#bc at least then i was working towards something

[bytemee]

NO DOUBT — KIM MINJEONG.

“i want you, it’s so painful, but, oh, i’d burn myself to prove it, baby, no doubt.”

synopsis. stuck in a boring office job, the only thing getting you through the day is sneaking off with winter. stolen kisses and locked doors make work a lot more interesting—especially when you’re pushing the limits of what you can get away with.

pairing. officeworker!winter x officeworker!gn!reader

warnings. 18+ (smut), public sex (in an office & breakroom), fingering, oral, reader wears a tie bc whats an office job w/o a tie???, bad writing & let me know if there's more!

words. 1.6k

authors note. winter has been bias wrecking recently ☹️ i also have to update my masterlist and link it on these works; lowkey forgot that was even a thing!

you hated your job.

every day felt like an endless loop of emails, meetings, and deadlines that only seemed to multiply. the worst part? the clients. no matter how much effort you put in, someone always found something to complain about.

"can you believe this?" your coworker, jaehyun, groaned as he dropped into the chair beside your desk. running a frustrated hand through his hair, he glared at his laptop screen. "i spent two weeks on that pitch, and the client rejected it in five minutes. five. freaking. minutes."

you sighed, barely looking away from your own stack of unfinished work. "sounds about right. did they at least give you a reason?"

"oh, the usual: ‘not what we’re looking for,’ ‘we need something fresh,’ ‘we’ll get back to you.’" he mimicked their voices with a scoff. "they won’t."

"of course they won’t." you leaned back in your chair, rubbing your temples. "i don’t even know why we try anymore."

jaehyun huffed in agreement, shaking his head. there was no point in trying to convince these people. they had already made up their minds, always chasing something better.

he was about to launch into another rant when movement across the office caught your eye.

winter.

she stood from her desk, stretching slightly before picking up her cup and making her way to the break room. a gray cardigan draped over a crisp white button-down, tucked neatly into a black skirt that ended just above her knees. her long, blonde hair framed her face perfectly; her smile was soft and sweet.

you could watch her all day.

"are you even listening?" jaehyun’s voice snapped you back to reality.

"what?" you turned to him, blinking.

he sighed. "never mind. i gotta get back to work anyway. this pitch isn't going to fix itself."

you barely heard him. pushing back from your desk, you stood up, your feet already moving in the direction winter had gone.

the break room was quiet when you stepped inside, the steady hum of the coffee machine filling the space. she was alone, stirring sugar into her tea, her eyes focused on the swirling liquid in her cup.

you glanced at her, humming out a tune to break the silence. winter glanced at you through her lashes, watching you reach for a mug, but before you could pour your coffee, winter’s fingers wrapped around your wrist, pulling you gently toward her. you stumbled, nearly crashing into her.

she steadied you with a quiet laugh, her eyes twinkling as she met your gaze. "we have ten minutes before anyone starts wondering where we are," she whispered.

"then we better make it count."

her lips met yours in a fleeting kiss—soft at first, then deeper, more urgent. her hands were everywhere—pulling at your tie, gripping your waist, threading into your hair. a quiet moan slipped past your lips as she kissed you harder, hungrier. it was too much and not nearly enough all at once.

"someone's impatient today," you teased, pulling back to catch your breath.

she giggled. "can you blame me? it's been three whole days."

your mind thought back on three days ago.

winter's hands were tangled in your hair, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, trying desperately to stay quiet. she glanced around the office before settling her gaze back on you. your head was deep into her lap, your mouth buried between her legs, your tongue teasing her clit underneath her desk.

her grip on your hair tightened, her eyes closing briefly as she fought to keep her composure. you couldn't help but feel a little bit pleased with yourself—you knew that she only got this impatient when she really, really wanted you. to risk you going down on her in the middle of the office, mid-workday, where anyone could walk in and catch the two of you.

a low moan escaped her lips, and you pulled back slightly, just enough so that your words wouldn't be muffled. "shhh, you have to be quiet."

