#I think it was half joking and half genuine

[fear-less]

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 she ignored my letter!

pairing: james potter x f!reader

➥ In which, James writes you a love letter and hides it into your luggage carrying your clothes, not knowing he put it in a pocket you never open.

Warnings: angst, fluff, james pov, this inspired by awae (aka the best show ever)

a/n: heyyy... i had sm fun writing this, can't wait to write the rest of this bc i literally LOVE anne with an e and this is inspired by it ofc!!!! anyways, im barely writing now..smh, its cause im reading manacled and its literally heart breaking... im also editing on ae and its so hard so im slowly learning😭 but i want to finish this mini series by next week!!

series masterlist ! - divider creds: i-mmaculatus & dollywons

James had liked you for a while now. He wasn’t quite sure when it started—maybe it was the way you laughed at his jokes, always the loudest in the room. Or perhaps it was when he’d catch you staring at him, your gaze lingering just a bit too long, thinking he was too distracted to notice.

With the Christmas holidays fast approaching, James knew he had to make a move. He had to let you know how he felt. If you didn’t feel the same, maybe the time apart over the holiday would make it less awkward. But he couldn’t let another term slip by in silence.

Knowing your love for all things old-fashioned, James decided there was no better way to confess his feelings than through a handwritten letter. It felt personal, genuine—something you’d appreciate. But writing it turned out to be harder than he imagined.

He’d written and discarded at least a dozen drafts, each one crumpled and tossed aside in frustration. Finally, after half an hour of agonizing over the perfect words, he settled on this version. It was short, straightforward, and sincere:

Dear, (Y/N)

I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a complete idiot. I’ve tried a hundred times, and every single attempt has been worse than the last. So here’s the truth—I’m hopelessly in love with you.

You’ve probably guessed I’m not great at being subtle. But what I’ve never been able to say outright is how much you mean to me. The way you laugh, the way your nose scrunches when you’re concentrating—Merlin, you make it impossible to focus on anything else. I want you to know that you’ve made me braver, happier, better. If you don’t feel the same, that’s okay—I just needed to get this off my chest.

Yours, James

He sighed deeply, folding the letter carefully before slipping it into an envelope. Your name was written on the front in his slightly shaky handwriting. Taking a steadying breath, he tucked it into the inside pocket of his robes. He’d leave it somewhere you’d find it tomorrow, just before you both left for the holidays.

As he lay awake that night, James tried to figure out the best way to deliver the letter. Should he hand it to you directly? No, that was too nerve-wracking—he’d probably end up babbling like an idiot. Maybe he could slip it into your bag and avoid the risk of witnessing your reaction.

The morning was crisp, the kind of cold that painted your cheeks red and sent little clouds of breath swirling in the air. On the platform, the train sat waiting, puffing out plumes of steam that mingled with the frosty air. It was alive with the sound of students saying goodbye and dragging their luggage over the cobblestones.

James walked beside you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He was doing his best to appear casual, though every step he took felt heavier with the weight of the letter in his robe.

“Let me take that for you,” he blurted suddenly, nodding toward your luggage.

You blinked, surprised by the offer, but your lips curved into a warm smile. “Oh, thanks, James. That’s really sweet of you.”

He shrugged, trying to play it cool, but his ears turned a telltale shade of pink at your words. “What kind of bloke would I be if I didn’t help you out?” he mumbled, his voice tinged with nervous humor.

The two of you chatted as you strolled toward the train. You told him about your plans for the holidays—how you were excited to see your family, how your mum always made far too much food, and how you couldn’t wait to decorate the tree. James listened intently, nodding and laughing at all the right moments, even as his mind raced ahead to the task at hand.

Then, his opportunity came.

You turned away for a brief moment, waving at one of your friends across the platform. James acted quickly, pulling the envelope from his pocket and slipping it into the outermost compartment of your bag. His fingers brushed the fabric for only a second, but it felt like an eternity.

His heart was hammering so loudly he was certain it could be heard over the clamor of the platform. He straightened up just as you turned back to him, completely oblivious to what had just transpired.

“Thanks again for carrying that,” you said with a smile, your eyes meeting his.

James gave a small, lopsided grin and shifted your bag on his shoulder. “Anytime,” he replied, his voice steady despite the storm of nerves swirling inside him.

As the train’s whistle blew, signaling it was time to board, James knew there was no turning back now. All he could do was wait—and hope that when you found the letter, you’d read it and understand the words that had taken him so long to say.

It had been days since you’d left for the holidays, and James still hadn’t heard from you. Each passing day only worsened the sinking feeling in his chest.

Did you not feel the same? Did you hate him for ruining the friendship? Or worse, were you so disgusted by his confession that you couldn’t even bear to send him a letter saying so?

By Christmas morning, the knot of worry in James’s stomach had become unbearable. He’d stopped pacing and pretending not to care. He spent the early hours staring at the window, waiting for an owl that seemed as though it would never come.

