#The way he tries so hard to keep all those emotions down but they just are just too powerful 🥺

[brawberryz]

The other family

Batfam Yan! × Negleted Coraline!Reader

《Platonic》

Note: English is not my first language, sorry if there is any translation error

Pt: 1 2

Empty

That's how the mansion felt since you disappeared, your defiant yet adventurous energy had disappeared

The only thing left of you was your abandoned room full of dust, no one had dared to enter

Maybe because of guilt, of believing that they were not worthy of you

They were a horrible family for you and they knew it, and now you were lost somewhere alone and scared

Your disappearance affected everyone in different ways

Richard, who was once the pillar of the family was deteriorating

He still remembers all the times he pushed you away or said he didn't have time, he would do anything to go back in time and apologize to you

Jason, had become more aggressive than usual

He had thought that maybe some criminal or villain had kidnapped you, if Bruce hadn't stopped him Jason would have massacred every criminal who crossed his path

Tim, had been working extra hard he didn't even sleep

He and Bruce were trying to find any clues about you but nothing seemed to work, his room was a mess full of papers and coffee cans and energy drinks

He hoped you were okay and that if you came back you would forgive him for all the times he pushed you away from him

Barbara, she was also trying to find any clues about you, she hacked all the cameras in the city to find some kind of trace of you but there was nothing

She wanted to cry, cry from helplessness she was supposed to be like a sister to you

But all she did was push you further away from her, maybe she focused too much on her own responsibilities that she left aside the most important thing

Her family and you

Cass, had been patrolling more than usual looking everywhere

You couldn't be that far away, but sometimes you thought you just left the mansion

Which wasn't weird, they had treated you like garbage all your life it wouldn't be a surprise if you moved out of the mansion or Gotham

Stehp, She had been patrolling with Cass and Jason but unfortunately they couldn't find any interesting clues either

She was one of the only ones who dared to enter your room, but she hadn't found anything

Just old clothes and some of your belongings, your room felt so empty without you

Maybe what made the mansion feel like a home was you, but you weren't here anymore and maybe you would never come back

Bruce, since you left his life had changed

The same feeling from when Jason had died was back but this time stronger

He tried to keep your disappearance private but for some strange reason all of Gotham found out, now everyone knew that Bruce Wayne's daughter was missing

And of course there was no shortage of rumors, many people said they were a bad father and although he hated to accept it he knew they were right

But he swore that he would find you, and he would put aside his principles and morality if it meant having you back

Damian, he was one of those affected since you left, he had changed completely

He didn't even have that same emotion when he had to go on patrol and most of the time he spent locked in his room

His performance at school had dropped, he wanted to pretend that he didn't care but he knew that wasn't true, since you left he felt as if something important had been taken away from him

And he doesn't understand it, he treated you in the worst way, he insulted and humiliated you

But why does he feel so bad now? Maybe it's the guilt that's consuming him, if you came back would you forgive him for everything?

If you came back would you let him be your brother again? He just wants everyone to go back to the way they were before but it seems as if fate and the world were against him

_

Richard knocked softly on Damian's door, he had been trying to get him to come down for breakfast but his attempts were in vain

He knew Damian was going through a difficult time like the whole family, but he couldn't stay in his room all day ignoring reality

"Leave me alone Richard! I'm not going down..."

Damian shouted at him from the other side of the door

"Fine... but if you're hungry I'll save your breakfast"

Richard said before leaving, he knew he shouldn't pressure Damian but it was very noticeable that something wasn't right in him

Maybe the others didn't notice it but he knew that Damian had been crying more than usual, Damian's red eyes were a clear clue to that

Damian snuggled deeper into his sheets, you hated this and he hated this family

Because of everyone's fault you were now missing, and maybe you would never come back

He just wanted everything to change, he wanted to be with you and He would do anything to not be here

_

Damian was walking through the halls of the mansion, he had been looking everywhere for his cat Alfred but he just couldn't find him

When he was walking through a particular hallway he noticed a strange half-open door

That made him raise an eyebrow, strange...

He had never seen that door before, perhaps his father had built a new room, he could swear that before in that place there was only a wall

Curious he approached the door, opened it completely and there was nothing

It was just a dirty room, but something caught his attention

There was a small piece of furniture in the middle of the room and something was on top of the furniture

It was difficult to know what was on top of the furniture because of the darkness of the room, there weren't even windows

He got a little closer and there he saw it, it was a doll But not just any doll

It looked too much like you, but it seemed strange to him that the doll was a little broken, one of its button eyes It was loose, only leaving one button on.

But the doll wasn't alone, there was another one too.

As soon as he saw the appearance of the other doll, he felt that something was wrong.

The other doll looked like him, but this time this doll had two button eyes, and this one didn't look damaged like the other doll.

But something seemed strange to him, there was a key with a rather peculiar appearance.

It looked worn and strange.

He grabbed the key, he thought it would be useful for something, but just when he was about to close the door again, something caught his attention.

A door.

A door in the wall of the room, he quickly entered the room again with curiosity.

He crouched down to the height of the small door, how was it possible that someone could pass through here?

He tried to open it but it was locked so he decided to use the strange key he had found, maybe that was the key

And just as he predicted the door opened, his eyes widened in surprise when he saw the blue hallway full of swirls that was inside the door

Was this a dream?

No... it couldn't be, this was real

He felt like he shouldn't go in but something inside him told him to do it, maybe it was curiosity that made him enter that strange place

But he did it and decided to go in, he just hoped he wouldn't regret this stupid decision

_

The halls of the mansion looked so different, since he crossed the other door it seemed like he was transported to another place

He thought that the door had taken him to the same place, but it wasn't

The mansion was more colorful and full of life, it felt like a dream

But that didn't last long when he felt something push him into a room

When he was about to attack the stranger he saw you

You

I was alive...

You looked disheveled and it seemed as if you hadn't slept properly for weeks

But what caught his attention the most was one of your eyes, it was a button

Part of your face and right eye had dried blood, he could imagine the pain you felt when they put that in your eye

"What the hell are you doing here!?"

You whispered looking at him scared but angry at the same time, this isn't supposed to be happening

Damian isn't supposed to be here, if the others find out it will be the end of you

You couldn't let him have the same fate as you, you weren't going to allow it

"I think it would be a better question to know what YOU are doing here!"

Damian looked at you accusingly, it took him by surprise that you were here

A part of him was angry that someone had hurt you, he swore he would kill the bastard who dared to touch you and hurt you

"It's hard to explain-"

Before you could finish speaking the two of you could hear a cheerful voice approaching the room

Damian noticed how that voice was very similar to Richard's, before he could ask anything you quickly covered his mouth

"Little sister, lunch is ready now you must come down if you don't want it to get cold!"

You reacted quickly and grabbed Damian to hide him in a small closet in the room

When you were about to close the door you gave him a signal to keep quiet, he a little unsure just accepted confused

You closed the closet door to quickly leave the room

And there he was, "richard" or that's what this thing called itself, but you knew it wasn't him

Just an imitator like the whole family

"I'll be down in a moment, I just have to-" you couldn't even finish your sentence when you felt a hand grab your face, you swallowed nervously when you felt him looking at you, maybe his eyes were button-like but that doesn't mean you didn't find them creepy

"You seem too nervous, are you hiding something from me?"

His cheerful tone quickly changed to a serious one, you quickly denied that he couldn't find out that someone else besides you was here

"No! I would never do that, besides you shouldn't keep secrets, right?"

You said trying to hide your nervousness, the grip on your jaw tightened and made you let out a sound of pain.

"Okay... don't be late, lunch will get cold!"

He said quickly changing his tone of voice to a more cheerful one, he let go of you and then left while his presence disappeared through the huge hallways

The pain in your jaw was still there, sometimes you wanted to reveal yourself to them but you knew it would only cause you more problems

And you still didn't want to end up dead with your soul in a mirror

You entered the room again and took Damian out of the closet

You dragged him through the hallways to take him back to his dimension

You ignored the questions he asked you, you weren't in the mood to fight with him, you had to get him out of here before it's too late

"Stop complaining and hurry up, I have to get you out of here as soon as possible.."

He frowned and fell silent, he had too many questions about your appearance and why you were here

You reached the room and you took him to the small door

"Okay, go in now and go!"

You told him trying to get him to come in, he held back not wanting to go in

"And what about you!? You have to come too, you can't stay here!"

Damian tried to take you with him, he wasn't going to let you stay here with these strange creatures, he wasn't going to lose you again

"I have no choice! Do you think I want to be here!? But...but I have to stay, I was stupid and I did things I regret" small tears formed in your eyes, you hated this, you would do anything to change fate "but I won't let you end up like me, so go now!"

He tried to resist going in the door, he wasn't going to lose you again

"I won't let you-"

Before he could finish speaking you gave him a hug, small tears falling from your eyes

Damian hugged you back, as if he was afraid you would leave or disappear

"Remember that your sister loves you, never forget that..."

He could barely react, you pushed him towards the door, the spiral-shaped hallway absorbed him and he couldn't do anything, he saw your face for the last time as you gave him a smile

And the door closed, for the first time he had seen you smile, smile at him and now he will never be able to see that smile again

Damian's body shot out of the room, his body hit the wall and he felt dizzy

He tried to get up to go back into the room, but it was in vain

He saw before his eyes how the door disappeared and only the wall of the hallway was left

"NO!"

He tried to break the wall, but he found nothing, if Richard hadn't found him and stopped him he was sure that he would have broken the entire hallway

Richard tried to get him out of there but all he did was scream saying that you were there

Richard thought that your disappearance affected Damian too much

_

"You have to believe me, father!"

Damian yelled at Bruce, the whole family was calling him crazy

They thought your disappearance was affecting him too much, he wasn't crazy

He swore that everything he saw was real

"You don't understand, Damian"

"Understand what's wrong father!?, (name) is missing and-"

He knew where you were, they just had to believe him, maybe that doll was a clue to your whereabouts

That room was a key clue to knowing your whereabouts but no one seemed to take him seriously

Damian tried to speak again but his father interrupted him, silencing him

"Because I've already been in that world!"

"What?"

Taglist

@hearts4mica @crazycaoticsimp @sirenetheblogger @caged-birdies-blog @l-stvrlightt-l @lilithskywalker

_____>

If you have any questions about this AU I'll be happy to answer them

I hope you all like this chapter since I won't be posting anything new this week

If I have a little time I'll answer some question

[astars-things]

Positive Pt 2

*photos are from Pinterest I do not own them

please do not copy and or upload my work as your own

802 words

(Pairing- Jack Hughes x Sister!Reader, Quinn Hughes x Sister!Reader, Luke Hughes x Sister!Reader)

a month had gone by since those two pink lines changed my life.  A month of morning sickness, exhaustion, and trying to wrap my head around the fact that I was going to be a mom.

At seventeen. 

my mom and I decided it was best for me to finish the year doing online school, it was for the best, trying to keep everything on the down low because I knew if people found out I would be named the school slut or that I was attention seeking. So to keep me and my baby safe this was the best decision. 

telling my mom, dad and brothers that I was pregnant but telling my "boyfriend" I'm carrying his child is the most scariest one 

I stood in front of my mirror for hours rehearsing what to say, trying to find the right words to make him understand. But when I finally sat across from him, my hands shaking under the café table, all my carefully planned words vanished.

"I'm pregnant."

His reaction was immediate—his eyes widened, his jaw tightened, and then...nothing. Just a heavy sigh and a shake of his head.

"I can't do this, Y/N," he said, his voice flat. "I don't want to be a dad."

The air left my lungs. I stared at him, waiting for something—regret, second thoughts, anything—but all I saw was indifference. Like I was a problem he wanted to erase.

I left without another word, blinking back tears. 

back home

I sat down on my bedroom floor holding pictures of us, wondering where was the guy I fell in love with, why did he change. soon my phone vibrating next to me took me out of my overthinking, It was Quinn, he made it his mission to Facetime me at least once a day 

"hey did you watch the game last night, and did you see the goal I made for you and little Bean- hey hey why are you crying munchkin" Quinn cooed soon noticing my tears "he doesn't want to be a dad" I sobbed, Quinn's face dropped "that fucking dick. you don't need him munchkin. You have us. Me, Mom, Dad, Luke—hell, even Jack, whether he wants to admit it or not. We're here for you. And for the baby."

The baby.

Hearing him say it like that like this tiny life inside me mattered like I mattered, made my throat tighten.

"Thanks, Q," I whispered.

soon he hung up the phone as soon as he knew I was going to be okay, but my mind was still clouded with the looming thoughts of what if Jack doesn't want me as his sister anymore  and just so many of the what ifs 

No matter how hard I tried to push those thoughts away, my brain kept replaying his reaction over and over again he was furious, convinced I had ruined not just my life, but his, too. He had gotten so disappointed in me that he stopped talking to me. Ignored my texts. And then, the final blow—I noticed he had unfollowed me on Instagram and Twitter.

And so did everyone else. 

As soon as I opened up TikTok or Twitter I just saw all the notifications of fans and drama pages adding in their comments why did Jack Hughes unfollow his sister? What happened between Y/N and Jack? Family drama??

I stared at my screen, my heart sinking. It was one thing to know my brother was mad at me. It was another to see it so blatantly, so publicly. I turned my phone off soon making my way downstairs to get some chocolate, trying to keep my tears at bay, trying to not let my parents see how much this is affecting me. 

Once I entered the kitchen I saw my dad standing there, we didn't make any eye contact or even speak until I sat down at the kitchen bench "I saw what Jack did," he finally said.

I swallowed hard. "Guess that makes two of you disappointed in me."

Dad exhaled through his nose. "I am disappointed, Y/N. Not in you, but in the situation. You have no idea how hard this is for me to accept."

I bit my lip, trying to hold back my emotions.

"But that doesn't mean I'm not here," he continued. "Because I am. No matter how messy this gets."

I looked up at him, tears brimming in my eyes.

"You mean that?"

He nodded. "Of course I do." I hesitated for only a second before wrapping my arms around him. It was the first hug I had given him in a month.

And it felt nice.

For the first time in a long time, I didn't feel like I was drowning.

Maybe Jack still hated me. Maybe my ex wanted nothing to do with this baby. Maybe my future was terrifying and uncertain.

But I wasn't alone.

And maybe, just maybe, I was going to be okay.

[pdriesta]

CHAPTER NINE

"baby, i'm talkin' crazy, i need you right in my space"

pairing — trentxblack!r&b artist

tropes — fake dating, enemies-to-lovers

warnings — sexual tension, toxic relationships, mature themes (minors dni)

word count — 7.3k

summary — y/n, a rising r&b star, is stuck in toxic situationships, with tabloids constantly overshadowing her music. to fix her image, her team pushes her into a fake relationship with liverpool’s trent alexander-arnold. both reluctant, they soon realize keeping things strictly business isn't so simple. will pretending to be in love stay a game, or turn into something real?

an — we are nearing the end

masterlist

y/n stood in the middle of her living room, the silence pressing in from all sides. it wasn’t the kind of silence that felt peaceful, the kind she usually craved after long hours in the studio. this was different. it was heavy, suffocating. it stretched across the walls, filled every corner of the space she had worked so hard for, settling deep into her bones like an ache she couldn’t shake.

she had always been alone, but she had never felt lonely. at least, that’s what she told herself.

but now, standing here in the dim light of her home, the weight of it was unbearable. the wedding was over, zaia and cash were gone, off in some tropical paradise wrapped in a love so effortless it almost seemed unfair. and y/n… y/n was here, stuck in the wreckage of emotions she didn’t know how to name. she had come back from the wedding venue and collapsed onto her bed, hoping sleep would take her before she could think too much. but it didn’t. and now she was awake, exhausted in a way that had nothing to do with rest.

when did it get this bad?

when did loneliness stop being a choice and start feeling like a punishment?

she tried to remember the last time she let someone in, truly let them in, without holding back, without second-guessing, without keeping them at arm’s length in the name of self-preservation. and she couldn’t. somewhere along the way, she had convinced herself that needing people—trusting people—was a weakness. that if she relied on anyone too much, if she let them see too much, they would use it against her. leave. prove her right.

trent’s name flashed across her screen again, the soft vibration rattling against the coffee table. she had lost count of how many times he had called, how many messages he had left since the wedding. she hadn’t answered a single one. she couldn’t. not after what he had said.