"i'm trying," she whispered, her hips bucking against your face.

"trying" didn't seem like it was quite cutting it. she was squirming in her chair, her grip on your hair getting tighter with each passing second. "we really shouldn't be doing this here," you murmured, but you didn't give any sign of actually making a move to stop.

"you're just too tempting," she responded, her voice barely above a whisper, her legs trying in vain to close around your head.

"can't blame you for that," you murmured back. "doesn't mean we shouldn't be a little more careful, though…"

her eyes darted briefly around the office again, everyone too involved in their own work at their own cubicles to notice the illicit activity happening right under their noses. the risk of getting caught was still very real, and winter knew she should care, but she was way too far gone.

"it's hard to be careful when you're doing... that," she whined, her eyes fluttering shut as you went back to work.

winter's tongue pressed against yours, hot and insistent, and you felt a rush of desire course through you. it was so easy for her to push all the right buttons. "how much time do we have left?" you asked, pulling back slightly.

"six minutes," she breathed, guiding your hand to the waistband of her skirt.

six minutes. not a lot of time, but definitely enough.

you smiled wickedly, your fingers trailing along the edge of her skirt for a moment before sliding underneath it. she gasped softly, her eyes darkening with anticipation as you leaned in to kiss her again.

you could feel the heat radiating off her body as your fingers brushed against her bare skin. she was so responsive, so reactive, and you knew that you could make her come undone with just a few well-placed touches.

"i think i can make that work," you murmured, your hand creeping higher, higher, higher, until it was resting at the edge of her underwear.

her hips bucked involuntarily towards your hand, a desperate whine escaping her lips. you chuckled, your fingers tracing slow, teasing circles on her skin.

"someone's impatient," you teased, your mouth moving to her neck. you could feel her pulse racing under your lips, her breathing ragged and uneven.

"don't have all day, you know," she protested, her words at odds with the way her body was melting into yours. her hands clutched at your shirt, trying to pull you closer.

you pulled back from her, your fingers leaving her skin, and she let out a sharp gasp. before she could complain, you brought your middle and ring fingers to her mouth. she understood immediately, her lips parting and her tongue darting out to meet them.

you watched her suck on your fingers, her eyes locked on yours, and your heart skipped a beat. "fuck, you're gorgeous," you breathed, the way she was looking at you, like nothing else existed in the world except the two of you, was intoxicating.

she blushed at the praise but didn't stop. your fingers slid in and out of her mouth, and she sucked on them eagerly, her tongue swirling around them.

winter could feel herself getting wetter by the second, her thighs rubbing together impatiently.

once you were satisfied with her work, you pulled your fingers out of her mouth with an audible pop, a thin trail of saliva connecting them to her lips. she let out a disappointed sigh, her lips already swollen and parted, begging for more.

you leaned in, whispering in her ear, "i bet you're already dripping wet."

winter's breath hitched. she knew that you could always tell when she was turned on, and you were right—she was practically aching for you, desperate to feel your fingers inside her.

you didn't waste any time, bringing your hand back under her skirt and pushing aside the fabric of her panties. winter inhaled sharply as your fingers brushed over her clit, her eyes falling closed.

"so ready for me," you cooed, sliding your middle finger between her folds. "so wet."

she shuddered, her hips rolling forward involuntarily, seeking more friction. "please," she whimpered, her hands fisting in your shirt.

you loved how responsive she was, how easily you could make her fall apart. you leaned forward, capturing her lips in a heated kiss as you eased your finger inside her. winter moaned into your mouth, her walls clenching around you.

"quiet, baby," you reminded her, curling your finger and finding that spot deep inside her.

the possibility of getting caught in the break room was surprisingly low. tucked away in the farthest corner of the office, it was separated from the main workspace by a frosted glass wall and a door that locked from the inside.

wait…did you lock the door?

maybe. maybe not.

she nodded weakly, her nails dug into your shoulders as she struggled to keep her composure, her breath coming in shallow gasps. you added a second finger, pumping them in and out of her at a relentless pace, your thumb brushing against her clit.