But then, just as the first rays of sunlight streamed through his frosted window, he saw it—a familiar owl perched outside, clutching a small envelope in its talons. His heart leapt with a desperate flicker of hope. Maybe you’d only just found the letter. Maybe you’d taken your time because you wanted to write something perfect.

James hurried to open the window, shivering as the cold air rushed in. The owl extended its leg, allowing him to untie the letter. “Thanks, mate,” James murmured, absently offering the owl a treat before it flew off into the winter sky.

His fingers trembled as he opened the envelope, eager to see your handwriting. But his heart sank the moment he read the first line.

“Happy Christmas, James!”

No mention of his letter. No response to his confession. Just a short, cheerful note wishing him a wonderful holiday and apologizing for not writing sooner. You explained that things had been hectic at home and promised to catch up with him soon.

James felt his chest tighten, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. The hope he’d been clinging to was slipping through his fingers.

You’d ignored his letter.

You’d chosen to act as though he’d never written it at all, as if he’d never poured his heart out on that piece of parchment.

James scoffed, his grip on the letter tightening. Fine, he thought bitterly. If you were going to pretend his confession didn’t exist, he could do the same.

He shoved the letter onto his desk, glaring at it as if it were the source of his frustration. Deep down, though, he knew the truth: he didn’t want to ignore you. He wanted to write back, to ask if you’d found the letter, to make sure you weren’t upset with him.

But pride was a stubborn thing, and James Potter wasn’t about to let his vulnerability show again—not now.

As the snow fell softly outside his window, James sat in silence, staring at the letter and wondering if he’d made a mistake by ever writing to you in the first place.

When it was time to return to Hogwarts, James made no effort to find you. Normally, he’d scan the platform, pretending it was a coincidence whenever his eyes landed on you. This time, he couldn’t bring himself to look.

He saw you anyway, just briefly—standing near your family, your face lit up with that familiar smile. His heart leaped in his chest, and his legs almost betrayed him, ready to stride over and say something, anything. But he stopped himself.

Instead, James turned sharply, mumbling a quick goodbye to his parents before heading onto the train. He didn’t want to see you—not now.

The walk through the train felt heavier than usual. He knew exactly where his friends would be—the same compartment they’d claimed since their first year—but it felt like an eternity to get there. When he finally slid open the door, the familiar faces of Sirius, Remus, and Peter greeted him.

“Oi, Prongs!” Sirius called cheerfully, but his grin faltered when James slumped onto the seat next to Peter with a loud huff.

James leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. He could feel Sirius’s gaze on him, curious and probing.

“What’s got your wand in a knot?” Sirius asked, unable to resist.

“Don’t.” James’s voice was sharp, firm. It was rare for him to be in a foul mood, let alone snappish.

Sirius raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I won’t say a word.”

The tension in the compartment was palpable. The train rattled on, and the usual chatter of the four friends was noticeably absent. Sirius kept stealing glances at James, who sat brooding, arms crossed. Peter fidgeted nervously, while Remus flipped through a book, clearly uncomfortable with the silence.

Finally, about an hour into the ride, James broke.

“She ignored my letter.” His voice was low, bitter, but it shattered the quiet like a hex.

The others exchanged looks before Peter spoke hesitantly. “She really ignored it?”

“Yes, Peter,” James snapped, his tone sharp enough to make Peter flinch. Realizing what he’d done, James sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” Peter mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

“Maybe she didn’t see it,” Remus offered, his tone calm and rational. “What if it got lost in her luggage? Or someone else found it and hid it? Maybe you gave her another piece of parchment? There’s always a chance—”

“Moony, no.” James cut him off, his voice strained. “I double-checked. It was the right letter, in the right spot. And who doesn’t check their trunk full of clothes over the holiday?”

“Maybe she doesn’t,” Sirius said with a shrug, trying to lighten the mood. “You know, women can be unpredictable. Maybe she’s got a secret stash for random letters in her trunk.”

“No, she checks,” James said with certainty. “I’ve slipped plenty of things into her luggage before, and she’s always found them. She just doesn’t fancy me back.” His voice cracked slightly at the end, but he forced a small, bitter smile. “And it’s fine. I’ll get over it. I always do, right?”

The compartment fell silent again, the weight of James’s words sinking in.

Sirius leaned forward, a flicker of frustration in his eyes. “It’s not fine, James. If she didn’t fancy you back, that’s one thing. But ignoring you? That’s—”

“Don’t,” James interrupted quietly, his gaze fixed on the floor. “Don’t make it worse, Padfoot.”

Sirius bit back a retort and leaned back in his seat, muttering under his breath.