“i love you.”

her stomach twisted at the memory of his lips mouthing the declaration.

she knew what those words were supposed to mean, what they were supposed to feel like, but all they did was send her spiraling deeper into confusion. because love wasn’t just a confession, wasn’t just three words spoken in the heat of a moment. love was a choice. a commitment. a promise. and she had spent so much of her life convincing herself she didn’t need it, didn’t want it. that she was better off alone.

but was she?

because standing here now, feeling more lost than she ever had before, she wasn’t so sure anymore.

she had everything she thought she wanted. a career she built from the ground up. a home that was entirely her own. freedom, independence, success. and yet, none of it felt like enough.

because what was the point of it all if she had no one to share it with?

her throat tightened, tears stinging at the back of her eyes, but she forced them down. crying wouldn’t fix anything. it never did.

y/n, the artist. the name carried weight, dripped in gold and whispers, always lingering on tongues like a melody people couldn’t forget. her voice, her lyrics, her presence—everything about her demanded attention. she had built herself into something untouchable, a force, an artist who didn’t just follow trends but created them.

and yet, when did she stop being enough?

when did y/n star become a name that only mattered when it was attached to a man?

it felt like she had spent her entire career dodging one narrative just to fall into another. at first, it was the disbelief that she could do it on her own—the skepticism, the industry’s subtle and not-so-subtle ways of making her feel like she needed a man to validate her success. and then, when she proved them wrong, when her voice climbed the charts and her lyrics sank into people’s bones, the whispers changed. suddenly, it wasn’t about her music anymore. it was about who she was with.

every relationship, every situationship, every fleeting moment caught on camera—her worth had been measured by it all.

zaia had warned her about it from the start. “they’ll always find a way to make it about a man,” she had said, rolling her eyes at yet another headline that reduced y/n’s talent to nothing more than the men in her orbit. at first, y/n had laughed it off, convinced that as long as she stayed focused, as long as she kept her head down and let her work speak for itself, it wouldn’t matter.

but it did.

because no matter how many songs she wrote, no matter how many awards she won, no matter how much she tried to carve out her own space, the world always found a way to tie her back to someone else.

jadon. the athlete before him. the producer before that. and now, trent.

trent, whose name clung to hers in whispers and speculation, whose presence in her life was now a wound she couldn’t stop pressing on.

when did she become this? a woman who let love—or the lack of it—dictate how she felt about herself? when did she start believing that being alone meant being unwanted? when did the loneliness stop being a choice and start feeling like a cage she had unknowingly locked herself in?

trent had told her he loved her, and instead of feeling warmth, instead of feeling safe, all she had felt was fear.

because love wasn’t real. not for people like her.

she had spent her whole life running from it, guarding herself so carefully that she didn’t even know if she was capable of feeling it anymore. she could write about it, sing about it, make people believe in it. but when it came down to her own heart, her own ability to be vulnerable, to be seen—she had nothing.

she didn’t know how to be loved.

and if she couldn’t let herself be loved, then what was the point of any of it?

the thought settled deep in her chest, heavy and unbearable.

she needed to go. she needed to disappear.

for the first time in a long time, she needed to stop running forward and figure out how she even got here in the first place.

before she could change her mind, before the fear crept in again, she made the call.

the past she had spent so long avoiding was waiting for her.

and this time, she wasn’t going to run from it.

trent had never been the type to sit around and wait. patience wasn’t in his nature—not when it came to football, not when it came to life, and definitely not when it came to her.

but that’s all he had been doing for the past week. waiting. waiting for a text, a call, some kind of sign that she was ready to talk, but every time he reached out, all he was met with was silence.

it was driving him insane.

he was pacing his living room for what had to be the hundredth time, his hands tugging at his curls in frustration. he had never felt this desperate before, never felt so out of control when it came to someone. he had always been the one who had options, the one who could keep his emotions in check, but with y/n, it was different.

it had always been different.

he had told her he loved her.

and now she was gone.

the knock on his front door pulled him out of his thoughts, and when he swung it open, marcel was standing there, a knowing look already on his face.

“you look like shit,” marcel said, stepping inside without an invitation.

trent rolled his eyes, shutting the door behind him. “nice to see you too.”

marcel made himself comfortable on the couch, watching as trent resumed his pacing. “so, you gonna tell me what’s got you looking like a lovesick puppy, or do i have to guess?”

trent exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “it’s y/n.”

marcel hummed, like that was the answer he expected. “you talk to her?”

trent scoffed. “if by ‘talk’ you mean me sending texts and getting absolutely nothing back, then yeah, loads.”

marcel leaned back, arms crossed. “how long has it been?”

trent hesitated before muttering, “a week.”

marcel’s brows shot up. “a week? bro, that’s enough time. you need to go get her.”

trent shook his head. “she needed space.”

“she did need space. but how much space are you gonna give her before she convinces herself she don’t need you at all?” marcel asked, his voice steady but firm.

trent didn’t have an answer for that.

marcel sighed, sitting forward. “look, i don’t know everything about whatever’s going on between you two, but i know you. you’re not the type to let shit go. if you love her, you show her. words don’t mean anything if they’re not backed up by action.”

trent let that sink in.

he thought back to the look in y/n’s eyes at the wedding, the way she broke their eye contact like his love was too much to bear. he had seen fear there, hesitation, a war happening inside her that he hadn’t fully understood in the moment. but now, he was starting to.

she didn’t just need space.

she needed to know that even with the growing distance, he wasn’t going anywhere.

trent looked over at his brother, shaking his head in disbelief. “when did you get so wise?”

marcel smirked, leaning back. “been wise. you’re just slow.”

trent chuckled, but the weight in his chest didn’t lessen.

he needed to go get her.

trent stood at her doorstep, his hands stuffed deep in his pockets, his heart pounding as he stared at the door that had once been so familiar. how many times had he stood here before? how many nights had he walked her to this very spot, lingering just a little longer because neither of them wanted to say goodbye?

but tonight was different.

tonight, he wasn’t sure if she’d ever open that door again.

he had rehearsed a thousand things in his head, things he wished he had said earlier. i’m sorry. i love you. i never should’ve let you walk away. he wanted to tell her that he had spent the past week losing his mind, that he couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t focus on anything but the way she looked at him before she turned away. he wanted to tell her that she could have all the space in the world, as long as she knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

but when he finally knocked, the silence that followed made his stomach drop.

no movement. no shuffle of footsteps inside.

nothing.

his brows furrowed, and he knocked again, harder this time. still nothing.

she wasn’t home.

a pit formed in his stomach as he stepped back, scanning the dark windows, the locked door, the unsettling quiet. something about it felt wrong. y/n wasn’t the type to disappear—not like this. even when she was upset, even when she shut people out, she was still there.

but now, she wasn’t.

trent swallowed hard, a cold wave of unease washing over him. where the fuck was she?

he turned to leave, his chest tightening with each step away from her door. maybe he had been too late. maybe she had decided he wasn’t worth it, that they weren’t worth it. maybe she had left him behind.

his phone vibrated in his pocket, pulling him from his thoughts. he yanked it out, his heart stuttering at the unknown number flashing on the screen.

for a split second, he let himself hope.

his thumb hovered over the answer button, breath caught in his throat. maybe it was her. maybe she had seen his texts, his missed calls, and decided to reach out. maybe—

he pressed the button. “hello?”

“oh, thank god.” the voice on the other end was rushed, relieved. not hers.

ayesha.

his stomach twisted. “ayesha?”

“is y/n with you?” her voice was sharp, urgent.

trent frowned. “what? no, i—” he exhaled, his grip tightening on his phone. “why?”

“it’s a yes or no question, trent. is she with you?”

he paused, a strange sort of dread settling in his chest. “no, i haven’t seen her. why?”

silence.

then, a shaky breath on the other end.

trent’s heartbeat picked up. “ayesha—”

“she’s gone.”

his breath stilled.

his grip on his phone tightened. “what do you mean gone?”

“i mean she’s gone,” ayesha repeated, her voice strained. “no one can reach her. she’s not picking up, not responding to anyone. her partners in crime are on their honeymoon, so i highly doubt she went with them. we have deadlines—huge deadlines—and she just vanished.”

trent’s hearing faded, his pulse pounding in his ears.

gone.

she was gone.

his mind raced, a thousand worst-case scenarios flashing before him. had she left the country? had she run off with someone? had she gone back to—

he clenched his jaw, trying to steady his breathing.

“where would she go?” his voice was tight, barely controlled.

ayesha was silent for a moment. “if i had to guess? germany.”

trent inhaled sharply.

jadon.

or worse—

“or somewhere in america,” ayesha added.

trent shut his eyes, his stomach twisting painfully.

he didn’t know what was worse—the idea of her running back to jadon or disappearing into some far-off place where he’d never be able to reach her.

but one thing was clear.

she was gone.

and he might have been the reason why.

the sun was blinding as y/n squinted up at the sky, a bead of sweat trailing down her temple as she crouched in the yard. the heat stuck to her skin, but she barely noticed it—too caught up in the shrieks of laughter ringing through the air, the sound of tiny feet thudding against the grass, the warmth of her siblings’ hands grabbing at her.

“she’s tired! she’s getting old!” one of them shouted, barely five years old, giggling as they climbed onto her back.

“i’m twenty-four,” y/n huffed, feigning exhaustion as she let them knock her over, collapsing into the soft grass with a dramatic sigh. “that is not old.”

“yeah, it is!” another one, her eight-year-old brother, declared. “you’re a whole grown-up. you’re ancient.”

“okay, calm down. who even taught you word?,” y/n scoffed, though she couldn’t help but laugh.

they all piled on top of her then, a mess of tiny limbs and sun-kissed skin, their laughter echoing in the yard. and as y/n lay there beneath them, feeling the press of their little bodies, the weight of them all clinging to her, she realized just how much she had needed this.

god, how had she let this much time pass?

how had she gone so long without hearing their voices, without feeling their warmth? without being here—where she was just y/n, their big sister, not the artist, not the persona, not the woman always attached to the name of a man.

she blinked hard, pushing away the sting in her eyes, and quickly wiped her face with the hem of her t-shirt as she got up. “alright, you monsters are wearing me out. i’m getting drinks.”

there were more complaints, more playful protests, but they let her go, already distracted by a new game. y/n shook her head fondly as she walked toward the house, pushing open the familiar screen door and stepping into the cool embrace of home.

y/n stared at the juice in the cups, the condensation dripping down the sides, and tried to swallow the lump in her throat. her hands curled around the counter, nails pressing into the wood. she felt her mother’s presence beside her, steady and expectant, waiting for her to speak.

but how was she supposed to put this into words?

how was she supposed to explain the years of silence, the distance, the unspoken wounds that had festered for so long she’d stopped noticing them—until now?

her mother sighed, leaning against the counter, arms crossed. “you can’t just hide behind the kids forever, y/n.”

y/n exhaled sharply. “i’m not—”

“you are,” her mother interrupted gently. “and i understand. it’s easier. but that’s not why you came here, is it?”

y/n’s fingers clenched, her jaw tightening. she turned, meeting her mother’s gaze, and for once, she let herself feel it.

all of it.

“no,” she admitted. “it’s not.”

her mother nodded, as if she had already known that.

y/n inhaled deeply, pressing a hand to her forehead. “i don’t know where to start,” she muttered.

her mother’s expression softened. “then start with the truth.”

y/n let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “the truth?” she repeated. “the truth is… i don’t even know when i stopped feeling at home here. when i stopped belonging here.”

her mother’s face remained unreadable, but she didn’t speak. she just waited.

y/n swallowed. “i love the kids. i love this house. i love you and dad,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. “but i feel like i’ve spent my whole life trying to earn a place in this family.”

her mother’s brows furrowed slightly. “earn a place?”

y/n let out a breath, glancing toward the doorway where the sounds of her siblings’ laughter still carried through. she turned back, her throat thick.

“i was always just there,” she said, voice cracking slightly. “the firstborn. the one who had to be responsible, who had to set an example. the one who never got to mess up because there were always eyes on me. i had to be good at school, had to be successful, had to be perfect because there wasn’t room for anything else.”

her mother sighed, rubbing her forehead. “y/n—”

“you never saw me,” y/n whispered, shaking her head. “not really. you saw the version of me you wanted to see. the daughter who had everything together. the one who didn’t need anything from you.” she paused, then looked up, eyes burning. “but i did. i do.”

her mother’s lips parted slightly, something flickering in her eyes.

y/n scoffed, wiping her face roughly. “i spent years convincing myself i was fine. that i could be strong on my own. and now i don’t even know how to let people in.” she exhaled shakily, voice raw. “i thought what i was missing was… a man. a relationship. i thought maybe if someone chose me, i’d finally feel whole.”

her mother’s face softened in understanding.

y/n’s throat bobbed. “but that’s not it,” she murmured. “it’s you. it’s this. this absence i’ve felt my whole life… it’s not from a boyfriend. it’s from my family.”

a silence settled between them.

her mother inhaled deeply, pushing off the counter. she reached out, her hands finding y/n’s face, thumbs brushing gently against her cheeks like she used to do when she was little.

“oh, my baby,” she murmured, voice thick with emotion. “do you really think i don’t love you?”

y/n swallowed hard.

“you’re my first child,” her mother continued, her gaze searching y/n’s face. “the first one god blessed me with. and i know it hasn’t been easy, being the eldest. i know you’ve carried things alone, but never because i wanted you to.” she sighed. “you were always so strong, y/n. even when you were a little girl. and i—” her voice wavered. “i think i let myself believe you didn’t need me as much as the others did. that you were fine.”

y/n’s eyes stung.

her mother let out a shaky breath. “but i see you, baby,” she said, voice gentle. “i always have.”

y/n pressed her lips together, her chest aching.

her mother smoothed her hands down y/n’s arms. “tell me about him,” she said softly. “tell me about trent.”

y/n exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “i did him wrong,” she admitted. “i hurt him.”

her mother sighed, shaking her head. “you’re human. you make mistakes. but that doesn’t make you unworthy of love, y/n.”

y/n clenched her jaw. “sometimes, i don’t think i can love anyone,” she whispered. “or let myself be loved.”

her mother reached out again, tilting y/n’s chin up so she had no choice but to meet her eyes.

“if you understood even a sliver of how you are in our eyes,” she said softly, “and the eyes of that boy, you’d know you are the most deserving of love.”

y/n blinked rapidly, a tear slipping down her cheek.

her mother pulled her into her arms then, holding her tightly, as if trying to make up for all the years she hadn’t.

and for the first time in what felt like forever, y/n let herself exhale.

trent stared at his phone, the screen’s glow casting a pale light in the dim room. his thumb hovered over cassius’ contact, hesitation knotting his stomach. reaching out felt like admitting defeat, but he was out of options. with a resigned sigh, he tapped the name and began typing.

trent: i need to talk to you.

he hit send and watched as the message status changed to ‘read’ almost instantly. a beat passed before the familiar typing indicator appeared.

cassius: you know i shouldn’t be talking to you. my wife will have my head.

trent couldn’t help but let out a dry chuckle, imagining zaia’s disapproving glare. he rubbed the back of his neck, searching for the right words.

trent: i wouldn’t ask if it wasn���t important.

the silence that followed was palpable, each second stretching longer than the last. trent’s mind raced, conjuring worst-case scenarios. finally, his phone buzzed again.

cassius: i just got back from marrying the love of my life just to find out our best friend is MIA?

trent’s grip tightened around the device. the weight of cash’s words pressed down on him, amplifying his own guilt and worry.

trent: where is she?

the typing indicator blinked on and off, mirroring trent’s anxious heartbeat. he paced the room, the floorboards creaking underfoot, until the reply came through.

cassius: she’s safe.

relief washed over him, but it was fleeting. ‘safe’ was a comfort, but it wasn’t enough.

trent: is she with him?

he didn’t need to specify; they both knew who he meant. the response was immediate.

cassius: no.

trent exhaled, a tension he hadn’t fully acknowledged releasing from his shoulders. but the uncertainty still gnawed at him.

trent: tell me where she is.

cassius: can’t do that.

frustration flared, and trent ran a hand through his hair, mussing the already disheveled strands.

trent: cash.

the reply was firm, yet laced with understanding.

cassius: she needs to heal, trent. at her own pace. if you can respect that, if you can give her the space she needs, then i can believe you’re someone worthy of her heart.

trent sank onto the edge of his bed, the weight of cash’s words settling over him. he stared at the screen, the message blurring as emotions welled up. he wanted to be that person for her, but the path forward was shrouded in uncertainty. all he could do now was wait—and hope.

worthy of her heart.

he didn’t know if he was. but he wanted to be.

and that meant waiting.

trent came home exhausted. the season had been relentless, a long stretch of matches that left his body aching and his mind drained. the moment he stepped into his house, he kicked off his shoes, shaking off the weight of travel. his suitcase sat abandoned by the door as he made his way to the kitchen, only stopping when his eyes caught an envelope sitting neatly on the counter.

his name was written in careful script on the front.

trent frowned, reaching for it and tearing it open. inside, an invitation. y/n’s album, "AAA" launch party. RSVP as soon as possible.

his breath caught in his throat.

it had been six months. six months since he last saw her, since her texts stopped, since his calls went unanswered. at first, he had fought against the silence, his pride making him stubborn. but no matter how many messages he sent, no matter how much he tried, she had shut him out. now, the invitation sat in his hands like a cruel joke.

he carried it with him as he moved through the house, tossing it onto the dining table while he reheated leftovers from the night before. as he sat down to eat, he found himself staring at it. six months. half a year. it hurt more than he wanted to admit.

trent was a proud man. he didn’t beg. he didn’t chase. but y/n—y/n had made him question everything he thought he knew about himself. he had spent nights thinking about her, wishing things had gone differently. and even now, with all the time that had passed, the feeling hadn’t left. if anything, it had settled deeper into his bones.

he sighed, pushing his plate away and grabbing his phone. without thinking, his fingers opened youtube, a habit ingrained after months of nights spent with her. they used to sit on the couch together, her head resting on his shoulder as she scrolled through tiktoks, laughing and shoving the phone in his face when she found something funny. he could still hear her voice teasing him, “trent, you’re so dry, just laugh!”

he still missed her. he still yearned for her.

the first video on his homepage made his heart stop.

y/n sits down with sade to talk about her new album, her journey, and her love life.

his thumb hovered over the screen before he tapped on it. the video loaded, and then there she was.

he exhaled sharply.

she looked beautiful. radiant. glowing in a way that made his stomach twist painfully. her skin was golden under the lights, and her hair was styled in a way that framed her face perfectly. she looked happy. peaceful.