"fuck, baby," you groaned, pressing her harder against the counter. you could feel her body shaking beneath yours, her orgasm approaching fast. "you're so close, aren't you?"

winter could only nod, her hips bucking against your hand, trying to get as much friction as possible. She was close, so fucking close, and you could tell. the way her breathing hitched, her nails digging into your shoulder, the way her thighs squeezed together, trying to relieve the tension.

"i can feel it, baby. come for me."

she cried out, her body going rigid, her walls clenching around your fingers as she came. her eyes rolled back, her mouth open in a silent scream, her legs threatening to give out. you kept stroking her through her orgasm, prolonging the pleasure as long as possible, until she was trembling and weak.

"f-fuck," she whimpered, her head resting against your shoulder.

You chuckled, removing your fingers from her and licking them clean. "you okay?"

"more than okay," she said, a satisfied grin spreading across her face.

you couldn't resist stealing one last kiss before pulling away. she looked completely fucked out, her hair disheveled and her cheeks flushed. "better get back to work before anyone misses us."

"i guess," she said, pouting a little.

"we can continue this later," you assured her, fixing her clothes and smoothing down her hair.

she grinned, reaching for your hand and giving it a squeeze. "it's a date."

[ilovegyokeres]

Hii can you pls write about the girl having just a fling with a teammate (maybe vlahovic) and then meeting kenan while being in turin and hanging out with all of them, and kenan and her have a spark and its a slowburn, secret looks, laughs. And she and vlahovic arent serious and vlahovic doesnt really care about her but kenan doesnt really wanna do anything bc they are teammates and then at the end its just inevitable that she and kenan are meant to be

Inevitable-Kenan Yildiz

summary: They had spent months pretending. But some things aren’t meant to be hidden—some things are inevitable.

genre: romance, slow burn

The thing with Vlahović was simple.

No strings, no expectations. Just late-night texts, occasional drinks, and nights spent tangled in expensive sheets before parting ways like nothing happened. He never asked her to stay. She never asked him to care. And somehow, that worked.

Until it didn’t.

She could feel it shifting, an undercurrent of restlessness tugging at her, especially when she was around the team. When she was around him.

Kenan Yıldız.

The first time she properly noticed him was at a private team gathering after a match. She had been at the stadium earlier, watching Juventus win comfortably, with Vlahović scoring twice. When he texted her afterward—Come out tonight?—she didn’t hesitate.

The bar was exclusive, dimly lit with an air of effortless luxury. She sat beside Vlahović in a leather booth, sipping a drink while he chatted lazily with teammates. His arm was draped over the back of the seat, not really touching her but close enough to claim ownership.

And then Kenan walked in.

He was younger, quieter than the others, but he had an undeniable presence. She had seen him play before—sharp, unpredictable, electric on the ball—but in person, he carried himself differently. Reserved, observant. He didn’t demand attention like Vlahović did. He just had it.

Their eyes met for a fleeting second. A moment so brief she could have imagined it.

But later that night, when she laughed at something someone said, she felt it again. A gaze, steady and unreadable. She turned her head slightly, and there he was, watching her from across the room.

It should have been nothing.

But it wasn’t.

The second time it happened, she couldn’t ignore it.

Another night, another gathering—this time at a rooftop lounge overlooking Turin. She wasn’t with Vlahović, not really, but she had arrived with him, and that was enough for people to assume.

Kenan was there again, sitting a few seats away in a relaxed conversation with Federico Chiesa. But every so often, she caught his eyes flickering toward her.

And, despite herself, she started looking back.

It was subtle at first. A glance. A smirk. A shared moment when someone said something stupid, and they both fought not to laugh.