The rest of the ride passed more comfortably, but the shadow of James’s disappointment lingered. His friends cracked jokes and told stories, trying to lift his spirits, but even when he laughed, it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Deep down, James wondered if he’d ever stop wishing that you’d read his letter and felt the same way.

Hours later, everyone had gathered in the Great Hall. The enchanted ceiling reflected the dusky evening sky, and the buzz of students catching up after the holiday filled the room. Normally, James would sit with Sirius to his left, you to his right, and Remus and Peter across from him. It was a familiar arrangement, one you’d fallen into without question.

But tonight, James broke the routine.

He subtly nudged Peter into the spot on his right before sitting down, leaving the space where you’d usually sit conspicuously empty.

You walked in a moment later, scanning the Gryffindor table until you spotted your usual group. But when you approached, your steps faltered. Peter sat where you always did, looking apologetic but saying nothing.

Your eyes darted to James, silently questioning him, but he avoided your gaze, his attention fixed stubbornly on his plate.

Confused, you looked to Remus for an explanation. Out of all the Marauders, he was the one you trusted most to give you a straight answer. But Remus only shrugged, his expression carefully neutral, though the twitch at the corner of his mouth hinted at discomfort.

You scoffed, your chest tightening. First, James ignored you all through the holiday, and now he didn’t even want to sit near you? Fine. If he wanted to sulk like a child, you weren’t going to beg for his attention.

Without another word, you turned on your heel and walked further down the table, sliding into a seat beside your other group of friends. You forced yourself to laugh at their jokes and join in their chatter, but your mind kept wandering back to James.

At the Gryffindor table, James���s eyes flicked toward you more often than he’d admit. Every time he saw you laughing with your friends, his stomach twisted.

“Why is she acting like I’m the one in the wrong?” James muttered under his breath, jabbing at a piece of roast potato with his fork.

“Maybe because you’re acting like a prat?” Sirius replied, his tone laced with amusement as he leaned closer.

James shot him a glare.

“Look, Prongs,” Sirius continued, dropping the teasing. “She doesn’t know what’s going on. You didn’t even give her a chance to explain, and now you’re sulking like a first-year who lost his chocolate frog cards.”

“Explain what? She ignored my letter, Padfoot. What’s there to explain?” James hissed, though his tone lacked its usual conviction.

Remus sighed, setting down his goblet. “Did it ever cross your mind that maybe she doesn’t even know what letter you’re talking about?”

James froze, his fork hovering mid-air.

“Just talk to her, mate,” Sirius said, giving James a nudge. “Or don’t. But if you keep this up, you’re only making it worse—for both of you.”

James huffed, slumping back in his seat. The truth was, he didn’t know if he had it in him to face you just yet.

From across the hall, you caught the way James’s shoulders sagged, and for a brief moment, you considered walking over. But pride held you in place. If James wanted to act like this, fine. Two could play that game.

You and James hadn’t spoken in what felt like weeks. The once effortless connection you shared had been replaced with an awkward silence that weighed heavily on you. It wasn’t just James—it felt like the whole group of Marauders had grown distant, their usual antics and inside jokes missing their spark when you were around.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d done something to upset him. But what? You racked your brain for answers, replaying every interaction from the past few months. James had always been one of your closest friends—why was he acting so strange?

Charms class was the hardest part of it all. You always sat beside James, sharing notes, exchanging whispers, and stifling laughs when Professor Flitwick wasn’t looking. Now, you sat in the same spot, the chair next to you glaringly empty.

You tried to focus on the professor’s instructions, but your thoughts were louder than his voice. Scribbling aimlessly in your notebook, you hardly noticed when someone approached your desk.

“Are you alright?”

Startled, you looked up to see a boy with a blue-and-bronze tie standing beside you. His face was vaguely familiar—you’d seen him around in class but had never spoken to him.

“Yeah—yes, I’m fine,” you stammered, blinking in confusion. Why was he talking to you?

He gave a polite, slightly amused smile. “Well, can you move your stuff? I’m sitting here now. We’re partners for the project.”

“Oh!” Heat rose to your cheeks as you hurriedly shoved your books to one side. “Sorry about that. I didn’t realize.”

“No worries,” he said, settling into the chair beside you. “I figured you weren’t paying attention—no offense. But I was, so I’ll explain what Professor Flitwick said.”

You managed a small smile, relieved by his casual tone. “Thanks. That’s… helpful.”

While he began outlining the project details, your focus wavered, glancing at James out of the corner of your eye. He was across the room, seated next to a loud and enthusiastic partner who seemed to be trying desperately to get his attention. But James wasn’t listening.

His gaze was fixed on you.

There was a flicker of something in his expression—jealousy, maybe? Regret? Whatever it was, it made your stomach twist.

You quickly turned your attention back to your new partner, nodding along to his explanation, even if you weren’t entirely listening. You felt James’s eyes on you the entire time, but you refused to look back.

