, so he alternates them more with acts of service, especially in giving. Warm baths after working overtime, a new shelf for your little trinkets, your favorite scented candles, sometimes even phoning his own dad, asking how to season the porridge properly when you had a cold. In rare cases, he'd mutter an “I missed you, too” back, instead of pressing his body closer into you like right now. He squeezes tight, not letting the cold get in between the two of you. He slides his hand down to your thigh to knead them gently before putting it in between them.

His eyelids flutter back awake as he feels a damp spot on your underwear. He gazes down at your eyelashes as you let out a sigh when he puts his hand down there. “You missed me this much?” he teases with a slight naught on his tone. You let out another sigh as he stroked your inner thighs, letting his wrist rub against your wet spot.

The blanket ruffles as his hand makes its ways to your—his—sweater, lifting it up to feel the warmth of your belly. His lips now behind your ear, fluttering kisses and sucking on the skin around it. Your hand found his when he started to slide down, playing with the waistband, eventually slithered inside, stroking between your folds.

So wet, he groans, wondering how you kept this long enough without doing anything about it.

“Want me to do something with this?” he whispered, asking one more time, fingers circling between you. Whining at his motion, you sigh, "please... Toshi,” you let out a breathy voice to call his name.

With your plea, he flips you up, rolls himself on top of you to lower himself, marking down your jaws, trailing up kisses to your lips. You nip gradually on his bottom lip before receiving his tongue. He tilts his head, deepening the kiss. Your hands stroking alongside his neat undercut. You opened your eyes slowly when he pulled back to see his own eyelids hung low, looking either very tired or very much turned on. The edge of his lips were soft from the toothpaste and the lip balm you share with him, smooth and glistening prior to your make out session.

“Keep this on,” he demands as he slides his whole body down. His hands trails up to your breasts, exposing them to the cold air whilst still keeping his sweater intact on you. He positions his shoulders under your thighs. You were surprised that, The Ushijima Wakatoshi, is willing to deal with something that was your own consequences, with his own mouth and tongue. You held it hours ago, wanting his way first rather than relying on your toys. You’re sure that he’ll come home eventually for this before eventually giving in to your heavy eyelids.

He places one, two, three kisses on the inner thigh slowly leading them up to the center of your wet panties. He pushes down your thighs towards him, licking the damp spot as if making out on it. You let out a high pitched whine from your lips. He ever so slowly pulls down your underwear you’ve been so desperate to be out of. His hot breath blows cold air between them with an eventful languid stroke. Your brain clouded, eyes rolled shut at the sight in the dark. You see nothing but flashes of sparks from the noises he made lapping his tongue over you.

Just as you feel his wet muscle fiddling around the sensitive bud, he (with the audacity) decided to suck on it, alternating between licking wet stripes along the core. You finally let out a moan, grabbing the sheets and his hair messy, pushing him further into you, grinding your own crotch towards him. One finger found his way, rubbing your entrance as the tip of his tongue fiddling your clit.

You throw your head back with your face behind your hand as his middle finger finally reaches in, unsteadily sliding in and out up till the spot where you buck your hips to its contact. Feeling your reaction, he slides in another finger, pressing and focusing them more on the gummy spot within, curling them ever so often. His jaw hardened, constantly fiddling his tongue around your clit, putting pressure on it while the tips of his dominant fingers hitting the same spot, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

Your walls start to squeeze as your breath gets shaky. His fingers never stop thrusting in and out with a pace you never felt even when you do it yourself. Your back arches before being held down by his non-dominant hand, pressing down on your pelvis as your leg becomes a moving mess before you feel the snap under your belly. You shake as your thighs close around his head, feet pushing on his shoulders unaware. Your vision slurs.

Lips soaked in your own slick, Ushijima licked you down clean as if collecting it after your intense height, giving them one more wet smooch before hovering his body above you. He sucks down his middle and ring finger, cleaning up your mess on him. You raise your hands and grab his cheeks to give yourself a taste, tongue constantly encountering his in between kisses. You push him up, rolling up on your knees, positioning yourself on his lap, not separating your lips.

You eventually pull away with a kiss on his cheek, your hands on his jaw as you find yourself out of breath. You give yourself a view of him with your thumb on his chin. He licked the bottom of his lip before biting them, eyes hazed staring up to yours. His whole face became more and more of a mess, hair disheveled from your constant pulling, lips swollen and soaked down until his chin. You always love seeing him all wet from his own work on you.

It was impossible for you to not get turned on by him all messy and drunk from your cunt. You tug on his waistband, pulling down his PJs alongside his boxers. It’s obvious how hard he is with the ill bulge he had the whole time. His cock springs up as you pull his boxers down, tip flushed and slick, desperate to be inside you. You stroke along the shaft, spreading his own precum as you readied yourself on him. But he insisted. He rolls you back down on your back, holding the back of your thighs, teasing his tip around on your core.

You didn’t have a chance to look where the both of you met before gasping at the sudden intrusion. You were still sensitive and the slick of your pussy prior to his work makes the both of you moan as he slides in. His hips rolled and bucked on you, thrusting deliciously, tip reaching up to the familiar gummy spot.

“You look so good fucked in my sweater like that, dove,” he moans in your ear in the pleasure of your hips meeting his, pelvis to pelvis. The way he whispered that little pet nickname and moaned right into your ears clutches your core. You put your arms around his shoulders, legs wrapping around him, holding on for life as he pounds harder (you swore the bed could crack any minute).

“I’m…” you gasp in between thrusts before you continue, “I’m on birth— ah!” 

You couldn’t continue as he pushed one deep thrust, already knowing what you meant. He groans feeling your tightened walls sucking him in as he starts to roll his hips in a way it touches the parts you never knew you’d reach. He pushes your knees to your chest, thrusting in deeper. You feel his skin constantly slapping on your clit, building you up to another climax.

With a groan and his head buried into your shoulder, he came in a rut. Pace went sloppy and eventually filled his warmth inside you. His moans cracked a higher pitch before he finally emptied out on his last thrust. Both of you laid there catching your breath.

He pulls himself out of you, leaving a whine from your lips from the sudden emptiness. You sigh, feeling his cum slowly spilling out of you. Ushijima muttered a low, "fuck," as he looks down and squeezed your thighs, eyeing the sight of you leaking from his cum.

Making sure you’re fine, he hovers above you, a hand on your jaw as he kisses the edge of your lips. Raising his head to look at you as you open your eyes. Greeted by the sight of his softened features, you smile with a sigh and caress his cheek.