But then, later in the night, she stepped out onto the balcony for some air. She didn’t expect anyone to follow.

So when Kenan appeared beside her, she felt her pulse jump.

“Didn’t think you’d leave the party,” he said, leaning against the railing.

She shrugged. “Needed a break from the noise.”

He hummed in agreement. Silence stretched between them, comfortable but charged. The city sprawled below, golden lights twinkling against the dark.

Then, quietly, he said, “You’re not really with him.”

She turned to him, surprised. “What?”

“Vlahović.” His voice was even, unreadable. “You’re not really his.”

Something about the way he said it made her breath catch.

“No,” she admitted. “I’m not.”

Kenan exhaled, glancing away. “Then why does it feel like you are?”

The words settled between them, heavy and unspoken. She didn’t have an answer. Not one that made sense.

And before she could say anything, he pushed off the railing, stepping back.

“I should go,” he murmured.

She wanted to stop him. To ask what he meant, why it mattered.

But he was already gone.

And for the first time since this whole thing started, she realized—Vlahović was the least of her problems.

The tension only grew from there.

The next time she saw Kenan, it was impossible to ignore the way his eyes lingered. The way her pulse quickened when he was near. The way his expression tightened whenever she was with Vlahović, even though there was nothing to be jealous of.

And then, one night, it all came to a head.

A team dinner. A long table filled with players, coaches, and a few people on the outskirts—like her.

She sat beside Vlahović, not because she wanted to, but because it was expected. He barely paid attention to her, too caught up in some story Bremer was telling.

But Kenan?

Kenan sat across from her, eyes flickering to her every few minutes. Watching. Not speaking.

And when someone made a joke about her and Vlahović—something lighthearted, but laced with assumptions—she saw it.

The way Kenan’s jaw clenched. The way he suddenly lost interest in his food. The way he left before dessert, walking out without a word.

She followed him.

Out into the quiet night, where he leaned against his car, arms crossed, shoulders tense.

“Kenan,” she said softly.

He didn’t look at her. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Then why did you leave?”

His silence was answer enough.

She stepped closer. “This isn’t fair.”

He let out a sharp breath. “What isn’t?”

“The way you look at me,” she said, voice quieter now. “The way you act like you don’t care, but then—” She exhaled. “Then you do.”

Kenan finally turned to her. And the way he looked at her then—intense, conflicted, wanting—made her stomach flip.

“I can’t,” he murmured.

“Why?”

He shook his head. “Because of him.”

She let out a soft laugh, almost bitter. “You know he doesn’t care about me, right?”

Kenan’s gaze darkened. “But I do.”

Her breath caught. The air between them felt suffocating, electric. But he still wasn’t moving.

Still holding back.

So she whispered, “Then do something about it.”

For a second, she thought he would.

But then he took a step back. His hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“I can’t,” he said again. And this time, he left for good.

It was only a matter of time.

She ended things with Vlahović. Not that it was really a breakup—he just shrugged, barely reacting.

But Kenan?

Kenan was different.

Days passed. Weeks. The tension between them only grew.

And then, at another match, she sat in the stands. Kenan played brilliantly, electric on the ball, sharp as ever.

He scored.

And this time, when he turned to the crowd, he didn’t celebrate with his teammates.

He looked at her.

No pointing. No show.

Just a knowing smile.

Because this time, he wasn’t holding back.

The match ended, and the stadium buzzed with celebration. Juventus had won, but all she could think about was him.

Kenan hadn’t just looked at her—he had seen her. A silent acknowledgment of everything they had refused to say out loud.

And this time, she wasn’t letting him walk away.

She waited near the players’ exit, leaning against the cold concrete wall, heart pounding.

The first ones out were the usual faces—Vlahović, Chiesa, Bremer—laughing and chatting as they headed to their cars. Vlahović barely spared her a glance, which only proved what she already knew.

Then, finally, Kenan appeared.