Across the room, James’s jaw clenched. His partner waved a hand in front of his face, snapping him out of his trance.

“Oi, Potter! Are you even listening?”

“Huh? Yeah, sure,” James muttered, though his eyes drifted back to you moments later.

He hated this—seeing someone else sitting beside you, making you smile when that used to be his seat, his job. But he didn’t know how to fix it. The letter. The silence. The way he’d avoided you. It all felt too big now, too messy to undo.

Still, James couldn’t stop watching you, his heart sinking further with every laugh you shared with your new partner.

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[mixingandmelting]

Hii,

I'm not sure if your requests are open but I wanted to ask you if you could write a Dick Grayson x reader one where the reader is the daughter of one of Bruce's business partners and they meet at some sort of charity gala and he's instantly smitten with her.

Feel free to ignore this if you have too much to do.

Thanks ❤️

Witty, charming, and someone who matches his humor. He didn’t think he’d hit the jackpot tonight. Initially he had simply wanted to keep you company after seeing you all alone at your table. He expected either shy and sheltered or spoiled and flirty.

“A table for one at a gala?”

“What do you mean? Can’t you see I’m actually with three others?”

“Oh really? And they are…?”

“Me, myself and I.”

It comes with a pleasant surprise how the roles reverse and it’s him getting entertained by you. He lost track of how long he stayed at your table, unable to stop himself from chatting with you. You’re where the party’s at in this boring event and it confuses him how no one else has attempted to strike up a conversation with you for this long. Not that he’s complaining; he’s plenty satisfied to have you to himself. Your jokes draw genuine laughter from him while your laughter is just as infectious. The way your eyes sparkle and crinkle as you do- he rests his head onto his hand, admiring it and not wanting it to disappear. He can’t get enough. 

There’s no barrier or rich people’s behavior seen despite you introducing yourself as the daughter of one of Bruce’s many business partners and him as Bruce Wayne’s adoptive son not too long ago. Not even an hour in and you both are acting as friends that haven’t seen each other in ages. Perhaps even more if he plays his cards right tonight. Take you out for a nice walk. Grab something to eat. If you’re into it, watch a movie. All of the ideas that come from him jesting about rich people never imagining or having no knowledge of what the common people do for fun only for you to snort about how else were you to learn to talk and behave like them then. 

“Earth to Dick?”

Oops. He flushes under the smirk that dances on your lips, caught red-handed for day-dreaming his date with you. Not that you’d know the last part, but still.

“Am I starting to bore you yet?”

Yet? This whole time you were trying to get rid of him? The grin you give as you take a sip of whatever’s in your flute tells him otherwise. Returning one of his own, he’s about to respond before someone behind him calls your name. 

Turning around are your parents, walking side-by-side with none other than Bruce who raises an eyebrow at him. Ugh. Great. He most definitely won’t hear the end of this one. Looking back at you, he catches a spark of wistfulness in your eyes that quickly disappears as you give him one last smile. 

“Seems like that’s my cue.”

“Wait.” He’s conscious with his grip on your arm, gentle yet firm to grab your attention. “If you’re into it, mind giving me your number and we can hang out later?”

You bite your lip when you’re thinking. Good to know; definitely something that won’t leave his mind for a while. He tries not to show how giddy he is when you extend your phone out towards him. Giving him a tiny wave, you leave while telling him you would text him. The rest of the night goes uneventful as he mingles with others, half paying attention to what they say as he continues to think about you. Others including his family who wouldn’t stop giving him crap. 

It’s once he reaches back to his place and comes out of the showers, he gets a text. Drying his hair with a towel in one hand, he looks to see your name with a sunglasses emoji under your number. His heart somersaults and he fist pumps the air. He can regret not sleeping tomorrow morning, for now all he wants is to talk to you and make the date between you and him a reality.

[marzipanandminutiae]

Genuinely curious, why is the mortal instruments considered the plagiarism series? I haven't ever heard this about it before.

Oh man

so basically they started life as fanfic written by Cassandra Clare, specifically Harry Potter incest fanfic. whatever; I don't judge and this was before JKR showed her ass

...except some of that fanfic was plagiarized from other people's works- other novels, movies, TV shows, etc. and some of those sections ended up in the final published books

now, did all of the creators of those works suffer for it? no. I think Buffy was one of the shows copied, and I doubt Joss Whedon is losing a dime because of it. but it's still sketchy as hell, even though it's not the biggest deal as writer scandals go and I was partially being flippant since characters from the series were up against some of my faves

(has anyone checked to make sure she's not still doing it though? genuinely curious there since the whole thing faded into legend. if she's moved on, it becomes a half-shrug wry joke at this point; if she hasn't...)

[coquettemouse]

The loud ring of the school bell echoed through the hallway, and Leo instinctively covered his ears, wincing at the sound. He was used to it by now, but that didn’t make it any less unpleasant. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the new kid—Jason—doing the exact same thing, though his expression was different. He looked genuinely startled, his face tightening as if the noise had caught him completely off guard.

