#and no matter what I do. no matter what I say. it’s always the wrong thing to do or say! always! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

svelish · 2 days ago

Note

Reader is a normal girl and their relationship is discovered by the media and she receives alot of hate so billie comforts her

˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆

You were always been an ordinary girl. You liked quiet moments, the sound of rain, and the way Billie looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered.

But now, the whole world was looking at you too—and they weren’t nearly as kind.

It started with one picture. Just one.

A single snapshot of Billie and you leaving a restaurant, fingers brushing, a fleeting moment turned into an internet storm. And then came the comments.

"Who is she?"

"She doesn’t deserve Billie."

"She’s nothing special."

"Billie could do so much better."

You tried to ignore it. Told yourself it didn’t matter. But it did. It did because no matter how much you loved Billie, no matter how safe you felt in her arms, you couldn’t silence the voice in your head whispering that maybe—just maybe—everyone else was right.

That night, you sat in the living room, scrolling through the endless flood of opinions you never asked for. The weight of it settled in your chest, pressing down until you could barely breathe.

You didn't hear Billie come in until soft footsteps stopped behind you.

"Y/n?"

You stiffened, quickly locking your phone. "You’re home late."

"Yeah." Billie's voice was careful, like she already knew something was wrong. "What’s going on?"

You exhaled, standing up too quickly. "Nothing. You must be tired. You should rest."

Billie took a step forward.

You took a step back.

"Don’t," you whispered.

Billie’s brows furrowed. "Don’t what?"

"Don’t touch me." You swallowed, voice unsteady. "I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve you."

Silence.

Then, slowly, carefully, Billie stepped forward again—closer this time, closing the space between them.

You didn’t move. Didn’t run. You should have. But the warmth of Billie’s presence, the quiet steadiness of her breathing, made it impossible to leave.

And then—so softly yet so undeniably firm—Billie wrapped her arms around your waist, pulling you into a backhug.

You inhaled sharply, your whole body going rigid, but Billie didn’t let go. She just held you, arms secure yet gentle, as if she was trying to shield you from the whole damn world. "I don’t want to hear it," Billie murmured, voice a quiet command against your ear.

You opened your mouth to argue, to tell her she didn’t understand, but then Billie tilted her head down—and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the side of your neck.

You shivered.

"You don’t get to decide what I deserve," Billie whispered, lips brushing against your skin. Another kiss—this time on your shoulder, slow and tender. "I love you. I choose you." You squeezed your eyes shut. "Billie—"

Billie only tightened her arms, her lips trailing upward, leaving kisses wherever she could reach—along your neck, the curve of your jaw, the sensitive spot just below your ear. Each one is soft yet desperate, as if trying to make you feel everything words couldn’t say.

"You think they hate you?" Billie breathed between kisses. "Let them. I don’t care." Her lips found the back of your ear, pressing a kiss there that sent a shudder through you. "But don’t push me away."

Your hands trembled as they slowly came up to grasp Billie’s arms. Your grip was weak, unsure—but you didn’t pull away. Billie smiled against your skin, kissing your cheek, then your temple, before resting her chin on your shoulder.

"I’m scared," you admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

"I know," Billie murmured, tightening her embrace. "But I’ve got you. And I’m not going anywhere."

You let out a shaky breath, finally leaning into her. Letting yourself believe it.

Billie felt it—the way your weight slowly gave in, the tension in your shoulders melting just enough for Billie to hold you closer.

She pressed another soft kiss to your temple, hands running soothingly along your waist. "Breathe, baby," she whispered. "I’ve got you."

You took a shaky breath, gripping Billie’s arms as if grounding yourself. "I hate this," she admitted, voice small. "I hate how they make me feel like I’m not enough for you."

Billie frowned, arms tightening. "You are more than enough. You're everything."

You let out a quiet, broken laugh. "Then why does it feel like I don't belong?"

Billie turned her head slightly, lips brushing against your ear. "Because you don’t belong to them, y/n. You belong with me."

Your breath hitched.

Billie’s hands traced slow circles against your stomach, her voice low and steady. "Let them talk. Let them scream. None of it changes the fact that I love you." She pressed another lingering kiss to your cheek. "And I’m never letting you go."

You closed her eyes, exhaling softly. You still felt the weight of the world outside—but here, in Billie’s arms, it didn’t seem so heavy.

#📨—sev yapping #✍🏻—sev creates #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish #billie eilish fluff #billie eilish imagine #billie eilish x y/n #billie ellish lyrics #billie fanfiction #billie x reader #billie #billie eilish lyrics #wlw

304 notes · View notes

beloveds-embrace · 3 days ago

Note

Might we have a nibble of undesignated reader?

🦥

How about a whole… cookie? 🍪

Omegaverse Masterlist

It’s not the first time you’ve heard them talk.

The barracks aren’t exactly known for their privacy. Voices carry through the thin walls, whispers slipping through cracks like smoke, curling into places they don’t belong. You’ve learned to ignore it for the most part, tuning out the idle gossip, the careless words thrown around by people who don’t know you, don’t understand you.

But tonight, the words stick.

“They don’t even have a scent, man. It’s weird.”

“Yeah, but they’re still sharp as hell in the field. Maybe they were supposed to be a Beta?”

“Nah, bet they were meant to be an Alpha, but something went wrong.”

“Or maybe an Omega? That’d be even worse- imagine being designed for pack life and ending up like that.”

Laughter follows, sharp and cruel, and you walk away before you hear anything else.

You don’t go to your room. You don’t go to the common area or the mess, or the nest. You don’t go anywhere someone might find you.

Instead, you find yourself outside, away from the hum of voices and the weight of constant, curious stares. The night air is cool against your skin, crisp and biting, the smell of damp earth grounding you in a way nothing else can.

You breathe in deep- and it doesn’t stick the way it should.

What would you have been, if you weren’t… this?

If something hadn’t gone wrong?

Would you have been an Alpha, all quiet dominance and steady control? Would your voice have carried weight, your presence something that demanded obedience without needing to ask? Would you have had instincts that made sense, a drive to protect, a need to claim?

Or an Omega? Soft, warm, instinctively attuned to the emotions of those around you? Would you have been able to scent your pack, comfort them with nothing but your presence? Would you have been wanted in a way that didn’t feel conditional, based on how useful you could be?

Or a Beta- level-headed, unaffected, fitting neatly into the gaps between extremes? Would it have been easier that way, to exist without feeling like something is missing?

Awful generalizations, you know. But at the same time- you wouldn’t know. You’d never know, bcause you’re none of them.

You’re nothing.

Faulty.

The door creaks open behind you, and you don’t bother turning around to see who it might be.

John doesn’t say anything at first, either. Just stands beside you, looking out into the dark, hands tucked into his pockets. The silence stretches, long and heavy, before he finally speaks.

“Got something on your mind?”

You don’t answer immediately. Instead, you swallow hard, staring at the horizon like it might hold the answers you’ve never found.

“…What do you think I would’ve been, Cap?”

John doesn’t ask what you mean. He understands, because of course he does. He hums, tilting his head in thought.

“Dunno,” he admits eventually, lighting a cigar. “Never thought about it.”

You huff a quiet, bitter laugh. “Why not?”

“Because it doesn’t matter.”

You finally turn to look at him, searching his face for something- pity, understanding, a lie wrapped in kindness. They’ve accepted you into their lives and their nest- but how much of it is real, and how much of is just taking pity on a walking, talking fault?

But there’s none of that. Just certainty, his eyes peering at you with no hesitation.

“You are what you are, love,” he says simply, taking a drag of the burning cigar. “And that’s enough.”

A lump forms in your throat, thick and tight. “It’s not, though.”

“For them? Maybe not.” He exhales through his nose, gaze steady. “For us? It always has been.”

The words land heavier than you expect.

Because for all that you’ve questioned yourself, for all the times you’ve wondered if you were missing some crucial piece, they never have. You are theirs, not because of a designation, not because of instinct or scent or pity.

Just because you are.

John claps a hand on your shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze before turning back toward the building.

“Come inside,” he says. “We’re waiting for you. Simon’s kept a plate of food- actual food, not mess slop- for you.”

And maybe- just maybe- that’s enough.

#noona.asks #noona.writes #cod omegaverse #cod x reader #cod x you #cod #tf 141 x reader #tf 141 x you #tf 141 #cod imagines #🦥 anon

324 notes · View notes

fairyhaos · 2 days ago

Text

❖ kiss your heart // xu minghao

minghao x f!reader, 1.1k+ words

tags: established relationship, both xmh + yn are RICH rich, fluff, kissing, marriage/proposal talks, minghao is literally so in love omfg

warnings: pet names (angel, sweetheart)

notes: literally me rambling about rich + devoted minghao with absolutely no direction planned and i think it's super obvious HELPP but it does not matter !! ur honor i luv these 2 theyre so sassy smitten and it devastates me

“you’re actually the worst person i’ve ever met.”

you glare at your boyfriend as he gets out of the driver’s seat, walks around the front of the parked car and opens your door for you. he’s still smiling that faintly smug smile that’s been on his stupidly handsome face ever since you left the restaurant, and you hate it.

“sweetheart,” minghao says, taking hold of your hand and helping you out of the car, “it’s really no big deal.”

you scoff, rolling your eyes. releasing minghao’s hand, you deposit your purse into his waiting palm and flounce away, across the car park and to the apartment building doors.

minghao struggles to hold back a laugh as he trails after you. “y/n. you’re not truly mad, are you?”

“of course i’m truly mad,” you huff. “you said i could pay for our date this time.”

during the five years you’ve been dating minghao, he’s taken you on a whole variety of incredible dates. from the impromptu long weekend to paris to the days where you just go to the restaurant down the block for dinner, minghao has never failed to take care of you and always pays for your meal.

any other person would be flattered to have such a rich and devoted boyfriend. and really, you adore that about him, too.

but, well. you’re rich also. and sometimes, you want to be the one to dote on your boyfriend.

you punch in the building code unnecessarily hard and stomp through the automatic doors before minghao can catch up with you. from behind, you can hear him laughing, and it makes you whirl back around to look at him, pouting extravagantly.

“i don’t see why that’s so funny. you promised, hao,” you whine, and minghao just laughs again.

that night had been just a normal date night, nothing more than the two of you dressing up to go to that one upscale chinese place that you both love. and so, it seemed like the best day to finally start paying for your dates—if it was any big occasion, minghao would’ve definitely protested against the idea, insistent that he wanted to treat you on such a special day.

and at the time, it seemed like it would work.

minghao had smiled at you, adjusting the pearls around your neck, and agreed.

you’d felt ridiculously satisfied, excited at the fact that finally, you’d have a chance to pay for your boyfriend. but oh, how wrong you were.

“i’m sorry, angel,” minghao says now, brushing a finger over your cheek fondly before pressing the ‘up’ button for the elevator. “it just so happened that i’d already paid for our meal before we’d even got there. i didn’t want to burst your bubble by telling you so, but i guess that made it even worse, hm?”

you whine again in frustration. “hao, that’s not even a thing! you can’t pay for a meal in advance!”

“i can when i know exactly what we’re going to order,” minghao grins.

“what?! i swear, that must go against restaurant etiquette! that's actually crazy behaviour. i can't believe you did that."

the elevator arrives then, and minghao gestures for you to get in first. you do, still arguing with him over restaurant rules and whatnot. even as you do so, supposedly very upset over his behaviour, you still hold onto his arm and lean against him to take off your heels, and then pass them over to him once they’re off your aching feet.

minghao smiles amusedly, terribly smitten.

“—going to get you back for that stunt one day, xu minghao,” you say, stabbing an accusing finger into his shoulder. “gonna book out the entire restaurant. no, wait, the entire street! we’re going to venice one day, and i’m going to close down a whole road for us only. just you wait.”

the elevator doors open with a ding, and he trails behind as you continue talking, dreaming up big plans on how to treat your boyfriend sometime in the future.

it’s devastatingly endearing. he knows it was maybe a tiny, tiny bit mean to advance-pay the bill tonight, but in his defence, he does that most nights anyway. plus, he likes seeing how pouty you get over it, knowing you're not actually upset, but still insisting you are because you can pay for your own meals, without minghao's card, thank you very much.

and you very much can—he hasn’t run the numbers in a while, but he’s pretty sure you’re richer than him right now—but he likes paying for you. likes taking care of you like this.

he inputs the keycode to the apartment, chuckling as you continue to rant.

“okay, alright,” he finally concedes, opening the door and letting you enter first, taking off your wool coat for you and hanging it up by the door. “in which case, how about a compromise? i pay for our ordinary dates like these, and you can pay for special occasions.”

your eyes light up at his words. “wait, really?”

minghao laughs. “yes, really.” he puts your purse on the dresser by the door, your shoes in the shoe cupboard and then takes off his own. “except for valentine’s day, white day, our anniversary, and your birthday. i’ll be paying for those.”