“whew, you look good, babe!” sade grinned at her, shaking her head. “look at your skin, girl, you been having a hot girl summer or what?”

y/n laughed, shaking her head. “i had a babysitting summer.”

trent’s brows pulled together, watching her carefully. she looked different, but not in a bad way. there was a quiet ease in her demeanor, something lighter about her.

“babysitting? explain, because the streets have been wondering where you’ve been. it’s been what—almost a year since you’ve been outside?” sade teased.

y/n exhaled, nodding. “yeah, i know. i needed time. i went back home for a while, just to breathe, to reset. i got to just be y/n, not y/n the artist, not y/n the headline. just me. the big sister who got to see my baby sister take her first steps. help my little brothers with their homework. just… be present.”

trent sat back, exhaling slowly.

so that’s where she had gone.

he had always known there was a weight on her shoulders, one that she never fully let him see. he had noticed the way her mood shifted after facetime calls with her family. the way she frowned at photos shared on whatsapp, another milestone missed. he should have realized earlier—of course she went home. she had been longing for it all along.

the interview had been going smoothly, a mix of lighthearted banter and genuine reflection as sade guided the conversation with her usual warmth and ease. y/n was comfortable, her laughter coming freely as she recounted memories and spoke about her journey, her music, and of course, her personal life. but when sade’s eyes twinkled with familiarity, y/n already knew what was coming next.

“now, you know we can’t talk about you without talking about zaia,” sade said with a knowing smile. “she’s your girl. how is she?”

y/n’s face lit up instantly, the mere mention of zaia enough to bring a warmth to her expression that couldn’t be faked. “amazing, as always,” she replied fondly. “we were just together before this. she’s doing really well.”

sade nodded, her hands clasped together as she let out a small, dreamy sigh. “and i just have to say, the wedding was stunning. like, wow. one of the most beautiful weddings i’ve ever seen. you looked breathtaking, the whole thing was a fairytale.”

y/n smiled, her eyes softening at the memory. “it really was,” she agreed. “seeing my best friends get married… it was emotional. one of those moments that makes you stop and just feel how full life can be.”

“i love that,” sade murmured, placing a hand over her heart before leaning in. “but now—since the news is out and we all know…” she grinned expectantly, waiting for y/n to confirm.

y/n laughed, shaking her head at how quickly things traveled. “yeah, now that everyone knows… i’m gonna be an auntie.”

sade gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. “stop!” she exclaimed. “oh my god, congratulations! that’s huge.”

y/n grinned, eyes shining. “but actually,” she continued, “a godmother too, which is what i’m most proud of. to see my best friends marry, start a family, and to be part of that in such a big way… it means everything to me. baby a if you watch this in the future auntie y/n’s got you for life”

trent, who had been sitting off to the side listening, found himself lost in thought as he watched her speak. there was a tenderness in her voice, a depth of love that made something tighten in his chest. he thought about everything they had been through, all the moments that led them here. watching her talk about love, about family, about the people who mattered to her—he realized all over again just how all the reasons he loved her.

he thought back to months ago, when they weren’t here yet. when things were still uncertain, when they were still finding their way to each other. and now, here she was, talking about life and love with so much certainty, so much warmth. he couldn’t help but reflect on what that meant for them—how he wanted a future like that with her, something permanent, something real.

and as she turned to glance at him mid-conversation, smiling softly as if she could read his thoughts, he knew she was it for him. she had been from the very beginning.

“you don’t really do interviews like this,” sade pointed out. “your private life is something you guard heavily. so what made you decide to be so vulnerable on this album? what’s different?”

y/n paused, rolling her lips together before exhaling. “i’ve never been in love before.”

trent’s stomach dropped.

“i know what people think,” y/n continued, voice steady. “but this past year, i was able to experience what i think love is in its freshest form. it was new, it was complex, and damn, it was hard to navigate—especially when you have trust issues.”

sade nodded, understanding flickering in her eyes. “you’ve spoken before about your battles with trust. how did this experience challenge you?”

“i don’t trust easily,” y/n admitted, gaze dropping for a moment before meeting sade’s. “it’s hard for me to let people in, to believe that someone’s love is genuine. but this past year, i learned a lot about myself. i had to face parts of me that i kept buried. i had to acknowledge the ways i was hurting myself. going back home helped me do that. it reminded me that love isn’t just romantic. love is in family, in friendships, in the little moments we take for granted.”

trent swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest.

he was proud of her. god, he was so proud of her.

but hearing her speak about love—about trust, about the things that tore them apart—only made the ache inside him worse.

because the truth was, no matter how much time had passed, no matter how much he told himself to move on—

he was still in love with her.

sade leaned forward slightly, resting her chin in her palm as she watched y/n carefully. the mood in the room shifted—not tense, but heavier. the kind of weight that came with unspoken words, the kind that made people sit up and listen.

“you’ve never been in love before,” sade repeated softly, tilting her head. “but people assumed you were. a lot of people thought you were in a relationship, and when you disappeared, the rumors only got worse. and i know you don’t care about what people say, but… i guess i have to ask.”

y/n’s smile faltered for the briefest moment, and trent noticed.

his chest tightened.

he leaned forward on the couch, phone gripped tightly in his hand as he watched her reaction.

“was there someone?” sade asked. “or was it just a phase in your life?”

y/n inhaled, exhaling through her nose before responding. her fingers toyed with the rings on her hands—a nervous habit.

“there was someone,” she admitted, carefully choosing her words. “it wasn’t a phase. it was real.”

trent’s heart stuttered.

he couldn’t look away from the screen.

“but… it was complicated,” y/n continued, eyes flickering down for a second. “we were two people trying to figure ourselves out at the same time, and sometimes, love—” she paused, rephrasing. “sometimes feelings aren’t enough. sometimes, timing works against you. sometimes, the people you love the most are the ones you hurt, even when you don’t mean to.”

trent exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his jaw.

so she did love him. loved him.

or at least, she thought she did.

he should’ve felt relieved hearing her say it, even in such a roundabout way. but it only made the ache in his chest worse.

“do you regret it?” sade pressed gently.

y/n hesitated and trent held his breath.

“no,” she said finally, shaking her head. “i don’t regret any of it. i think… i needed to go through it. to understand myself better.”

sade studied her for a moment, nodding. “do you think it’s over?”

trent’s fingers curled around his phone so tightly his knuckles turned white.

y/n offered a small, knowing smile.

“some things never really end,” she said cryptically.

trent exhaled, running a hand down his face.

six months.

six months of silence. of overthinking. of replaying every moment, every conversation, wondering if he could’ve done something differently.

and now, she was in front of him again—not in person, but in the way that mattered. raw, honest, vulnerable.

he should’ve moved on.

but he hadn’t.

and deep down, watching her now, he didn’t think he ever really could.

the scene was soft and warm, with y/n surrounded by her closest friends as they gathered around to listen to the final tracks of her album. the atmosphere was light but full of meaning. as she pressed play, her heart fluttered, knowing she was sharing her most vulnerable self with the world. she could feel the weight of the journey, the struggle, the nights spent pouring her soul into this creation, and now, it was all coming together.

“wow, y/n,” cash murmured, leaning back as the final notes played out. “this is… this is raw. it’s real. you’ve outdone yourself.”

y/n sat there for a second, eyes closed, letting the music wash over her. it was more than an album—it was a release, a reclaiming of herself after so much time spent in confusion and heartache. she did it. the pain, the vulnerability, everything—it was on this album, ready to be heard. her emotions ran high, and before she could stop it, tears filled her eyes.

“i did it,” she whispered to herself, more to her inner self than to anyone around her. but cash and zaia both heard it.

zaia, who was now big as a house and seemed ready to pop any day now, wrapped her arms around y/n, pulling her into a hug. “you did it, girl,” she said, her voice full of warmth. “after everything you’ve been through, you came out on top. this is your moment.”

“i can’t believe it,” y/n said through a laugh, wiping her face with her sleeve. her heart felt full in a way it hadn’t for a long time. she was surrounded by love, by people who saw her. “i’m so proud of myself.”

“i can’t believe it,” y/n said through a laugh, wiping her face with her sleeve. her heart felt full in a way it hadn’t for a long time. she was surrounded by love, by people who saw her. “i’m so proud of myself.”

zaia nudged her playfully. “as you should be, superstar. we’ve been telling you.”

“but it’s different hearing it from yourself,” cash added, his voice warm. he watched her for a moment, something unreadable flickering across his face. “you’ve come a long way, y/n. i hope you know that.”

y/n smiled, exhaling softly. “i do.”

there was a comfortable pause, the kind that came when nothing more needed to be said. but then, as the laughter faded and the quiet settled, y/n found her mind drifting—to things unsaid, to people not in the room. she hesitated for only a second before she finally asked,

“have you spoken to trent?”

cash’s smile faltered slightly, just enough for y/n to notice. he didn’t answer right away, but the slight twitch of his lips gave him away.

zaia’s eyes narrowed. “i knew it.” she scoffed, crossing her arms. “i knew you still hung out with him.”

cash sighed but didn’t even try to deny it. instead, he pulled her into his arms, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “relax, woman.”

zaia rolled her eyes, but y/n barely noticed, her heart already pounding. “so?” she pressed, voice quieter now.

there was a quiet pause before cash looked over at her, his face unreadable. “he asks about you all the time.”

this way, it feels more natural—y/n’s question doesn’t come out of nowhere, and the moment has time to breathe.

cash didn’t answer right away, but the slight twitch of his lips gave him away.

zaia’s eyes narrowed. “i knew it.” she scoffed, crossing her arms. “i knew you still hung out with him.”

cash sighed but didn’t even try to deny it. instead, he pulled her into his arms, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “relax, woman.”

zaia rolled her eyes, but y/n barely noticed, her heart already pounding. “so?” she pressed, voice quieter now.

there was a quiet pause before cash looked over at her, his face unreadable. “he asks about you all the time.”

y/n’s heart skipped a beat, the words echoing in her mind. she bit her lip, trying to ignore the sting of longing. cash wasn’t done, though.

“yep, even when we’re hanging out, talking about life, playing padel, he mentions you.” cash paused, almost as if he was weighing something, before continuing. “you know, it’s not like he’s forgotten about you. but he won’t say much more. i think he’s just… waiting for you to reach out.”

y/n’s breath caught. “what?”

“yeah,” he said, leaning back in his seat. “when we hang out, when we talk, when we play padel—he brings you up. not in a dramatic way, just... like, you’re still on his mind.”

zaia, who had been listening quietly, tilted her head at cash. “wait—you and trent actually hang out?”

cash scoffed. “yeah? why do you think i know all this? we talk, we chill, and he always finds a way to ask about her.”

zaia turned to y/n, giving her a knowing look. “you hear that? he’s thinking about you, and you’re sitting here acting like this whole thing is done.”

y/n swallowed hard, her fingers twisting in the fabric of her hoodie. she wasn’t sure how to feel about that. she had spent so much time trying to convince herself that trent had moved on, that he was living his life like she never existed. but now… now, she wasn’t so sure.

cash shrugged. “what do you want me to say? trent’s a hard guy to talk to about these things. but you should know, he’s been dealing with it in his own way, too. he’s not over it, y/n. trust me.”

y/n looked down at her hands, her nails tracing the seam of her sleeve. she knew trent cared. she always knew. but hearing it from cash—knowing he had been talking about her, even in passing—made her heart ache in a way she wasn’t ready to face.

“maybe it’s too late,” she murmured, more to herself than anyone else.

“it’s never too late,” cash said, his voice a little softer now. “you can’t turn love off just because of distance. you gotta go see him. do it for yourself.”

y/n felt a knot in her throat as she thought about it. could she really go back? face him after all the silence? she didn’t have the answers.

zaia, who had been silently watching the conversation unfold, finally spoke up. “you’ve made so much progress, y/n. therapy, being with your family, and finishing this album while everything else was falling apart. you’ve shown strength that most people can’t even imagine. you deserve to be loved. and you deserve to love yourself first before you can even think about giving it to anyone else.”

y/n wiped away the last of her tears, feeling the weight of the words settle into her chest. “maybe i’m just not ready yet,” she said quietly, her heart heavy but hopeful.

zaia and cash shared a look, but neither of them pushed her. they both knew the truth: y/n was on a journey, and she had to walk it at her own pace.

but as the conversation faded and y/n stared down at the invitation to her album launch, she realized something—maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t as alone as she had felt before.

the match at stamford bridge ended in a draw. it wasn’t the worst result, but it left a bitter taste in trent’s mouth. he hated games like this—ones where they fought, pushed, clawed for an edge, only to walk away with no real victory.

the frustration was still simmering beneath his skin as he wrapped up his post-match interview, answering questions with clipped nods and forced smiles. he was ready to go home, ready to shake off the night. but as he turned to leave, he saw her.

at first, he thought he was imagining it. maybe it was the exhaustion, the adrenaline still ebbing away, playing tricks on his mind. but then she moved—tucking a braid behind her ear, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, just like he remembered.

y/n.

his breath hitched. she was standing just a few feet away, her back to him, completely unaware of his presence. his feet carried him forward before he could think better of it, his heart pounding, his stomach twisting into knots.

it had been so long. too long.

trent couldn’t stand the distance between them. the pain of walking away, of not even having the chance to speak, was unbearable. he knew he couldn’t leave again without saying something—anything—that could maybe, just maybe, give him a chance to understand where they stood.

he turned, his heart pounding in his chest as he took slow, deliberate steps back towards her. y/n was still standing there, her gaze fixed on him, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. she didn’t move, didn’t even look away. it felt like a fleeting moment, one that could slip away as easily as it had appeared, but he wasn’t going to let it. he wasn’t going to let her slip through his fingers again.

her gaze softened, but it was clear she was guarded, like she wasn’t sure if she should let him in again. her eyes searched his face, trying to read him, trying to make sense of this moment. "trent," she whispered, almost like she wasn’t sure what to say either.

but before either of them could say more, a familiar voice cut through the air.

"you good?" jadon said, his voice light, as he stepped up behind her. his arm slid around her shoulders easily, and he kissed her cheek, the gesture quick and familiar. it was just another friendly moment, but to trent, it felt like everything was falling apart in slow motion.

he barely registered her reaction, but it didn’t matter. the kiss, the familiarity, the way jadon just slid in so effortlessly—it was like a punch to the gut.

trent stood there frozen, unable to move, the words caught in his throat. his chest tightened, a sharp ache spreading through him as he watched them. this wasn’t how he imagined it. it wasn’t supposed to be like this.

as quickly as it had happened, jadon shifted slightly, his arm still draped loosely around y/n’s shoulders, but with a subtle hesitation now. it was force of habit—the easy closeness between them—but the moment he noticed trent, he respectfully moved back a bit, letting his hand fall away. he glanced at y/n as he spoke, his tone light and casual, but there was an awareness in his movements now, like he could feel the shift in the air. it was his turn to focus on the man in front of them

"oh, hey trent."

jadon’s voice cut through the moment, light and easy as he stepped up behind her. his arm slid off her shoulders as he straightened up, giving trent a casual nod, like they were just running into each other at some random event.

trent barely registered it. his eyes were locked on y/n.

she turned at the sound of her name, her eyes widening when she saw him. her lips parted slightly, like she wanted to say something—needed to—but trent had already looked away.

“sancho.”

his greeting was short, clipped, barely sparing her a glance. because looking at her—really looking at her—hurt too much.

the reality of the situation hit trent all at once. y/n had moved on. it didn’t matter how he felt, how deeply the ache cut through him. she was here, with someone else. and she seemed fine, even happy.

he had missed his chance.

"i... i should go," trent said, his voice quiet but final. he couldn’t stand there any longer, couldn’t keep pretending like it didn’t hurt. without waiting for a response, he turned and walked away, his heart heavy with every step.

behind him, he could hear y/n calling his name again, but this time, he didn’t turn back. the ache was too much, and the distance he had once put between them had turned into something unbridgeable, something that couldn’t be undone with words or desperate glances.

as he walked away, the memory of her voice, her touch, the love he had once felt—it all seemed like a lifetime ago.

© PDRIESTA 2025

[nowritingonthewall]

I’m sorry 🥺

[skrunksthatwunk]

really fun letting all of my favorite shows take turns being the "i can't think about it i can't think about it i can't think about it!!" bingewatch during finals season/associated crunch times. they're being inducted into a society

[lowkeyren]

in which : alhaitham speaks to you in 5 different languages, unaware that you understand every word he says.

wc 7.3k (pls give it a chance lol), academic rivals to lovers, unrequited hate, attempt at humor, college au, denial + pinning.. crazy ik, he falls first (and harder), tw stalking by a drunkard, a genius on paper but a total dumbass when it comes to crushes, lil smau at the end!, ft. sumeru gang. art by @/gamegatchihaja on x.

ps. translations ay nasa maliliit na titik, katulad neto!!

ps. translations will be in small letters, like this!!