Leo watched him for a moment, curious. Guess I’m not the only one who hates that thing, he thought to himself.

Meanwhile, Piper was busy packing up her books and notebooks, neatly sliding them into her bag like the organized machine she was. She glanced over at Leo. “Earth to Leo? Our next class.”

Leo gave her a half-smile, still distracted. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.”

The two of them walked to their english class together, joining the crowd of kids heading in the same direction. When they entered the room, the teacher—Mr. Hermes—was already at the front, adjusting a stack of papers. He was this skinny guy with super messy hair and a beard that looked like he just forgot to shave. He always kinda looked like he just rolled out of bed, but he had this cool vibe about him, the kind that made even boring stuff seem kinda fun.

Leo liked Mr. Hermes. He always had a joke or a story up his sleeve, and he wasn’t afraid to bend the rules a little bit if it meant making class more fun.

“Alright, everyone, settle down!” Hermes called out, clapping his hands. “We’ve got something a little different today. I’m giving you an activity to work on in groups of three.”

The class perked up slightly at that. Group activities were always better than sitting through a lecture.

Mr. Hermes continued, waving a paper in the air. “Here’s how it’s gonna work. I’ll hand out the instructions, and you’ll work with your group to come up with some creative answers. You’ll have until the end of class, so don’t waste time deciding on your trios.” He paused, grinning. “And yes, you can pick your own groups.”

The room erupted into chatter as everyone started looking around, deciding who they wanted to team up with.

Piper tilted her head, clearly already thinking about their group. “So, who should we—”

“I wanna team up with the new kid!” Leo blurted out, cutting Piper off. He pointed right at the blonde boy sitting in the back, all quiet like he was trying not to be noticed. Leo didn’t really know why, but something about him just made Leo want to drag him into their group. Maybe it was because he looked so... out of place. Or maybe Leo just thought it’d be fun to see what his deal was.

Piper blinked at him. “Him? Why?”

Leo shrugged, grinning. “I dunno, I just wanna talk to him. He looks kinda cool. And, y’know,” he added with a cheeky glint in his eye, “he probably needs help making friends or something.”

Piper rolled her eyes but smiled anyway. “Fine. But don’t scare him off, okay?”

Leo ignored her and turned to Jason, waving him over. “Hey, Jake! Wanna join our group?” he called out, loud enough for half the class to hear.

Jason’s head shot up, his eyes widening slightly as he looked at Leo, then Piper, then back at Leo again. For a moment, he hesitated, like he wasn’t sure if Leo was serious. But then, with a small, uncertain nod, he grabbed his notebook and slowly made his way over to their table.

Leo beamed. “Cool! You’re with us now. I’m Leo, by the way. And this is Piper. Don’t worry, we’re pretty awesome.”

Jason gave a small smile, his voice quiet but polite. “Thanks. I’m Jason, actually.”

“Yeah, I know,” Leo said, leaning back in his chair. “Mrs. Roberts introduced you, remember?”

Jason shifted awkwardly, clutching his notebook to his chest. “Um, yes,” he said softly. “You called me Jake.”

Leo blinked, then let out a chuckle. “Did I? Oops, my bad. Jason, Jake, same thing, right?”

Piper rolled her eyes, giving Leo a playful nudge. “No, it’s not the same thing, genius. Maybe try listening for once.”

Leo shrugged and Piper let out a sigh. “Well, welcome to the group, Jason. Let’s see what Mr. Hermes has in store for us.”

Leo leaned forward, his excitement bubbling over. “Don’t worry, dude. We’ve got this. With me on your team, there’s no way we can lose.”

[kxttqi]

ノ [01] THE START OF IT ALL (t. oikawa x f!reader)

fic m.list . prev

+ content: swearing, suggestive, crack, kys/kms jokes, manga spoilers for timeskip, written and smau

guys i beg ignore the microsoft emojis its a long story 😢😢

[ send a comment under the fic m.list or send an ask to be added to the taglist!! (4/50) ]

the arrival in brazil had been smooth. yachi had booked a cozy airbnb close to the beach, tucked away in a neighborhood where the scent of saltwater clung to the air and the sound of crashing waves provided a soundtrack to every moment. after a quick power nap—just enough to shake off the haze of the flight—you found yourselves walking along sunlit streets, the kind that felt alive with color, on your way to the beach where hinata was set to play.  

you hadn’t expected to feel so at ease this soon. brazil was bright and unfamiliar, but something about it wrapped itself around you like a warm breeze, coaxing you to settle into its rhythm. what you really hadn’t expected, though, was to run into oikawa tooru at a small café on your first morning.  