“what?” you complain. “hao, you’re leaving me with nothing!”

“you can pay for my birthday.”

“come on, that’s a given. i would do that anyway.”

you’re giving him those big, sad eyes again, and minghao can’t help but smile even wider. lord, you’re just so pretty and you love him so much and he’s never been more grateful for that because he loves you so much too.

“well,” he says, pretending to think, “we don’t have an engagement or wedding anniversary yet. so if those things ever happen… then maybe…”

your eyes widen, little sparkles appearing in your irises even as your entire face softens, gentle and hopeful. “you’re… you want to marry me?”

minghao can’t take this anymore. he walks over, takes your face in his hands and kisses you, once. and then again, deeper, softer, for good measure. just to get his point across.

“of course,” he murmurs against your lips when he pulls away. “i love you.”

you lean in and peck him on the lips once more. “i love you too,” you say, and then pull away so he can see the mischievous glint in your eyes. “hey. if i propose to you, then i’ll definitely get to pay for every engagement anniversary we have, right?”

minghao laughs, pulling you back into his embrace. “sure, sweetheart. that’s only if you propose to me first, however.”

“are you trying to start a proposal race, minghao?”

“maybe. will you join in, y/n?”

you laugh, looping your arms behind his neck and bringing his face close to yours again. “oh, it’s on.”

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @kellesvt @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @starshuas @raevyng @isabellah29 @hrts4hanniehae @mcu-incorrect @dokyeomkyeom @suraandsugar @tulsa24 @melodicrabbit @dokyeomkyeom @hopeless-foolery

407 notes · View notes

loonypsychicchild · 2 days ago

Text

(Another response from me to this ongoing bastardy analysises that is bound to happen as this was an issue that the show created and does not seem to be dealing with it well enough as it has no consequence or no commitment to it to explore it well enough except for when they need character to be victims to gain brownie points. )

Starting from the argument that Joffrey was not necessary and too much risk, Rhaenyra should have stopped at 2 children with Harwin aa OP wrote as a response to a comment: You must have an heir and a spare for the Iron throne and the lordship of Driftmark with Joffrey he has a shared dpare for bot of these titles. She doesn't know she will marry Daemon she has to all she can. Also you must know that they live in the medieval era and children die very young even with the noble children. So they aren't like us modern people who can say okay I have done 2 kids it is enough. And this is proved by how her two olderst heirs die in the war they could have still died to diseases before that and she named Joffrey as his heir. The heir some people call unnecessary and needlesly risky was useful, the other kids were too young to be serious heirs. Also arguing a medieval women no matter how magical and royal and well educated would have an idea of planning her pregnancies and children is ludicrous, they are not modern women even if they are thought many things women are seen as broodmares and they don't think a second time about how dangerous and unplanned a pregancy is. Most of the Targ women that say they can't take another pregnancy are still impregnated and they still die. It is not even the general medieval information to understand Westeros, it is in the books that no such thought is given. In fact these girls do not know their sexuality and don't even understand what they are supposed to do in marriage in some occurences.

While I understand people thinking Rhaenyra acted very dangerously, it is still putting the wrong emphasis on the wrong subject. There was not such an emphasis on this in fire and blood because a clever royal who knows their power can always silence these rumors which is what Rhaenyra does in the books. However the main issue with the fandom's take on the subject comes from the source I think which for many is The House of the Dragon. Because the show gives so much modern understanding of things and modern actions to characters people start to forget these are not modern people and even the most educated of them don't have certain awareness and have reasons to believe they should act in any other way. For all we know Rhaenyra probably thought she needed to have children and she needed to have sex to have children but she did not have been thought to plan these pregnancies because back then women were simple being impregnated according to man's whim. And we must remember Rhaenyra is very young and still a teenager when she has Jace, Luke and Joffrey. She still doesn't understand the game she is playing to a full extent both in the bedroom and the courtroom. So not blaming Laenor who have not tried enough even though having non trueborn sons creates a risk for him and not blaming Harwin Strong who qould kniw better about these things and blaming Rhaenyra does not fit in the in-universe understanding of things as some like to call too. It is okay to blame all of them but no one in the fandom seems to ever mention the two mem in this equation while we have constant endless and same discussions about how Rhaenyra is at fault. And it is about one thing that could be her understandable fault as an heir and not about all of the other mistakes she has done on the show years later after becoming an heir and should be better at it. As she is still a young women who is having pregnancies back to back without much time to understand motherhood in between them is understansable for reasonable people in-universe which is why even tho they can not all men exploit their women.

Also I simply don't think they have more than very simple understanding of genetics so much so the rumours can be shut down by the ones at power. And it does not even become any part of Rhaenyra's downfall in the books, in universr characters and houses don't have as big of a problem as greens have. It is obvious that only two times this issue is put fort it is Vaemond, Aemond and The Greens, it is just another powerplay to winanother victory in game of thrones. It does not become a victory in any of these times which is why these scenes in the show looks more like used to get an emotional reaction from the audience that an actual problem that will result into something. Also these people do not know about Valyrians and their magical looks, they are just offput about how normal these boys look in the books which has more of George's actual design of events that correlate. As he sees removing a simple rule can break how the story unfolds he does not go long ways to dramatize the events that have no result. In the understanding of Westeros who genuinely don't have any knowledge to make more of these they are just rumors. It comes from lack of understanding in genetics and Valyrian magical people to put it simply. Giving more proof to bastardy by making Valeryons black and Rhaenys not black haired (also not having Harwong Strong and Aemma Arryn's physical descriptiona but that cannot be the case for a TV show so it gets a pass) takes away from the mystery of the heriatge of the boys, which then makes Rhaenyra too stupid to be believable for an heir who has befriended most of the houses in the realm and destroyed these rumors with an iron fist, which you must agree was more capable that the show version of events put her to be. No matter if you believe that the bastardy is true in the book or not book has nuance in a way that cannot be kept in a TV format 1:1 but still a better job could have easily be done in this regard for sure by at least keeping most of the known facts from the books and let the events play out more like how George envisioned them. I think the biggest mistakes of the show comes from not believing George's vision and believing too much that they can do better which resultd in them missing a lot of nuance which gives too little world building to general audience that a lot of the takes start becoming sensless repetition that just does not add anything to the show and only show how some of these decisions do not land as the way they want them to.

Rhaenyra reminds me of those white moms who have kids with a different race father and then refuses to acknowledge that they don’t have the same privileges as her. like she’s had so much privilege and power her whole life she can’t even see the corner she’s just backed her child, her heir into. She’s so dense that it hurts. Jace is right. ALICENT was right. Having three fucking kids with a man whose genes had proved to curb stomp yours IS an insult! Not bc bastards are evil or anything, but it’s a fucking insult to Jace, to Luke, to Joffery to drag them in a situation where they’re constantly demonized for YOUR actions and then REFUSE to own up to it even when your child is begging you with literal tears in their eyes to not take the one thing that saves him from the bullying and harassment YOU brought onto them. At this point, I’m extremely grateful the story ends with the targs in disarray bc none of those white haired fuckers deserve the throne (except for Baela and Jace, with brown hair

And to make it even worse, Jace is RIGHT. When the war is over and your brown haired, pug nosed child who looks exactly like someone NOT his legal father is named heir and you’ve taken his ONLY symbol of legitimacy away what will you do then?? Hmm?? I swear…

#anti hotd #anti house of the dragon #anti hotd writers #fire and blood #analysis #historical context #book context #book adaptation

2K notes · View notes

kpop-reactions-povs · 1 day ago

Text

Stray kids- Their S/O sleeping on the couch after an argument

Bang Chan

The argument had been tense—words sharper than usual, frustration lingering in the air. Chan had been stressed, and instead of talking it out, he’d snapped, saying something he instantly regretted. “Maybe you should stop expecting me to fix everything.” The second the words left his mouth, he wanted to take them back, but you had already turned away, choosing silence over another fight.

Hours later, when he finally cooled down and went to find you, his heart clenched painfully at the sight of you curled up on the couch, your arms wrapped around yourself instead of him. Guilt sat heavy on his chest as he crouched beside you, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Jagi… I was wrong,” he whispered, his voice thick with regret. “I didn’t mean what I said. I hate seeing you like this.” His fingers ghosted over your cheek before he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Come to bed? Please?” If you hesitated, he’d gently pull you into his arms, refusing to let go until you knew just how sorry he was.

Lee Know

“Fine. Do whatever you want.” Minho’s voice had been cold, distant, and it hurt more than if he had shouted. The argument had been over something small, but the way he brushed you off like you didn’t matter made your chest ache. You had stormed out of the bedroom, unwilling to stay where you weren’t wanted.

Minho sat alone, staring at the empty space beside him in bed, but the longer he waited, the more his heart ached. When he finally peeked out, his throat tightened at the sight of you asleep on the couch. You looked so small, your face still slightly damp from frustrated tears. He hated himself in that moment. With a deep sigh, he grabbed a blanket and draped it over you before kneeling beside the couch. “I was an ass,” he admitted quietly, his fingers hesitating before brushing against yours. “I didn’t mean to push you away.” He’d sit there until you woke up, waiting for the moment you’d let him hold you again.

Changbin

The fight had been bad—worse than usual. Changbin had been so caught up in his emotions that he blurted out, “I don’t need you hovering over me all the time!” The second he saw the hurt flash across your face, he knew he had messed up. But by the time he tried to take it back, you had already walked out, leaving him standing in the empty bedroom, fists clenched.

The guilt weighed on him, making it impossible to sleep. When he finally worked up the courage to check on you, his heart dropped. Seeing you curled up on the couch, your back turned toward him, made something inside him break. Without a word, he walked over and carefully lifted you into his arms. Even if you stirred, he held on tighter. “I didn’t mean it,” he whispered, voice laced with regret. “I always need you.” He carried you back to bed, pressing soft kisses to your hair until you relaxed in his hold.

Hyunjin

Hyunjin had stormed off after the argument, tears threatening to spill, frustration bubbling in his chest. He had said something cruel in the heat of the moment—“Maybe if you actually listened to me for once, we wouldn’t be fighting!” The second it left his lips, he knew he had hurt you. But instead of apologizing, he let his pride get in the way, slamming the bedroom door behind him.

Hours passed, and his anger melted into guilt. When he stepped into the living room and saw you asleep on the couch, a sharp pain pierced through his chest. You looked exhausted, as if the argument had drained everything from you. Without a second thought, he knelt beside you, his fingers tracing soft circles against your wrist. “I didn’t mean it,” he murmured, his voice thick with regret. “You always listen to me. I was just being a jerk.” He hesitated before pressing a kiss to your hand. “Please come to bed. I hate sleeping without you.”

Han

Jisung had never wanted to argue with you. But stress and exhaustion had made him say something he instantly regretted—“Maybe I just need some space from you right now.” The moment he saw how your expression fell, he wanted to take it back. But instead of fixing it, he let you walk away.

Now, seeing you asleep on the couch, his heart ached so badly it felt unbearable. He walked over slowly, hovering beside you, debating whether to wake you. Instead, he sighed and grabbed a pillow, lying down on the floor beside you. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his fingers barely brushing against your arm. “I didn’t mean it. I never want space from you.” He laid there until you woke up, his eyes soft with guilt, silently pleading for forgiveness.

Felix

Felix hated fighting with you. He hated the way he had raised his voice, hated the way you had looked at him before turning away. The fight had been over something small, but the words he said—“It’s not like you understand what I’m going through.”—stung in a way he couldn’t take back.

When he walked out and saw you asleep on the couch, his heart shattered. He immediately dropped to his knees beside you, his fingers trembling as he brushed against your hand. “I didn’t mean it,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. “You’re the only one who understands me.” His eyes burned with tears as he pressed his forehead against your arm. “Please come back to bed. I don’t want to spend another second apart.”

Seungmin

Seungmin had been sharp with his words—“Not everything is about you.” The second he saw the way your face fell, he regretted it, but his pride kept him from apologizing. Hours passed, but the guilt only grew heavier, eating away at him.

When he finally stepped out and saw you asleep on the couch, he hesitated. But after a moment, he grabbed a blanket and tucked it around you. Instead of going back to the bedroom, he sat on the floor beside you, staring at the ceiling. “I was wrong,” he admitted quietly. “You deserve better than that.” If you stirred, he’d gently take your hand, his fingers lacing through yours. “Can I make it up to you?”

Jeongin

Jeongin had never meant to let the argument get that bad. But his frustration got the best of him, and before he could stop himself, he said, “Sometimes, you make things harder than they need to be.” The hurt in your eyes was immediate, and it made his stomach drop.

When he finally walked out and saw you asleep on the couch, he felt like the worst person in the world. Carefully, he sat down beside you, his hand hovering above yours before finally intertwining his fingers with yours. “I was an idiot,” he whispered, squeezing your hand gently. “You make my life better, not harder. I don’t know why I said that.” He leaned in closer, his lips barely brushing your knuckles. “Can we start over?”