PROLOGUE: GOD I HATE THIS GUY! (DOES HE THINK IM STUPID?)

the semester is nearing its conclusion, and the imminent approach of finals marks the most critical period of the year; students rush through the halls, clutching their notes and textbooks like lifelines, while you pour every ounce of effort into your studies —not just for your grades, but also to surpass a certain arrogant scholar. 

alhaitham. 

the name tastes like spoiled milk on your tongue, a sour reminder of all the times he’s bested you, even if it’s just by a small margin, leaving you dumbfounded when the difference between your marks during the last exam was a mere 1%. 

you were groveling in front of your professor, “please, just round the marks up?” you could practically feel your dignity slipping away. and the worst part? you were so desperate that you started mentally calculating how many odd jobs you’d be willing to do just to sweeten the deal. 

(maybe you’ll help organize the office, run around the campus to buy him drinks every day, or even wipe down the windows of his car…)

disclaimer: he ultimately said no, but he did compliment your impeccable taste in coffee so, a win is a win? 

anyhow, alhaitham’s nonchalance only adds to your frustration, especially when he switches to a different language mid-conversation. it feels like he’s rubbing salt in your wounds, why of course you can understand him perfectly —after all, you aren’t majoring in linguistics for no reason, plus he's not the only one who’s fluent in multiple languages.

though you keep that to yourself, perhaps because the things he says in those languages, which he assumes you don’t understand, are far from innocent, unknowingly letting you have a glimpse into his true feelings. 

ACT I: WHOLEHEARTEDLY, I DETEST YOU. 

alhaitham would never fall in love —such irrational and illogical emotions held no value to him. 

that was what he always believed, but then he saw you. 

the way you laughed so unapologetically at cyno’s jokes, how you always stood firm by your beliefs, your refusal to compromise who you are; you were a breath of fresh air in a world that often felt stifling.

as much as he tries to act unfazed, he can't help the heat prickling his skin nor the way his composure falters just slightly in your presence. and when his heart raced for the first time in what felt like forever, he knew —he was completely, utterly screwed.

(“fix me, kaveh.” / “hah. who do you think i am, ‘y/n’?”)

when kaveh told him that he just had a simple “crush”, he nearly rolled his eyes so hard he thought they might get stuck there permanently.)

likewise, this ugly arrogant handsome bastard here, is one you’ll never fall in love with. 

he’s infuriating, completely insufferable, and yet there’s something about him, something hidden beneath that arrogance, that draws you in. the idea that you could ever fall for someone like him seems laughable, impossible even. he's exactly the kind of person you should avoid and you know better than to be charmed by someone like him. yet, there's that nagging feeling, deep down, that perhaps you’re not as immune to him as you think.

by some stroke of luck, you’re in the same major, same year, and even enrolled in the same lecture periods, which means you end up in the same place at the same time more often than not.

but you can’t deny that, in some twisted way, you admire him. his intellect is beyond impressive, even if it annoys you to admit it. so surely, in his eyes, you’re still inferior, and you often wonder if he even considers your ideas as worthy of attention.

(they are.)

ACT II: YOUR WATCHFUL EYES, I CAN’T IGNORE.

your pen glides across the pages as you jot down notes, fully absorbed in your studies, barely registering the faint sound of distant chatter.

unbeknownst to you, a group of students has gathered just outside the lecture hall, peeking in from the door with curious, amused expressions. they’re clearly there for you, exchanging glances and murmurs, waiting for the moment you step outside.

you don’t notice, but alhaitham, seated a few feet away, certainly does.

his eyes narrow slightly as he takes in the scene. he doesn’t say anything at first, but his jaw clenches ever so subtly. as you begin to pack up, you glance up to find him standing in front of you, his tall figure effectively blocking the group outside’s direct line of sight to you.

with a discreet glance over his shoulder, he shoots them a cold, unmistakable glare. they visibly shudder, seemingly getting the message as they awkwardly shuffle away. 

“what was that about?”

alhaitham leans against your desk, “nothing important,” his tone is dismissive, laced with irritation, his gaze still fixed on the now-empty doorway. 

you narrow your eyes, unimpressed. “really? you just scared them off for no reason?”

“just getting rid of some… distractions,” he says casually, turning his attention back towards you. you raise an eyebrow, clearly not believing his words. “distractions? they weren’t bothering me.” 

his expression remains impassive, “khi họ cứ để ý đến em như vậy… em thấy không phiền, c��n tôi thì có.”

“seeing them constantly paying attention to you… you're not bothered by it, but i am.”

“bởi vì cái cách mà em chú tâm hoàn toàn vào một việc gì đó…  nó quyến rũ vô cùng.”

because the way you completely focus on something… is truly mesmerising.

you blink, feeling a momentary flush of confusion and surprise at the words slipping from his mouth. did he just—? but before you can fully process it, he continues.

“vậy nên tôi cũng không thể trách họ khi họ muốn nhìn em gần và lâu hơn được.”

so i don’t blame them when they want to look at you closer and longer.

his words linger in the air, a moment passes before it clicks —he doesn’t think you understand. that’s why he’s speaking so… freely; letting slip things he’d never say outright in a language you both speak fluently.

“nhưng mà… chắc không ai trong số bọn họ có thể sánh ngang với tôi, em nhỉ?”

but… none of them can compare to me, right?

your chest tightens as a surge of warmth courses through you. 

his detached attitude only fuels your irritation. but there’s also a certain satisfaction in knowing something he doesn’t: you’ve understood every single word he’s said.

feigning ignorance, you raise an eyebrow, meeting his gaze with what you hope is a neutral expression. "what are you going on about?" you ask.

his expression remains as stoic as ever, not a single crack in his mask. he simply shrugs, eyes still on you, "just telling you to focus more.”

your grip on the pen tightens, there's a part of you that wants to wipe that smug look off his face, to show him you're not as clueless as he assumes. but not yet —you’re curious to see just how far he’s willing to push.

"right," you mutter under your breath, tapping the pen against your notebook. "focus. got it."

he leans down slightly, one arm resting on the back of your chair while the other presses against the table, effectively caging you in.

"you're wasting time, finals are coming up." he takes a brief pause before continuing, "i wish you the best of luck, you’ll need it.”

your eyes snap up to him in a glare, “don’t you have somewhere to be?" you bite back.

alhaitham straightens, giving you a final glance before turning towards the door. “naturally, i have studying to do.”

“bởi vì tôi sẽ chứng minh cho em thấy rằng chỉ có tôi mới xứng tầm làm đối thủ học thuật của em, không một ai khác.”

because i will prove to you that only i am worthy of being your rival, no one else.

why did he frame it as if it’s a privilege only he can claim? or is he trying to… flatter you?!

you shake your head, no way, that’s ridiculous. finals are coming up, there’s no time to dwell on whatever mind games he’s playing. though if the almighty alhaitham wants a rival, then you’ll show him exactly what it means to stand at the pinnacle.

ACT III: IN MY DREAMS, I SCORED HIGHER THAN YOU.

you’re tired, the kind of tired that seeps deep into your bones. every blink stretches longer than the last and you find it increasingly difficult to focus on the words in front of you. stifling a yawn, you feel the pull of sleep tugging at you, whispering sweet promises of rest.

there’s still time till your next class.

maybe you'll take a moment to close your eyes, just for a few seconds…

did you not get enough sleep last night, or did you stay up late studying again? alhaitham watches silently from across the room, his eyes narrowing as your head droops lower, your exhaustion becoming painfully obvious with each passing second. his gaze lingers on the way your pen pauses mid-sentence, the line on your notebook trailing off as your hand grows heavy.

he pushes himself up from his seat, and approaches your desk; he notices the sunlight streaming through the window, harsh and unrelenting, hitting right over the table where you’re sitting. he looks at you —eyes closed, with the faintest crease of discomfort on your brow.

without a word, he reaches out and slips the pen from your grip, the slight shift causing your fingers to twitch, but you don’t wake. 

for a fleeting second, he considers waking you. but then, as you shift again, settling more comfortably into your chair, he decides against it. what good would that do, anyway? you’d probably just brush him off and keep going until you collapse from sheer fatigue. typical.

instead, he adjusts his stance slightly, positioning himself just right to make sure the sunlight is fully blocked from your face, casting you in a cool shadow. 

you mumble something incoherent, and he can’t help but roll his eyes at your state. did you really think burning yourself out like this would help you focus?

“stubborn,” he mutters under his breath. 

you're always like this, pushing yourself past your limits, and while part of him respects your determination to outdo him, he won’t allow it to come at the expense of your health.

you stir from your slumber, lifting your head, your gaze lands on a familiar figure standing to the side of your table. his back turned, facing the sunlight that streams in from the window. 

alhaitham. 

he’s close, so close that his broad shoulders completely block out the sunlight from the window. the sight sends a rush of confusion through your already sleep-addled mind. did he… stand there the whole time? why? 

you shift slightly in your seat, your movement catching his attention. without turning, he speaks in that low, steady tone of his, “you’re awake.”

“alhaitham?” you murmur, your voice still thick with sleep.

he glances over his shoulder, just enough for you to catch a glimpse of the calm expression on his face. “you’ve been out for a while,” he comments, a hint of amusement in his voice. “i was starting to think you’d sleep through your next class.”

you rub the sleep from your eyes, “why didn’t you wake me up then?”

his shoulders shift slightly as he shrugs, still facing away from you. “you looked like you needed the rest. besides, it’s more entertaining to see how long you’d stay asleep.”

a flicker of annoyance courses through you as you roll your eyes, “oh, so you mean you care?”

he turns slightly, and you can see a hint of a smirk on his lips. “don’t read too much into it. i just prefer my competition functioning at their best.”

you wish you could roll your eyes harder because this man has an uncanny talent for grating on your nerves while somehow being insufferably charming at the same time.

“ah yes —because you need me to keep up with you,” you remark sarcastically.

“exactly.” you let out an exasperated sigh as you lean back in your chair. “you really think so highly of yourself, don’t you?”

“mushiro, kimi no koto o hijō ni takaku hyōka shiteiru yo.”

if anything, i think highly of you. 

your brows knit together in surprise, and you can’t help but scoff. “what was that? i didn't catch it.”

“i said i won’t go easy on you.” oh, the audacity. he’s lying again, and he knows it.

the corners of your mouth twitch in disbelief as you scrutinise his expression. there’s that familiar glimmer in his eyes, a spark of mischief that tells you he’s enjoying this too much.

“whatever,” you retort, crossing your arms defiantly. “not like i want you to anyway.”

despite your words, you can't deny that his actions earlier were surprisingly endearing. you wonder how long he intends to keep this up. perhaps it’s time you let him know.

“ii ne, kimi ga iraira shite iru toki wa kawaiikara.”

good, because you’re cute when you’re all riled up.

you feel a blush creep into your cheeks at his words, okay maybe you shouldn’t let him know. you instinctively look away, as if avoiding his gaze can help you regain your composure.

cute? what does he mean “cute”?! he thinks he can get away with calling you cute —well… well, there’s not much you can do about it, you’re not ready to confront him about this either.

the mere thought of asking him directly makes your stomach twist with a year’s worth of embarrassment. yet, as you try to refocus on the book in front of you, you find yourself biting your lip, struggling to suppress a smile that threatens to break free.

ACT IV: I WOKE UP TODAY, AND A DREAM CAME TRUE.

the hallway buzzes with excitement as students gather around the large announcement board, eager to see the results of their theses. you push through the crowd, heart pounding, the low hum of chatter filling your ears. 

when you reach the front, you quickly scan the list; the moment your eyes land on your name, your breath catches in your throat.

there it is, in bold red ink at the top of the board —a score higher than you’d ever hoped for, higher than his. and your name, on top of his.

alhaitham.

you glance over and spot him approaching the board, approaching you. his expression is, as always, unreadable. but you know him well enough by now to catch the slight pause in his movements, the brief moment where his eyes linger just a second too long on the board.

you try not to think too much about it as you collect your thesis, with alhaitham following closely behind, his fingers nearly grazing yours as you both sift through the stack of papers on the table.

you take in the glowing praise from your professor, each word making you feel like every all-nighter was worth it. you clutch the paper, resisting the urge to grin like an idiot. 

glancing sideways, you wait for him to say something, maybe some backhanded comment, but he remains silent. your eyes meet, and there’s a shift in his gaze as the usual sharpness in his eyes dulls ever so slightly, your smile lingering like the first light of dawn breaking through the night's embrace.

it’s subtle —just a flicker —but you catch how his gaze falters, softening, if only for a heartbeat. the edges of his stare blur, drawn to the warmth of your expression as though it’s something he hadn’t meant to witness, yet can’t look away from. 

at this moment,

"looks like i finally beat you," you say, not bothering to suppress the grin spreading across your face now.

he feels like

there’s no scowl, no sign of frustration —just the slightest raise of an eyebrow. “hmm. by a point.” he pauses, studying you for a second longer than necessary before returning his gaze to his paper. “enjoy it while it lasts.”

he's in heaven.

it’s as if he’s not bothered by the outcome at all. in fact, if anything, he seems... satisfied?

"hindi dapat ganito kalala ang epekto ng ngiti mo sa akin."

your smile shouldn't affect me this badly.

“—huh?” your mouth drops slightly open at his words; out of everything, you didn’t expect him to say that. it catches you off guard, making your heart race just a little faster. if you peer closely enough, you might catch a glimpse of the gentle arch of his lips, a ghost of a smile. 

the silence stretches on for a beat too long before he clears his throat and shifts his gaze away from you. “ang iyong ngiti ang pinakamagandang tanawin ng aking araw.”

your smile is the most beautiful sight of my day.

“what?” the word slips from your lips, barely a breath, a soft gasp that hangs in the air. it feels almost surreal and you wonder if you’ve misheard him.

each heartbeat thunders in your ears, a rhythm that matches the erratic flutter in your chest. why is he saying these things, what for in a different language…? there’s no way that he—

"—tulad mo na ang hinangad ko na ligawan, ngunit sa bawat ngiti mo, halip ay mas lalo akong nahulog para sayo."

—like you, who i wish to court, but with every smile, i instead found myself falling for you. 

your breath hitches as your heart stumbles, the implications of his words washing over you like a wave. a rush of heat floods your cheeks, “what… did you say?”

his shoulders stiffen, and there’s a subtle tension in the way his fingers curl against the paper he’s holding. “see you tomorrow, [name],” he mutters, his voice low but hurried, and before you know it, he’s already walking away.

two strange things happened today: 

1. you finally beat your sworn enemy!

2. said enemy… complimented you? 

huh, it’s as if the words slipped out before he could catch them, as if he’s been holding them in for far too long, as if… you notice the way his neck reddens, even as he turns away.

behind the door, alhaitham lets out a quiet breath.

“gago… nagkamali ba ako?”

stupid… did i make a mistake?

to his dismay, an annoyingly familiar voice cuts through the silence. kaveh, who had been waiting just down the hall, notices him standing there, a little too still. 

“oh, what do we have here?" there's a slight pause, followed by a raised eyebrow. "is that—no way, your face is red!” kaveh teases, amusement dancing in his eyes. “what happened there?" he leans in, clearly enjoying himself. "come on, spill the tea..!” 

"not a chance," alhaitham retorts, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms defensively.

just then, kaveh spots cyno and tighnari; grinning, he waves them over. “what’s going on? did alhaitham finally crack under pressure?”

alhaitham would rather reorganise the entire library than listen to kaveh recount what happened.

“i’m leaving.” 

"no, i'm afraid you're not getting out of this one.” cyno steps forward, blocking alhaitham’s path; and tighnari, who has been quietly observing till now, chimes in, “don’t leave us hanging.”

“you’re outnumbered.” 

alhaitham sighs and shakes his head. he hadn’t even thought it was physically possible for him, of all people, to do something as ridiculous as blushing —until today.

(on the other side of the door, their banter echoes through, and you can’t help but chuckle to yourself at alhaitham’s misery.)

ACT V: PLAUSIBLE DENIABILITY, YOU SAY? BUT EVERYONE CALLS IT FLIRTING.

“i think alhaitham likes [name].”

the whole table falls silent before kaveh dramatically slams his glass down on the table, causing a splash of alcohol to spill over the edge. “oh finally, it’s so obvious! have you all seen the way he looks at them?” 

across the table, tighnari taps his fingers absentmindedly on his notebook, his attention only half on kaveh’s (incoming) rant but clearly invested enough, as shown by the slight twitching of his ears, to be listening. 

cyno snickers, “you’re telling me the man who can dissect any philosophical argument can’t handle a little crush? that’s rich.”

kaveh waves a hand dismissively. “come on! remember that time they were partnered up for a project? he was so... uncharacteristically patient! i’d almost say it’s cute if it weren’t alhaitham we’re talking about!”

right, it’d be almost endearing —if it weren’t coming from the most stoic, intimidatingly aloof guy in the entire school. it’d be adorable —if it weren’t alhaitham, who instinctively covers the corner of your table with his hand when you drop your pencil, ensuring you won’t hit your head as you bend down to retrieve it.

oh, you don’t notice (of course not). but your friend dehya, sitting nearby, catches the whole scene out of the corner of her eye. she raises an eyebrow, nudging the girl beside her. 

(“candace, do you see that shit.” / “yeah.”)

“a soft spot for [name], you say? well, i’ve got a story of my own, too.” cyno glances around, ensuring no one else is within earshot, then lowers his voice conspiratorially.  “have you noticed? he doesn’t wear his earphones when he’s around them.”

kaveh pipes up, nodding eagerly.