the café was tucked into the corner of a quiet street, its awning striped with faded green and white, the smell of fresh pão de queijo wafting out onto the sidewalk. you’d walked into the cafe, still shaking the sleep from your bones, when you noticed him.  

at first, you weren’t sure. the early morning light filtered through the windows at just the right angle to make the edges of everything a little too bright, a little too surreal.   

but it was hard to miss the way he carried himself: tall, composed, every movement so deliberate it felt more like choreography than casual habit. he was standing at the counter, ordering something in fluent portuguese that rolled off his tongue like he'd been born speaking it.  

you knew of him, of course. who didn’t? even if you weren’t religious about every volleyball match, his name was impossible to avoid. he was a figure who existed in stories, in highlight reels, in the corners of conversations you only half-listened to. yet here he was, very much real, very much in front of you.  

your gaze must have lingered too long, because as he turned to leave, his eyes caught yours.  

he smiled.  

“hey,” he said, his voice smooth, warm. “i think i know you. you’re… y/n, right?”  

it took you a second to process. oikawa tooru not only recognized you, but knew your name. you blinked, fumbling to keep your expression neutral even as your stomach twisted itself into knots.  

“uh, yeah,” you managed, suddenly acutely aware of how disheveled you probably looked after the long flight. “that’s me. and… you’re oikawa.”  

he laughed, a sound that was annoyingly charming, the kind of laugh that made you feel like you were the punchline to a joke you hadn’t realized you were telling. “small world, huh? what brings you to brazil?”  

you shrugged, trying to appear unbothered, though the weight of his gaze made it hard to stand still. “vacation, sort of. i’m here with a friend for a university project.”  

his eyes lit up, sharp and curious, and you had the distinct feeling that oikawa was the kind of person who could make you want to spill your life story without meaning to. “a project? what kind of project?”  

you explained it briefly—the film project, how you and yachi were here to gather inspiration and maybe even shoot some footage of hinata’s matches. he nodded along, his interest feeling genuine, which only made you more self-conscious under the weight of it.  

“that’s impressive,” he said. “if you need any help, let me know. i’m not bad with a camera.”  

he grinned, but there was something in his tone—half-joking, half-serious. before you could decide how to respond, yachi appeared by your side, wide-eyed and a little out of breath.  

“y/n! we need to leave soon if we want to get to hinata’s game,” she said, her voice cutting through the haze of the conversation.  

you glanced back at oikawa, offering a small, apologetic smile. “i guess i’ll see you around?”  

he waved as you turned to leave, his grin softening into something easier, less practiced. “yeah, see you.”  

the two of you stepped out into the sunlight, the warmth of the interaction lingering on your skin like the heat rising from the pavement. as you walked away, you couldn’t help but glance back once. he had taken a seat at one of the decorated tables now with what you assumed were some of his argentinian friends, sipping a latte.   

[ tagging: @stwberri @scoupsworld @x3nafix @kenyuukissme ]

© kxttqi — do not repost, copy, translate or steal my works without permission.

[adumbratrapedme]

BABY BUMP | teen pregnancy series pt.2

Synopsis. after revealing your pregnancy to your boyfriend (or after your girlfriend did) a few weeks passed and you finally realize the baby bump is here o.o

characters(all separated): Kiyoko, Yachi, Sugawara wc.idk god | genre. pure fluff !|cw/tags. fluff, teen pregnancy, baby bumps. teen pregnancy series masterlist here!

important ! i'll post something else later too, stay tuned <3

Yachi

It was a rare free afternoon, and you and Yachi had decided to visit the park near her house. It wasn’t anything fancy—just a quiet place with a small pond and a walking trail. You often came here to sit on the grass, watch the ducks, and tease Yachi until she turned red.

Today, the winter chill was just starting to lift, and Yachi had opted for a light cardigan over her dress. You noticed her fidgeting with the buttons more than usual, but didn’t think much of it.

“Y/N, do you think… ducks get jealous of swans?” she asked out of the blue, her voice soft.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Jealous? Of what? Swans just float around acting all dramatic.”

She giggled, her usual shy laugh that made your heart swell. “Maybe they’re jealous of the attention swans get. Like… swans are just bigger ducks with an attitude.”

“Swans are basically the Tsukishima of birds,” you joked.

That earned you a louder laugh, and for a moment, everything felt perfect. As you leaned back on the grass, Yachi moved to sit cross-legged beside you. She adjusted her dress, tugging it down as she leaned forward slightly. That’s when you saw it.

The fabric of her dress stretched just enough to reveal a small, rounded curve at her stomach.

You blinked, your mind racing. Had it always been there? Were you imagining things?

“Yachi…” you said cautiously, sitting up.

She paused mid-laugh, her expression shifting. “Yeah?”

Your eyes flicked to her stomach, and you saw the realization dawn on her face. She immediately crossed her arms over her middle, her face turning bright red.

“D-Don’t look!” she squeaked, her voice high-pitched.