Still in his training gear, damp hair falling messily over his forehead. His movements were slower than usual, more deliberate, as if he already knew she’d be there.

Their eyes met.

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “You’re still here.”

She stepped forward. “So are you.”

Kenan glanced around, as if debating whether to do this here, in the open. Then he sighed. “Come on.”

She didn’t ask where they were going. She just followed.

Kenan drove in silence, knuckles tight around the steering wheel. The car smelled faintly of leather and something him—clean, sharp, familiar.

They ended up at a quiet overlook just outside the city, Turin’s lights glittering below. The night air was crisp, the tension between them suffocating.

Kenan didn’t move to get out. Instead, he shifted in his seat, finally turning to face her.

“This is a bad idea,” he muttered.

She tilted her head. “Then why did you bring me here?”

He let out a humorless laugh. “Good question.”

She stared at him, taking in the sharp lines of his face, the way his jaw clenched like he was fighting himself. “You don’t have to hold back anymore,” she whispered.

His breath hitched.

Then, suddenly, his hand was on the back of her neck, pulling her in.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t careful. It was weeks—months—of tension, of stolen glances, of unsaid words crashing into one moment.

Kenan kissed her like he had been waiting forever.

And maybe he had.

The next morning, reality hit hard.

They hadn’t planned to stay the night together, but neither of them had wanted to leave. Now, tangled in hotel sheets, the weight of what they’d done settled between them.

Kenan lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, one arm draped lazily over his forehead. “We shouldn’t have done that,” he murmured.

She propped herself up on one elbow, tracing the line of his jaw with her gaze. “Do you regret it?”

A long silence.

Then, finally, he turned his head toward her. “No.”

Her heart skipped.

“But,” he continued, voice rough, “this can’t get out.”

She nodded, understanding. “I know.”

And so, the secret began.

Keeping it hidden was harder than she expected.

The stolen touches when no one was looking. The way Kenan’s eyes darkened whenever he saw her talking to someone else. The way she bit her lip to keep from smiling when he texted late at night—Come over.

It was dangerous. Reckless.

But it was also impossible to stop.

And then, one night, it almost did get out.

A team dinner, like before. She had been careful, keeping her distance. But when Vlahović leaned in to say something to her, too close, too familiar—Kenan snapped.

He didn’t say anything, didn’t make a scene. But she saw the way his entire body tensed, the way his grip tightened around his glass.

And later that night, when they were alone, he didn’t hold back.

“Why does he still think he has a claim on you?” Kenan muttered, voice sharp, hands gripping her hips as he pulled her against him.

She let out a shaky breath. “He doesn’t.”

Kenan’s lips brushed her ear. “Then why do I want to remind him?”

Her nails dug into his back. “Maybe you should.”

And that night, he did.

Secrets never last forever.

It unraveled faster than either of them expected.

A lingering glance caught by a teammate. A too-familiar touch. A whisper of suspicion spreading through the team.

And then—Vlahović.

He wasn’t jealous. Not really. But he wasn’t stupid either.

One night, after training, he pulled Kenan aside.

“You’ve got something to say?” Vlahović asked, voice calm but edged with something else.

Kenan met his gaze, shoulders squared. “What if I do?”

A tense silence.

Then, Vlahović let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “You think I care?”

Kenan didn’t respond.

Vlahović smirked. “She was never mine. But I hope you know what you’re doing.”

And just like that, the last obstacle was gone.

The next time Kenan kissed her, it wasn’t in secret.

It was outside a café, the sun setting over Turin, people passing by.

No more glances over their shoulders. No more pretending.

Just them.

Because in the end, this had never been a choice.

It had always been inevitable.

The End.

(Or the beginning.)