#skz #skz imagines #skz reactions #skz x reader #stray kids #stray kids imagines

204 notes · View notes

mittenkisses · 2 days ago

Note

hi! could i request a jade x reader where the reader is sort of insecure about their weight? like, theyve been gaining weight recently and arent sure how to deal with it. thank u !!

you gain weight

ft : jade

a/n : funny enough anon i've imagined this scenario a few times so i've got u

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ 🐚

though he doesn't judge looks, jade knows that you're beautiful. he's appalled that you'd even suggest you're anything less. it starts when he makes you a meal, he's always eager to feed you and show off his cooking, and you don't eat as much as you usually do. at first he thinks you're feeling sick, or the taste is off. he's quick to ask what's wrong. he's not expecting you to say that it's about your weight.

he doesn't see the issue with it. so you've gained a little weight, that doesn't change anything. if anything it means you're being fed properly! as long as you're still healthy, he doesn't think it's a problem at all; but it's upsetting you, and he'll be damned if he doesn't make you feel better. no one is allowed to talk down about his partner, not even the partner in question. ever the smooth-talker, he knows exactly what to say—you haven't changed at all, so why should it matter? gaining some weight doesn't make you any less beautiful. if he has to, he'll hold your waist and kiss you, reassuring you and telling you just how lovely you are.

of course, none of this will stop him from making you filling and nutritious meals all the time. if anything, it only encourages him. if it really, really bothers you that much, he could start making them a bit healthier, although he reminds you every time that it's really not necessary. he truly doesn't mind, though, as long as you're happy and healthy.

#kinda short sorry!! my mind is blank rn #ask.txt #fic.txt #twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #jade leech x reader #twisted wonderland yume #twst yume #twisted wonderland yumeship #twst yumeship

157 notes · View notes

cowboylikemac · 2 days ago

Text

BLANK SPACE | H.P

“ screaming crying perfect storm .”

harry potter x fem!reader

includes: fluff, angst

The first time Harry kissed you, it was a mistake.

Or at least, it was supposed to be.

The Gryffindor common room was too hot, too loud, thick with the aftershock of a Quidditch victory. Someone had pushed a glass of firewhisky into his hand, someone else had dared him to do something reckless, and before he could think too hard about it—

There you were.

Watching. Waiting.

It had been your voice that cut through the haze, amused and sharp. “What’s wrong, Potter? Scared?”

And Harry had been drunk on adrenaline, on victory, on the unbearable temptation of you.

So he kissed you.

Hard, fast, reckless.

It was supposed to be a joke, something to laugh about later.

But then you kissed him back, fingers curling into his collar, pulling him closer.

And just like that, the game began.

The next time it happened, there was no excuse.

No party, no dare, no convenient push into something careless.

Just you and him, alone in a shadowed corridor after curfew, whispering insults that sounded too much like foreplay.

“You think you’ve got me figured out, don’t you?” you mused, tilting your head, eyes gleaming in the dim light.

Harry swallowed, jaw tight. “I don’t think I want to.”

And just like that, you kissed him first this time.

Because Harry Potter never backed down from a challenge.

And neither did you.

Loving you was like holding fire.

You burned bright, fast, all-consuming.

Harry found himself looking for you when he shouldn’t. He told himself it was just curiosity. Just habit.

Then why did it feel like something else?

Why did he feel like he was losing every time you walked away?

Because the truth was, it wasn’t just about sneaking around anymore.

It was the way you knew him too well.

The way you saw past the Boy Who Lived, past the Golden Boy, straight into the part of him that ached to be understood.

The way he let you in before he realized he had.

And that was the problem.

Because Harry Potter wasn’t supposed to fall for people like you.

People who were dangerous, sharp, ambitious, untouchable.

People who made love feel like a battlefield.

But he had. God help him, he had.

It was fun, until it wasn’t.

“You’re doing this on purpose.”

You didn’t even bother looking up from your book. “What?”

Harry stood stiffly in front of you, arms crossed, looking at you like he wanted to shake you. “McLaggen.”

Now you looked up, unimpressed. “And?”

Harry’s jaw clenched. “You’re playing games.”

You smiled then, slow and sharp. “That’s the fun part, isn’t it?”

His fingers curled into fists. “Not when I don’t know what’s real.”

Your heart stumbled. Just for a second.

Then you exhaled, feigning indifference. “What does it matter, Potter? You’ll get bored eventually.”

He took a step closer, voice low, dangerous. “Is that what you think?”

You shrugged. “Isn’t that what always happens?”

Something in his expression cracked. And for the first time, you saw it.

The hurt. The anger. The way he had let himself believe, even for a moment, that you were something real.

You had been winning—until you realized it never should have been a game in the first place.

The final fight was the worst one.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

You let out a quiet, hollow laugh. “That’s what you said last time.”

Harry shook his head, pacing, hands in his hair like he was trying to keep himself together. “Yeah, well. I meant it this time.”

You forced your voice to stay light, unaffected. “Alright, then. See you around, Potter.”

His head snapped up. “That’s it?”

You shrugged. “What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, frustrated. “I don’t know what I expected.”

You smiled then, slow and lovely and cruel. “That’s your problem, isn’t it? You always expect too much.”

And maybe—just maybe—you said it because you wanted him to prove you wrong.

But he didn’t.

He just exhaled sharply, turned on his heel, and walked away.

And for the first time, you let him.

The war hadn’t started yet.

But it was coming.

And Harry still looked for you.

He told himself he was done. That he didn’t need the chaos, the push-and-pull, the mess of it all.

But then he walked into the Great Hall, and your eyes met across the room, and suddenly—nothing had changed.

He still wanted you.

And maybe, just maybe, you still wanted him too.

The difference this time?

You weren’t going to run.

So you found him first, slipping into the Gryffindor common room like you belonged there.

Harry was by the fire, looking up as soon as you stepped inside.

He let out a breath of disbelief. “What are you doing here?”

You hesitated. Then, softer, honest for once—

“Starting over.”

Something shifted in his expression.

You took a breath, steadier now. More real.

“I’m a nightmare,” you said, lips quirking, a little self-deprecating now. “You said it yourself.”

Harry exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, well.” He glanced at you, something softer in his gaze now. “I think I like nightmares.”

Your chest tightened, something warm creeping in beneath the mess of it all.

You leaned in, close enough that he could feel your breath against his skin.

“Then let’s make a new game, Potter,” you murmured.

Harry smirked, shaking his head, but his hand found yours anyway.

And this time—neither of you let go.

masterlist!

a/n: remember my inbox is always open for suggestions

tags: @lydiascabinsix @lydiasfalling @laufeysvalentine

#Spotify #harry potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #harry potter x y/n #harry potter x oc #harry potter fic #harry potter fluff #harry potter smut #harry potter angst #cowboylikemac

130 notes · View notes

mossterunderthebed · 1 day ago

Note

LOLOLOLOLOLOL

OH MY GOSH GOYUU TIME

(bc my secret superpower is that i can in fact make anything goyuu hohoho)

WHO IS IT?? WHOS THE IDIOT THAT TRIED TO POISON GOJO AND GOT YUUJI INSTEAD??? *GAAAASPS* NAOYA ITS NAOYA

HES A MYSOGINISTIC LIL BIRCHNUGGET WITH A SUPERIORITY/INFERIORITY COMPLEX

BUT ACTUALLY I JUST WANT HIM TO HAVE HAD HIS BALLS CUT OFF IN SERVICE TO THE EMPEROR (and the emperor is GOJO)

(Hes SO bitter abt it) AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

WHERES THAT ONE QUOTE THE 'THEYLL BUURY U THREE FEET DEEP BC UVE ONLY EVER BEEN HALF A MAN' ONE I SAW IT ONCE WHERE IS ITTTTTT

OUOUOUUUUUUUUGH EGG IM GETTING IDEAS ABOUT THE EMPOROR/JESTER AUUUUUUUUUUUU AGAIN

SOMEBODY GIVE ME A SOUNDING BOARD I NEED TO BASH MY FACE AGAINST THIS UNTIL I BLEED SOMETHING ONTO A PAGE

plot bunny number 109283679381

*passes out before managing to get off the stage*

please excuse i am moderately to severely insane today we dont need to talk abt it

what if naoya wasnt always a eunich he was forced to become one as punishment and to learn humility after inciting rebellion among his clan

and gojo knew the thing that would KILL him without granting him the mercy of death and dealing with the political backlash from the Zen'in

so he grants him the HONOUR of being one of the closest and most trusted attendants to the crown FORK FORK FORK IM FREAKING GENIUS and makes him a eunuch

OUGHHHH

and THEN naoya plots revenge quieter and smarter this time bc his entire mentality has collapsed and hes not really as stable as he once was (which like. he wasnt in the first place) and so then YUUJI comes along and earns the emperor's favour (LOTS of favour) and decides to USE HIM and gojos fondness for him to get to gojo

and tries to poison gojo with some sweets or smthg and gojo ends up feeding them to yuuji first as a treat and then yuujis smile slowly fades and he looked horrified and scared and knocks the box away and tries to say 'gojo-sama theyre pois-' and then he falls

and gojo roars for medics and has to cradle yuujis body as he shakes and heaves and sweats and gojos terrified and furious in front of his WHOLE court and has naoya put in chains and nearly kills him but decides to let yuuji decide when he wakes up HE WILL WAKE UP and then stays by yuuji the whole time hes unconcious

and then when yuuji is finally confirmed to be okay he lets him choose what to do with naoya and yuuji doesnt want to hurt him at first but he thinks of how naoya tried to hurt gojo used HIM to hurt gojo and hes so furious and gramps didnt raise a fool he might not be well-versed in politics but hes not a true idiot either he just sells it for the bit (its literally his job bro fork off) and he knows a message has to be sent and he knows this CANT happen again (truthfully he knows it WILL and THATS why he needs to do this)

and so he asks to be naoyas executioner himself

bc this is HIS decision and burden and he needs to remember it; that this is gojos court and it doesnt love him no matter how Yuuji DOES- oh. he does. he loves gojo. oh no. oh no no no he CANT that the EMPEROR he CANT be in love with the EMPEROR oh gosh he IS isnt he hes SO in love with the emperor

but who wouldnt?? gojo-sama's so sweet and funny and protective and gentle and he cares so much about his people and he can be scary as all get-out but yuujis never once felt afraid with him

and he feeds yuuji sweets from his own hand and lets yuuji sit on his lap and smiles when he fumbles and laughs at his jokes even though yuuji KNOWS hes not really that funny

and he gave yuuji a chance and got him OUT from under the laugh-master's thumb (idk what jester training looks like but yuuji did not have fun there in this au) and because of him he got to meet nobara and megumi and so many people who CARE and nanami and shoko are so loyal to him and theyre GOOD yuuji knows people like hes never known anything else and he might not be the sharpest but his gut is never wrong and gojo makes him light as air and makes his stomach bubble like champagne but most of all

he makes yuuji feel SAFE and yuuji loves loves loves to make him happy and wants to spend his whole life dedicating himself to that endeavor.

and he worries what if he does something stupid what if he lets someone know what if he gets SENT AWAY?? so he draws back and gojos so confused and devestated and thinks maybe yuuji doesnt want to stay anymore after being poisoned and it breaks his heart but he does maybe the most selfless thing hes ever done and teel yuuji that if yuuji wants he'll arrange for him to go wherever he likes and he wont make him stay

and yuuji is horrified and devestated and just shouts 'please dont send me away' and he apologieses and says he wont let anyone else know he loves gojo he wont act out or up or above his station he'll behave and stay within his lines he promises only please please please dont send him away he doesnt want to go away from gojo-sama PLEASE-

and gojos just standing there like hes been whalloped over the head and then seconds tick by and hes like. wait. u love me?

and the blood drains from yuujis face but he nods and gojo looks at him like he hung the stars in the sky and yuuji just says this one small miserable 'im sorry'

and gojo realizes hes upset and he goes nonono i love you too i love you yuuji dont you know i LOVE you and scoops him up into his arms and spins him around and around and kisses him all over his face and yuujis like 'u love me' and gojo just nods vigorously

and yuuji hold onto him so so tight. and gojo takes him to his rooms and holds him right back and promises he wont let anyone hurt yuuji again and theyll never be separated and he'll never send yuuji away and yuuji sobs because finally FINALLY for the first time since his gramps dies he has a home again and its here, with gojo.

OUGH!

and then Happy Ending Things YAY!!!!

fucking stop using eunuch it's not a joke word it a fucking slur you disgusting troglodyte

you gotta let go of the past. im not letting you back into my court. you tried to poison me and you ended up killing my favorite fool. im not giving you your balls back either.