“is that—”

“It’s nothing!” she blurted, scrambling to her feet. But in her haste, she stumbled, and you instinctively reached out to steady her.

“Hey, hey, calm down!” you said, gently holding her by the arms.

Her eyes welled up with tears, and she let out a shaky breath. “I-I was hoping you wouldn’t notice yet…”

Your heart ached at how vulnerable she sounded. “you don’t have to hide this from me,” you said softly.

She sniffled, looking down at the grass. “I didn’t want you to freak out. I-I don’t even know what I’m doing, and—”

“Neither do I,” you interrupted, giving her a small, reassuring smile. “But we can always figure it out.”

Her tearful eyes met yours, and she searched your face for any sign of hesitation. When she found none, she let out a shaky laugh. “I-I was so scared you’d be mad…”

“Mad? Yachi, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I could never be mad at you, besidesm this is something common, it wouldnt be normal for me to be mad.” you chuckled

She bit her lip, her hands resting protectively over her belly. “It’s just… more real you know? I can feel it, and now you can see it too, and…”

You stepped closer, placing a hand gently over hers. “It’s real, yeah. But that doesn’t mean it’s bad. It just means we’ve got a lot to figure out. And we will.”

Her lip trembled, but then she smiled—a soft, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat. “Thank you, Y/N. For… for being you.”

You chuckled, pulling her into a hug. “And thank you for being you, Yachi. Even if you think ducks get jealous of swans.”

She laughed through her tears, burying her face in your shoulder. And as you held her, the future felt a little less scary.

Kiyoko

It was a rare free afternoon, and Y/N had invited Kiyoko over to study. Or at least, that had been the plan.

Instead, both of you were sitting cross-legged on the floor of ur room, surrounded by open textbooks, a half-eaten bag of chips, and a volleyball that you had been mindlessly tossing in the air. Kiyoko was leaning back against the bed, flipping through her notes with her usual focus, while you... failed miserably to concentrate.

“You’re supposed to be studying,” Kiyoko said without looking up, her voice as calm as ever.

“I am,” you protested, though your attention was clearly on her.

She gave you a sidelong glance, her eyebrow raised. “You’ve been staring at me for the past ten minutes.”

“No, I haven’t,”you said quickly, your face heating.You adjusted the volleyball in your hands, trying to play it cool.

Kiyoko sighed and closed her notebook. “What is it?”

you hesitated a little bit, not sure if you should say anything. “Uh… I just… Your shirt looks tighter.”

Kiyoko blinked, her head tilting slightly. “What?”

“Not in a bad way!” you correctted quickly, waving his hands. “I just mean… like, your stomach. It looks, uh…” you gestured vaguely, words failing you.

For a moment, Kiyoko just stared at you, her calm demeanor unreadable. Then, as if realizing something, she looked down at herself. She placed her hand over her midsection, pressing lightly as if to confirm what he’d said.

Her fingers lingered there for a moment before she spoke. “I guess it’s starting to show,” she said softly, her voice quieter than usual.

You swallowed hard,heart thudding in your chest. “Does that… freak you out?”

Kiyoko shook her head, her expression thoughtful. “Not really. I’ve been expecting it. But seeing it is… different.”

You scooted closer, sitting beside her. “It’s kind of… cool, though. Isn’t it?”

She glanced at him, her lips curving into the faintest smile. “You think so?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice warm. “I mean, it’s proof that it’s happening.”

Kiyoko’s gaze softened, and for a moment, she let her guard down completely. “It’s scary sometimes,” she admitted. “But… I think it’s okay.”

You reached out hesitantly, your hand hovering over hers. “Can I…?”

Kiyoko nodded, and you placed the hand gently over hers, feeling the faintest curve beneath her sweater. Your heart swelled, a mix of awe and nervousness washing over him.

“I’ll be here,” you said, his voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside him. “No matter what."

Kiyoko closed her eyes, leaning her head lightly against your shoulder. “You’re still an idiot sometimes, you know.”

“Yeah,” you said with a grin, “but I’m your idiot.”

She let out a soft laugh, the kind that she rarely let anyone hear. And in that moment, surrounded by textbooks and uncertainty, she had no clue what you were doing—but at least, she wouldn't be alone.

Sugawara

The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting soft golden light across the room as Sugawara sat beside you. The day had started like any other, but now there was something different.

You had just finished your morning routine, slipping on your school uniform, but as you stood in front of the mirror, something caught your attention. Your hand instinctively went to your stomach, where you could faintly notice a small bump. It wasn't much, barely noticeable to anyone else, but to you, it felt like the world was shifting beneath you.

Sugawara, who had been tying his shoes at the foot of the bed, noticed you standing still, staring at your reflection in silence. He rose to his feet, his usual easygoing demeanor replaced with concern. "Y/N?" he asked softly.

