#but there's always something ever so slightly Wrong with him

[shomatoriashi]

01/20/25; 07:11pm

vi(olet) x fem.reader | modern au

[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]

alternate title: the five times you realized she has always loved you.

you couldn’t find the right term to describe your relationship with violet.

from an outsider’s perspective, they would simply label you as two girls who were the best of friends. sure, there were times where vi got a little too overprotective when it came to shielding you from your shitty exes-

but that’s what friends were supposed to do, right?

yet deep down, there was something nagging at the back of your mind. when you found out dirk was cheating on you, vi had made it her personal mission to beat the ever living shit out of him before proceeding to erase his contact information from your phone. she had no intention of telling you what she had done, but seeing dirk kneeling in front of your apartment door the very next day while begging you to keep vi away from him was more than enough proof that your best friend had willingly defended you.

the memory of it all was enough to cause a surge of heat to course through you. as you look down at your coffee, you couldn’t help but search through your memories, thinking back on specific moments where vi seemed to be there for you when you needed her the most…

i. becoming your roommate to help with paying the rent.

when you texted vi, telling her about the emergency you were facing the moment your roommate moved out, she had appeared at your place in just a few minutes. as evident from the sweat that ran down her forehead, it was clear that she had rushed over to you during your time of need.

with an apologetic expression on your face, you offer her a bottle of water and sit next to her on the couch. “any idea why your roomie moved?”

“she had a new job offer, and it’s located an hour away. i would have been more okay with the move had she at least paid her half of the rent for this month.” you sigh while twirling at the ends of your hair, listening to vi take a swig of her bottle before telling you, “how about i move in with you instead?”

vi’s casual question makes you do a double take, meeting her gaze with your wide eyes, “but… aren’t you living with your sister right now?”

she shrugs while taking another drink, “we’ve both got steady incomes, and she can take care of herself. in fact, i have a feeling she’s counting down the days where she can have the place all to herself.”

“b-but-“

setting aside the now emptied bottle of water, vi places a fingertip against your lips, “hush, cupcake. let me do this for you so you don’t have to worry about a damn thing. i’ll be completely moved in by next week, and you don’t have to worry about running behind on rent.”

a surge of hope courses through you, and you felt each and every one of your worries melt away amidst vi’s grin. unable to hold back your joy any longer, you toss your arms around her neck, nuzzling against her soft, magenta locks of hair, “oh vi, you’re the best! i love you so much!”

you felt the way your best friend suddenly stiffens from within your embrace, causing you to furrow your eyebrows slightly before relaxing when vi lets out an exhale.

“i love you, too.”

you wouldn’t realize the depths of her response until much later.

ii. staying by your side when you suffered from a bad fever.

there was something wrong with you.

your body felt too hot-

your stomach too nauseated as you could barely hold down the sips of water you had taken throughout the night. as you lay shivering and aching in bed, you had barely gotten a wink of sleep when night slowly morphs into the morning.

vi was already active, hearing her footsteps around the kitchen as she brewed her morning coffee. along with the coffee came the sounds of sizzling bacon as the scents of vi cooking breakfast made your stomach churn in response. you swallow thickly, trying to fight back the urge to vomit as you remain curled up in bed.

after what felt like an eternity, you heard gentle knocks coming from your door before vi reveals herself. “hey sleepyhead, it’s time to get up.”

you only manage a whimper in response, causing vi to take quick strides into your room. tossing back your comforter, she sees you huddled up in a fetal position, your face appearing damp with sweat as your bleary eyes met with her gaze.

she lets out a gasp of your name, kneeling beside you on your bed, “damn, you’re burning up with a fever. hang on-“

yet you stop her from leaving, taking comfort in her presence and the scent of her shampoo (the scent of lavender), “don’t leave… need… you…”

her blue eyes were filled with uncertainty, brimming with concern, yet you didn’t relent. “please… i couldn’t sleep last night because… i felt so shitty… and you feel so warm.”

in the end, she caves in to your exhausted demands, laying down next to you while wrapping her arms around your waist. she allows you to hide your face within the curve of her neck, basking in your soft breaths while running a hand through your damp hair, “you need to take some medicine… and eat something, you know that right.”

you hum, burying your face against her shoulder, “hmph… later… sleep… first…”

and with you clinging to her, you were blissfully unaware of how much her heart was racing from your close proximity.

iii. spending late nights with you during your days off.

when you told vi how you were eager to spend your day off with her, your best friend joins you in your happiness. with your favorite takeout already ordered, you settle back on the couch with her, trading the boxes of food with her with little regard to sharing your utensils with her.