#screaming crying etc etc #dont touch me im Feeling things #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #itadori yuuji #goyuu #writing #writing inspo #writing ideas #oh my gosh u guys #the fluffle is out of control

8K notes · View notes

mrsstarkey1 · 2 days ago

Text

nothing good (getaway car) - d.s.

yn is in a loving relationship with a guy she has no complaints about. tom(blyth, holland, hiddleston, take ur pick) is amazing. only problem? it's too good. restless, always searching for an exit, she never expected to find it in drew starkey. one lingering glance from across the bar and suddenly, she’s slipping into the passenger seat of a getaway car she knows is bound to crash. but that’s the thing about running—it only ever feels good until the chase is over.

wc: 3.4k

warnings: slight smut, infidelity, cursing

obx masterlist

The theater is dark, the screen flickering with golden light, but you can’t focus.

Tom is sitting beside you, his hand resting on your thigh, the way a good boyfriend’s should. He’s completely absorbed in the film—his film—the one he’s poured his heart into. Every time the audience reacts, he squeezes your knee in excitement, like he’s saying, Did you hear that? They loved it.

And you try. You really do. You keep your eyes on the screen, laughing at all the right moments. But your mind drifts, the way it always does.

Because here you are again—bored.

It’s always like this. You get restless, your fingers itch for something new. You don’t mean to be this way. You don’t want to be this way. But no matter how good a man is, no matter how many red carpets or candlelit dinners or whispered I love yous you collect, you always end up feeling like this.

Detached. Distant. Disconnected.

Tom leans over, whispering, “That was my favorite scene. Did you like it?”

You force a smile, turning to him, trying to shake yourself out of it. “I loved it.”

His brows furrow slightly, blue eyes searching yours. “Are you okay?”

You nod quickly, turning your attention back to the screen. “Of course. I’m just tired.”

He believes you. Because why wouldn’t he? You’re the perfect girlfriend—always there, always smiling, always saying the right things.

But tonight, you’re not sure how much longer you can pretend.

The weight of it all presses against your chest—too many eyes, too many expectations. You can feel Tom’s hand at the small of your back, warm and steady, a silent reminder of the role you’re supposed to play. You force a smile, let him guide you through the crowd, nodding at familiar faces, laughing at jokes you barely register.

And yet, beneath the shimmering lights and flowing champagne, something inside you itches, restless and uncontained.

It’s loud. Too loud.

Hollywood types fill the room—directors, actors, agents, all talking too fast, laughing too hard. Tom is in his element, shaking hands, flashing that charming grin. You squeeze his arm. “Go socialize, movie star. I’m gonna grab a drink.”

He hesitates for half a second before kissing your temple. “I won’t be long.”

You nod, already turning toward the bar.

But once you get there, you don’t leave.

One drink turns into two. Two turns into—who’s counting? The ice in your glass melts as you swirl it idly, your mind still elsewhere.

And then, you feel it.

A pair of eyes on you.

You look up, and there he is.

Drew Starkey.

Sitting across the room, leaning back in his seat, one arm draped lazily over the back of the booth. He’s watching you, a slow smirk playing on his lips, the kind that makes your stomach flip in a way you haven’t felt in a long time.

You should look away.

You don’t.

He tilts his head slightly, as if to say, What’s a pretty girl like you doing drinking alone?

And that’s when you realize it—this is the moment. A moment you experience all too much. The point of no return.

You can get up, find Tom, pretend you never locked eyes with Drew Starkey across a crowded room. You haven’t done anything wrong, yet.

Or you can pick up your drink, take a sip, and see what happens next.

You don’t look away.

Neither does he.

It’s a game of chicken now, the kind you shouldn’t be playing when your boyfriend is just across the room, laughing it up with his costars. But Drew doesn’t seem to care about that little detail—not with the way his lips curl at the edges, amused, like he already knows exactly how this will play out.

And then—he stands.

You exhale slowly, turning back to your drink like you don’t notice. Like you don’t feel the heat of his gaze cutting through the crowd as he moves toward you.

A beat. Then, a voice, smooth as silk and twice as dangerous.

“You looked lonely.”

You glance up. He’s already leaning against the bar, a lazy confidence in the way he takes up space. His white dress shirt is unbuttoned just enough to show a hint of his collarbone, sleeves rolled up in a way that feels entirely calculated.

You arch a brow, playing along. “And you just couldn’t let that stand?”

Drew tilts his head slightly, eyes flickering over your face. He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he orders a drink, “Old Fashioned, please,” before turning his full attention back to you.

“Let’s just say I’m a humanitarian.”

You huff a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “Right. Saint Drew Starkey, patron of lonely girls at bars.”

He smirks, tapping the rim of his glass before taking a slow sip. “Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

The conversation is easy, effortless, a kind of push-and-pull that makes something in your chest tighten. You’re intrigued—because of course you are. Because he’s intriguing.

And hot as hell.

You knew that before, in a vague, yeah-he’s-attractive kind of way. But now that he’s right in front of you, now that you can see the sharp cut of his jaw, the way his blue eyes flicker under the dim bar lights—yeah, you get it.

He studies you like he’s trying to figure something out.

“So, what’s a girl like you doing sitting at a bar alone at her boyfriend’s movie premiere?”

There it is.

He knows who you are. He knows who you’re here for. And he’s still standing way too close, still watching you like he wants something.

The smart thing to do would be to laugh, brush him off, go find Tom.

Instead, you tilt your head, tapping a nail against your glass. “Maybe I like a little space.”

Drew hums, like that answer doesn’t surprise him. Like he already knew it.

And then, he leans in—just enough for his voice to drop into something lower, more dangerous.

“Or maybe you’re just looking for an exit.”

Your breath catches. "Is that an observation?" You tilt your head to search his eyes, "or an invitation?"

Drew’s lips twitch like he wasn’t expecting you to match his energy so easily. He takes a slow sip of his drink, watching you over the rim before setting the glass down with a quiet clink.

“Depends,” he muses, running a finger along the condensation on his glass. “Would you take it if it was?”

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. He’s good—too good. The kind of smooth that should make you wary. Key word being should.

Instead, you angle yourself toward him, elbow resting on the bar as you meet his gaze. “You always talk in circles, or is that just for me?”

Drew smirks, tipping his head slightly. “Maybe you make it more fun.”

His voice is easy, teasing, but there’s something beneath it. A challenge. A dare.

Your fingers tap against the bar. You should excuse yourself, find Tom, do anything but sit here, entertaining this.

But instead, you lean in just slightly, close enough that his scent—something sharp, something expensive—wraps around you.

“You think I’m here for fun?” you ask, lips barely curving.

Drew hums, eyes flickering to your mouth before dragging back up. “Here—meaning sitting at this bar with me?”

You nod once, unsure of his angle.

He pretends to think it over, tilting his glass in his hand. Then, voice dropping just enough to make your stomach tighten, he murmurs, “No. I think you’re here because you hate events where you have to pretend to be in love with your boyfriend.”

Your fingers tighten around your drink. The ice clinks against the glass.

Because he isn’t wrong.

And the fact that he sees it so clearly? That should bother you.

But you find yourself leaning in just a little closer. "And what makes you think I’m pretending?"

Drew smirks, slow and knowing. "Because if you weren’t, you wouldn’t still be sitting here."

You stare at him, your brain and heart running on overdrive.

You know what should happen next. You should finish your drink, put on a smile, and go find Tom—stand next to him, wrap an arm around his waist, remind yourself that he’s good. That he’s kind, and sweet, and proud of you. That you’re supposed to be his.

But of course, you don’t.

“And if I left?” you ask, voice quiet, just for him. “Would you follow?”

His lips twitch, his amusement barely concealed. “That depends. Are you running?”

Your pulse jumps. You swallow, setting your glass down.

Because yes. Of course you are. You always do.

Drew watches you carefully, fingers tapping against the bar. He could call your bluff. Could smirk and let you go back to your perfect little life. Could make it easy for you.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he leans in, close enough for his breath to ghost against your cheek. “You want an exit?” he murmurs. “I’ll give you one.”

You don’t have time to second-guess.

Because suddenly, your feet are moving. Your heart is pounding.

You don’t check to see if Tom notices. You don’t check to see if anyone does. You just slip through the crowd, past glittering gowns and crisp suits and clinking glasses, and push through the doors into the cool night air.

A sleek black car is idling by the curb. The driver barely glances up before stepping out to open the door.

Drew nods at him, then looks at you. A silent question.

You take one last breath of hesitation. One last chance to stop this before it starts.

The second you slide into the car, a laugh bubbles up in your throat—light, breathless, entirely uncontrollable.

Drew gets in after you, shutting the door with a quiet click, and that’s it. You’re gone. No cameras, no flashing lights, no careful smiles. Just the two of you and the city slipping past in a blur.

You press a hand to your lips, still grinning, the adrenaline coursing hot through your veins. This is so bad. Reckless. Messy. But God, it feels good.

Drew watches you, amusement flickering in his eyes as he leans back, stretching an arm along the seat. “You always run this fast?”

You shoot him a look, “Only when there’s something worth running to.” He's good, you've seen that throughout the night. But you know you're better.

His lips twitch, and instead of answering, he reaches forward—plucks a chilled bottle of champagne from the car’s minibar like it was meant for this exact moment. The foil crinkles, the cork pops, and you flinch before giggling again, head tilting back against the seat.

“Jesus,” you exhale, watching as he pours, the bubbles rising in the glass.

Drew smirks, passing one to you. “To running.”

You clink your glass against his, eyes glinting under the streetlights. “To the story of my life," you mumble.

The champagne is cold and sharp against your tongue, fizzing like the thrill still buzzing under your skin. You take another sip, letting your body sink into the moment, into the warmth, into the sheer wrongness of it all.

Drew watches you over the rim of his glass, gaze flickering to your lips before dragging back up. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to.

Because you know.

This is the part where you should hesitate. Where you should remember Tom, the careful life you just stepped out of, the lines you’re about to cross.

But you don’t.

Instead, you lean in, setting your glass aside, hands bracing against the seat as you crawl onto his lap, fabric slipping high on your thighs.

Drew hums, low in his throat, hands finding your waist like it’s second nature. “You move fast.”

You smirk, fingers curling into the undone knot of his tie. “You just noticed?"

Then his lips are on yours, hot and insistent and God help you, you can't remember Tom's name.

The kiss is messy, rushed, all tongue and need, like you’re making up for lost time neither of you even knew you missed. You fist a hand in his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan against your mouth.

The car takes a sharp turn, and Drew pulls back just enough to look at you, lips swollen, eyes dark. His fingers ghost over your jaw, then trail down, slow, deliberate.

“This is the part," he licks his lips, eyes scanning over your face, "where you tell me if you want to go home, or to the hotel on the end of the street."

You could play coy. You could make him chase. But you don’t.

Instead, you lean in, lips brushing against his, and whisper, “Make sure it's a suite."

The grin that spreads across his face is pure sin.

The next few minutes are a blur of heat and hands and whispered things you won’t remember in the morning. The car stops, a door opens, and Drew is pulling you out, his grip firm around your wrist.

You follow him through the back entrance, avoiding the glow of security cameras overhead. The way he moves—quick, confident, like he’s done this before—sends a thrill down your spine. Inside, the lobby is quiet, dimly lit. A night worker barely glances up as Drew approaches the desk, exchanging a few low words you can’t quite catch.

It’s the way it happens so smoothly, the way the worker nods without question, slipping him a key card like it’s routine, that has something twisting deep in your stomach.

You should probably wonder. Ask questions. But instead, it just turns you on more.

Drew glances back at you, lips twitching like he knows exactly what you’re thinking. He slides the key into his pocket and reaches for your hand, his grip firm, leading you toward the elevators.

The moment the doors slide shut, his hands are on you again—palming at your waist, pressing your back against the cool metal, mouth hungry at the curve of your jaw.

The ride to the top floor is torturous. Every second feels stretched too thin, charged with heat. When the doors open, he doesn’t let go of you, walking backward down the hall like he can’t bear to break the contact.

The second the suite door shuts behind you, Drew’s on you again—his hands firm on your hips, his mouth already seeking yours like he’s been starved for it. His kisses are deep, urgent, but teasing too, like he enjoys dragging this out just to watch you fall apart.

Your fingers work quickly at the buttons of his shirt, pushing the fabric off his shoulders, reveling in the warmth of his skin beneath your touch. He lets you undress him without protest, but his hands aren’t idle—his fingers skim under the hem of your dress, pushing it up inch by inch, teasing.

As he tugs it over your head, he leans in, breath warm against your ear. “You always this impatient, or am I just special?”

You scoff, raking your nails down his chest. “Shut up and take your pants off.”

His low chuckle vibrates against your skin, but he obeys, kicking them off to be long forgotten. The two of you leave a careless trail of clothing across the hardwood floor, stumbling blindly toward the bedroom.

You pull back for a breath, chest rising and falling, but Drew doesn’t let you go far—his lips immediately attach to your collarbone, teeth scraping lightly against the sensitive skin. A sharp sigh escapes you, your head tilting back to give him more access.

Your eyes flick around the room, momentarily distracted. "God, this place is nice," you murmur.