He’s worried, you thought. Ushijima brushes out the strands of hair from your face and places a soft, longing kiss on your temple before walking up towards the bathroom.

You hear the tap running for a while before he comes out with a warm damp towel. He gently grabs your thigh to wipe down the remaining of his cum that has spilled out of you. You sigh from the warmth of the towel.

“You need to go to the toilet,” he states suddenly. You furrow your eyebrows trying to process his instruction before realizing what he meant. You nod, “right,” you prop yourself up to sit.

“Can you walk?” he asks. You thought a bit before nodding as he grabbed onto you in case you wobble and fall. You chuckle in contrast to his worry because you did walk fine. Just a little sore. You walked to the bathroom to pee and clean yourself while Ushijima in the kitchen for some water.

You come back with him already finished putting back his boxer. You realize you don’t wanna sleep in soiled panties so you grab a fresh pair and throw the used one out into the hamper. You jump back on the bed with him. You take the glass of water he gave you before laying back down. He spoons you like how he did before. You shuffle as you turn your body towards him, brushing away his messy hair out of his face.

“Should I wear this more so I can get fucked like that more often?” you ask, referring to how his high school sweater on you turns him on. He let out a tired laugh, “just don’t wear that in front of anyone but me.”

---

ushy gushy always be on my top #1 daddy big balls alongside erwin smith

[slowd1ving]

Hi! If you're not taking reqs then feel free to ignore this but could you write Kim dokja angst? Maybe we're switching the roles and the reader is dying instead of dokja for once lmao

HOUSE OF CARDS ゜・KIM DOKJA

"A house made of cards, like the fools we are." In which a gambler finally pays the price for his bet. never actually written angst so I hope this is good enough anon art creds to kim28_dokja on twt! pairings: kim dokja + gn reader warnings: blood, injury, death, references to child abuse/dokja's past wc: 2.4k

ORV MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

Dokja is shit at games. 

It’s clear to the dealer. Even on the best day, those omnipotent palms that allocate fate will grow clammy (which they never do) and that ever-present smile slowly turns into a profound grimace. They know. They feel it instinctually, on a cellular level: that hand was terrible. 

It’s clear to the people around him. The salaryman stumbles into the building as though he’s just learned to walk: in never-polished shoes, slacks that perpetually crease further with each nervous wipe of his hands, and the clinging scent of smoke that preludes his entrance. He’s not got his life together, they observe, behind stony poker faces he can never quite master. That’s why he’s here.

Most of all, it’s clear to Kim Dokja himself. Every irregular heartbeat pulses in his throat as he gazes at his cards—two seven offsuit. In his sweat-streaked fingers is the short straw urging him to enlist. On the table before him are all his chess pieces, lined up neatly: spectators to the constant check, his inevitable downfall. 

Despite his atrocious luck, the thin red string binding him to this world never quite severs. A fire befalls the casino. A bullet embeds itself in the shell of his helmet and not a hair further. The chess game is postponed by a phone call and the poignant sound of shattering glass—and Dokja is left to shoulder the limbo of an unfinished game.

He’s shit at games, but never truly loses. 

Is it simply up to chance? A coin is tossed into the air: another foolish plan devised, another chip placed that equates to one of his lives. Crisis after crisis—Dokja, that harbinger of misfortune—yet each time, he resurrects. He bets on it, in fact: quite literally gambling away everything. 

It is just how things are. He cuts corners. He smooth-talks the fates into letting his transgressions slide just a little longer. For once, he’s winning, and the grand prize is something beyond his wildest dreams—an ending, to mark the indefinite uncertainty of chapters that seem to grow like nebulae. 

“Dokja.” It’s a sigh each time when he defies the end. Anyone else would interpret it as exasperation, but he likes to think he knows you better than that; it’s relief you greet him with, no matter how many times he sacrifices himself. “You idiot.”

It’s nice to know his long-time friend cares about him. 

No matter how many times he places his bets, the value of his life never seems to deprecate for you. Sacrifice is something you’d rather avoid (so does he, but it cannot always be helped, right?). If Dokja’s life can be used to save more of the people he cares about, all the better. 

In fact, he’d rather keep you away from any front line. 

There’s a story of its own between the two of you: years of scraped knees and violence, of gazing up at your shoulders while you bruise your knuckles with whoever bruised his eye, of friendship pacts forged with spat-on palms and corded bracelets. 

Your very soul is entwined with his scrawny one from years past, and it’s always been the case that yours has fought the battles in his stead. ‘Why?’ he’d once asked, and he still vividly remembers the cool response you attempted to give, only to end up fumbling the words. 

Because I can. Because I want to. Because you deserve it. 

It’s his turn to repay his debts. These fights are no longer about a bloodied mouth and spitting red onto the asphalt. They don’t end with bruised ribs and broken noses. 

You sit out. This one, he thinks grimly, is his fight—one that will guarantee both you and him turning the page on ◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼. Every factor has been considered. Each risk is carefully mitigated at the expense of himself. None of the contingencies fail to prioritise his oldest friend. 

These are chips he cannot afford to bet on. 

Naturally, he keeps them close to his chest. 

゜゜・

Dokja is shit at games. 

His friends know it all too well. Those disbelieving laughs they let out, their fists clenching and unclenching as they debate whether to hit him across the head—Dokja, the herald of despair, he is—and finally the rush of words leaving their mouths like air deflating from a balloon: “Never do that again.”

All in, his chips go—each and every time. There is no other way about it: not unless you shackled Dokja to you in vain to make him listen—to stop the endless deaths he goes through. Over and over, until you feel his mind wear into recklessness, until you see the emptiness that taints his eyes as he slips into quiet contemplation.

How will Dokja die this time?

You’d rather erode into nothingness than clip his wings, though. That book he gushed about to you (syllables rushing over themselves in his excitement each update) gave him back his life—if you ruin his painstaking ◼◼◼◼◼◼◼, you don’t think you could forgive yourself.

Even if he’s ratcheting to Icarian heights. Those feathers of his are beginning to streak wax-hot down man-made frames, made of pages upon pages of a book obsolete to all but one dedicated reader. 

You think he can see the pain in your eyes, before he turns away with lips pressed together tightly. You’ll be safe, he reassured you. You’ve got me. I’ll create an epilogue for you to witness. 

Dokja’s changed. 