“he’s got those earphones practically glued to his head, he doesn’t hear anything he doesn’t want to, and he certainly doesn’t talk unless he’s forced to. but around them?” cyno pauses, pretending to think for a while. “not once. he’ll put them away entirely, like he’s actually willing to be… present.”

sure it’s small, subtle, the kind of habit no one would pick up on unless they were looking closely. but to anyone who knew alhaitham well, it tells them more than words ever could. 

for him, actions speak louder than words, even if he often doesn’t realise the meaning behind his own gestures.

his earphones slide down, resting forgotten around his neck, all so he can be close enough to catch the delightful lilt of your laughter. his chair inches a fraction closer, seemingly by accident. a subtle upward twitch at the corner of his mouth, so fleeting and often passing so quickly if one weren’t paying attention.

for him, it’s a language without words.

dehya laughs softly. "for someone who supposedly ‘doesn’t like being bothered,’ he sure seems invested in whatever [name] has to say."

and what sealed their suspicions? 

definitely the time when kaveh complimented nilou’s new bracelet. he glanced over at the man beside him, nudging him lightly. “what do you think?”

alhaitham gave the bracelet a cursory glance, before replying, “it’s nice.” though his gaze flickered back; and almost absently, he added after a pause, “[name] has the same one too.”

oh… oh? well that was oddly specific. kaveh’s eyebrow quirked as he fought to suppress a grin.

alhaitham had noticed a detail seemingly insignificant about [name] —the kind of thing he never cared to show the slightest interest in when it came to anyone else.

the glint in nilou’s eyes seemed to mirror kaveh’s unspoken thoughts, silently agreeing with his suspicions.  

now they’re certain —100% sure, in fact —that alhaitham has a crush on you.

“well, speak of the devil… lovely seeing you here, alhaitham,” kaveh quips. tighnari, ever observant, gives him a pointed look. “your jacket’s missing.”

“someone took it,” alhaitham replies, his tone as composed as always, giving nothing away.

—nothing until you walked past. draped over your shoulders, unmistakable, is alhaitham’s jacket. you don’t notice the way every pair of eyes follows you, or the way kaveh barely stifles a triumphant laugh.

...make that 110%.

(translation: he means he borrowed his jacket because [name] was cold.)

ACT VI: IT’S YOU, WHO COMES TO MY RESCUE. 

the quiet night hangs heavy, the road empty and bathed in the dim glow of distant streetlights. you weave through the streets, but no matter how many twists and turns you take, that weirdo just won’t leave you alone.  

he’s been trailing behind you for blocks now, his persistence grating on your nerves, cornering you with endless “compliments” and invasive questions. you’ve tried to shake him off, but his determination far exceeds your patience.

"come on, just give me a chance," he insists, stepping closer, a little too close for comfort. you take a step back. the smell of alcohol reeks from his breath, and his grin is making your skin crawl. 

"i told you, i’m not interested," you say firmly, keeping your voice steady, but the panic was starting to creep in. you glance at the empty bottle in his hand —he’s definitely drunk out his mind.

“you sure?" he completely ignores your clear discomfort. "how about you just give me your number, yeah?" he slurs out.

"no, i have a boyfriend." you lie through your teeth, hoping that would be enough to make him back off.

unfortunately, he’s as insufferable as he is persistent.

he snorts dismissively, "yeah, right. a boyfriend? you’re just playing hard to get."

you sigh, you aren’t in the mood for this, not here, not now, and especially not with someone like him. "i already told you, i have a boyfriend," your voice now tinged with frustration. "so please, just leave me alone.”

"oh, don't be like that," he steps in front of you, blocking your way. "prove it. call your boyfriend. show me you’re not lying."

your heart races as the man reaches out for you, dodging his hand, you take the chance to look behind him for an escape. just then, you see an all-too-familiar figure in the distance. 

alhaitham. 

you barely manage to suppress a relieved sigh as you wave frantically in his direction. he spots you almost immediately and without hesitation, he rushes over.

"what, this your boyfriend?" the guy sneers with derision, still sounding a little too cocky for someone who was about to get a reality check.

alhaitham steps beside you, you can feel his eyes on you for just a brief moment, the faintest flicker of worry flashing across his face. it’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but you catch it—and it makes your chest tighten.

his voice is low, unmistakably carrying a warning, "yes, i’m their boyfriend. and if you don’t want things to escalate, i suggest you leave." 

the man’s face twists as anger flares in his bloodshot eyes. he takes a step forward, his grip tightening around the neck of the bottle, the glass slightly cracking. "you think you can tell me what to do?" he slurs, gaze wild and unfocused. “y-you think you’re some kind of saviour? *hic* a-and you! how… how dare you reject me?!”

alhaitham doesn’t move, his expression cold and unbothered, and that only seems to make the man angrier. his frustration boils over, and with a snarl, he clumsily swings the bottle in his hand, aggressively lurching towards your direction. 

the world seems to slow for a moment. though before you can even react, alhaitham pulls you firmly behind him with one swift motion, his other arm instinctively rising to shield the both of you from the blow. the sound of glass meeting his forearm is sharp and jarring —you can hear the high-pitched tinkle of glass scattering, the jagged shards bouncing off the pavement, and some skittering across the ground.

but he doesn’t even flinch, his stance unwavering as the man stumbles back, glass crunching underfoot. you’re still frozen from shock, your heart racing in your chest as you watch the scene unfold. 

“big mistake,” he starts, and the man visibly falters. “harassment, assault —keep this up, and you’ll regret every choice that brought you here tonight.”

the man shifts around, clearly disoriented. his eyes dart between you and alhaitham, but it’s clear that the fight’s already left him. “you— you can’t do this!” the man stammers, trying to regain some semblance of courage; unfortunately for him, the tremor in his voice is unmistakable. 

“do you really want to find out?” alhaitham asks, to which the man shakes his head vigorously. “get lost,” he mutters. the man, looking more pathetic than threatening now, quickly stumbles away, mumbling incoherent curses under his breath.

you’re breathless, still clutching the edge of his jacket, fingers trembling slightly as the adrenaline courses through you. 

"are you alright?"

you nod, forcing a small, unconvincing smile."yeah... i’m fine. thanks to you." 

alhaitham’s eyes narrow slightly, scanning you for any sign of injury. you follow his gaze instinctively, glancing down at yourself. that’s when you notice it —not on you, but on him.

streaks of red stain his forearm, where jagged shards of glass must have cut him during the confrontation. the gash bleeds steadily, a dark line of blood seeping through the fabric of his jacket.

"wait," you breathe, your heart sinking. "you're bleeding."

your stomach twists with guilt.

"why didn’t you say anything?" you exclaim.

he shakes his head, a dismissive gesture that does nothing to ease the knot forming in your stomach. "it’s nothing," he says, but the slight furrow in his brow and the tension in his jaw betray his words.

"nothing?" you fix him with a hard glare. "idiot… you just blocked a glass bottle with your arm, don’t try to downplay this."  

you grab his sleeve, tugging it gently but firmly, the fabric sliding beneath your fingers as you pull it up. “—and unless you think an infection is ‘nothing’, you’ll let me take care of this."  

"hold still," you murmur as you settle beside him on the couch, your supplies spread across the coffee table in front of you.

the scent of antiseptic fills the air as you take a disinfectant wipe and gently dab it against the gash. the sting of the alcohol makes him flinch slightly, but he doesn’t pull away. you mutter a soft apology, your movements slow and deliberate as you try to be as gentle as you can.

you open a tube of ointment, squeezing a small amount onto your finger before smoothing it carefully along the edges of the cut. the cool gel glides over his skin, and you can feel the tension in his arm ease ever so slightly under your touch.

“nǐ zhème guān xīn wǒ, huì ràng wǒ wù huì de.”

if you care so much about me, i might misunderstand you.

your fingers pause briefly, the words catching you off guard. you glance up at him, but he only averts his gaze, his eyes remaining fixed on a distant spot beyond the room.

misunderstand? misunderstand what, exactly?

the bandage wraps securely around his arm as you smooth it into place. as you tuck the end of the bandage, his voice comes again, just as soft, but no less clear. 

“—wù huì nǐ duì wǒ yǒu gǎn jué.”

"—misunderstand that you have feelings for me."

your brain short-circuits, and in your shock, your hands jerk. in turn, the bandage tightens way too much, causing him to wince and tense up. before you can apologise, he lets out a light chuckle.

“suǒ yǐ nǐ dān xīn wǒ… nǐ shì bù shì gù yì ràng rén xīn dòng de?”

“so you're worried about me… are you purposely trying to make my heart race?”

his words only make you more flustered, and you find yourself fumbling to fix the bandage. “i’m sorry! i didn’t mean to—”

his chuckle only grows softer, and you catch the glint of amusement in his eyes. “it’s fine.”

you quickly finish adjusting the bandage, trying to focus on anything other than how your heart is now racing. (ironically) 

“you seem flustered,” he comments casually, as if he isn’t the one who just made your head spin. “did i say something wrong?”

you shake your head quickly, hoping to hide the flush creeping up your neck. "no, not at all.”

his lips twitch into the faintest hint of a smirk.

"nǐ bù bì yǎn shì, wǒ xǐ huān nǐ hài xiū de yàng zǐ, tǐng kě ài de.”

“you don’t have to hide it. i like seeing your flustered expression, it’s quite cute.”

(oh this bastard!!!!)

you try to speak, but the words get stuck in your throat. what do you say when someone’s teasing you so openly —and they think you don’t even realise it?

after a long moment, he stands, “it’s getting late, i should get going.” alhaitham gives you a small, almost imperceptible nod, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment —and there it was, that trace of softness reserved only for you.

he heads toward the door, you watch him, feeling a strange sense of emptiness when he turns away.

“i’ll see you,” he pauses. "...and thank you for tending to me."

you watch him leave, the door clicking softly behind him, and the silence settles back into the room.

you blink, taking a deep breath. what a rollercoaster of a day. yawning, you turn to start tidying up, but your eyes land on something on the couch.

it’s his jacket, draped over the armrest. you notice a tear on the sleeve, just where his injured forearm had been. what truly catches your attention, however, is a folded piece of paper slipping out of the pocket. 

intrigued, you unfold it, revealing his neat, precise handwriting. 

ACT VII: THE SECRET I’VE ALWAYS KNOWN. 

To [Name],  I once believed you to be little more than a nuisance. A bright, well-meaning nuisance, no doubt, but a nuisance nonetheless. One who seemed intent only on striving for perfection, always seeking to best me at every turn, not out of malice but out of some earnest desire to prove your worth. In my arrogance, I mistook your relentless pursuit for a need for recognition, as if you sought my attention in some petty rivalry. Though very quickly, you made me think otherwise.  You saw the world differently, you also saw me differently. You didn’t treat me with the reverence others seemed to, nor did you shy away from challenging me. You refused to be seen as anything other than yourself; and that, in itself, was what made me admire you —what made me long to understand you more. Now, I find that I am standing with half a heart and an emptiness I never knew I could feel, because you showed me what it truly means to crave something more, something I never thought I deserved. You may think I’m a coward for not expressing my feelings more directly, perhaps you are right. I am a coward for fearing to lay bare the vulnerability of my heart. But even in my cowardice, know that my thoughts have always been of you.  If you have seen through my silence and hesitation, if you understand my actions when my words fail me, then perhaps you have already known this truth. I care for you, more deeply than I can fully express. Though I may never be able to say these things as openly as I wish, I’d like you to know that my actions have always been my confession. Even now, I’m still a coward for you. So please, if you decide to give me a chance, I’ll be waiting at nightfall. Helplessly,  Alhaitham. 

you absentmindedly trace the edges of the letter with your fingers while your eyes skim over his writing for the nth time, the ink seeming to blur together with your thoughts as you try to process everything. your fingers curl around the fabric of his jacket, a foolish smile creeping onto your face.

tomorrow’s nightfall feels impossibly far away, yet you can’t wait for it. 

alhaitham lays on his bed, his arm aches slightly from the injury, but it’s nothing he can’t ignore. plus, the bandage you had carefully wrapped around his arm is enough to keep the discomfort at bay. 

(originally, he had only planned to meet you, slip you the note, and be on his way. things didn’t go exactly to plan, but either way, he hopes you’ve read it by now.)

of all the possibilities, he’s never accounted for the one he’d be at mercy of his own emotions; he had always prided himself on his rationality, his restraint. but now? he’s reckless, absurd, foolish even —he can admit that to himself. but he finds he doesn’t care in the slightest.

for as much as he is a coward in your presence, he is just as much a fool in your absence.

ACT VIII: UNDER THE RAIN, I HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY. 

“alhaitham isn’t really an expressive person, so don’t worry if he comes off as distant or uninterested. it’s not that he doesn’t care, he just… shows it differently.”

ah well, ‘differently’ indeed.

“—most importantly, alhaitham doesn’t waste time on people he doesn’t care about, so you must mean a lot to him.”

maybe you didn’t mind how your heart raced when you heard that.

“don’t fuss over it [name], you’ll know when he’s in love.”

how so? 

if he was in love, what would it look like? would you be able to tell, or would it be just another one of those things you had to catch on to?

you wrapped the his jacket tighter around yourself, a faint smile tugging at your lips. it wasn’t the answers to those questions that mattered, but asking them in the first place —that was what made you realize you already knew all along.

the evening air is cool against your skin; a gentle breeze stirs the trees, their leaves rustling quietly, and your heart beats louder than ever, urging you forward.

in the distance, you spot him, standing still in the dim light. and without a second thought, you quicken your pace.

“haitham.”

the sound of your voice catches his attention as he turns to face you; you can’t help but notice how his gaze flickers down for just a moment, his eyes taking in on how his jacket looks on you, before meeting yours. 

his posture is unnervingly perfect, rigid almost to the point of stiffness …is he nervous?

“hey,” he finally says, clearing his throat. “there’s something i need to tell you… though you’ve probably already figured it out. you’ve always been sharp.” 

“i… ” he falters, and it’s the first time you see him hesitate. “i’m not sure how to put it… since i’m not exactly great at this.”

you tilt your head, subtly urging him to continue. 

“but you’ve managed to make me care about things i never thought i would. and now i can’t seem to stop thinking about it —about you.” his voice lowers, softer now, but there’s a rawness there that’s unmistakable.

“i’m telling you this now, because not saying it... doesn’t feel right anymore."

suddenly, you feel a soft mist that barely kisses your skin, a slight chill against your cheeks, then a few tiny drops,  until they start to gather in your hair, the beads of water slipping down the back of your neck, but you don't move. neither does he.

his hair is damp, sticking to his forehead, droplets trailing down his temple. his clothes cling to his frame, soaked by the rain, yet his attention remains solely on you.

“[name], i am irrevocably in love with you.”

you stand there, the rain falling relentlessly around you, the pitter-patter mirroring the frantic beat of your heart. the water trails down his face, but it’s hard to tell if it’s just the rain, or something else.

his lips part, as though he wants to say more, but the words seem caught in the storm, swallowed up by the downpour. the rain is cold, but his gaze? his gaze feels impossibly warm. 

it’s only when you feel the dampness of his jacket beneath your fingers, that the words finally come. “you don’t need to convince me of that.”

you take a step closer, and for a moment, the world outside seems to disappear.

“i’ve known,” you add. “but hearing you say it,” you pause, allowing yourself a small smile, “makes all the difference.”

reaching up, your fingers graze his damp skin as you gently push a wet strand of hair from his forehead, the warmth of your touch lingering against his cool skin. 

“'uhibuk aydan, alhaitham.”

i love you too, alhaitham.

a single droplet slides down his cheek, tracing the line of his jaw before falling to the soaked fabric of his collar. another follows. and then another. his breath catches in his throat, and a shaky exhale leaves his mouth.

you wrap your arms around him, and he sinks into your embrace, his hair tickling your cheeks, as his chest rises and falls against yours.

“you’re gonna make me cry too, idiot,” you murmur, burying your face in his chest, your eyes glassy. “you really are a fool,” you tease softly, a slight smile playing on your lips. “but only for me.”

slowly, his hands rise, trembling slightly, until they cup your cheeks, gently stroking it. 

“la yujad 'ahad akhar 'urid 'an 'akun 'ahmaq min 'ajlihi.”

there’s no one else i’d ever want to be a fool for.

his palms are surprisingly warm despite the weather. his thumb grazes your cheekbone as he leans in, and the world falls away —nothing but the warmth of his presence and the soft press of his lips against yours.

“this is my first time in ten years seeing this guy cry! can you believe it?!” kaveh whisper-shouts, peeking out from behind the shrub. 

nodding along, cyno agrees, poking his head out just right below the blond’s. “[name] is truly exceptional. though i must say, seeing alhaitham cry is quite tear-rifying.”

kaveh rolls his eyes in exasperation. “ugh, you and your puns.” he mutters under his breath while zooming in on his phone, which is currently recording the whole scene.

“quiet down, you two!” a voice hisses from behind them —tighnari, face flushed with panic. “they’re literally right there, and you’re making more noise than a herd of goats.”

“relax, we’re out of their line of sight anyway!” kaveh raises his phone higher, almost giddily, eyes glued to the screen. “and damn this is a good angle.”

tighnari exhales sharply, “you’re incorrigible.”

“look who’s talking,” cyno raises an eyebrow at tighnari… who’s also peeking out from behind the bush. (what a hypocrite)

…

“they kissed oh my g—” kaveh’s voice rises in disbelief, but cyno quickly covers his mouth with a swift hand. the three of them scramble to duck behind the bush just as you turn to glance in their direction.