Drew hums against your skin, his lips still working their way lower. “Yeah? You thinking about interior design right now?”

You chuckle, fingers weaving into his hair as you tug lightly, forcing his gaze down to yours. "No, baby, only thinking of you," you tease, looking at him through your lashes.

A slow smirk spreads across his lips, dark and knowing, before his hands slide down to your thighs—gripping firm before lifting you with effortless strength. You barely have time to react before he all but throws you onto the mattress, the plush bedding sinking beneath your weight.

He towers over you, his eyes raking over your body like he’s committing every inch to memory. Then, he tilts his head, voice rough yet laced with amusement.

"You know," he muses, finger tracing down your bare stomach, dancing around the fabric of your thong. "I don’t feel great about stealing Tom’s girl, especially on the night of his big premiere," he tsks. "He’s a great actor. Seems like a great guy."

You freeze for half a second, your brows lifting as your eyes snap to his. The smirk playing on his lips is lazy, arrogant—like he knows exactly what he’s doing, exactly how to get under your skin.

Your fingers ghost over the waistband of his briefs, "Are you saying you want to stop? Hmm? 'Cause I'm sure he'd be happy to come take your place. I mean, you've already got me all hot and ready for hi-"

Drew lets out a sharp breath—almost a laugh, but darker. His mouth ghosts over your jaw, trailing down your neck, teeth grazing over your pulse point as he mutters, "Careful."

Heat pools low in your stomach, and you don’t bother fighting the grin tugging at your lips.

"Then shut up the fuck up about Tom."

He huffs out a low chuckle against your skin. "Who?"

That’s enough talking, you both decide.

His lips are slow, teasing, dragging across your skin in a way that has you gasping, hands grasping at him, nails digging into his back. He takes his time, savoring every reaction, every breathy moan he pulls from your lips.

And when he finally gives in, it’s fast and slow all at once—like he can’t get enough of you, but also wants to make this last. His touch is firm, controlled, but there’s a hunger beneath it, an urgency that makes heat coil low in your stomach. His hands roam your body, memorizing, mapping, claiming.

He’s good. Too good. The kind of good that makes you dizzy, that makes you forget your own name, let alone the one of the man you left behind tonight.

“God,” you breathe, fingers digging into his shoulders as he moves against you, burning skin on burning skin. He makes a noise in the back of his throat at the sound of your voice, like he’s reveling in the way you come undone beneath him. His name spills from your lips, a whisper, a plea, a curse all at once.

Drew’s mouth finds yours again, swallowing every sound, every broken breath. His hands tighten on your hips, fingers digging in like he’s afraid you’ll disappear, like he knows this can’t last but wants to make it count anyway.

And you let him.

You let him pull you under, let him ruin you in the best possible way, let him set a fire to everything you thought you knew.

Because for the first time in a long time—you feel something.

And it’s intoxicating.

Drew is asleep beside you, his arm hooked around your waist, his breathing slow and steady. The room is dark except for the city lights bleeding in through the window, painting streaks of gold across the sheets.

Your body is still buzzing, your mind still running in circles. You stare at the ceiling, your heart pounding with something that isn’t just adrenaline. It’s something deeper, something heavier. The weight of everything you just did, everything this means.

You should leave.

But as you shift slightly, testing the idea, Drew’s grip tightens in his sleep, his arm flexing just enough to pull you closer, as if even unconscious, he can sense you trying to go.

You freeze.

A sharp inhale. A pause.

Your eyes flick toward the hotel desk. A notepad and pen sit untouched beside the lamp, waiting.

You think about what you’d write.

I’m sorry. No. Too simple. Too empty.

This was a mistake. A lie.

Don’t follow me. You don’t even know if you mean it.

The words swirl in your mind, shifting, twisting, refusing to settle.

You press your lips together, staring at the blank page from across the room.

And you wonder if you’ll actually write anything at all.

---

requests open!

116 notes · View notes

gummydummy19 · 17 hours ago

Text

No one else

Summary: You see Price again for the first time after he went on mission…and after you slept with him months ago

Content Warning: mentions of smut, angst, age gap

Pairing: John Price x reader (NO GENDER/LOOKS SPECIFIED)

A/N: short, sweet and angsty, folks! this has been in my drafts for a looooong time, enjoy <3

Word Count: 1100+

“I…I haven’t...been...with anyone else, you know?”

“What?”, He looked down at you, your head resting on his sticky chest, listening to his heartbeat.

“Since you left…I uhm….I haven’t slept with anyone else.”

It had been months since you last saw him.

You and John had been friends for years. Sure, he was a little older than you, but you never cared. He was handsome and smart and kind and he always knew what to do.

He was the one you called when your car broke down on the side of the road. The one who took you for a drink after a long day at work.

And last summer, he suddenly became the one who made you cum so many times you forgot your own name.

It was a one-time thing. A moment of heated passion between two friends. The fact that you'd had a crush on him for over a year played no part in the matter.

Besides, you didn't have much time to dwell, because the next morning when he got called into work, he was told that he was needed for another mission.

Well it turns out, that did actually leave you lots of time to dwell. Six months of it.

It had gone by incredibly fast and agonizingly slow at the same time, but there he was, back home, taking sips of his beer on your couch while you cooked him his first decent meal in half a year.

You'd been eyeing each other all night. Small talk paired with small touches. After dessert, when there were no more dishes to be washed, no more stupid questions to be asked, nowhere left to hide, he kissed you.

And that left you here, in your bedroom. Tangled in the forest green sheets, sweaty and satisfied. His rough hands drew gentle shapes on your shoulder until you opened your stupid mouth.

“I havent been with anyone else…”

Price was quiet, with an expression on his face that gave little away.

The silence grew thicker by the second. An uncomfortable feeling settled in your stomach and you started to regret even saying anything.

You were about to mumble out an excuse, apologize, tell him never mind, and that it was silly. Your mouth opened but before the first sound could fly out of your throat, he broke the silence.

“Neither have I.”, he stated dryly.

“You haven’t?”, you sat up a little, getting a better look at his face.

“You thought I had?” He raised his brow a little, you could tell it was a reflex. He almost looked…annoyed.

"Yeah, I mean...no....I don't know", you babbled.

"Well, I didn't."

"You could have."

"I didn't want to." he replied with just a twinge of irritation, “Did you want me to?”

“No I just…I wouldn’t have been mad…if you had.”

His brows twisted in what can only be described as a dumbfounded frown.

“What the…” he grumbled, sitting up fully too. “So if I would have fucked some other lass, you would’a been totally fine with that?”

Your eyes darted around nervously as you tried to figure out how to answer that question.

“I just…you can do what you want. You don’t have any responsibilities towards me. I would have understood if you had…if…if you’d…”

The thought of him with another woman made you sick to your stomach, but you knew you couldn't have expected that of him. That he'd stayed loyal to someone he'd slept with once.

Well...twice now.

"Alright then, good to know how you feel," he said as he got out of bed, quickly grabbing his boxers off the floor and pulling them on.

"W-, Price, where are you going?"

"I clearly got this all wrong, that's on me."

"No wait, please! I...I'm sorry I just...I..." you babbled. Your chest felt tight, that familiar feeling of panic settled in the pit of your stomach as you watched him grab his stuff off the floor.

“Can you please just hold on a minute? Please?”, you pleaded, “John!”

That got his attention. His eyes locked with yours as he stood there brooding like an angry bear.

“I thought…” he started, you could tell he was trying to keep himself composed, “I thought we had something. I thought we were something. A thing. The pair of us.”

You sat there on the bed, with your thin sheet wrapped flimsily around yourself, staring up at him.

“John…I”

“I know we didn’t exactly have a conversation about it…but after what happened I just sort of assumed…and I shouldn’t have.”

“No! God, I’m such an idiot…I'm just expressing myself all wrong…", you tried explaining, “I wanted you to know I hadn’t been with anyone else…because I don’t want anyone else…but I also know we didn’t talk about it so I would have no right to be mad if you…if you had…”

“Screwed someone else?”, he damn near barked.

“Yeah…", you visibly flinched at the thought this time. "Can you please sit back down? Please?"

He obliged. The mattress dipped a little as he sat down on the edge of the bed, his back toward you. The room was quiet again. You didn't really know what to say or do...you had missed him so much...all you wanted was to be close to him, that was all you had wanted for months.

You were staring at the freckles on his back and you couldn't help but lean closer, your lips carefully brushing against the skin and pressing a loving kiss there. You felt him tense up, yet he remained quiet.

"The thought alone makes me sick..." you started, hoping he would get what you were referring to, "but I would have understood, you were gone for a long time and you didn’t make any promises to me”

You felt him tense up again when you said that last part.

“M'not angry at you sweetheart, I'm just angry at myself ", he turned around, his sweet, blue eyes gazing at you with nothing but love and affection.

"I promised my heart to you a long time ago, I was just too dense to tell you about it..."

"Oh, John..", was all you could muster, you reached out and gently put your hand against his bearded cheek. He leaned into your touch, placing his own hand over yours.

"I should have at least made it clear how I felt, sweetheart, instead of leaving you wondering if I was fucking someone else for six months. Because I wasn’t. All I wanted was to be with you. There’s no one else I want, love.”

You were at a loss for words, so you settled for a kiss. Not that he was complaining, because he immediately maneuvered you onto his lap, mumbling praises and apologies.

Taglist;

@metalbuckaroo

@princessayveke

@montsepliego

@scxrletrecsmarvel

@hopelesslyrogers

@eclecticpatrolroadlawyer

@tfandtws

@vicmc624

@ahahafudge

@enchantedbarnes

@wickedravyn

@pono-pura-vida

@amayaraestyles

@matchat3a

@fictional-hooman

@sebastianexplicit

@peaches1958

@avengersfan25

@jamneuromain

@tryingtoliveonmywishes

@mrsevans90

@daybreak96

@tiredqueen73

@fallingforunrealisticromance

@identity2212

@randomweirdoss

@ragamuffin285

@juliaorpll78

@geralts-yenn

@imjusthereforliam

@bangtanstoeart

@squeezyvalkyrie

@enchantedbytomandhenry.

@superduckmilkshake

@kingliam2019

@bascmve01

@missgaygurl

@foxyjwls007

@mollymal

@urmomsgirlfriend1

@luxeydior

@beck07990

@liecastillo

@warriormirkwood

@vintage-is-my-middle-name

@lucinapomona

@madebylilly

@nothingbettertosay81

@est1887

@whoemj

@notanotherpotter

@morganlolitta

@cashmereandcookies

@secretdream2

#gummydummy19 #fluff #fanfiction #smut #cod #cod price #cod john price #price #john price #captain price #captain john price #john price x reader #john price call of duty #john price x you #john price fanfiction #female reader #male reader #gender neutral reader #poc reader friendly

110 notes · View notes

sudokufriend · 10 hours ago

Text

not putting this in the tags only because character limits make me soo sadsies but yeah idk maybe you guys don’t know anyone whose entire culture subscribes to a ‘family is the rock of your life and your father and grandfather etc etc are essentially venerated and never disrespect your elders/authority figures no matter how wrong they are.’ because you don’t have non white friends. and it’s actually really refreshing to hear someone push back against the idealistic idea that there could be a system in which the family unit is preserved that does not have these problems.

hella anecdotes beneath the cut

i’m 20. my nigerian parents ascribe to these beliefs, and indeed the foundation of igbo culture rests upon these values being intrinsic facts. i’m not going to say that therefore the igbos deserved to be colonised or anything like that, but christianity and particularly catholicism took such a hold in igbos and we are so fervent about it because of and not despite the authoritarian nature of its teachings.

your parents are always right easily translates to god is always right. my parents constantly say to me that the three questions i should ask myself before doing something are ‘what would god do? what would my parents do? and what should i do?’ i shouldn’t need to point out the issues with that.

my igbo parents are wrong. looking at this evidence, this is just true. they are bigoted in a lot of ways, from being ableist, fatphobic and transphobic towards wider society and me, to being abusive towards all of their children who they view as their subordinates. they are healthcare workers who despise their vulnerable patients, and they are racist towards every culture, including dialects of their own language. they are islamophobic and they hate refugees despite us essentially being refugees ourselves. but we are not allowed to disrespect them in any case, in which disrespect is defined as disagreeing with anything they say. both igbo culture and religion and catholicism condones and encourages the unquestioning support of your parents.

when i was in primary school and struggling with social interactions and exhibiting signs of developing ocd regarding my grades at the age of six and obvious autism, my parents’ problem was that i threw a tantrum and disgraced our family, not that i was unhappy in school.

when i reported them to my teacher for abuse in year seven with my sister supporting me, they didn’t care that their children were so unhappy that they would take such drastic action as to talk about their family when it had been drilled into their heads that it was ‘wrong’ to ever let people know your family dynamics, they instead cared that we would dare go behind their backs and complain about them.