Those scrawny shoulders have become something that the very sky settles on: ones that no longer shake behind your own arms. The world has bruised you, and Dokja shall bruise it back. Every favour, repaid tenfold. 

Dokja’s changed. 

He’s still got the same facade of the boy you’ve called your oldest friend. If it weren’t for that, you’d think the man who coldly settles his death were a stranger. Someone you never shook hands with, childishly grimacing at the remains of a spat-upon pact rubbing into small palms. 

Dokja’s changed. 

He thinks he no longer causes misfortune with each risk he takes—as if his life were a mere trifle, as if each shred of news about him doesn’t shatter your heart over and over. 

When will it end? 

You haven’t seen him for months. 

Is it finally time to grieve?

゜゜・

Dokja is shit at games. 

It seems you are too. He turns the page of his book, and beside him the house of cards is carefully stacked on the glass table. It’s a precarious matter: high stakes against yourself, an unsafe tightrope that threatens to give way any moment now. 

Your eyes meet his. 

Like magic, the house collapses. 

゜゜・

You are shit at games. 

You take a deep breath, and begin organising what could be the final legacy of Dokja. It’s something he treasured even over his life, evidently: the ending, which you allow into your soul in the Kim Dokja-shaped hole left behind. 

It’s the first time you take a gamble: carefully picking up the shards of his ideas while rivulets of blood run down your fingers. It’s your turn. 

The battlefield in the scenarios is a sanctuary: white noise washing out Dokja’s ever-persistent voice in your head. There’s a perpetual, acrid smell of ash and smoke—a reek that is far better than the dust of buildings Dokja leaves you behind in. 

It’s hard. 

Gambling is not for you; in the sense that it sickens you, rather than just invoking disaster like it does for Dokja. The only good thing about it is that Dokja’s dream is finally being realised—a tribute to your oldest, dearest friend. Like funerary wine, metallic iron fills your mouth (a once-familiar taste) with each battle, every step closer to the story Dokja wove for you. A fabric so salient you couldn’t help but be entangled in it. 

I can do it. That is your gamble. 

You do it. 

You cut down monsters the size of buildings. You cling to life with bleeding fingernails, scraped raw with tenacity. Tentatively, you begin fleshing in the husk of yourself: talking with the friends you made in the apocalypse once more.

And like Dokja, you begin defying death. 

It starts off small—an arrow that you saw coming but didn’t feel like dodging. Jung Heewon almost blew a gasket when she took a glimpse, but then her eyes met yours—filled with the same distance that Dokja’s were, as though you too were peering through an impersonal screen—and she looked away for a brief moment. 

“Idiot,” she whispers. “Don’t treat yourself like Dokja.”

Your chips pile up. 

Except, you don’t quite have the same privilege that your dearest friend has. 

You will incur the cost, rather than somebody else. There is a reason Dokja is called a harbinger of ill fortune to others, and you are not. In the end, your downfall will be at your own hand. 

“Fool,” Yoo Joonghyuk grimaces as he cuts down a wolf you let claw your arm. The coppery stench is thick in the air, but there seems to be a manic grin on your face as you slice and chop and stab: a madness that slowly spreads like illness through your body. “There is nothing more worthless than sacrifice without cause.”

The debt accrues. 

Kim Dokja dreams of your knuckles, bloodied once more as you stand to face the world. But, it’s just a dream. 

He bets on it. 

゜゜・

You are shit at games. 

Bitter, arterial blood congeals on your hands as you try in vain to staunch the flow. There is nothing quite as caustic as the realisation that you fucked up, because now all the signs of your hamartia are clear. 

The house has long collapsed—it’s that final card that still hasn’t hit that glass table yet. 

Is this what Dokja feels? The thought runs wonderingly through your sluggish mind. Is it what he felt, you mean to say, but your throat grows thick whenever you speak about him in the past tense. You can’t quite accept the reality that he’s gone. The shock anaesthetises your mind: cradling your neurons with such gentleness that it’s hard to conceptualise you’re about to follow him to wherever he’s gone. 

Will I see him again?

Everything reeks of iron: from the massive corpse on the ground, to the claw impaled through your abdomen. It was inevitable. You’ve grown tired of the endless fight, and it’s cost you dearly. 

Your chest heaves desperately. 

Dokja. 

“Dokja,” you croak, collapsing onto the rubble freshly decimated. Despite the rough surface, your blood-slicked hands scrabble for purchase on the concrete—something that doesn’t quite feel like you’re the one puppeteering your strings. 

Deliriously, you watch as the same hand urgently attempts to apply pressure to your wound; it goes against rationality, but then again you’re not really yourself anymore. 

“Dokja?” you try again. Perhaps if you speak loudly enough—syllables soaked with sanguine that dribbles from your lips—you’ll be able to reach your dead best friend. 

There is a pressure behind your eyes. 

It may be tears; it may be an unwelcome guest in your head. 

It’s too late, you think. He’s dead, and soon I will be too. 

“Dokja,” you whisper, and there is salt on your tongue as you feel your limbs grow colder. Everything hurts—your pounding head, the thrum of your pulse as you marr the asphalt with crimson, and finally that stupid bleeding heart of yours that swears you can hear the spirit of your oldest friend. 

You can’t die, you think he says—a quiet scream drowned out by the static of your mind. 

“I’ll see you soon, though,” you slur, and the weight in your mind lifts—blurring and coalescing into a mirage you could recognise blind. 

Frigid fingers pass through the hologram, and you smile, bittersweet. 

“Dokja,” you breathe. “It’s been almost a year since I last saw you.”

His hands grasp your shoulders desperately, though his frantic mouth goes unheard upon your ears. You… can’t… die, his lips read—but that’s silly, you think. Doesn’t he want you to meet him again?

Horns curve out of his head, while his wings fluff out—shoulders shaking, with an expression you’ve only seen once on his face before. Utmost grief, when he came soaked in congealed blood and a haunted look in his eyes: murmuring she killed him, over and over. 

He’s your best friend. He was your best friend. 

Kim Dokja has lost his final gamble, and the bullet in the chamber has finally been spun into place for you too. 

“I can see you soon, right?” you murmur—there are cold fingers brushing against your forehead, and you think death is unexpectedly gentle. 

His lips wobble. 

Incorporeal fingers trace the tear tracks on your face—ones that mirror the slow stream of salt from his own eyes. You didn’t even notice—too caught up in the gradual greyness that spreads through each vessel, weaving through sinew and bone and brain. 