[witchyliterature]

PLEASE PLEASEEE could you do like unreciprocated love w touya i’d be so grateful 🙁🙁 maybs based off of the song chest pain by malcolm todd or promise by laufey either oneee! n i have no idea what format it could be so whatever you think fits best :)

this is actually my first time writing proper angst sooo IDK. i chose promise bc i know that song better which made it easier to write to. i think this was ok? I REALLY DONT KNOW but yeah. anyways, it’s post war period, rehabilitated touya au, mentions of death, reader is a little mean to touya but one could argue it’s justifiable (depends on perspective, idk im just the author yall). did a normal one shot format cus i can only do 10 images on mobile and i knew i wanted this to be a lot longer (it’s only 1.6k words but still). touya living with shoto canon cus i said so. use of the name dabi but only for metaphorical comparisons. gender neutral reader. hints to musician dabi (like one line). uhhh yeah i think that’s all, HOPE U LIKE

promise; touya todoroki

dabi was never a romantic.

the bubbling burnt feeling of hatred consumed him wholly and swallowed any other emotion - he was a vessel for hatred, for not only did he carry his own, but also his family’s who couldn’t express their own feelings toward endevour.

yet, touya found out he was.

after the war and a long rehabilitation process, he had realised there are other things to life, hatred was not the only emotion in sight, it was not the only emotion he deserved.

so when touya found out that he had feelings for you, the only friend he had ever made by himself after the war that didn’t have any villainous intent, he had been terrified.

he couldn’t explain it at first, why his heart would leap when speaking to you, or why he tried to hard to impress you when you both went to the gym, or even why he had made a song about you and all the lyrics sounded oddly romantic.

then, when even his socially inept brother could tell that he had some form of feelings for you, it finally clicked.

so then, he made a promise, to distance himself until these childish feelings resolved themselves.

touya didn’t deserve to love or be loved, not after all the destruction he caused or all the suffering he made others feel - even his own family.

for 16 days, he avoided you like the plague. airing your calls and texts, avoiding you at work (which was damn near impossible) and when he did have to talk to you, he kept it short and sweet, even then, his palms got sweaty and his smile would grow double its size when you were around.

but, at some point, he broke his promise.

he didn’t exactly understand why he did, he just saw someone that looked like you when he was walking home from work and decided that enough was enough.

shoto had hyped him up, telling him that this was going to be fine, you had to have want him as well after everything, or at least you would give him a chance.

touya’s confidence was built, he knew what he was going to do, he was going to ask you out.

on call though, he was still a shy little boy on the inside of it all.

leading for him and shoto to be sat on the kitchen island seats across from one another, calling your number while putting you on speaker.

“touya! oh my goodness, here i thought you were going to end our friendship! what’s going on, why have you been ignoring me?” your sweet voice rang through, it felt like he could see your small cute pout as you said that, hand on hip attempting to look serious.

“i would never, i’m sad you would think that.” touya chuckled.

“yeah well, ignoring me for 16 days is really something, you know?!” you laughed.

“my deepest apologies, you can burn me at the stake if you truly want to.” touya responded smugly.

“i would but that seems like it would turn you on.” you scoffed, he laughed in response.

“alright then, but you won’t get to know why i called you.” touya sighed playfully.

“do tell oh great touya takamani!” you said with faux respect.

that was the last name he told you, the one the government gave to him. they allowed him to keep his first name since not many people remembered him at touya anyways, as well as to allow him to keep at least some part of his identity.

“listen, you’re like really stupid sometimes, and it gets me angry sometimes. you talk way too much and you love spoiling movies for me.” touya stated.

shoto looked at him confusingly, touya flinched as he realised he was just insulting you and you were remaining silent.

“wait- i- ugh, i didn’t meant it like that. i had this whole other part to it but…” touya stammered.

“it’s ok, i know you didn’t mean it. you’re terrible at talking about your feelings but, i’ll be patient with you, i always will be.” you said calmly.

shoto looked at touya shockingly, he had met you once or twice and understood… the physical attraction to it. but hearing you talk to his brother in such a fashion made him realise where touya’s love for you come from.

touya’s own heart fluttered tremendously at that, you were always paitent with him. even now when he has ignored you for over two weeks and you never shouted or screamed, you just, waited.