they now often wonder why i never came or indeed still don’t come to them for emotional support and advice. when i used to complain, or my siblings used to complain, my parents would take it as a personal insult that we would dare find issue with their parenting. as far as they’re concerned, i was just a weak willed child, who refused to fall in line. but if you ask them how they could’ve produced such a child if their parenting was ‘perfect’ they don’t have an answer.

this is just my immediate family. more broadly, when we are at home in nigeria, my father and grandfather must be greeted first in the morning. if we do not greet every single ‘adult’ (by which this is defined as the previous generation, not every person eighteen and over) before we start preparing breakfast for these adults, we are talked about and loudly insulted.

my grandmother on my dad’s side lives away from my grandfather because she cannot stand him. but she will not divorce him, and hell be upon you if you say a bad word against him, because that is her husband and your grandfather, and you will show him deference at all times.

my grandmother on my mother’s side was married at sixteen, and my grandfather (36 at the time of their marriage) financially and physically abused her. but my mother has not a bad word to say about my dead grandfather, and my grandmother talks fondly about the man who abused her.

my brother, a thirteen year old child, is a titled chief in my village. my two sisters and i do not have any such opportunity because we were born girls, and therefore born in servitude to the men in our lives. when we become ‘of marrying age’ (my mum is on the lookout for a suitable partner for my twenty two year old sister) we are expected to leave our birth family and not be involved in their domestic affairs, or to inherit property. the idea is that your husband will inherit property from his father and then you will rule it ‘together’ (if that husband dies without producing a son, all of the land he inherited is given to his next oldest brother). when we visit nigeria, we spend 5-6 weeks with my fathers family. we spend less than a week with my mother’s family, and my dad does not stay, because it is ‘not right’ to spend time with my mother’s family, except to pay deference to the older generation.

slavery was in part so successful at infiltrating igbo villages because of the problems inherent to such a system of inheritance. younger brothers eyeing their older brothers’ inheritances would collaborate with transatlantic slave traders to sell their brothers to their certain deaths. the igbos are not the first you meet on your way into nigeria from the coast. and yet we make up a shockingly high percentage of the historically enslaved population.

most igbos are conservative, not because conservative policies necessarily benefit them, and indeed we have been subject to ethnic discrimination in nigeria and pogroms, but they are so because you do not question the system, and the authorities who enforce it. yes, missionaries disrupted and destroyed our culture. but ultimately they brought catholicism and it reinforces our own ways of thinking, so it must be correct.

this obsession too with finding the perfect victims of colonialism is interesting. in search for the perfect victim, liberals will often twist discriminatory indigenous practices to make them seem retroactively queer. there was nothing queer about certain igbo women who chose to live like men in order to access the rights granted to said men. again this isn’t to say that the igbos deserved to be colonised and our practices and language poisoned at the root, but by swinging hard the other way, it erases the very real oppression inherent to some cultures.

I'm still fucking thinking about people advocating neo-Confucian ~extended family~ as a better alternative to western nuclear family. like girl i know there's that assumption that everyone is a white yankee but have you literally never talked to anyone who grew up in a family like that?

our barbarous system where children are the property of their parents vs their glorious system where children are the property of their parents (mystical oriental)

it's like that broader thing where people try and thin down a criticism like "you mean organised religion", "white western nuclear family", "this is such a white people thing" etc to try and weasel their way out of association with an issue.

Misogyny is not a western invention lol, the way it manifests in a lot of societies is a product of certain cultural manifestations of misogyny being exported elsewhere, but the control and ownership of women is not a "white people thing" or a western thing.

the issues of the family are not limited to the anglo saxon protestant yankee middle class nuclear family, misogyny is not unique to one group of people, racism is not unique to one group of people, homophobia is not unique to one group of people, terfs are not all middle class white women, etc etc etc etc

it's just so frustrating and kills any fucking attempt to actually talk about issues because they get drowned out with people appending on specific identities as if that issue is unique to one fucking group of people and the rest of the world is sunshine and rainbows.

#pseudo text #woah that got long #but like. it really is only analysis through the lens of communism and family abolition that allows me to actually talk about my trauma #and show that it is systemic while also not ‘victim blaming’ a colonised people.#it really is just straight orientalism

2K notes · View notes

pitchsidestories · 6 hours ago

Text

shining in all the colours of the rainbow II Leila Ouahabi x Reader

romantic masterlist | platonic masterlist | word count: 1643

summary: Leila and Reader's daughter finds out from Ona what the rainbow captain's armband is all about and that you can choose a family. requested

author's note: Hi, enjoy this little story and as always your feedback is very appreciated. 🤍🤍

disclaimer: Everything in this fanfiction is purely fictional and nothing corresponds to reality.

For a second you were completely absorbed in the kisses you had shared with your wife until you realised that someone important was missing.

“Amor, why did you stop?”, Leila's lips formed into a pout that you normally found endearing, but not at that very moment.

Panic mingled in your voice as you pointed with your hand in the direction where your daughter had been standing until recently: “Because Nour isn’t here anymore!”

“What do you mean?”, she frowned in confusion.

In slight despair, you bit your lip:” Look! Do you see our daughter? No.”

“She was here a moment ago.”, Leila mumbled, running her fingers through her dark hair.

You nervously called out your daughter's name, but she didn't answer, which only increased your concern for her.

Normally you were proud that your wife and you continued to play for the Spanish national team, but right now you were cursing your brief moment of inattention.

Reassuringly, the defender stroked your back:” I’m sure she’s somewhere around, hanging out with the girls.”

“Right.”, you nodded and feel a little less anxious after her comforting words. The national team absolutely adored Nour.

She pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead: “Don’t worry.”

“Let’s see where Nour is.”, you replied, walking hand in had through the rooms of the national team camp.

Meanwhile your daughter was looking big eyed at one of your teammates: “What are you doing, Oni?”

“Hey bebita, I’m filming a video for the Spanish federation.”, Ona explained and opened her arms so that Nour could sit on her lap, who took everything in with childlike curiosity.

The little girl asked her in a whisper, sensing that the Catalan woman was a bit uneasy in front of the cameras:” Do you need to be saved? You don’t look comfy.”

“I’m good. No worries.”, Ona answered with a genuine smile on her face while lightly tugging at her colourful captain armband.

Something about it immediately caught Nour's eye:” You’re wearing a rainbow.”

“I do. It’s the captain armband.”, the defender declared.

She took a closer look and noted with a twinkle in her eyes: “It’s pretty.”

“Yes, it’s, right? I like it too.”, Ona admitted smiling.

Noisily, your daughter questioned: “The colours do they mean something?”

“The rainbow flag stands for equality and diversity. It means everyone should be treated the same way, no matter what.”, the Barcelona player stated in a serious voice.

“No, matter what?”, Nour repeated, interested.

Lovingly, Ona stroked your daughter’s hair before giving her an example:” Well, no matter who you love for instance.”

The little girl tilted her head, studying Ona with big eyes: “Like my mamis? And tia Lucy and you?”

“Yes, exactly.”, the defender nodded.

“Nothing wrong with that.”, the girl shrugged.

“For some people this is very wrong.”, Ona explained carefully, hoping she would understand what she was trying to say.

Nour considered her for a moment before she tore her gaze away. Instead, she looked down at her shoes with her arms firmly crossed in front of her chest.

“Yes, I know. I had a fight…”, she revealed gravely.

Ona blinked at her in surprise: “You did? When?”

Nour let out a heavy sigh: “In my football training with a stupid boy.”

“You didn’t tell me about that yet.”

Nour was just opening her mouth to tell Ona everything when you and Leila walked in. You almost felt bad interrupting their conversation like that but at the same time relief washed over you when you finally found your daughter.

“Here you are.”, Leila sighed and kneeled down to hug her.

Nour looked from her to you and back again: “Mamis.”

“Hi amor.”, you greeted her and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead once Leila let go of her.

“Your daughter just told me…”, Ona started, then paused to exchange a look with Nour.

“Told you what?”, Leila asked.

“That she fought with a boy in her football training.”, the defender continued after the smallest nod from the little girl.

You immediately turned to your daughter, hearing about this story for the first time: “What? Why?”

“He was mean!”, Nour defended herself.

“But why didn’t you tell us?”, you asked. Your heart sank a bit, scared that your daughter already had secrets from you.

“I didn’t want to get in trouble.”, she admitted quietly.

Before you could, Leila pulled her into a tight hug: “You can always tell us everything. You won’t get in trouble.”

“He said it’s wrong.”, Nour said, ignoring Leilas words but ready to share her story with you.

“Wrong?”, you repeated.

She nodded adamantly: “To like girls as a girl.”

“And what was your answer to that?”, Leila wanted to know.

“That he’s stupid if he thinks that.”

Your heart filled with pride as you looked at your daughter. She was so young, but ready to stand up for what she believed was right. You had no words to describe how proud you were of her. And from the silence in the room, you knew the others felt a similar way.

Ona was the first one to speak again: “Nour? Maybe you should have been in front of the camera instead of me.”

“What? Why?”, the little girl asked her in wonder.

The younger defender replied with a proud smile on her lips as she slipped the captain's armband around your daughter's arm: “Because you've got to the heart of what this is all about.”

But it immediately began to slide, which made Nour burst out laughing:” That’s too big for me.”

After a brief look, Ona returned her laughter and admitted:” Yes, you need to grow into it a little.”

“Maybe one day.”, your daughter sounded hopeful.

Smiling, you agreed, while the little girl's face darkened.

“Am I going to get in trouble because I called him stupid?”, she wanted to know from your wife and you.

Quickly, Leila assured her:” No, you don’t need to worry about it.”

“Okay.”, Nour nodded, her expression brightening. You couldn't help but notice that when your daughter beamed, she looked even more like your wife than she already did, which warmed your heart

Quietly, you promised her: “You’ll be alright.”

“Yes, you did the right thing, Nour.”, Ona added in a serious tone.

At that moment, the sun broke through the cloud cover and the crystal balls, which were attached to the window as decoration, conjured up little rainbow stripes in the room. The small girl was amazed at the magic that was unfolding before her eyes.

Enchanted by the beauty around her, Nour tried to make you three notice it:” Mamis, Oni, look it’s beautiful.”

“It’s a little rainbow for you.”, Leila whispered into your daughter’s ear.

In awe, the younger defender remarked:” You guys are truly the cutest family.”

“No, we all are.”, the small girl corrected her gently but firmly.

“Exactly, family is not just blood.”, you hummed.

Smirking, your wife prompted the two of you: “Come on, we’ve to let Ona continue filming her thing.”

First you heard her voice, only then did you notice Laia Aleixandri, who had appeared in the door frame. “That’s true. Plus, I heard there’s some cake waiting for a special girl.”

“Cake?”, Nour repeated, visibly excited.

With a twinkle in her eyes, Ona requested: “Nour, can you take one for me too?”

“Yes, I’ll save you one.”, your daughter swore.

Gratefully, Ona smiled at her before returning to film the video: “Thanks.”

In the evening, when Nour was already asleep and you and your wife were getting ready for bed, you sat down on the bed and realised with amusement:” I think our daughter fell into a cake coma.”

Everything was more tranquil in the dark and the night lamps shed a cosy light.

“I feel like she deserved the cake today.”, Leila chirmed.

You nodded: “She did. Even though she ran away from us.”

“Yes, but she’s a smart girl. She always stays close to the team. And she knows what’s important.”, Leila grinned with clear pride.

“That’s true.”, you had to agree.

“I was very impressed.”

You watched your daughter take deep, calm breaths in her sleep. She looked totally at peace.

“When did Nour, our little light, become so wise?”, you asked quietly.

Leila shrugged: “I don’t know. She didn’t get that from me.”

You smiled at your wife: “Oh but she did get your charming smile and your good looks.”

She rolled her eyes to distract from the pleased smile and the blushed cheeks: “You always know what to say.”

“Oh, you think so?”, you teased her.

“Yes.”

“I remember that it was important when we got together.”, you laughed.

“I remember that too.”

You both sat there laughing quietly to avoid waking up Nour as you thought back to when you just started dating,

“And that you told Alexia on our first night together that I’d be your wife and the future mum of your children.”, you added.

Leila laughed even harder: “I knew what I wanted back then. And I was a bit drunk that night.”

“Maybe a little more than drunk.”, you corrected her.

“Maybe.”

“But you were cute nonetheless.”

Leila pouted innocently: “Am I not anymore?”

You studied your wife for a moment before you winked at her: “No, you’re still cute. But maybe even hotter than in the past.”

“I can only give that compliment back.”, Leila smirked.

Now it was you who blushed. You could feel the blood rise into your cheeks. “Stop.”

“Make me.”, Leila challenged you playfully.

Without missing a beat you leaned over and silenced her in the fastest and most efficient way. You kissed her hard and hungry.