“I did a good job, right?” Your sword rests across the ground, heavy after almost a year of fighting. “Maybe it’ll help with the ending that you wanted.”

Dokja’s face crumples, and you can feel your own throat growing thick. Dokja, I’m scared, you want to admit. For the first time in your life, there’s a choking fear that grips you as the red surrounding you blooms into a field. 

Your own wings are rapidly coming apart. 

“Dokja, I don’t want to die,” you mumble. Struggling, you curl and uncurl your hands into fists, but you can no longer feel them. 

“Dokja,” you try again. You can no longer see him, but whether it’s from the salt clouding your vision, or the haze of limbo, you cannot tell. 

There is a phantom pressure that lingers on your face. 

“Dokja,” you gurgle, mouth iron-hot with arterial blood. “Don’t leave me alone—please.”

No response is given, but that sepulchral presence seems to remain—this time, those hands brush and cradle your face. 

You cannot tell if it’s him or death itself, but you don’t think death would kiss you like that. 

As if he could possibly breathe life back into you, his ghostly lips move against yours. Desperately, so urgently you half-wonder at his panic. 

Dokja, you want to ask. You’re already dead, right?

Right? 

With the final scraps of your vision, you watch as he pulls back—his tears pattering across your face—watch as his mouth moves for a final time.

I can’t live without you.

But by then, it is too late.

The words go unheard, and Dokja is alone once again.

[synchronmurmurs]

Sorry I'm just having weird brain worms because I saw Knight Kyrie art on twt the other day and it's not left my head since, so I'm just word vomiting to get it out of my system.

So first things first: Credo doesn't tecknikuhlee approve of any kind of martial training for Kyrie. He's a hardass and a traditional kind of guy with traditional holy values (SIKE when he's not getting pegged, he dates Vergil in my Credo Lives AUs, I will live and die with this ship sorry not sorry). But real talk, he doesn't like the idea of Kyrie being anywhere near a sword because that means she's closer to danger and therefore closer to the dangers of the truth of the Order, which he Knows About ofc, so the further she is from all that, the better.

But Nero being the rebellious little guy we all know and love teaches her a thing or two behind his back, and Credo sorta knows about it, but he lets it slide because it's Nero, and he knows Nero would never hurt Kyrie and he trusts Nero more than he does any of his other Knights so as long as it's Nero training her, then he'll turn a blind eye because he trusts Nero!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TRUST!!!!!!!!!!

So yeah I think Kyrie should have a sword. Maybe just a Caliburn that Nero took the engine out of, just while she was still learning basics (because if you fuck up, you can dislocate your shoulder so easily lmao). She would have moved on to the real deal, but then the events of DMC4 happen and things are derailed Forever.

After the dust settles though, she probably doesn't want to hold an Order made sword ever again. 🤔 So that means Nico needs to make something for her. A Caliburn but a little to the left, whatever that might be.

hrnnhghgnnnrrnnnn.

[tartt9]

unsolicited headcanon questions - What is Jamie's social media presence like? What's he like for controversies or hot takes? Has he ever done anything/said anything that went viral or got meme'd?

i love an unsolicited headcanon question so thank you for sending me this !! :')

so jamie's very active on social media. like to the point that he needs to shut the fuck up sometimes. his twitter is his most frequently used platform - he's just @ jamietartt he'll respond to all of richmond's tweets - he's got their post notifications on - and all of the premier league's tweets about him and his teammates. he also responds regularly to the three lions twitter account. but outside of football and #coygh and richmond til we die!s, it's seriously nonsense. he runs polls to see his followers' takes on things, and he's always like there is a right answer. he overuses emojis. at 2 am he'll tweet like @ PaddyOGara if you were a dog what type of dog would you be and @ IsaacMcAdoo how many eggs do you think you could eat in one sitting maximum not on average absolute maximum number of eggs pls respond quickly this is important his instagram (also @ jamietartt) is.... what you think his instagram would be. lots of pictures of him on match days, in richmond reds, blues, and yellows. lots of pictures of him hanging off of his teammates. lots of instagram stories during celebrations in the dressing room and afterwards when they're out clubbing. but it's also full of ego-stroking shirtless pictures and gym selfies where his shirts are matted to his body with sweat. he does amas more frequently than he should. keeley has to work overtime with him sometimes tbh. his tiktok (also.... @ jamietartt) is all behind the scenes with richmond/the three lions content. colin sleeping on the bus. moe having a very intense conversation with the new greyhound mascot. them actually seeing how many eggs isaac could eat in one sitting. and occasionally he just shows off his footwork on there because he likes to brag and he likes praise (canonically lmao)

his biggest controversy is, obviously, fucking off from city two weeks into their season to do lust conquers all. he still gets questions about that, still gets people who don't take him seriously as a footballer because of that. but, aside from lust, the next biggest controversy was that one time he was pictured outside of a club in london with a cigarette between his fingers. it was keeley's, and he was just holding it for her - he's never actually smoked in his life, because he takes his health seriously - but it was on a bunch of tabloids front pages the next day. he didn't make a statement. he doesn't get asked about that as much anymore, but it wouldn't surprise me if opposing team's players ask him if he want one as a cruel sort of joke if they run across each other out clubbing or something

his hot takes are mostly just like. "i think kent was a better player than beckham ever was" and he likes to start fights about that but he does fully 100% believe his own opinion when he says stuff like that. there are loads of comments on our irl tiktok that's like "he (jamie) thinks he's ronaldo" and when jamie's drunk he needs someone to stop him from replying on his main account like "no. i think i'm better than him."

as for going viral i like to think the moment he said that he and beard aren't having sex definitely still circulates on richmond twt, plus him and roy headbutting and hugging after their promotion, plus there's discussion about whatever roy said when he hugged jamie after jamie left the pitch in mom city. usfw mention in this paragraph don't read this if you don't want that // there's also the canon fact that he gets half-hard when he does particularly well on the pitch..... people Are Looking that's all im gonna say

he also just. like. says silly things if any of the lads catch him on camera saying something ridiculous it'll probably go viral on richmond twt if not further internet spheres than just richmond ygm?

tldr he's an absolute menace on the internet and somebody should probably change his passwords half the time but he's super good at fan engagement and he's doing his best to stop starting fights with strangers about himself/his teammates

[torihakaraublog]

Nightbringer Season 1

Finally finished season 1 of NB so I just wanted to write a little something since I think my last main story chapter analysis was on ep. 17 or something and on Twitter.