(“is that… senior kaveh?” you squint your eyes, “cyno, and tighnari?” 

alhaitham clears his throat before glancing over at his friends with a deadpan expression. “yes and unfortunately, they’re very invested in my personal life. so please don’t mind them."

you laugh, finding the whole situation a bit too amusing. “not in the slightest, but i’m sure they’ll never let you hear the end of it.”)

EPILOGUE: IN EVERY LANGUAGE, I HEAR LOVE YOU.

“how long?”

you blink, feigning confusion. “how long what?”

alhaitham’s eyes narrow slightly, an expression you know well. “how long have you understood everything i’ve been saying?”

you bite back a smile and offer a small shrug, “...ever since you started?” 

his lips press into a thin line, and for a moment, you can’t tell if he’s upset or impressed. then, he sighs, almost amused. “and you let me embarrass myself all this time?”

“you were being honest,” you shrug, a smirk forming. “plus i knew you’d figure it out eventually.”

he huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “may ideya ka ba kung ano ginawa mo?"

do you have any idea what you’ve done?

"mas lalong umibig sakin?"

made you fall in love with me even more?

you tease, but there’s a tenderness in your voice that softens the edge of your words.

“yes, and you really are insufferable,” he mutters with no malice. his tone is different now. softer. warmer, even.

you lean in slightly, a playful glint in your eyes. “that’s not what i heard you say before.” your fingers graze the skin of his cheek before you tenderly pinch it, giggling softly at the reaction you provoked.

in one smooth motion, he catches your hand before you can pull away and tugs you towards him, closing the distance between you in a heartbeat. you tilt your head back to meet alhaitham’s gaze.

you’ve often thought he’s the most-perfect boyfriend, undeniably handsome in every way —but there’s really just one flaw: his height.

“ugh, you’re too tall," you grumble, rubbing the back of your neck. "i’m having a neck sore just looking at you."

he quirks an eyebrow at your sudden words. “you could use a stepstool.” 

"or," you counter, "you could get on your knees and save me the trouble.”

he slowly lets out a breath, his lips curling ever so slightly. 

“'akida, 'antaziri hataa 'ashtari alkhatama.”

sure, just wait till i buy the ring.

"wh—" 

he crosses his arms, "what’s wrong? isn’t that what people expect when someone gets on their knees?"

you roll your eyes, half-smiling. "fine, then i’ll eagerly wait for that day.”

his gaze softens as his hand reaches up, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face; his eyes drop to your lips for a moment, and you know what’s coming even before he speaks.

this fic was not sponsored by duolingo, but with the help of my beloved friends!! wouldn't have been possible w/o em please give them a round of applause xx

vietnamese — @https-sourlimes

tagalog / filipino — @vxnuslogy

arabic — @ughscara

chinese, japanese — me!

ty @mitsvriii for proofreading, love u all <3

and thank you for reading!! reblogs are appreciated ^^

pspspss check out the cool fanart / comic based on this fic here by @rei-plswork 🤍

MASTERLIST.

[heyjudeb]

I'm proud of you - Jude Bellingham

Summary: Comforting sad and defeated Jude after England's loss. Warning: Sad moment, comforting Words: <1k

The referee blows the final whistle.

It was over. England lost. It all happened too quickly. Spain scoring in the last minutes didn't even give us time to process the situation.

I was sitting in the stands with Jude's family. We all shed a tear once the Spanish players started celebrating. Seeing Jude go off to the bench and kick something was a heartbreaking yet scary sight for me. Instantly, I knew that was going to be a sight for the media.

He's not like that at all. He just really wanted this win. With people being all over him, critiquing him, he really wanted to prove them wrong, to make England proud. I couldn't be more proud of him, though. He achieved amazing things in this competition.

As I watched him from afar, I wished I could just run down and hold him, tell him it was okay. I knew how much he had invested in this tournament, how much he had sacrificed. His dedication and his passio were the qualities that made him extraordinary. Those were the reasons why I fell in love with him.

Feeling an overwhelming urge to be closer to him, I excused myself from his family and made my way down to the lower stands, closer to the field. As I approached the edge, I saw Jude pacing back and forth, his frustration evident in every step. When he finally noticed me, our eyes locked. He hesitated for a moment, then walked over.

With his help, I crossed the barrier and immediately fell into his arms, holding his head tightly into my neck. I could feel him shaking from all the emotions he was going through.

"I messed up," he muttered, his voice muffled against my shoulder.

"No, you didn't," I said firmly, my hand gently running through his hair. "You were incredible, baby. You gave it your all." He pulled back slightly, his eyes filled with tears. "It wasn't enough. It wasn't fucking enough." "Hey," I cupped his face gently, putting my forehead against his. "Listen to me. You were amazing out there. You fought so hard, and everyone saw it."

He didn't know what to say. I could see he wanted to let go of everything he was feeling, but the words wouldn't come.

"Just stay calm, baby," I tried to comfort him, reminding him that losing is part of the game and keeping his composure is important. "You can use this to come back even stronger."

I knew my words might not have a big impact on him in that moment. It was all still raw and fresh for him, so I simply held him tighter in my arms. He pulled back slightly, his eyes still glistening. "I have to go, baby. They're going to do the ceremony."

"I know," I said softly. He kissed my forehead.

"I'll meet you afterwards," I told him, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

He nodded, giving me one last look before turning and walking towards his teammates. As I walked up the stands to where his family was, I felt a mix of pride and heartache.

After England had their moment, Jude walked up to us and hugged his family. They all expressed how proud they were of him, trying not to show any sadness in front of him.

He sat down with his head low. I gently lifted his chin, earning a small, faint smile from him.

"I'm sorry for disappointing you guys," he managed to say to them.

I sat on his lap, holding him close to my chest. It pained me to see him like this, unable to erase his sadness.

"You never disappoint us, Jude," his mom reassured him, holding his hand tightly.

I arrived at my hotel room feeling exhausted and heartbroken for Jude. He had to return to the hotel with the team. There was nothing I wanted more than to have him in my arms and try to ease his sadness, even just a little. I was about to get into bed after finishing my nighttime routine when I heard a faint knock on the door. I opened it to find Jude standing there, his shoulders slumped and a tired look on his face. "They told me it's okay," he said quickly, grabbing my hand and leading me to the bed.

He took off his shirt and sweatpants and collapsed onto the bed, pulling me with him. His head immediately rested on my chest as he hugged me tightly.

"It's going to be okay, baby," I whispered, wrapping my arms around his head and kissing his forehead repeatedly. "These bad feelings will pass, trust me."

I ran my fingers through his hair, knowing it helped him relax and fall asleep. I kept kissing his forehead and cuddling him until I felt his grip around my waist loosen slightly, indicating he had fallen asleep.

"You'll always be my champion, baby," I whispered softly." I love you so much, Jude Bellingham."

[dodgeballstuckonthegymceiling]

Huge thanks to hattiemagix for commissioning this!

Doey & motherly fem reader

★ When Doey first met the reader, he was immediately wary of her. Her kind nature was unfamiliar and he couldn't tell if it was an act or not, it made him suspicious. Even though he liked it when you were around he tried to keep his distance. Can you really blame him? He’s met a lot of people who’ve pretended to be nice, only for them to end up hurting him. 

★ Doey tested the reader's boundaries to see if her kindness was genuine. Slowly challenging her patience. "Let's see how long she can keep this up," he thought, observing her reactions closely. Shurely she would slip and show her true colors. 

★ Even though it was a tad annoying, you were still patient with him. You never raised your voice or showed anger, even when he was acting difficult. Whether it was explaining something for the hundredth time or dealing with his defensive attitude, you remained steadfast in your kindness. 

★ He started to realize that the reader genuinely cared for his well-being. Something he’s not at all used to. Doey never expected to meet someone, an ex-employee no less, who would try so hard to make him feel safe. He misses having someone to look after him, it's been so long, he almost forgot what it's like to be cared for. 

★ After that he quickly got used to you, your presence became a comfort. As the days in the factory slowly passed he grew even closer to you. Soon enough he started seeing you as an adoptive mother. But he decided to keep that to himself, for now at least, he wouldn't want to make you feel uncomfortable.  

★ If anything were to happen to you, he would be devastated. If you need to leave the Safe Haven, Doey becomes visibly anxious. He begins clinging to you, reluctant to let you go. He asks you to make a promise to stay safe and be careful. The thought of losing you fills him with dread."Promise me you'll be careful, okay? I need to know you'll come back safe” 

★ After defeating the Doctor and the Prototype you bring him, and many of the other toys, home with you. Because of course you had to bring Kissy, Poppy and those who called the Safe Haven home out of the factory where they were starving. 

★ Doey feels a mix of emotions—relief, uncertainty, and a bit of excitement—as he steps into the reader's home "This is... home?" he asks, looking at the various objects you have hung up and strewn about. “Of course” you declare, looking at him as he turns his head. Doey’s expression unreadable, “that is, If you want it to be.” you quickly add. 

★ And of course he stays with you! Where else would he go? He's so attached to you he couldn't imagine living anywhere else. By this point, it was clear as day that he needed you around. The way he beams when you compliment him or how he always lingers by you gave it away.

★ After spending the past 10 years in the abandoned shell of a factory, Doey is very eager to make up for lost time. He's really excited to try something new. You take the opportunity to teach him various domestic skills. His new favorite thing is baking with you!

★ He still has nightmares about the factory. When Doey wakes up from a nightmare he's immediately disoriented and filled with fear, the trauma of the factory still lingering in his mind. His breathing is heavy and a sense of panic is overwhelming him. His panicked cries always wake you up.  

★ You’re quick to comfort him, rushing to his side and hugging him close "It was just a bad dream. You're okay, and nothing can hurt you here." your gentle touch helped to ground him, "It's okay, Doey. I'm here. You're safe now." it's working, because now his cries have dissolved into a quieter whimper.

★ To help Doey calm down, the reader reaches for his favorite book, "The Adventures of Word Wizard." She knows how much the story means to him and starts reading aloud, her voice steady and comforting. As she continues, doey feels his eyelids grow heavy. 

★ Just before he falls asleep, Doey murmurs softly, "Goodnight, Mom." The reader smiles softly, her heart melting from Doey's words. For the rest of the night, he sleeps soundly, knowing he's safe and cared for.

[airybcby]

જ⁀♡⊹｡° every move is magic

♡ a/n — this is probably one of the longest things i've written lol. it's only bc it's yuki i swear.

♡ word count — 2.3k

♡ content — yukimiya kenyu x fem! reader, fem! reader, model! reader, childhood best friends, friends to lovers, mutual pining, goes from like kindergarten all the way to the u-20 game, mentions of yuki modeling, decided reader needed to be a model too, reader is shy and reserved as a kid, i made yukimiya one of those gremlin kids

♡ synopsis — Even if the world could never keep up with Yukimiya Kenyu, you’d always be grateful that he’d chosen to stay by your side.

The first time you met Yukimiya Kenyu, you were sitting on the edge of the playground, quietly watching the other kids play. You didn’t join them—not because you didn’t want to, but because you couldn’t figure out how. It was easier to sit by yourself, even if it meant being lonely.

Then he appeared, a blur of energy and determination. While the other kids were too slow to keep up with him, Yukimiya’s restless nature had finally found something that caught his attention: you.

“Why aren’t you playing?” he asked, tilting his head as if the idea was incomprehensible.

You shrugged, unsure what to say other than, “I don’t know how to play the games they’re playing.”

He blinked at you, his head tilting like he was trying to figure you out. “That’s dumb.”

Your eyes widened at his bluntness, and he quickly added, “Not you! The games. They’re boring. Wanna play something else?”

“What?”

“I don’t know. Something fun,” he said with a grin. “We’ll figure it out.”

He didn’t wait for you to answer, instead grabbing your hand and pulling you toward the sandbox. From then on, he never left your side. While he was still a whirlwind of energy, he always made sure to include you, even if it meant slowing down.

“You’re my best friend now, okay?” he declared one afternoon after you’d spent hours building an intricate sandcastle together.

“Okay,” you agreed, a shy smile tugging at your lips.

From that moment on, Yukimiya became your shadow, and you became his anchor. While he zoomed around the playground like a whirlwind, he always circled back to you. And when you sat quietly coloring, he sat next to you, fidgeting but staying put.

He slowed down for you.

Yukimiya’s talent for soccer became apparent early on. By the time you reached the third grade, he was already being called a prodigy. Coaches marveled at his footwork, his speed, his ability to outplay anyone who dared to challenge him.

You watched every game from the sidelines, cheering louder than anyone else. He always made sure to find you in the crowd afterward, his grin wide as he asked, “Did you see that? Did you see how I scored?”

“You were amazing, Yuki,” you’d say every time, and he’d beam like your words mattered more than anyone else’s.

But as his talent grew, your insecurities began to as well. You weren’t particularly athletic, or artistic, or academically gifted. While Yukimiya excelled at everything he tried, you felt like you were just… there.

You were proud of him, of course, but a small part of you always felt like you were standing in his shadow. Everyone noticed him. Everyone praised him. Meanwhile, you were… you.

“You’re thinking too hard again,” Yukimiya said one day, lying flat on the grass beside you after practice. His bangs stuck to his forehead, sweat glistening under the sun. “What is it?”

Your mother had always said that Yukimiya had "great emotional intelligence" for a 3rd grader.

You didn't know what that meant, but you thought so too.

You hesitated before mumbling, “I don’t think I’ll ever be as good at something as you are at soccer.”

He propped himself up on one elbow, frowning. “That’s stupid. You're good at being my best friend." The way he said it, with so much conviction would've made you laugh if his face didn't look so serious.

"You don’t have to be ‘good’ at anything for me to like having you around.” He mumbled, just a quick little add on.

The sincerity in his voice made your chest ache in a way you didn’t understand.

By the time you both entered middle school, Yukimiya’s popularity had skyrocketed. Girls giggled and blushed whenever he walked by, and boys challenged him to soccer matches, hoping to prove themselves.

At first, it didn’t bother you. Yukimiya was still the same boy who ran to your side after every game, who walked you home even when he was exhausted, who always made time for you no matter how busy he was.

But then the love letters started.

“Another one?” you asked one afternoon as he stuffed a folded note into his bag.

“Yeah,” he said nonchalantly, not even bothering to read it.

“Don’t you care what they say?”

“Not really.”

You frowned, not understanding how he could be so unaffected. “What if it’s someone you like?”

“Nah. I don’t feel that way about anyone.” He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “Besides, why would I need another girl when I already have you?”

The casual way he said it made your heart skip a beat, but you brushed it off as a joke. He couldn’t possibly mean it… could he?

No. You were best friends, he just didn't need another girl in his life right now. You were only in middle school, dating was the last of your worries.

But what would happen when a girl he did like gave him a letter? What would happen to you?

Your friendship with Yukimiya had always been effortless. He was the first person you turned to for help with anything—homework, outfit choices, or just figuring out life’s little mysteries. And he was the same with you.

You’d spent countless afternoons in his room, sprawled out on his bed while he juggled a soccer ball, the steady rhythm of it hitting the wall almost comforting.

This time was no different. You’d come over for a “study session,” but neither of you had cracked open a textbook. Yukimiya was sitting on the floor, bouncing the ball off the wall with practiced ease, while you lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

“Yuki,” you said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Yeah?” he replied, not looking up from his game.

“Do you think we stop each other from learning?”

The ball thudded against the wall again before he caught it, turning to look at you with a confused smile. “What do you mean? You’re here for a study session, silly.”

“No, not that,” you said, sitting up and hugging your knees to your chest. “I mean… learning how to kiss someone. Or how to go on dates. Stuff like that.”

His smile faltered, and he stared at you, the soccer ball forgotten in his hands. “Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice soft. “It’s just… we’re always together. And I love that, I do. But what if we’re keeping each other from… I don’t know, growing up or something?”

Yukimiya’s brows furrowed as he thought about your words. He stood, tossing the ball onto his desk and sitting beside you on the bed. “So… you want to learn how to kiss someone?”

“I guess,” you said, feeling your face heat up. “Don’t you?”

He hesitated, his gaze dropping to his hands. “I’ve thought about it,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I’ve never… y’know…”

You nodded, the awkward silence stretching between you. And then, to your surprise, Yukimiya looked up at you with a small, nervous smile.

“Maybe… we could help each other,” he suggested, his voice trembling slightly.

Your breath caught in your throat. “You mean…”

“We’re best friends, right?” he said quickly, as if trying to convince himself as much as you. “It’s not weird if it’s just to… learn. Right?”

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. But the way he looked at you—hopeful, nervous, and maybe a little excited—made you nod. “Okay,” you whispered.

His hand reached for yours, his palm warm and slightly clammy, if he was any other guy, you'd have been grossed out. But he was Yuki, your Yuki, nothing about him was gross.

He leaned in slowly, giving you plenty of time to pull away. But you didn’t. When his lips finally pressed against yours, it was soft and tentative, like he was afraid of doing it wrong.

It didn’t take long for the awkwardness to melt away. What started as a simple kiss turned into something deeper, something neither of you had planned.

His hands found your waist, yours tangled in his hair, and before you knew it, the lines between friendship and something more had blurred entirely.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your cheeks flushed. Yukimiya looked at you with wide eyes, his glasses slightly fogged, his lips parted as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

“Did we just…” you began, trailing off.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice barely audible.