“i just mean that, those traits are things i don’t even hate. i love them, and you, i love it all.” touya blurted out, his legs bouncing with anticipation while shoto gave a thumbs up.

“aw, you’re so sweet! i love you too, touya!” you responded.

“no, i mean it as though, i love you… romantically. i want to go on dates with you and take you to your favourite places and think of a future with you. in fact, i don’t even care what we do, i just want to be near you while we do those things. i.. don’t exactly understand how these things go, ive never been in a relationship or have seen a successful one other than my brother’s friends but even then i don’t really see them. i’m willing to try, as long as im yours, im willing to do anything you want me to.” touya had explained, his gruff voice softening out as he spoke.

as he spoke, it felt like you could see the starts twinkle in his eye, the ones that only show themselves when he looks at you with that look. full of love and hope, with his heart raw and beating on his sleeve. yeah, you could imagine it vividly.

and you hated it.

you hated how you can see him gazing in his house dreaming of a future with you, or how you can imagine his blushing while thinking of you, or those moments in work where his eyes are stuck on his figure and you pretend to not acknowledge it.

because you did not want him to think of you that way, you never desired to be his and you never held out hope of you two being together past friendship.

and you didn’t care if that hurt him.

“touya, i hope you’re not serious.” you laughed pitifully.

shoto and touya froze.

“i-i am?” touya responded slowly, as though he knew what was coming. he was in the danger zone and the alarm bells with ringing violently as he pretended that they were just precautionary measures.

“i know that you’re dabi.” was all you said in response.

touya’s eyes widened, his breathing quickened and his hand ran through his white messy hair.

“you do? damn i was-“

“don’t play this off as a joke. listen, i didn’t care that much when i first learned a couple months ago. i valued our friendship despite your past, but expecting a relationship between us is downright delusional. even if i were to give you a chance, it would never last. that war you started because of your own daddy issues caused a lot of my families death and financial issues, i can respect the change in behaviour and i don’t mind keeping you as a friend but i could never love a villain.” the sting of your venomous words seeped into touya’s bloodstream and stopped the rhythmic beat of his heart.

he felt dizzy and lost, he heard you speak again but it became a blur as his vision started to blur from the sting of tears the bullied its way out of his eyes.

touya was angry, sad, heartbroken and anything else under the sun. worst of all? he couldn’t even blame you. you were well within your right to reject him for that reason and he hated that.

the familiar bubbling started to boil in his gut again, his default emotion to any bad situation that was all consuming and ever so comforting in its perverse ways.

it was like a hug from his father, Lord knows that he never received that when he was younger much but the one time he did, the one time affection was shown to him, it felt like this. touya felt like everything he ever despised, all the darkness within his enveloped him within its grasp.

it was reliable, trustworthy and never lied him.

love wasn’t, it was sickening and tight on the heart. it was faulty and pretended to be there for you in times of need, but, like everything in life, was just a trick that got him vulnerable enough to make him tick.

touya finally locked back into reality, realising now that shoto and you were arguing. he has never seen his stoic brother that angry, but he didn’t know why. why would he defend the very villain that ruined his childhood? dabi was the very thing he seeked to destroy and it’s not like dabi and touya were that seperate.

touya was just dabi with a false sense of security.

“it’s fine, honestly. sorry for bothering you y/n, hang up sho’” touya suddenly spoke.

shoto hung up the phone quickly, placing it down as he looked at his brothers eyes. once full of life, stars and love looking exactly like it did eight years ago.

“are you-“

“i’m fine.” no he wasn’t, of course touya wasn’t, but what more could he do.

he shouldn’t have broken his promise, he should’ve stayed away and listened to dabi - the anti romantic voice in his head telling him to stay away.

because now touya realised now more than ever, that while it hurts be something, it was worse to be nothing with you.