I've really enjoyed the main story as a whole so far! There is lots of private interactions as well as a group. It does feel like it's pushing you towards certain characters at times (or away in some cases) but I understand some restrictions have to be made so the story doesn't split too many ways.

I didn't get a solo momment with Lucifer at the ball because I wanted Diavolo to present we with the award (I have the tittle of Devilsitter now?! Wtf is that, take it back!), but I got a momment with my other top 2; Levi (think we are dating now :3) and Simeon (first dance). So I'm happy. If I had to pick who got my last dance it would have been Satan cause he asked first 🤭

Also loved the lil VA cast list at the end - tho why did they not play voice clips?

I look forward to playing through season 2!

Below are some of my favorite moments in season 1! (might not be in order)

my two beautiful dates to the ball! 💜🩵

Simeon's feelings 🩵

This conversation which had no business being that hot!

Everyone admitting they all love Satan and Satan not wanting to be left behind TwT

What ever this was lol (think we were trying to rescue a figure from Mammon's room).

Holding hands + looking for cats with Satan :3

Finding out why Barbatos is so mad at Solomon lmao

Lucifer just disappearing and going to the demon lords castle so no one can find him xD

Everyone's confessions when I was in the coma; Beel brought snacks and Satan read a book TwT

Finding out about Asmo + Solomon's pact in the OG! timeline. And Asmo getting into some real deep convos.

Beel's confession.

Solomon missing Barbatos :3

Helping Diavolo in the King trials!

Bel and Mammon also had a lot of character development!

[antrea]

the wings literally eliminated us and they’re in our tag complaining??? Like if you have to rely on the team you eliminated just minutes ago, that’s on you bud. They need to take it up with the red wings and get the hell out of our tag

i really don't know lmao and as a hockey newbie who's literally started watching since like feb this year, people can pull their goalies at 8 min left if they want to? i don't understand lmao 3 min is not a new concept

but yeah i agree bottom line is what the hell are you doing tagging such hatred in OUR TAG lol. this is the kinda shit that i thought i would leave behind on twt. but anyway i blocked that person ☺️

[liberifatalis]

Hello there. Also saw you on Twitter. Can I ask you your impressions of the finale of FF7Rebirth ? Expectations from the third part? Is there even a tiny hope for resurrection? (this is the question that has been tormenting me since the announcement of the remake)

hiii!

i'm still very emotional after finishing rebirth i have a lot of thoughts but in general i really did love the ending. it was unexpected but i think they executed it well. i was one of those people who wanted to see the same stuff that happened in the original (like cloud laying aerith to rest in the lake) but i think we'll either see that in part 3 or we won't if aerith somehow comes back. i was kinda expecting to see the party mourn a bit more but iirc in OTWTAS it's mentioned they didn't even have time to mourn until after everything was over so it made sense. i love how you can just see how much the party loves and cherishes aerith and the moment after you're finished all the boss phases and everyone (except cloud lol) is sittng around defeated and in shock...it really hit home and was super effective.

i really loved how aerith had such a strong focus, as well as her relationship with cloud. whether you ship them or not there's no denying they're important to each other and the story overall so as someone who loves clerith i was so happy squenix went above and beyond with them.

i am a bit confused though i know a lot of people are making their theories and connecting the dots but i'm always kind of left feeling a bit behind when it comes to squenix stories lmao. i do think there's a lot of hints and symbolism that suggests aerith is either alive in another timeline or will be reuinted with the party but i also wouldn't be surprised if squenix was baiting us the entire time and they won't give us that at all. it's meant to lead up to advent children so i originally thought that aerith is gone for sure in our timelinebut then after the ending cgi cutscene i'm like????

i think i'm gonna expect the unexpected when it comes to part 3. i think we'll see aerith somehow and in some way. i always wanted her to live and if we at least get to see her in another timeline, and the party reunites with her even if just for a moment i'll be happy even though it's bittersweet. the whole "worlds reborn and worlds merging" thing makes me think that maybe, MAYBE, squenix were being purposely misleading with the whole "it leads up to advent children".

i really like this thread on twt and this is how i see the ending. but i still think a lot of things are up in the air and i really have no idea what we'll get in part 3. hopefully i'm not rambling on too much TT what did you think of the ending and what are your theories?

[relaxxattack]

hi! it's me :) fic rec anon. things have been hard lately so i have some more stuff to recommend bc it makes me feel better. uh, this one's mostly a like, grab bag of stuff? miscellany yknow. let's get into it (also if i have any repeats of stuff you've rec'd here before then Whoops)

pilot light, pale rapture is a post-game fic about jade and her Issues. jade/davepeta. has some excellent jane work in there and is meant to imply june pre-transition. i'd also like to recommend this author's other work, including the collected works of the originators, and the fanventure kittyquest which you can find on mspfa. both the collected works and kittyquest are about a richly detailed take on earth C, with accompanying myths; kitty quest is about jade and davepeta's daughter kitty harley-leider. very very good.

estrogamer girl is about trans girl roxy! very sweet. gen.

METHODOLOGY AND INTERPRETIVE "RECORD" OF SOULBOT WRECK AA109.23J2 – [DRAFT] is about a post-game grad student accessing the wreckage of one of aradia's soulbots postcanon, and experiencing the feelings of a doomed timeline's aradia. ararezi, outsider pov.

who could ask you to be unbroken or brave again is a fic about rose and vriska talking about trauma and child abuse post-canon. gen.

Metronome of a Night Queen's Heart and Other Unused Romance Novel Names is a fic in which kanaya asks dave to be her bloodbag after becoming a vampire, causing rosemary and davekat misunderstandings. rosemary and davekat.

Jade: Endure is about what it would have been like for jade to grow up with her corpse in her own house. short and very good. gen.

grant me wings that i might fly is about jade english raising jake english up to her eventual death. very good. gen.

DIRK TAKES A PISS is , okay listen i know from that title oyou might be like, fic rec anon, What are you recommending to me BUT LSITEN ITS ABOUT DIRK ACCIDENTALLY DROPPING HIS PACKER ON THE FLOOR OF A BATHROOM AND GETTING MEET CUTE'D. it's good. okay. dirkjake.

one more night (your ex-lover remains dead) is a junejasprose fic about trauma and what it means to be a rose left behind. if you're going to read ANY jasprose fic you have to read this one it's literally iconic to me and changed the way i see her forever. junejasprose.