Neither of you knew what to say after that, so you didn’t say anything at all. Instead, you lay back on his bed, your hands still intertwined as the silence settled over you like a blanket.

Both you and Yukimiya were scouted for modeling—him for his sharp, athletic looks, and you for your natural, understated charm. And maybe because Yukimiya dragged you to every meeting because he "couldn't do it alone."

He could, by the way, but he didn't want to be without you longer than neccessary.

But you were always so thankful to him, the industry was intimidating, but having him by your side made it bearable.

“You’ve got crumbs,” Yukimiya teased one morning during a shoot, brushing powdered sugar off your cheek from the donut you’d been eating.

“You’re one to talk,” you shot back, wiping coffee foam from his lip. Lips you'd kissed far too often to be considered 'just friends' anymore...but all you were doing was helping each other release energy.

It was Yuki, your Yuki, nothing was weird whenever you were with him.

The photographer snapped a picture of you two mid-laugh, and it became one of your favorite memories—a candid moment that felt more real than anything else.

When Yukimiya was invited to Blue Lock, you encouraged him to go, even though the thought of being apart made your chest ache.

“Don’t forget about me,” you joked, forcing a smile as you handed him his bus ticket.

“Never,” he promised, his voice low and serious.

You couldn't put a finger on why your heart was screaming at you to make him stay when he leaned down to give you one last kiss while your parents backs were turned.

If this wasn't his dream, maybe you would have.

Leaving for Blue Lock was the hardest decision Yukimiya ever made. He hated the thought of being away from you, but he knew he had to take the chance if he wanted to achieve his dream.

He worked tirelessly, determined to prove himself and earn his way back to the real world—not for glory, but so he could call you.

The day he scored enough goals to get his phone back, the first thing he did was call you.

“Yuki?” Your voice on the other end of the line made his heart ache with relief.

“Hey,” he said softly. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” you admitted, your voice thick with emotion.

His teammates teased him mercilessly when they saw his lock screen: a picture of the two of you in matching robes, laughing over coffee and donuts.

“Who’s that?” Karasu asked, leaning over his shoulder.

“My best friend,” Yukimiya replied, his tone too soft for the teasing that followed.

“Just a ‘best friend,’ huh?” Karasu smirked. “Sure doesn’t look that way to me.”

He ignored the crow-like boy the rest of the night, but the truth was, Karasu was right. You weren’t just his best friend. You were his everything.

The roar of the crowd still echoed in the stadium as Yukimiya scanned the field, his gaze darting between his teammates and the celebrating fans. But then he spotted you. Standing at the edge of the field, looking up at him with that same smile he’d seen a thousand times before—on playgrounds, in his room, and through the screen of his phone.

Without a second thought, he ran to you, dodging past reporters and teammates. Before you could say a word, he wrapped his arms around you, lifting you off the ground and spinning you in a circle. The world blurred around you, and all you could focus on was the way his laughter vibrated against your chest and the warmth of his embrace.

When he set you down, you barely had time to catch your breath before he cupped your face in his hands, his forehead resting against yours. “I think…” he began, his voice trembling. “I think I’m in love with you.”

Your breath hitched, and before you could respond, his lips were on yours. The kiss was soft and sure, as if he’d been waiting his entire life to do this. The noise of the stadium faded away, leaving just the two of you in your own little world.

“Oh, is this the best friend?” Otoya's voice cut through the moment, and you pulled away, cheeks burning as you turned to see him smirking, Karasu snickering beside him.

“ ‘Best friend’ my ass,” Karasu added, crossing his arms and shaking his head in mock disappointment.

Yukimiya’s ears turned bright red, but he didn’t let go of you. Instead, he shot Karasu a glare before looking back at you, his gaze softening. “They can say whatever they want,” he murmured, his voice just loud enough for you to hear before he leaned down one more time to kiss you again.

You couldn’t help but think back to when you were kids, when Yukimiya’s speed and energy left everyone else in the dust. You’d always been the shy one, the one who struggled to keep up. But Yukimiya had never minded.

He’d slowed down for you, waited for you, and in doing so, made you feel like you were the only one who could ever truly match him. And now, standing here in his arms, you realized that he’d never stopped waiting.

Even if the world could never keep up with Yukimiya Kenyu, you’d always be grateful that he’d chosen to stay by your side.

yeah i chose yuki for this bc im bias, so what ?

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[meracyn]

༘♡⋆ hopeless

༉ just blue lock boys having a crush on you!

starring yoichi isagi, meguru bachira, seishiro nagi & reo mikage (all separate)! x reader

warnings cursing, implied fem! reader in reo’s part

notes so i forgot how to write..

YOICHI ISAGI

isagi was like a literal simp.

finding any excuse to talk to you— no matter how ridiculous it seemed, isagi would make it work somehow.

yeah. even if it meant purposely accidentally bumping into you.

“oh sh—i’m so sorry! are you okay? i didn’t mean to bump into you,” he stammered, his face already flushed red at the contact of your shoulders brushing. he offered a water bottle, snack— hell, even doing your homework as an apology.

on the other hand, you only stood there watching in amusement. “yoichi, i’m fine, don’t worry.” you said with a smile, trying to reassure him.

and ever since that day, isagi would suddenly be around you constantly— from simple greetings to walking you to all of your classes (it’s fine if he was a few minutes late, what’s the big deal?)— all while still coming up with the most random conversation starters that left you questioning what really was going on through his head.

“bread or rice for breakfast? bread? awesome, me too! so, what are your plans for this weekend?”

it eventually becomes a cycle that leads to his friends finding out about it, too. while some mostly stay back and watch him stumble over his words with a red face whenever they spot him talking to you, others do the opposite. like bachira, for example, who teases him like hell for it.

“hey, what’s with that smile?”

at his friends’ sudden question, isagi immediately felt his cheeks heat up, trying to think of a believable excuse to escape bachira’s teasing. only to fail and say the first thing that came to his mind, “n-nothing.”

“ohhhh,” bachira replied, drawing out the sound dramatically. “i see, you’re thinking about them, aren’t you?”

isagi stammered out a response in denial, but deep down, knew it was true.

later that night as he laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind was full of thoughts of you. the way your smile made him feel like he was above clouds or whenever you looked at him had his heart skipping a beat.

he groaned softly, turning over to bury his face in his pillow with a pink face. “i’m screwed.” he mumbled to himself, feeling his heart pounding loudly in his chest. despite the swirl of emotions that fogged up his mind, a shy smile tugged at his lips.

isagi couldn’t wait to see you tomorrow.

MEGURU BACHIRA

“meguru, i can’t move if you’re hanging off of my back.”

for the past ten minutes or possibly more, meguru suddenly jumped onto you from behind, his arms and legs locked around you, tightening every time you tried to move.

the hallways were empty except for the both of you, which unfortunately meant for the brown-haired male to keep clinging onto you like a koala, no matter how much you complained and turned to pry him off.

he leaned down to rub his cheek affectionately against yours for a moment. “then don’t.”

“you can’t just cling to me all day,”

“why not? you’re not hard to carry.”

you scoffed, placing your hands on his knees to push them down so he would let go, but to no avail. “what’s that supposed to mean?” you huffed, giving up your attempts to free yourself.

meguru grinned, finally letting go before wrapping an arm around your waist, lifting you off of the ground with ease to hold you bridal style. “you’re really light for someone so short.”

“what the fu— put me down!”

his bright yellow eyes bore into yours. “nope. this is way better!” he replied with a hum, abruptly turning on his heel as he spun you around, his laughter echoing through the hallways.

you felt your cheeks redden at his daring hold on your body, frantically looking around to make sure no one was nearby. gosh, it would be so embarrassing if anyone caught you both in this situation right now.

“why are you even doing this?” you asked, avoiding to look into those warm, honey-colored eyes of his.

meguru paused. “huh..i guess i just like being around you.” he said softly, his tone steering away from playful to sincere.

“oh.” you felt your cheeks redden further, lifting your head once more to face him. “that’s..cute, but—”

“wait,” he interrupted, his eyes widening as if he realized something. “do i..” meguru’s cheeks turned a tad pink as he kept gazing into your eyes intensely, causing you to get nervous.

then he burst out laughing. “ohh, i get it now.”

you raised an eyebrow, still confused by what he was referring to. “of what?”

he grinned at you again, holding you tightly in his arms as he leaned in closer, his face mere inches away from yours. “i think i really like you. a lot.”

SEISHIRO NAGI

you lost.

again.

gripping the controller in frustration, you cursed under your breath, “dammit, why is it so hard?”

you were currently over at nagi’s place, chilling in his room while laying on his bed. your eyes focused on the large television displaying the ‘game over’ screen, then back at nagi, who was sprawled out on his gaming chair and engrossed in his phone, the sounds of gunshots and taps of his fingers being heard.

“sei,” you called out, sitting up as you went over to him, nudging his shoulder gently with the palm of your hand.

no answer.

clicking your tongue in annoyance, you decided to move so you would sit in front of him, noticing how his dark eyes were laser-focused on his phone. you reached out, booping his nose.

nagi flinched slightly, his eyes flickering up to meet yours. “what was that for?”

“to get your attention.”

“huh? what do you need?” he asked, casually pressing the pause button on his phone as if he wasn’t currently in the middle of finishing the last boss.

“i need help on this level,” you grabbed the controller, holding it out for him to see the screen shown on tv.

“oh. sure.”

after a while, you waved him goodbye, going off to walk home. nagi waved back, shutting the door once you were out of sight. he sat down on the couch, phone in hand to resume his match. reo, who was sitting on the other end of the furniture and had heard everything from upstairs, decided to try to do the same.

“can you pause your game again and get me a drink?”

nagi hummed, not bothering to look up from his phone. “get it yourself.” he replied with a deadpanned expression.

“but you did it for y/n—”

“that was different.”

reo’s jaw dropped, a vein mark popping on his forehead. “why them and not me!?”

nagi only shrugged. “maybe i just like them more than you.”

his comment had reo sulking that night.

REO MIKAGE

it was white day— a month after valentine’s, where boys were the ones giving gifts to the girls instead; whether for friendship, admiration, or simply reciprocating the gifts they had received from them.

although it was more like another normal day for you. when valentine’s day rolled around, you had given reo a box of chocolates for the sole purpose of being a great friend, not thinking much of it back then.

what you didn’t know, was that he decided to give you something back.

except ten times more.

as you walked into the classroom, your eyes widened at the sight of your assigned desk being stacked with all sorts of gifts— heart-shaped chocolate boxes, small bags of cookies, flowers, and a small teddy bear in a suit with a white tag above its chest.

oh, don’t forget a single pink card on top of everything.

a group of your classmates surrounded your desk, murmuring who was your admirer to have gifted you so much. how did you manage to get the most gifts on white day out of everyone else in the room?

from what they knew, you didn’t give any guy a whole stack of gifts. so what gives?

meanwhile for you, it didn’t take you that long to figure out who your—possible— secret admirer was.

who else other than reo mikage himself?

once classes were over, you spotted him standing nearby, leaning against the wall while trying to look nonchalant. you headed towards him, carrying the mountain of gifts in your arms.

“hey reo! look at what i got,” you said with a grin, holding everything up for him to see. “i wonder who got me all this. i want to thank them personally, you know?”

reo silently beamed, thinking he pulled it off perfectly— especially you not knowing who it was. he cleared his throat, trying to maintain his innocent act. “oh yeah, i wonder.”

your eyes narrowed as you looked at him, picking up the teddy bear. “it’s obviously you, it literally has your name on it.”

crap. reo’s eyes widened, his face flushing pink in embarrassment. how did he fail to notice that!? “oh—uh..” he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck while avoiding eye contact.

“..it’s fine, thank you, reo.” you said softly with a smile.

he looked up, his heart racing in his chest once he noticed that sweet smile of yours that never failed to leave him a flustered mess each time.

“really—”

“just don’t send an entire store of chocolates next time.”

[raven-cincaide]

Post-Canon! Megumi is a university student. His friends think he needs a break from all the curses and fighting so he can finally heal. Yuji says its a chance for Megumi to find the person who'll Megumi want to live for. Nobara says that even if he doesn't find anyone, they've already sacrificed so much; they need some kind of backup plan in case they ever need to leave the front lines. In truth, Yuji and Nobara just want to spend their youth exploring normal human things, and Megumi honestly can’t fault them. He doesn’t understand it but he doesn’t want to be left behind. So he tags along because.. well.. what else is he supposed to do?

Post-Canon! Megumi doesn’t know what to study. So he picks up a little bit of everything. He creates a schedule that fits his self-applied expectations and overachieving tendencies, going well above and beyond full-time studies. He keeps his mind occupied so he doesn't have to think about how hard it is to blend in, make new friends, and be human. (Un)fortunately, Yuji and Nobara don't let him avoid the campus life forever. 

Post-Canon! Megumi builds a routine he finds satisfactory which includes studying, gym, late night parties and nerdy book clubs. Hell he picks up anything that makes him forget about curses and being a sorcerer. He promised himself he would be 'normal' while at uni and he promised his friends. University life may not be Megumi's calling but he wasn't about to let his friends down. So he does everything to avoid things that would tempt him back.  

Post-Canon! Megumi notices you the second you enter one of his classes. He can tell you are a sorcerer and instantly determines he doesn't want anything to do with you. He tries to make himself invisible, hunched down, reading a book. Despite his closed body language, his eyes flicker over to you occasionally, although he quickly catches himself and goes straight back to reading. 

Post-Canon! Megumi is surprised when you approach his desk- one of the few remaining seats near the front. How you politely ask if you can sit beside him even though he doesn’t own the seat makes him unsure, fascinated, yet flustered. “Sure”, he replies, then a second later, grabs his bag, stands, and walks out of the class minutes. He leaves minutes before the start, skipping his first class ever. He knows he’s being rude; he knows he undoubtedly embarrassed you. But he can’t get mixed up with Jujutsu- not when he started liking uni.

Post-Canon! Megumi swears he sees you everywhere and avoids you like the plague. Yet his eyes always seek you out, and his brain takes note of every little thing about you, from the casual sweatpants and hoodie you wear to morning classes to how you’re dolled up at late-night parties. Your laugh, your make-up, the perfume you wear, depending on your mood- he notices it all. He feels all sorts of emotions when he sees you yet squelches those in the far back of his mind. No, he keeps his distance even as you get close to Yuji and Nobara. If you three are eating together, he’ll skip lunch, if you three are hanging out, he’ll cancel last minute. Sometimes, his friends let him get away with it- but more often than not, Yuji or Nobara see right through him and force him to sit beside you. And the awkwardness can be cut through with a knife. 

Post-Canon! Megumi notices when you’ve been out hunting curses. It’s the faint linger of cursed energy and the distinct smell on you that he pickles up. He notices when there’s a tiny limp in your step. He notices when you’re tired and when you’re practically burned out; the way your eyes drop during the teacher's lecture; the way you scribble down your homework mere minutes before submission, or the way you stress about not being able to buy the course literature before the first assignment is due by poking at your lunch and not answering Nobara. So he leaves his books out before going to the bathroom, knowing Yuji and Nobara will push you to take pictures of the few pages you need.

Post-Canon! Megumi swears he is done with being a sorcerer and that he doesn’t want to have anything to do with curses. Yet when he sees you stumbling out of your dorm room, in your jujutsu get up, barely able to keep your eyes open, he can’t help the pang of worry in his chest. He swears he is done being a sorcerer, even as his feet carry him to follow you.. 

[himasgod]

Wanderer x Cheerful! Reader Headcanons

Where you are traveling companions, and he is gentle with you while you are hyperactive and cheerful.

A series of headcanons based on the relationship you would have with Wanderer if you were a bit clumsy, but very happy and hyperactive. It contains a NSFW section and each headcanon section has sample dialogue.

While you talk non-stop about seemingly trivial things, the Wanderer stays silent, listening to you with a mix of exasperation and fascination. Although he pretends not to pay attention, he can remember every detail of your stories.

"And then the cat jumped off the roof and landed right in my arms! Isn't that amazing?"

"More amazing would be if you stopped risking your life for stray animals."

"I wasn't risking my life! I just wanted to help him."

"Of course, because you're the heroine of all the cats in trouble."

He acts like he’s annoyed by it, always having sarcastic comments ready to respond to your quips, but he actually loves seeing you cheer up. Your laughter is a sound he’s learned to value.

"Look! I bought this ribbon for my hair. Don't you think it looks pretty?"

"I don't know what's worse, the ribbon or the amount of time you spent picking it out."

"You're so insensitive! I'm not asking you anything again."

"It suits you, by the way."

Your energy often brings him out of his state of alienation. Although he finds it hard to admit it, being with you makes him feel more connected to the world.

At first, the Wanderer finds it difficult to fully trust you. His fear of being betrayed makes him keep an emotional distance, but your warmth and patience manage to break down his barriers little by little.

"Why do you always act like you're waiting for me to betray you?"

"Because betrayal is the only constant thing I've ever known."

"I'm not like everyone else ."

"That's what everyone says."

When he feels overwhelmed by his past or his internal struggles, it is with you that he finally allows himself to be vulnerable.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No. Just… stay here."

"I'm always here."

"I don't know why you trust me so much, but… thank you."