Your lips only separated when you felt Nour stir next to you. You both looked down at her but she was still asleep in the glow of the moonlight.

pictures from pinterest

100 notes · View notes

octaneink · 2 days ago

Note

Could you do some dating willne headcannons or some willne smut but like in an established relationship? I’m obsessed with your fics, I swear I’ve read them so much I could recite them from memory 😭😭

Ahhh thank you so much for the kind words! I'm really happy that you like what I've written. I've never done headcannons or write smut lol so bear with me. I don't really know how to write smut ngl so I hope you like the spice (I think thats spicy? I don't know) at the end, I've never really written anything lke that before so I hope its...realistic?

Warning for some steamy stuff at the end!

Dating Will Lenney Headcanons

Playful Banter

In your relationship with Will, playful banter is the base of your dynamic, and he uses it to keep things light, fun, and endlessly entertaining. Whether you’re curled up on the couch, out for a walk, or in the middle of a mundane task, Will’s teasing is a constant—a reminder of how much he adores you.

He’s the kind of person who can’t resist poking fun at your quirks, but it’s always done with so much affection that it never feels mean-spirited. For example, if you’re watching one of your favourite romantic series for the hundredth time, he’ll lean over with a smirk and say, “Oh, this again? Let me guess—they’ll hate each other, then fall in love, and you’ll cry even though you know exactly how it ends.” But then he’ll stay right there beside you, secretly enjoying how much you love it—and secretly enjoying the series himself. He’d never admit it out loud, but he’s grown fond of the predictable charm of your go-to media.

Will’s teasing isn’t just one-sided, though. I think he’d love it if you gave as good as you get. If you catch him singing off-key in the shower, you’ll absolutely call him out on it. “Wow, I didn’t know cats could sing opera,” or something, and he’ll laugh so hard he almost slips. Or if he’s trying to fix something around the house, and it goes wrong, you’ll be there with a camera and a sarcastic comment like, “Handyman of the year, everyone.” He’ll pretend to be offended, but the twinkle in his eyes gives him away.

The best part is how his teasing always comes with an undercurrent of love. He’ll joke about your “weirdly specific and unnecessarily complex” coffee order, but he’ll still remember it perfectly and surprise you with it on a rough day. And if anyone else dares to tease you, he’s quick to jump to your defence, proving that his playful jabs are reserved for him alone.

Your banter becomes a language of its own—a way to say “I love you” without actually saying it. It’s in the way he grins when you roll your eyes at his jokes, the way he nudges you gently when you’re being stubborn. The way he always knows exactly how to make you laugh, even on your worst days. With Will, every day feels like a game, and you’re both winning.

Supportive Partner

In your relationship with Will, his unwavering support is one of the things you cherish most. He’s not just your partner—he’s your biggest cheerleader, your hype man, and your safe haven all rolled into one. No matter what you’re going through, whether it’s chasing a dream, tackling a new challenge, or just having a rough day, Will is always there to lift you up and remind you of your worth.

When you decide to try something new—whether it’s skating, learning an instrument, or even something as simple as baking a complicated recipe—Will will be the first to encourage you. He’ll sit with you while you practice, offering gentle advice when you ask for it and cheering you on even when you feel like giving up. “You’re a natural,” he’ll say, even if your first attempt at playing the guitar sounds more like a cat in distress. “Seriously, I’ve never heard anyone make that chord sound so… unique.” His teasing is always light-hearted, but it’s paired with genuine admiration for your willingness to try. And when you finally nail it? He’s beaming with pride, as if you’ve just won a Grammy. “Told you! I knew you could do it. Now play it again—I need this on video for when you’re famous.”

On tough days, Will’s support is a quiet, steady force. He has an uncanny ability to sense when you’re feeling down, even if you try to hide it. Without a word, he’ll wrap you in a hug, press a kiss to your forehead, and say, “Talk to me.” And when you do, he listens—actually listens. He doesn’t try to fix everything (unless you ask him to), but he’ll remind you of your strength and resilience. “You’ve got this,” he’ll say, his voice firm but gentle. “And even if you don’t feel like you do, I’ve got you. Always.”

Will’s encouragement isn’t just reserved for big moments, either. He celebrates the small victories with just as much enthusiasm. Did you survive a particularly gruelling day at work? He’ll show up with your favourite takeout and a movie, ready to pamper you. “You’re a rock star, and rock stars deserve the VIP treatment.”

But what makes Will’s support so special is how deeply personal it is. He pays attention to the little things—your favourite comfort foods, the way you light up when you talk about your passions. He knows when you need a pep talk, when you need a distraction, and when you just need someone to sit with you in silence. And he’s always there, without fail.

His belief in you is unshakeable. Even when you doubt yourself, he’s there to remind you of all the reasons you shouldn’t. “You’re brilliant, you’re kind, and you’re capable of anything you set your mind to,” he’ll say, his tone leaving no room for argument. “And if anyone says otherwise, they’ll have to deal with me.”

With Will by your side, you feel invincible. His support isn’t just words—it’s in the way he shows up for you, day after day, in big ways and small. He’s your partner, your teammate, and your biggest fan. And no matter what life throws your way, you know you’ll always have him in your corner, cheering you on every step of the way.

Car Rides

Car rides with Will are an experience in themselves. He’s always the one behind the wheel, and you’re perfectly content being his passenger princess. With you who's in control of the music, and you take full advantage of it. Whether you’re in the mood for girly pop, rock and roll, Afrobeats, jungle, reggae, or even a random playlist of your favourite guilty pleasures, Will never complains. He embraces it, turning every drive into a mini concert filled with laughter and the occasional side-eye from strangers at traffic lights.

You love how he lets you take charge of the aux, trusting your musical instincts even when your choices are… questionable. One day, you might blast upbeat pop anthems, singing at the top of your lungs as he chuckles beside you. “Okay, but why do I lowkey know all the words to this?” he’ll say, pretending to be embarrassed before joining in on the chorus. Another day, you might switch it up with some smooth reggae or high-energy Afrobeats, and he’ll bob his head along, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel to the rhythm. “You’ve got good taste, I’ll give you that,” he’ll tease, even if he’s secretly adding some of your songs to his own playlist.

The best moments are when you both get so into the music that you forget the world around you. You’ll be belting out a duet to some cheesy love song, completely off-key but having the time of your lives, when you catch people in the next car staring at you. Will, never one to back down from a bit of fun, will roll down the window and shout, “What? Never seen a Grammy-winning performance before?” before bursting into laughter and speeding off when the light turns green.

Long drives are your favourite. Whether it’s a road trip to somewhere new or just a leisurely cruise around town, the car becomes your little bubble of happiness. You’ll pack snacks, throw a blanket in the backseat just in case, and let the music set the mood. Will’s driving is smooth and confident, and you love how he occasionally reaches over to hold your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as he focuses on the road. “You good over there, princess?” he’ll ask, glancing at you with a smile. And you’ll nod, feeling completely at ease because, with him, even the simplest moments feel special.

Sometimes, the drives are quiet, the music playing softly in the background as you both enjoy the comfortable silence. Other times, they’re filled with lively conversations, random debates, or Will’s hilarious commentary on whatever’s happening outside. “Did that guy just try to parallel park in one go? Bold move,” he’ll say, shaking his head in mock disbelief. Or, “That billboard says ‘World’s Best Coffee.’ Challenge accepted.” And just like that, you’re pulling into a random café to test their claim, laughing the entire time.

But no matter where you’re going or what you’re listening to, the car rides always feel like yours. It’s your space to be silly, to be serious, to be yourselves. And Will wouldn’t have it any other way.

Protective Side

Beneath Will’s laid-back, easygoing exterior I see lies a fiercely protective streak, especially when it comes to you. While he’s usually the type to brush things off with a joke or a sarcastic remark, the moment someone disrespects you or crosses a line, his playful demeanour is gone.

Will’s protectiveness isn’t the loud, over-the-top kind. It’s subtle but firm. He’s the type to notice things others might miss—a snide comment, a dismissive tone, or even a lingering look that makes you uncomfortable. And while he might not always call it out immediately (he prefers to gauge how you feel about it first), he’s always ready to step in at the moment you need him.

Like if someone makes a backhanded comment about you in a social setting, Will’s response is sharp but calculated. He’ll tilt his head, feigning confusion, and say something like, “Oh, I’m sorry—did you mean to say that out loud? Because it sounded like utter bullshit.” His tone is light, almost playful, but there’s an edge to it that makes it clear he’s not joking. And if the person tries to laugh it off or double down, he’ll hit them with a perfectly timed quip that leaves them speechless.

But it’s not just about witty comebacks. If someone genuinely hurts you—whether it’s a friend, a coworker, or even a stranger—he’s quick to reassure you that their behaviour says more about them than it does about you. “Anyone who can’t see how amazing you are doesn’t deserve a second of your time,” he’ll say, his voice soft but firm.

What makes Will’s protectiveness so endearing is how he balances it with respect for your independence. He never tries to fight your battles for you unless you ask him to. Instead, he understands that you can stand up for yourself and is often there offering quiet support and encouragement. “You don’t need me to defend you,” he’ll say with a grin. “You’re perfectly capable of putting people in their place. But just in case, I’ll be right here, ready to back you up.” (definitely would hold your earrings and purse if you were to scrap with someone)

And when it comes to physical safety, Will’s protective instincts kick into overdrive. If you’re walking home late at night, he’ll insist on accompanying you, even if it’s out of his way. If you’re feeling uneasy in a crowded place, he’ll subtly position himself between you and whatever—or whoever—is making you uncomfortable. And if anyone dares to threaten you, his calm, sarcastic facade drops entirely. He becomes a force to be reckoned with, his voice low and steady as he says, “You have one more chance to apologise and walk away before this gets ugly.”

With him by your side, you feel safe, cherished, and fiercely defended. And while you might not always need his protection, it’s comforting to know that, no matter what, Will will always have your back.

Surprise Dates

Between his busy schedule and the demands of everyday life, you make it a point to plan dates that are thoughtful, fun, and meaningful. You’ve made it a tradition to try something new at least once a month, while the other dates revolve around activities you both love. Whether it’s a spontaneous road trip, a nostalgic arcade night, or a fancy dinner at a place he’s been wanting to try, you always find ways to make him feel special—and he absolutely adores it.

You know how much Will appreciates surprises, so you’ve become a master at planning ahead. You keep a mental (or physical) list of things he mentions in passing—like a new restaurant he wants to check out, a movie he’s excited to see, or a place he’s always wanted to visit. Then, when the time is right, you spring the surprise on him. His face lights up every time, and the way he grins when he realises what you’ve planned is worth every bit of effort.

Another month, you might plan a random road trip to a nearby town neither of you has explored. You’ll pack a picnic, create a playlist of his favourite songs, and let him take the wheel. The excitement in his eyes when he realises where you’re headed is priceless. “You’re seriously the best,” he’ll say, squeezing your hand as he starts the car. Along the way, he’ll take detours to roadside attractions, insisting on stopping for silly photo ops and spontaneous adventures. “Look at this place!” he’ll exclaim, pulling over at a giant dinosaur statue or a retro diner. “We have to take a picture. This is peak road trip material.” And of course, you’ll oblige, laughing as he strikes ridiculous poses and insists on making the memories as over-the-top as possible (though he takes cute couple pictures as well).

And then there are the fancy dates—the ones where you pull out all the stops. You’ll book a table at that upscale restaurant he’s been talking about for weeks, or you’ll surprise him with tickets to a show or event he’s been dying to see. On those nights, you love seeing him dressed up, his usual casual vibe swapped for something more polished. “Look at you, all fancy,” you’ll tease, and he’ll shoot back with a smirk, “What can I say? I clean up nice. But not as nice as you.”

What makes these dates so special is how much thought you put into them. You know how busy Will’s schedule can be, so you always plan ahead to make sure the timing works. You’ll coordinate with his friends or coworkers if needed, and you’re not above bribing them with coffee or baked goods to keep the surprise under wraps. And when the day finally arrives, you love seeing the look on his face. “You planned all this for me?” he’ll ask, his voice soft with disbelief. “Of course I did,” you’ll reply, smiling. “You deserve it.”

But it’s not just about the big surprises. You also make time for the little things—like cosy movie nights at home, complete with his favourite snacks and a blanket fort, or lazy Sunday mornings where you cook breakfast together and spend hours talking and laughing. Those moments are just as important, and they remind you both why you fell in love in the first place.

With every date, whether big or small, you show Will how much he means to you. And in return, he makes sure you know how much he appreciates it. “You’re incredible, you know that?” he’ll say, pulling you close after a particularly memorable outing. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m not letting you go.” And as you smile up at him, you know that these moments—these carefully planned, perfectly executed surprises—are what make your relationship so special.

Social Media PDA

I think Will is the kind of guy who wears his heart on his sleeve, and that extends to his social media presence. While he respects your desire to keep a low profile due to your job, he’s not shy about showing the world how much he adores you. His Instagram is a mix of his work, his hobbies, and, of course, glimpses of your relationship. He’s the type to post pictures of the two of you without a second thought, whether it’s a candid shot of you laughing at something he said or a cosy selfie from a date night. Or a goofy photo of you both making faces at the camera.