Light Without Effulgence is a jake & rose friendship manifesto and it is HILARIOUS. "rose, you gather, is like dirk if he were a woman and capable of being happy" like that's hilarious to me. gen.

Bitter is a fancomic about jade and rose and i'm not going to spoil the surprise of what it's about but it's DELICIOUS. jaderose.

CHARGING THE VOID is a space opera roserezi au with hints of vrisrezi left behind and also both rose and terezi are trans and also it's DELICIOUS like i can't even say anything about it. if anyone has read baru cormorant and is familiar with it it's like that. roserezi, unlike pretty much anything else i've recced here it DOES have a sex scene so if you're uncomfortable with that it's not for you.

think about staying alive is a kidswap au! about rose strider my favorite kidswap <3 gen.

Postscript is about rosefef, rebellion au, being the last two left alive carrying out a rebellion against the condesce. rosefef.

Transperience is about calliope and the trans experience! fancomic, gen. very good.

goddess is about june egbert coming out! can you tell i'm a june egbert Believer gsdlkjfsakldj it's gotten to the point it's hard to read fic where she's called john lmao

I'm Hoping One Day Acting Cool Will Make Me Feel More Self Assured is about kanaya maryam and the burdens of being assigned mom friend. rosemary. also she and rose have a long furby.

we are the reckless is a space opera au in which vriska's a pirate captain and aradia's a helmsman. i love the blackrom in this. aravris.

i think this is enough for rn. have fun!

AND WHEN THE WORLD NEEDED THEM MOST…

THEY RETURNED!!!

thank you so much!!!!! these all look very fun and it’s definitely appreciated TwT and kind of you!!! 💞💞💞

[mblue-art]

Even if I really love OG Nightmare if I ever saw him? I'd run as fast as I could not caring about things left behind.

But /then/ while Strawberry Nightmare looks hotter and se- I mean cuter, in the back of my head there's that alarm constantly ringing DANGER... But if I ever saw him I don't think I would be able to run. Honestly, I feel like he is bigger danger than OG, but at the same time I just want to give him whatever he wants.

It's the first time for me. I'm scared lol

The amount of power he has by existing alone is terrifying.

(And just something for thought- Nightmare's goop is supposedly liquid(?) negativity if I remember correctly and around internet there's headcanon that his goop tastes like apples, 'cause what changed him was corrupted apple. (-I think you even wrote about it)

Then what does it say about Strawberry...? Both taste and what his tentacles are from)

(And if Nightmare's were negativity then??? I'm sorry but the only thing I can think of that would be also pink is lust ;-; and his creator's blog is deleted so-)

(I'm sorry if you are tired of people constantly talking about Strawberry Nightmare here 😅)

I hope you're doing fine, have a good day!

Good thoughts, op. Good thoughts!

He appreciates your praise.

(Ramblings under the cut qwq;;)

Well, I think he's supposedly a food-themed (specifically strawberry) NM by design, so his goop would taste like strawberries, like how OG/Classic NM's would be apples. (Canon NM? Stinky. Stinky stinky old man. Sorry, Nightmare, your garbage scent is replaced with apples now. /j)

Maybe S!NM’s goop either tastes like sweet strawberries or something weird that makes you feel bad; you’ll never know! :]

Thinking back to the 2p! thing, he does feel like an opposite to NM, with all the cute, happy smiling and the brightness- as opposed to NM's dark edginess. If he wasn’t food-based, and if he’s actually designed to be an opposite of NM, is there some swap thing going on with his twin brother? I haven’t seen anyone else draw his Dream, but I have found an artist on twt who drew their pink NM with a blue Dream. I think it’s also interesting to see a happy-looking guardian of negativity next to a grumpy-looking guardian of positivity.

And since we don't have much canon info about him, I kiiinda went ham on the S!NM posts in the past sfjndfks It's fun to think about what headcanons I should slap on this guy.

Speaking of, I have a headcanon that S!NM has the choice to either feed off of your negative emotions and do nothing else, or actually 'take' those negative feelings away- still feeding himself- and you would end up not having those negative feelings anymore. (I saw this comic on twt and I like the idea.)

Oh haha, just realized he could do the latter so he could let you feel at ease around him. (Either done with good intentions or not, depending on the situation...) (Man, look at this evil man with his evil plans. insert stock photo of goofy scheming hands or whatever)

If NM wants to rule the Multiverse, maybe S!NM just wants to have fun terrorizing people. Classic NM? You bet he'd visit him just to annoy him. He has a simp army? Neat! More people to play with. Who knows what goes on in that skull of his. You want him to be soft? Oh, he can be. After a tiring day, sink into his arms as he takes your worries away… What happens next is all up to your imagination.

(Oooh, him having his own strawberry/fruit/sweets gang or whatever... Hmm- ah- nah nope no I’m not going down this hole lmao I’ll stop here LOL)

I’m really just throwing these ideas out there, bc idk what the man’s background story is, if there even was one.

(And it’s alright, I like seeing what people think of him and what headcanons people have; it shows the fandom's creativity ^u^ I just don’t think I’ll be able to respond to every ask yk;;)

thank u for the well wishes, i appreciate it very much. i hope you have a nice day too <3

[a-walking-contradiction]

Why are these dumb posts getting so many likes and reblogs???? Anyway here's part 3 of SPG screenshots I have (with captions)

Yeah I'd be concerned too Spine, why is there a mini you with shades behind you???

Now if you take a look to your left, you can see we have mountains here, and a lot of grass. Very interesting isn't it. (Hatchy is now a tour guide)

Badass Rabbit, that's it. Did you expect anything more? No.

He looks so confused on why Rabbit is just there. Why do I do this? This is why I never have any storage lmao.

The Spine is just so determined, not sure why.

Okay, so this isn't the last of this random series thingy, I'm just needing more screenshots lol. These captions are really dumb this time aren't they? Sorry TwT

Take it SPG fandom!

[maplecornia]

Have We Met Before

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 1.96K

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: CEO jay x barista male!OC

𝘎𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦: MAJOR amounts of fluff, soulmate au, s2l

RELEASE DATE: hopefully sometime next week, but if not then expect it in a month's time LMAO

𝘢/𝘯: I know this could technically be a fic if I really wanted it to be, but I have a longer fic planned after this LMAO I'm not really used to writing teasers, but this will have to do for now. Plus I wanted to get this out just in case I'm not able to release the official fic before @ficscafe 's au pairing event ends.