You turned to him, forcing a smile, but it didn't reach your eyes. "Koushi... I think it's starting to show."

He blinked, his eyes widening for a moment as he processed what you had said. Without hesitation, he stepped toward you, closing the distance between you with a gentle, almost cautious step. His fingers brushed against the fabric of your shirt, resting just above your stomach. He stared at the faint curve, his expression softening with a mixture of awe and uncertainty.

"You’re right," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "It’s... growing."

You looked down, your heart racing. “I don’t know if I’m ready for this. What if I can't do this? What if I can’t handle being pregnant and finishing school at the same time?”

Sugawara gently cupped your face, lifting your gaze to meet his. His expression was steady, unwavering, as if trying to anchor you in the storm of thoughts swirling in your head. "We’re going to get through this, Y/N. Together," he said firmly. “Look at me.”

You met his eyes, and in them, you saw the same determination that had always been there—the same boy who, despite everything, always found a way to take on the impossible.

He took your hand, placing it against the small bump. "This... this little one is ours. And we’re going to be okay. I’m not going anywhere. We’ll figure it out, one step at a time. Whether it's school, volleyball, or... being parents, we’ll do it together."

A tear slipped down your cheek as you felt the weight of his words. "I’m scared," you whispered.

Sugawara reached up, brushing away your tear with his thumb. "Me too. But we’ll figure it out. Honey, and hey" he added, offering a small, reassuring smile. "We’re not the only ones who’ve been through this. We’ve got people we can lean on."

You nodded, feeling a sense of comfort in his presence. The future still seemed uncertain, but with him by your side, it felt like maybe—just maybe—you could handle it.

"Thank you," you whispered, giving him a watery smile.

Sugawara leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "Anytime, darling "

As the two of you stood there, the weight of the moment sinking in, you knew life was going to be different from now on. But with Sugawara, you also knew it would be full of love, support, and the promise that no matter what came next, you wouldn’t face it alone.

TAGLIST:

@chilichopsticks @dreadnoughtus101 @starykari @staygoldsquatchling02

if you want to be part of the taglist you can always DM me or coment! <3 tysm for ur support guysehehrbe

[kebriones]

I have to start writing my little essay thingy for my thesis hm.

"We had an assignment on trauma two and a half years ago. I liked it. I like drawing injuries. I noticed wounds were a recurring theme in my personal work. This was the easiest subject to choose for my thesis and I chose it because i couldn't make up my mind and do something better. I have included handwritten notes of my most explicit painful feelings because people like reading them apparently. They say they feel genuine. It's because they are. This whole thesis is me being angry at my parents or angry at myself or in love or terrified of my body rotting or filled with hatred for everything. Please don't tell my parents. My handwritten notes are a cry for help but they're entertaining. My old professor who has since retired and moved to a remote greek island told me that it's impressive how I handle such heavy subjects with so much humor. The human condition is a bad joke, nothing is ever as pretty as it should be, and that's where artists fit into the world. Please give me a good grade so I can flex on people. In truth, I feel nothing."

Needs some fine tuning but i think we're on the right track

[sagesparrow394]

I was scrolling through the comments of the video now that I’m at the end, and I think I just got a spoiler for later on in prime defenders

Why am I genuinely upset about what apparently happens to Dodgeboy, he’s a literal joke character but I got way too attached to him in these past two and a half hours

But anyway that oneshot was so good!!!! Incredibly emotionally painful, but I genuinely loved all these silly characters

Now back to the Prime Defenders main series grind

Five minutes into the Prime Defenders Elementals oneshot and I was not prepared to hear Charlie’s character description wHAT DO YOU MEAN HE’S A FUCKING HUMAN DODGEBALL-

[aromanticmina]

why did half of the conversations I heard today were about romantic relationships and sex I'm literally so exhausted.

[hellamorte]

wherever you go, that's where i'll follow

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

This one is dedicated to @shirokokuro, who made a lifeguard AU fic to fill the void where there was none.

Read it here! It's great: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51598429

[that-one-poison-trainer]

ooc: people with more than two rp blogs, how the hell do you manage all that?

[ssruis]

Funny to me that rui’s hatred of vegetables stems from the texture (at least partially) but he was willing to eat touya’s nightmare texture cupcake. The touya aoyagi “you have to be so niceys to me” aura can move mountains

[seasnailfish]

hey so is the tumblr part of the fandom still alive because ive got scary trio crumbs

[thekidsarentalright]

seeing a fob fan on tiktok saying this is just like. wowwww ur so quirky and interesting for having this reductive opinion do you want an award?? do you want us to clap because you’re just so special and cool???

[scatterbrainedbot]

as i am currently on that transmasc bloodcycle bullshit, it occurs to me i have a trans blorbo i can in fact make suffer with me

and while im projecting, why not give leo my habit of announcing his predicament in the funniest way possible