[pictureday2005]

i dont need therapy or medication i need it to be 2007. i need it to be my full time job to learn and explore and be curious about the world around me again

[trevisos]

okay sorry to be a hater this morning but every time i think about how interesting and compelling and deep lucanis and spite’s relationship could have been i lose my mind. but this game was written like marvel’s avengers lived in a portland queer house where everyone is required to use therapyspeak in every interaction. so they’re nothing. remember when justice learned about love and loss and oppression? when he was angry and lashed out and felt so so deeply? and spite learns about eating candles and gets sent to “play with the wisps” when his host wants to fuck. there’s so much potential there but it just falls short.

[bacchuschucklefuck]

dreaming abt sophomore year class swap bard!riz

[worstloki]

Loki didn't even do anything to the other Asgardians personally, unsure why they didn't like him so much and thought he was so suspicious

[eggmeralda]

do you ever feel casually suicidal? like you're not depressed or anything you're doing fine but also it feels like a convenient option

[luckyyyduckyyy]

My ass is cooked in crit tomorrow 😔

[dandyshucks]

seeing ppl say that theyre going to kiss and hug all his trauma away makes me insane bc thats so not how it works 😭😭😭 not to be "u don't understand him like i do" but CMON... that sort of trauma doesnt work like that.... its not a "romance fixes everything" situation.... and i know half the time ppl are just being somewhat silly and not actually serious but i just get so irritated w the trope of "just get into a relationship and it'll fix all ur trauma :]" bc its EVERYWHEREEE

[raayllum]

really mulling over the likelihood of what i detailed here (amid a different set of speculation for s5 perhaps) of my “rayla destroying and saving callum” pattern going 1) destruction first (like freeing the moon fam) and 2) salvation second (breaking him free of possession, maybe in s5 or even in s6) rather than the CHET engine of 1) salvation first and 2) destruction second. both allow for their own Tragic Cliffhangers, but with the arc decidedly split down the middle rather having both presumably crammed into s5 or stretched out through to s6. also means that book 6: star(?) can have the possession plot line (literal agency vs destiny with those same sweet rayla-aaravos parallels and duality), explorations of stella, and the cube (which is decidedly a secret of aaravos / linked to deep ancient magic and understanding in Some way) unencumbered, as well as possible parallels of viren and soren trying to bring claudia home with everyone else working to bring callum home as well. y’know, for the Foils

[tbpbsides]

i feel so fucking adriftttt man when does it end like seriously when

[findafight]

as someone who doesn't ship stancy or jancy, i admittedly do have a preference for jancy, but for very different reasons than the ones you mentioned in your previous, i was wondering if that was something you'd be interested in hearing? i know that post was a vent, so i didn't want to assume

ohhh yeah I'd be down to hear! I am not against Jancy at all I just think canon refuses to let them be interesting even when they're being messy. to me they are a neutral ship I guess? fine either way.

It was mostly a vent about how some people are so viciously anti-stancy that the just completely ignore the exact issues in the ship they like that they bring up for stancy? and while that applies to...a lot of ships honestly, it is pretty glaring discussing jancy and specifically the discussions of the future. I'd love to hear your thoughts!

[buysomecheese]

I want a dissertation on brotherhood in relation to birth order and senses of responsibility focusing on Eric Matthews and his relationship to school, sexuality, *homo*sexuality, and masculinity and how he projects/protects Cory through all of this and I want it NOW!

(Lots of fun little unorganized thoughts in tags <3)

[jvzebel-x]

🦋

[fizzstix]

grrrr white knuckle grip head in hands . im learning to be patient and im learning to be considerate and im learning to approach community after a long ass period of avoidance and feeling screwed over by everyone and im trying to be forgiving of myself and others and recover and get on my own two feet and it is Going to be hard but i have to try for the sake of myself and those closest to me and for the sake of living a life that reflects my own values and boundaries as a human being. deep exhale .