UPDATE :: nvm this is going to remain as a one-shot (but I may turn it into a au on my twt acc)

BTW, I use lyrics from Eric Nam’s “Have We Met Before” in this fic, so that’s what the words in italics are. ALSO this is a part of the @ficscafe au pairing event for the pairing: CEO x Barista

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: Maybe in another life, I knew you

Is fate real? Or do we live life only on coincidences people are willing to let us see? Perhaps it's in these moments that we really believe love is achievable. Because fateful encounters are easier to believe, than the reality which holds us back.

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: none (besides some overly fluffy, and awkward scenes)

𝘛𝘢𝘨𝘴 [OPEN]: @ficscafe | @nikiskies | @liliansun | @jayflrt | @heelariously

Have we met before?

That is the first thought that comes to mind the minute he walks through the door, the bell jingling behind him in symphonic harmony.

A tune that now plays on the corners of my heart and leaves me breathless.

Maybe in another life, I knew you.

He’s tall with strong features and piercing dark eyes. His hair, neat and slicked back, is considerably long and ravenous, making his long dark eyelashes and deeply plumed lips stand out against his sun-kissed skin. He wears a crisp suit, subconsciously buttoning his striped blazer as he enters the cafe. Taking in the place, he straightens his tie, drawing attention to his elongated neck and distinctive Adam's apple resting just below his chin. To top matters off, he has a sharp and chiseled jawline, one that I would bet could even cut glass if he tried hard enough. When those dark brown eyes find their way to mine, I can feel my legs shake in intimidation, my heart pulsating with a strong desire to be close to him.

Maybe if I try I'll see right through you.

“Uhm, hello?”

God, even his voice sounds like heaven itself. Deep and raspy, a slight hum playing in the back of his throat each time he utters a word, almost as though he were ready to break into tune at any moment. I can feel myself swaying closer to him, almost as if he were drawing me in. Like a siren playing a wordless enchanting echo only to lead me to my imminent death against the sharp rocks hidden within the tide.

And I'll remember who we were.

“Haneul!”

At Ryujin’s sharp tone, I blink awake, noticing that I’m practically leaning over the counter, the man staring at me in confusion and mild discomfort as I gawk up at him with wide eyes. Quickly I pull myself away, and back to the safety behind the register, clearing my throat and salvaging what is left of my dignity.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” I murmur abashedly, avoiding his piercing stare. Swallowing hard, I busy myself with the register, preparing to take his order. “How may I help you today?”

Behind me, I try hard to ignore Ryujin’s amused scoff and force what I hope to be a convincing smile as I not so subtly kick her in her shin. She shrieks, turning to me and giving me a death glare, but when I motion to the customer, she reluctantly turns away mumbling obscenities under her breath at my expense. Rolling my eyes, I turn back to him, surprised at the small smile his lips have spread into, a rosy tint on his cheeks as he chuckles at the strange encounter. I can feel my heart pounding at the sweet sound, my ears twitching in familiarity.

I swear I feel you in my memory.

“I would like a cappuccino please.” He says in answer to my former question, a dazzling smile still present on his face, and his eyes never straying from mine. “With a cinnamon roll and some chocolate drizzle on top, if that’s at all possible.”

I think I've seen you in my dreams.

“Okay, what’s your name, and would you like that here or to go?” When he doesn’t answer right away, I peer up at him a bit confused. He seems to be hesitating, his eyes meeting mine, but straying somewhere far away. When his phone rings in his hand, however, they almost darken in disdain and he shakes his head before hanging up the incoming call and pocketing the phone.

“Jay Park, and I’ll have it to go please.” He answers me with a strained smile.

Maybe you and I have history.

I nod, trying to ignore the way that expression on his face makes my heart ache, as I punch the order into the machine. On the bright side, however, now I can put his face to a name. A simple but cute name, one that I’ll be sure to remember. I smile to myself at the thought and repeat it over and over in my brain. Trying to engrain it in my memory, and treasure a small piece of information that brings me closer to him.

“That will be six dollars and ten cents,” I inform him and he nods, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his wallet.

“Here, you can keep the change,” Jay murmurs, handing me a twenty-dollar bill.

Okay so on top of being hot, he’s rich too? I stare at him from the corner of my eye, a little suspiciously, but look quickly away before he can catch it.

Honestly, who is this guy? And why does he seem so familiar? Is there something I’m missing?

Shaking the feeling away, I break up his twenty and donate the rest of the money to one of our many sponsored charities before completing his order and printing his receipt. I don’t pay any attention to his attentive stare, or the way the corner of his mouth quirks upward at the sight of the donation.

Tearing the receipt from the machine, I hand it to him, giving him a chivalrous smile. “Thank you, we’ll have your order ready soon.”

He nods but speaks before I can turn away to prepare his order. Luckily, Ryujin is still lurking around so she starts to prepare his cappuccino, and I busy myself with retrieving his cinnamon roll as he talks.

“I wonder…” He murmurs half to himself but catches my full attention. His small smirk only grows at the sight of my wide curious eyes meeting his before he continues. “Have we met before?”

But I don't think you know me.

I can feel my heart beating faster at the question, surprised that he felt the same familiarity I did as soon as he walked in. Turning around, I try to laugh it off as I grab the chocolate drizzle and expertly apply it to the top of the cinnamon roll.

“I don’t believe so.”

“Strange,” he ponders as I turn back to him, with his bagged cinnamon roll. “I think I know you.”

I swallow hard at the butterflies that swoon deep in my stomach at the sound of the sentiment. I chuckle shakily as I place the cinnamon roll down on the counter, the only thing separating us two. Inwardly, I remind myself that it isn’t attractive to randomly start screaming in public spaces, no matter how excited you may get.

Maybe in another time, I loved you.

For a moment, I could almost swear he wanted to say something more, but his phone rings in his back pocket. I can see the annoyance in his eyes as he pulls it out, but at the sight of the caller ID, it’s clear that he can’t ignore it this time. He smiles apologetically towards me before excusing himself to take the call.

Maybe you're the one that I would run to

I watch him go, admiring the way his hair glistens in the soft speckles of sunlight that make it into the cafe through our windows. Or the way he carries himself with such command and elegance, perfectly balanced and sophisticated. I can’t help but want to reach and take his face within my hands. Explore the depths of those eyes, just to see how many ways they can make me feel. Maybe run my hands through the silky locks of his hair, press my fingers against his lips to see if they’re as soft as they appear to be on the surface.