His captions are always playful and affectionate. “Caught this one mid-laugh. Guess I’m funnier than I thought” or “Date night with my favourite person. Don’t worry, I’ll bring her back in one piece.”. The comments are always flooded with fans gushing over how cute you two are together, and Will loves reading them, often showing you the funniest or sweetest ones with a proud grin. “Look, they’re saying we’re goals. Can’t argue with that.”

But it’s not just the photos. You occasionally pop up in the background of his videos, whether it’s a behind-the-scenes clip from one of his projects or a casual vlog. Sometimes it’s just your hand in the frame as you pass him a coffee, or your voice chiming in with a sarcastic comment that makes him burst out laughing. Fans have come to love these little moments, dubbing them “crumbs” and saying that they’re being “fed” whenever you make an appearance. “We see you back there!” they’ll comment, or “The way he looks at her when she talks… I can’t. 😭”

Will finds the whole thing hilarious and endearing. He loves how much his fans adore you, even though you’re not in the spotlight yourself. “They’re obsessed with you,” he’ll say, scrolling through the comments. “Can’t blame them, though. I’m obsessed with you too.” And while you prefer to stay out of the public eye, you can’t help but smile at the way he proudly includes you in his world, even if it’s just in small, subtle ways.

There are times when he’ll sneak in a little more PDA than usual, just to mess with you. Like the time he posted a video of the two of you cooking together, and he casually dropped a kiss on your forehead mid-sentence. The internet went wild, and you playfully scolded him for it later. “You’re such a show-off,” you said, and he just shrugged, grinning. “What can I say? I like showing the world how lucky I am.”

Despite his public displays of affection, Will is careful to respect your boundaries. He never shares anything too personal or invasive, and he always checks with you before posting something that features you prominently. “You good with this?” he’ll ask, showing you a photo or video before hitting post. And if you ever say no, he doesn’t hesitate to scrap it, no questions asked. “Your comfort comes first,” he’ll say, and it’s one of the many reasons you love him.

For Will, it’s simple: he’s proud of you, proud of your relationship, and he wants the world to know it. And even though you prefer to stay behind the scenes, you can’t help but feel a little flutter of happiness every time you see one of his posts and realise, all over again, just how much he loves you.

Spicy Headcanons

Rough or soft?

Will is the kind of partner who knows exactly what you need, even before you do. Whether it’s a night of tender affection or one where he pushes you to the edge, he always makes sure you feel safe, cherished, and utterly consumed by him.

Soft Moments

When the mood calls for softness, Will is all about making you feel adored. He’ll take his time, his touches gentle and deliberate, as if he’s memorising every inch of you. His kisses are slow and sweet, starting at your lips and trailing down your neck, your collarbone, and everywhere else he knows you love to be touched.

“You’re so beautiful,” he’ll murmur against your skin, his voice a low, soothing rumble that makes your heart swell. “I could spend forever like this, just you and me.” His hands will roam your body with reverence, tracing patterns that leave you shivering. He’ll whisper praise in your ear, telling you how perfect you are, how much he loves the way you respond to him, and how lucky he feels to have you in his arms.

These are the moments where he’s all about you—your pleasure, your comfort, your happiness. He’ll hold you close afterward, his fingers brushing through your hair as he presses soft kisses to your forehead. “You’re my everything,” he’ll say, and you’ll believe him, because in those moments, nothing else exists but the two of you.

Rough Moments

But then there are the nights when Will’s more dominant side takes over. It’s not about anger or frustration—it’s about trust, about pushing boundaries, and exploring the raw connection between you. On these nights, he’s in complete control, and he knows exactly how to make you unravel.

He’ll start slow, his touch firm but teasing, building you up until you’re trembling with need. But just when you’re about to tip over the edge, he’ll pull back, his grip tightening in your hair as he forces you to meet his gaze. “Not yet,” he’ll say, his commanding voice sending a thrill down your spine. “You don’t get to cum until I say so.”

He’ll edge you relentlessly, his hands and mouth working you to the brink over and over again until you’re a writhing, desperate mess. Tears might prick at the corners of your eyes, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you beg him for release. But he won’t give in—not until he’s sure you’ve reached your limit. “You can take it,” he’ll say, his tone equal parts challenge and reassurance. “I know you can.” Of course, you can; you haven’t said the safe word yet.

Foreplay

Will is the kind of man who takes his time, savouring every moment of intimacy with you. He’s not just interested in the end goal—he’s obsessed with the journey, with the way he can make you unravel under his touch. For Will, foreplay is an art form, and you are his masterpiece. He loves watching you moan, squirm, and barely hold onto yourself, knowing he’s the one driving you to the edge.

It starts with his hands, always so deliberate and sure. He’ll trace patterns along your skin, his fingertips leaving trails of fire in their wake. He loves the way you shiver under his touch, the way your breath hitches when he finds that one spot that makes you gasp. “You’re so sensitive,” he’ll murmur, the tone of his voice sends shivers down your spine. “I love how you react to me.”

His mouth. Damn his mouth. He’ll press kisses along your neck, your collarbone, your stomach—everywhere but where you want him most, just to tease you. “Will,” you’ll whine, your hands tangling in his hair, and he’ll chuckle against your skin, the vibration making you squirm. “Patience, love,” he’ll say, his lips curving into a smirk. “I’m not done with you yet.”

When he finally does give you what you want, it’s with a slow, deliberate intensity that leaves you breathless. He’ll watch you as he works, his eyes dark with desire, drinking in every moan, every whimper, every desperate plea for more. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he’ll say, his voice rough with need. “I could watch you fall apart all day.”

But Will isn’t just about physical touch—he’s a master of words, too. He’ll whisper filthily sweet nothings in your ear, his voice a mix of praise and promise. “You take me so well,” he’ll say, his breath hot against your skin. “I love how you sound, how you feel, how you’re all mine.” His words are like a drug, intoxicating and addictive, and they only make you want him more.

By the time he’s done with you, you’re a trembling, incoherent mess, barely able to form a sentence. But Will isn’t satisfied until he’s sure you’re completely undone. “Not yet,” he’ll say, his hands and mouth working in tandem to push you even further. “I want to hear you beg.”

I hope people don't mind that I only wrote two spicy scenes. Sorry, I kinda ran out of ideas lol. Anyways… how did people like the headcannons? These are headcannons right?

#will lenney #willne #willne x fem!reader #willne x reader #will lenney x fem!reader #will lenney x reader #willne headcannons #will lenney headcannons

67 notes · View notes

v4mpire45 · 16 hours ago

Text

Oh, dear diary — K. Bakugo

currently playing ♫︎ bubblegum b*tch — MARINA

pairing: Katsuki Bakugo x Female reader

synopsis: For a year, you write diary entries about a certain fiery blonde.

April 7th, 2089

First day at U.A. High. It’s hard to believe I’m finally here. The whole place is overwhelming, huge campus, crazy architecture, and don’t even get me started on the students. But I guess that’s to be expected when you’re going to the top hero school in the country.

I didn’t expect to meet someone like him so soon, though.

We were doing some sort of introduction thing, and then this guy with spiky blonde hair, Bakugo, I think he’s called started yelling at everyone like he owned the place. At first, I thought he was some kind of teacher with how intense he was.

But no, it turns out he’s a student. Great. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone with such an... explosive personality.

I’m not sure how to feel about him yet. But I can tell he doesn’t take anyone lightly.

April 20th, 2089

Hey, I haven't written in here in a while. U.A. takes up a lot of time. Anyhow, things have been going well. I've made some great friends. I had a conversation with that Bakugo kid. Well, not really he told me to move 'cause I was being too slow?? But it's something, I guess. I don’t get him. He’s so intense and always so grumpy, it’s like he’s constantly mad at everyone. But I’ve noticed that when he does talk to people, it’s always like he’s trying to be superior.

Honestly, it's kind of funny. But it's also kind of annoying.

I really don’t get why he’s like that. It makes it hard to even have a proper conversation with him. He’s just… loud. I’m gonna try not to let it get to me, though. Maybe he’ll calm down eventually.

July 21st, 2089

Okay, so things are getting a little better with Bakugo. It's not like we’re friends or anything, but he doesn’t snap at me as much when we cross paths. In fact, he even said "good job" after one of our training exercises. Granted, it was barely audible, and he quickly followed it up with "but don’t get cocky," but still. It felt... different.

The summer’s been intense. U.A. is no joke, and I’ve definitely been pushed harder than I ever have been before.

But there’s something kind of inspiring about seeing Bakugo in action. He works so hard, no matter what. It’s almost like he’s always on a mission, like there’s something he’s trying to prove to everyone. He pushes himself to the limit, and I guess I can respect that.

But, there’s still that edge to him, that explosiveness. I’m not sure how to get past that or if I even want to. He’s definitely a force to be reckoned with, that’s for sure.

August 3rd, 2089

I didn’t expect Bakugo to be so... well, helpful? It was during our summer training camp (which was a horrible experience btw), and I was struggling with my technique. I thought I’d just tough it out and keep going, but Bakugo actually stopped what he was doing and gave me a few pointers. He was as blunt as always, saying stuff like, "You’re doing it wrong, fix it," but I don’t know. It was kind of nice. It felt like, for a second, he actually cared about how I was doing. And I have to admit, I don’t hate that feeling.

I still don’t know what to make of him. One minute he’s being a total jerk, and the next, he’s actually being decent. I can’t figure him out. But I guess that’s part of the appeal, right?

September 17th, 2089

Okay, I’m starting to think that Bakugo isn’t as bad as I originally thought. It’s not like we’re friends yet or anything, but I’ve noticed some small changes. During one of our sparring sessions, he actually took a moment to check if I was okay after I took a hit. No yelling, no insults, just… concern? It was so strange coming from him.

Maybe I’ve been too hard on him. I mean, I’m not saying he’s suddenly my best friend or anything, but I’ve started to understand that he’s just intense because he cares. He doesn’t show it the way most people do, but I think he just wants to make sure everyone’s pushing themselves to be the best they can be.

I don’t know… Maybe I’m starting to see him in a different light.

October 31st, 2089

It’s Halloween, and for some reason, Bakugo is actually acting... well, kind of normal? I mean, he’s still grumpy, but he didn’t yell at anyone for their costumes, which is surprising considering how much he complains about everything. I ended up in a game of spin the bottle at a party, and when the bottle landed on me and Bakugo, I swear, I saw the smallest blush on his face.

Of course, he immediately started grumbling, but I could tell he wasn’t as annoyed as usual.

He didn’t even comment on my Puss in Boots costume, which was honestly a little disappointing. But still, there was something about his reaction that made me think maybe he doesn’t mind me as much as he acts like.

December 25th, 2089

Christmas at U.A. wasn’t what I expected. Everyone was so cheerful, and there were so many gifts exchanged. But what really stood out was something small that Bakugo did. He gave me a little gift, nothing big, just a small pendant with a flame on it.

It was kind of like his quirk, but in a subtle way. He didn’t say much about it, just muttered something about not wanting to hear me complain.

But that was it, and honestly, it felt... special. I think he actually cares. Not that he’d admit it, of course, but it’s the little things.

February 14th, 2090

I think I’m starting to fall for him. I hate how cliché that sounds, but honestly, I really think I am. It’s been a few months now, and Bakugo... he’s just different.

Not in a bad way, but he’s grown on me. His brashness, his unwavering determination, the way he always pushes himself to be better, it's actually kind of inspiring.

And I can't deny it anymore, I care about him. More than I should, maybe. I find myself noticing the little things he does when he thinks no one’s paying attention. Like how he pulls his punches during sparring, making sure no one gets hurt.

Or how he keeps an eye on the rest of the class, even if he’d never admit it.

I don’t really know what to do about it. Maybe I’m just confused.

I used to write in this diary to talk about my day, to rant or say something random. But looking back at my entries, it’s all about him. I can’t even remember the last time I wrote anything that didn’t have to do with Bakugo, or Katsuki, as I call him now.

We’ve been on a first-name basis for a while now, and every time I say his name, my heart skips.

March 1st, 2090

So, it happened. I finally did it. I confronted Bakugo about it. The way I feel, I mean. It wasn’t as dramatic as I thought it would be. I just kind of pulled him aside, and before he could yell at me for something, I blurted out, “I think I’m in love with you, you idiot.”

He froze, stared at me, and then said, “Tch, you’re an idiot.”

But... he didn’t walk away. He didn’t leave me standing there, confused and embarrassed.

Instead, he stepped closer, grabbed my hand, and in the softest voice I’ve ever heard from him, he said, “You’re not the only one, dumbass.”

And just like that, he kissed me, he actually kissed me!

We’re still figuring things out, but I’m happy.

Really happy.

I never expected Bakugo to feel the same, but I guess I was wrong.

Maybe we weren't so different after all.

71 notes · View notes