Sometimes you stay silent, resting your head on his shoulder as he closes his eyes and strokes your hair gently.

He loves to make you blush, Wanderer enjoys seeing you embarrassed too much. It can be as simple as getting too close to you or murmuring something in your ear with his low, soft voice.

"Did you know that you look cute when you're focused?"

"What are you saying?! Don't just say things like that all of a sudden!."

"What's wrong? Can't you handle a simple compliment?"

Your reactions are his weakness, even though he constantly annoys you, if someone else tries to make you uncomfortable, his protective side comes out. No one can bother you except him.

"What's someone like you doing traveling with him? You're probably more of a bother than a help."

"Say it again and make sure you have somewhere to hide afterward."

"Wanderer! It's not that big of a deal…"

"I don't care what they think of me, but no one has the right to talk to you like that"

Although he is not the type to openly express affection, his subtle gestures speak for themselves. He places his large hat on your head when the sun is shining hard. He makes sure you always have enough water or food during your travels.

If you're hurt or tired, he stops immediately, even if he pretends it's for practical reasons.

"It's so hot here! The sun is burning my head!"

"I'll give you my hat. Stop complaining and keep walking."

"Thanks… but you could say it nicer, you know?"

"That would be unrealistic."

His touches are slow and deliberate, as if he's afraid of breaking something fragile. He prefers quiet moments where he can hold your hand or play with a lock of your hair while you talk.

"Why do you always look at me like that when I'm talking?"

"Because you make those weird hand gestures. It's… entertaining."

"I don't make them weird!"

"Of course not"

Your joy brightens his darkness, your optimism helps him see the world from a more positive perspective. Although he doesn't say it out loud, he realizes that you're a constant light in his life.

"Isn't the sunset beautiful? It's like the sky was hand-painted."

"It's just light refracted off water particles."

"You're so boring! Just admit it, you like it too."

"Maybe a little"

His calmness balances your energy, when you're too excited or anxious, his soft voice and serene presence help to reassure you. Sometimes it's enough for him to take your hand and say, “Breathe. I'm here.”

"Let's go explore that forest! What could go wrong?"

"A lot of things. Starting with your tendency to run without thinking."

"But you would protect me, wouldn't you?"

"That doesn't mean you should purposely put yourself in danger."

Although you're opposites in many ways, you both find something unique in each other that makes you feel complete. To you, he's a safe haven; to him, you're the spark that keeps his soul moving.

Sometimes you argue over silly things, like who's right about a road or how to cook something. It always ends with him winning with his logic and you throwing a pillow or an indignant look at him.

"I told you this was the right path."

"And I told you maps don't lie."

“Then the map is wrong!”

“Or your sense of direction sucks.”

He likes to give you nicknames that annoy you but that you find strangely cute.

“That silly smile again? I should call you ‘Little Sunshine.’”

“That's not a nickname! And I don't have a silly smile.”

Even though it's rare, there are times when your clumsiness or your witticisms make him genuinely laugh. When you listen to him, you can't help but stay silent, admiring how beautiful his laugh is.

“I’m fine, don’t worry!”

“You’re a walking disaster.”

“Are you laughing at me?! It’s so weird to see you laugh!”

“Don’t get used to it.”

NSFW.

You notice that something strange is happening when you're talking about anything stupid nonstop and his gaze has a different kind of shine, one that's not curiosity. When you notice that predatory shine and something dark in his eyes, while his pupils descend towards your lips wet from talking so much, you know what he's thinking about instead of paying attention to you.

And so, at the moment when you continue talking, distracted by seeing his eyes like that, you get stuck while speaking and a small smirk covers his lips as he asks you, please, to keep talking.

So, while you are both distracted and trying to continue talking about anything, you notice how his hand absentmindedly travels to your thigh to give it a squeeze.

You're cooked. When Wanderer wants something, he gets it, greetings.

He teases you, whispering in your ear that you dare not continue talking as he begins to lower his lips to your neck.

Likewise, as he fucks you, he murmurs that he would love to see your hyperactive smile that you hide while you bite your lips desperately trying not to moan his name so as not to give him more reasons to tease you.

In truth, he is much softer with you, so those moments are something special. Protect him, he loves you very much, do not hurt him.

Here is my masterlist, in case you are interested in any more of my work or want to send me a request <3

[safflowerisyes]

Okay, so I was looking at @keferon's mecha pilot Jazz au, and I just had to write abt it because oml the angst

Also, keep in mind I haven written anything in a very long time

Prowl was still having a hard time wrapping his processor around it. His emotions were a hurricane of confusion, rage, and betrayal. As he stared down at the organic infront of him, he couldn’t help the deep frown that formed on his faceplates.

“I guess this is a lot for you, huh Prowler?”

The organic stared back up at him with an apologetic smile. It rubbed the back of its neck awkwardly. Jazz was never awkward. At least, not that Prowl could tell. Though, it wasn’t like Jazz had an EM field to show that.

“A human, you said?”

Prowl needed to hear it again to believe it. There was no way this tiny little bag of flesh had been controlling Jazz. No way it had been Jazz.

The organic nodded. “Yeah. I know it’s probably very confusing, but imagine my confusion when I found out you were all actually sentient mechs, not pilots in mecha suits.”

This was indeed all very confusing, and yet it also made a little too much sense. It explained why Jazz had always felt so… hollow.

Prowl scoffed at the organic’s words. The implication that he was just some lifeless suit to be worn was insulting in the very least.

The organic seemed to recognize Prowl’s disdain, quickly revising his previous statement, “But that makes so much sense now! It makes sense why you’re so expressive, and how you have all these little ticks and habits. Like whenever you’re flustered your wings turn forwards a little.”

It noticed? The organic took notice of his mannerisms. That would imply that it cared enough to pay attention to those things. Well… Prowl knew Jazz cared enough to notice those things, but this organic, this human…

It made Prowl think. Think of something other than the fact that his crush friend had just opened up, and a small organic crawled out of said friend’s chassis.

“Prowl. It’s still me. It’s still Jazz. I’m just… smaller.”

The organic was giving him a hopeful smile, its voice soft as if comforting a close friend. It made Prowl’s spark melt. A part of him wanted to take the small organic and hold it in his embrace for all eternity. He just wanted Jazz back.

But the other part of him wanted to squeeze the organic till it popped. He just wanted Jazz back.

Prowl glared at the organic, and its smile faltered. This sent a pang of hurt through Prowl, but he ignored the aching in his spark.

He turned to walk away. Being there talking to it wouldn’t make things go back to how they were. Things would never go back to how they were.

“Prowl, wait!”

Prowl turns to see the organic running after him. It gets to the edge of the table and tries to stop, but it’s going too fast. It stumbles, loses balance, and falls.

But Prowl is quick, and catches the tiny being in his servos. His expression is that of fear. He felt like he was about to lose Jazz. Again.

The organic smiles. “So you do care about me.”

Prowl’s expression swiftly turns to annoyance. But… the organic did have a point, he had to admit.

Prowl began to look at the organic differently. Instead of being the parasite that crawled out of Jazz’s chassis, it was now what remained of said mech.

And maybe… just maybe… Prowl could get used to him.

[retroaria]

♡ "All the little things..."

⟡ itoshi rin | oliver aiku | michael kaiser ⟡

summary: gn!reader, things that they’d look for/love in a partner! pure fluff! (i do describe something as ‘sexy’ but it really isn't that serious)

˗ˏˋ written for arias 1.5k follower event! ˎˊ˗

he’d never admit it, but rin would want a partner who can take him down a few notches. someone to calm his nerves and balance out his animosity. he can come to you at the end of every match and immediately release all tension and frustration. but also, someone to ground him and his ego a bit off the field. someone who can remind him to take things slowly and relax when he can and should.

he’s secretly very attracted to kindness. it’s a weird thing to be secretive about but rin is a weird guy what can i say. it makes his heart flutter to see you treating others with such grace, it even tugs a small smile at the corners of his lips which he quickly tries to pull back down into his usual blank expression.

rin tends to be a more private person himself, and he likes others that can keep their peace in that same way. he wouldn’t want to tell the whole world about your relationship, not because he wants to keep you a secret, but because he feels like you’re relationship is even more special the more it exists only to serve the two of you. he likes the idea of having you all to himself.

as a runner up for sassiest man of the year (lost to kaiser lol), oliver tends to find that same snappiness attractive in other people as well. he loves someone who can speak their mind and be confident about it, someone who can stand their ground and not let themselves be belittled. he thinks it’s hot, sexy even.

he likes people that are more outgoing then he is. while oliver doesn’t usually shy away from any fun, he can tend to back out of things because he feels it may be “too much” or an over exertion. he wants someone who can push him out of his comfort zone and get him to try new things that he wouldn’t have otherwise done on his own.

out of the whole cast, oliver is probably one of the most comfortable in his own masculinity methinks. he loves doing self-care and other beautification rituals (lol) with you! would let you do his eyebrows, dye his hair, make him smell like a strawberry shortcake; he fucking loves it. “Can’t turn down a bit of TLC and relaxation” he’d say. he totally does call a lot of it “goop” and “slime” or “sticky stuff” and can only remember to categorize it by color. “Babe, come feel my face, that pink goopy stuff made it so soft.~”

similar to mr. aiku, kaiser also loves a bit of sass in his partners, in a more subtle way though. sarcasm and brutally honest humor make him wanna bark like a dog. he loves it. he’s like the girl in a romance manga that falls in love with the cold and stoic upperclassmen. wants to break your hard exterior, but also wants to be the only person who ever could.

he loves being on the receiving end of ‘acts of service’. if that’s your love language, he’s all for it. he already thanks you just for putting up with him on a daily basis - considers that an act of service lol. making him food or planning a date for him would make his heart swell to the point of explosion.

physical and emotional intimacy need to be a huge priority for him. similarly to how rin likes things to just be between him and his partner, kaiser also needs certain things to be private, though he's more than happy to let the whole world know you're the person he loves. as long as he gets to have those quiet tender moments with you, wrapped in each others arms, he's a happy boy.

dividers: @cafekitsune vv cute :3 | header by me !!

@bllk-tv

[daryltwdixon]

Daryl Dixon x Reader blurb

Daryl arrives to Hilltop after escaping Negan's prison and sees you x

Content: fluff, emoshie af

author's note: sorry to make you the victim of my emotional wreckage today

gifs are mine

The ache of missing him would never truly leave you. It was always sitting heavy in your chest, sharp and unyielding, no matter how hard you tried to smother it. You’d carried it through endless nights, through mornings that felt emptier than the last, and through those small moments when you’ve turned, expecting to see him, wanting to tell him something... only to be met with silence.

So today, you made yourself get up and finally get on with it. You had to pull your weight at Hilltop, that much was made clear by Gregory. So, you're heading out with a steaming mug of tea in hand, ready to head over to the gardens when the gates creak open, but you don’t even glance up at first. It’s just another moment in the blur of endless survival. You step down from the trailer, boots hitting the dirt, your hand wrapped around the warm ceramic in your hand.

But when your eyes instinctively look for the source of the sound of footsteps, and you look up to see Jesus.

And then... then, you see him and the only noise is the rush of blood in your ears and the shattering of the mug on the ground beneath your feet. You freeze, your breath hitching, disbelief anchoring your feet in place.

Daryl.

He stands just inside the gate, still and silent, his body thin and battered, his hair hanging in messy, greasy strands over his face. He looks like a ghost, like a man you’ve been mourning for months but never truly buried. His arms hang limply at his sides, and his shoulders slump under some unbearable weight. His eyes—shadowed by his bangs—stay fixed on the ground.

Your heart lurches, and before you know it, your feet move on their own, carrying you toward him in a stumbling, desperate rush. Tears are filling your eyes, heavy and blurring, and you blink them away frantically, desperate to keep him in your sight. You don’t care about the people around you, the noise--anything. All you care about is him. Your breath comes in gasps, sobs building in your chest, but just as you’re about to reach him, you stop.

It’s like hitting an invisible wall.

You hover just a few steps away, your chest heaving, the reality of him so close it threatens to break you. He’s alive. He’s here. He’s here. Your lips tremble, your tears slipping freely down your face as you stand frozen, staring at him.

He lifts his head slowly, his bangs shifting just enough to reveal his eyes. The hollowness in them makes you ache, but it’s the slight quiver of his chin when he sees you that is your undoing. His lips press into a tight line, and for a moment, he just looks at you, his face a mask of pain that’s barely holding together.

Then his head drops, his bangs falling back over his eyes, shielding them from you as if he can’t let you see what’s underneath. But before you can close the distance, he moves. His head bows further, and he takes the last step himself, pushing into you with a quiet, desperate motion.

You catch him, your arms wrapping around him as his weight collapses into you. He’s shaking, his breaths coming in uneven gasps against your shoulder. You press your hand to the back of his head, your fingers slipping into his hair, gripping it gently.

A sob bursts from your chest, ragged and raw, and you clutch him tighter, burying your face into the curve of his neck. The relief you feel is so strong it's nearly painful. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t make a sound, but you can feel the way his shoulders tremble, the way his fists curl weakly into the fabric of your shirt.

But then his knees start to give out, and you feel him sag against you. Your arms tighten instinctively, trying to keep him standing, but it’s no use. Your legs can’t hold the weight of both your griefs, and together, you sink to the ground.

Your knees hit the dirt, and he falls with you, his arms still locked around you as his head bows against your shoulder. You cradle him, pulling him even closer, and he lets out a sound—a broken, muffled gasp that’s somewhere between a sob and a breath. It shatters something inside you.

Your free hand slides to his back, your palm pressing firmly against the ridge of his spine. His shoulders shake harder now, his breaths coming in ragged gasps, and you can feel his tears dampening the curve of your neck.

Your fingers tighten in his hair, grounding him, grounding yourself. You sob into the silence, your face buried in his shoulder, your body trembling against his. The dirt beneath your knees feels sharp, cold, but you barely notice it. All you know is the heat of him, the way he clings to you like you’re his only tether to the world.

You don’t know how long you stay like that, kneeling in the dirt with him wrapped in your arms. Time seems to stop, the weight of everything you’ve lost, everything you thought you’d never have again, pouring out of both of you in broken breaths and quiet tears.

And for the first time in months, you let yourself feel it all—the pain, the relief, the love. He’s here, and so are you, and in this moment, that’s enough.

[sugawarassoulmate]

bad boy! akiteru fucking reader on top of the hood of keis car

ooooh i am Unwell about this sksksk

words: 631

cw: fem!reader, unprotected sex, public sex, dubious consent, coercion (kinda?), secret relationship, minors dni

if the two of you don't make it home soon, kei is going to wonder where you are.

"aki, aki someone's gonna see," there were so many emotions swirling your brain. the fear of being caught, the guilt from doing this on kei's car, and the pleasure from akiteru taking you in public.

akiteru had only intended on taking his little brother's car to be serviced thinking it would only take a few hours.

but when you decided to tag along, akiteru didn't know how long he could keep his hands off you.

"nobody comes here, baby, it's okay," he purposely drove to a secluded area a few miles off the main road. you had worn a cute outfit today and were yapping your head off about something during the drive—akiteru had to get his cock in you.

as soon as the coast was clear, he pinned you to the hood of the car and flipped your skirt up before pushing your panties to the side. akiteru would love nothing more to shove his tongue inside your cunt but you were already uneasy on the idea of fucking out in the open.

but once his cock was inside you, most of those fears seemed to subside.

you gasped from the painful stretch of akiteru's cock sinking into your warmth. to distract you, he latched onto your breast, wrapping his tongue around your pert nipple.

he can feel you tighten around him, a smug grin growing on his face when he realizes you're about to cum already. "you're so sensitive today, baby. you wanted me to fuck you, huh?" he says in between suckles, making a mess of your chest.

akiteru feels a surge of pride when you nod. "bet you only joined me on this errand hoping you'd get dick. that's all you really care about. go ahead and cum for me, baby, i'll just make you do it again."

any reservations you had about doing this on kei's car, let alone out in public were gone when you had your release, fingers curling into the fabric of akiteru's shirt and wailing into his chest.

he only gives you a few moments to gather your bearings before fucking you again, causing your legs to tremble. "aki—fuck—gimme a sec," you cry, not sure if your cunt could take more.

"no, baby, i need you to cum again and then i'm gonna dump you full of my cum 'til it's spilling out of you, okay?"

you tried to argue, complaining that it was already too much but akiteru shut you up with a hard thrust. "mmm, we don't want to keep kei waiting anymore? he'll get suspicious," akiteru coos, leaning in for a deep kiss. "lemme have my way with you, honey, it'll feel so good."

it's hard to deny akiteru anything when he looks at you with those warm, brown eyes.

"what took so long?" kei groaned as soon and you and his brother walked through the front door, taking the keys from akiteru's grasp.

he doesn't notice you practically leaning on akiteru for support, focusing his attention on his new car. "the mechanic wanted to be thorough," akiteru explains, sneaking a glance at you.

"well thanks for taking it, i guess. i had a lot of studying," kei said with an eyeroll. "why did it take so long to get back?"

he stares at you, eyebrows quirking at your cross legged stance—completely unaware that you were internally begging that akiteru's cum wouldn't run down your leg.

"traffic," you answer too quickly but kei seems to accept it.

as kei leaves to inspect his car, akiteru takes the opportunity to sneak you to his room under the guise of you looking like you "really need to lay down."

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