I don't know why it's all a blur

“Hey, Haneul!” Startled, I turn to Ryujin, who's peering out from behind the wall that separates the drive-through window and kitchen from the rest of the cafe. She seems a bit stressed as she holds out Jay’s ready-made cappuccino for me to take. Even when things are a bit slow, it can get a bit tedious only having two baristas on hand during work. “Hurry up, I have a customer waiting in the drive-thru for me to take their order.”

I nod, taking the cup from her and grabbing a cup sleeve as I return to the counter, carefully slipping it over the plastic. She disappears once more behind the wall, rolling her eyes as she tries to address the customers as politely as she can.

Smirking to myself, I rummage around in my apron before I pull out one of the many assorted Sharpies I keep hidden there. I had originally planned on just writing his name on the cup sleeve like you’re normally supposed to do, but as I glance towards him out of the corner of my eye, a mischievous plan hatches in my brain. Biting the inside of my cheek, I ponder a moment before scribbling out a tiny message on the cup, right beside his name. Once I’m finished, I hold it at an eye’s length, regarding it with quiet satisfaction.

“What are you doing?”

At the sound of his voice, I flinch, nearly spilling the cappuccino all over the floor. Luckily, I’m able to catch myself before anything dastardly happens, but I turn to him, not even bothering to hide my annoyance. He smiles sheepishly at the look, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment.

‘’I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Almost immediately I feel guilty for the way I reacted, how could I not what with the way he looks so wounded?

“Don’t worry about it,” I reassure him, clearing my throat as though that would help me get rid of the awkward atmosphere that has now blossomed between us.

Yeah, cause you haven’t been awkward this entire time.

Inwardly beating up my subconscious I smile as I push his order towards him, careful to make sure that he doesn’t notice the small message I left for him. At least, not yet.

“Thank you very much.” He smiles, taking the order gratefully and preparing to leave. “It was nice talking to you, Haneul.”

My smile fades as he guesses my name. In the back of my mind, I wonder if he’s a psychic or some kind of stalker, but when my eye catches sight of my badge, I nearly want to jump off a cliff to rid myself of the immediate embarrassment. As he turns, giving me a small wave, I can tell that my reaction was intended, and I have half a mind to flip him off as he walks away from me. But instead, I just laugh to myself, allowing the giddy feeling to build up in my chest. I allow myself to do a little dance, laughter bubbling up inside of me as though it were made of the clouds themselves.

And in the back of my mind, the words I wrote on his cup are as clear as the crystal blue sky outside. Perhaps he’s read them by now, maybe he’s smiling too, maybe this way he’ll remember me. Is it so impossible to hope that he’s smiling as brightly as I am? That his eyes are sparkling with the same excitement?

Maybe it’s foolish to think we’re connected and today was the day we finally found each other.

Maybe we’ve met before in some past dream or life. Maybe we weren’t given a chance to be happy then, but we’re being offered that chance now. Maybe fate has connected us through a bright red string and it’s led us to the other after so long. Maybe I’m naive to think that any of this is possible.

But I don’t care, I don’t think I can bring myself to care.

After all...

I think I know you too.

time to make my enhypen masterlist

check out my masterlist for other kpop fanfics

[enzenwriting]

HI !!

adore u is so cute !!! its seriously one of the cutest fics i’ve ever read. (i’m super behind on the chapters lol 💀 but i’m trying to catch up) you’re doing a really good job ! really love how stan twt is very accurate (unfortunately) but that really adds to how entertaining it is.

i also love that jay and yn being equally clueless makes me believe in a happily ever after even though every part of me is screaming WHAT ARE YOU DOING JUST TALK TO EACH OTHER ITS NOT THAT HARD

have a nice day/night !! i’m looking forward to the next update 💗

aaa thank you so much for enjoying adore you!!🥺 I do think I’m still lacking a lot (esp the chemistry/cute interaction between the mcs but I’m gonna make it up on the rest of the remaining chapters I promise😭) but thank you for the compliment! and dw!! I’ve been kinda slow updating and there’s few chapters left so you’ll catch up in no time😭 i hope you enjoy the rest of it!💖

and being in stan twt myself, it’s so chaotic over there it’s hard miss everything lmao (though I tried to minimise showing the nasty side of it because, yes unfortunately some stans/things can be v v mean😵‍💫)

thank you for this ask!! It definitely made my night haha have a lovely day/night too and stay safe!💖

[haikyuuwaifu]

0.2

GENRE: Drama, Angst, Humor

Warnings: Swearing

a/n: I know Shiggy’s name is spelled wrong -_- ALSO: @thebetteraizawa- is Y/N. I didn’t realize I had mixed them up :)

MASTERLIST

SIMPS FOR Y/N

-With the money left to him by his grandmother and the money he received upon his shitty fathers passing, Shiggy combined his love of gaming with Dabi’s knack for business. The two of them are the youngest sucessful CEOS at 30 and are deeply in love with Y/N. He and Dabi fight for her attention constantly.

-Dabi left his family behind a long time ago due to *reasons* and had his name legally changed to Dabi. Y/N has no clue he’s the long lost Todoroki. He and Shiggy compete for Y/N’s attention and scare off any potential suitors. 

-Keigo is a dumbass. Send Twt. Rumi keeps the boys in check when Y/N is away. It’s hard work, but someone has to control the SIMPS. Nemuri performs at Kurogiri’s bar. That’s where she met Y/N and she is fiercely protective of the younger woman. Kurogiri and Nemuri have been together for a long time but have yet to marry. Y/N wants them to so she can be a bridesmaid LMAO.

-The work chat is usually Shiggy yelling at Inasa and Mirio. Dabi and Shiggy simping over Y/N. Monoma and Keigo fighting over who is the prettier blonde. Y/N and the girlies swapping tea. 

-In the SIMP chat, dabi and shiggy get shit on for Y/N’s obliviousness. Even though he misses his siblings, Dabi hasn’t spoken to Fuyumi and Natsuo in a number of years. If he had he would have learned that they have nothing to do with their shit father either. Mitsuki was a good friend of Shiggy’s mother. When she died she promised she’d look after him. She gave him the start-up he needed right before his father died. Bakugo is only a couple of years younger than Dabi and Shiggy and the three of them have spent time together on more than one occasion. 

INTRO 1|INTRO 3

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