with a series of your favorite movies playing on the screen, you bask in the way vi makes jokes with each scene, earning a series of giggles from you in between your bites of food. as the hours ticked by, you cuddle next to vi on the couch, sharing your blanket with her while basking in her warmth.

while you sit next to her, you felt a strange warmth within your chest, your attention slowly waning from the movie that was playing as you found yourself sneaking glances at her.

her blue eyes were focused on the screen, and you allowed your gaze to trace at the fullness of her lips while admiring the freckles that dotted against her cheeks along with the tattoo of her name. your hand itched with the sudden urge to reach out and touch her-

to frame at her face while your lips descended upon her in a sweet kiss-

yet you quickly banish those intrusive thoughts, slightly moving away from her on the couch. you cough the moment vi looked back at you, seeing her eyebrows raised in question at your sudden shift.

but instead of calling you out on it, vi places an arm around your shoulder, pulling you back to her before returning her gaze toward the screen.

she never once removed her hand from your shoulder for the rest of the night.

iv. buying a gorgeous necklace for your birthday.

after gorging yourself on a delicious dinner and some cake, vi pours you a glass of your favorite champagne as you both celebrated another year well spent.

“you’re finally twenty two, how are you feeling, cupcake?”

you roll your eyes at her nickname for you, taking sips of your champagne with a smile on your face. “i can’t complain. but i gotta say, it’s much better to share my special day with my bestie.”

a flash of something was seen in violet’s eyes, yet just as soon as it appears, it was replaced with a carefree expression. vi smirks at you, running a hand through her hair while rolling her eyes, “well, i can’t complain about spending the day with you, either.”

she tells you with a hum before setting her champagne glass off to the side. while you distracted yourself with finishing off your champagne, you were unaware of how violet had one more surprise for you.

you met her gaze when she calls your name, and you face forward to see a neatly wrapped present settled within the palm of her hand. “wha- vi, you didn’t need to get anything for me.”

“i know, but i wanted to.” she tells you with a shrug, handing you the present. your throat clogs up with emotion as you carefully tore open the gold wrapping, unraveling the silver ribbon as you revealed a velvet box. opening the box, you gasp at the sight of the gorgeously crafted necklace settled within the cushion.

it’s rose gold chain held a pendent that was of a rose made entirely of a pink tourmaline gemstone. the brilliant hue reminds you of violet’s startling hair as your hands trembled while picking it up. you were at a loss for words when you silently held the necklace out to vi, beckoning her to help you put it on.

with a tiny smile gracing her features, she takes the necklace and scoots closer to you on the couch. your back was facing her, and you remain still when she moves your hair away. you sensed a bit of hesitancy from her, only to stiffen slightly at the sensation of something soft pressing against the back of your neck.

yet as quickly as the sensation appeared, it was gone within an instant, replaced with the feeling of a slender chain surrounding your neck before being clasped into place.

“happy birthday.” you felt vi whisper within your ear, setting your heart aflame as you found yourself slowly falling for your best friend…

{ … }

you gasp when you felt vi ruffling at your hair, breaking you out of your reveries as she steps into the kitchen, pouring herself a cup of coffee. “hey, what are you spacing out for?”

you swallow thickly, staring at vi and how she was dressed in a sports bra with a loose pair of sweats. your heart begins to pound at the mere sight of her, and your hands now ached with a desire to run through her hair as she kissed you senseless-

“i love you.” you suddenly blurt out to her without meaning to, feeling the heat against your cheeks when she tilts her head back at you. taking a sip of her coffee, vi sits across from you while giving you a grin. “i love you, too.”

“n-no, that’s not it. i-“ you were trembling now, “i mean i love you, what i feel for you is something more than mere friendship. a-and i realize that you’ve always loved me, too.”

vi’s true blue eyes go wide for a brief moment before she shoves her cup of coffee to the side, the dark liquid spilling against your shared dining room when she takes quick strides toward you.

you let out a gasp when she picks you up, crushing your body to hers, “it’s about damn time, cupcake.”

her hands were wrapped tightly around your waist as she carries you effortlessly back into her bedroom, slamming her door shut before laying you back against her bed. no words were spoken when vi surges forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

you moan the moment vi gently sweeps her tongue within your mouth, tasting you fully while allowing her hands to descend upon your oversized shirt. she lifts the large fabric from your body, tossing it aside as you were left with your breasts bare for her. with only a flimsy pair of panties covering your center, vi shudders while hovering over you. “you’re so damn pretty and perfect, princess. i’ve loved you ever since the day i first met you.”

your breathing hitches when you felt vi dip her hand between your legs, traveling within the waistband of your panties to trace at your slick heat. “i was so hopelessly in love with you that i tricked myself into believing that your friendship was enough- but it’s not enough anymore.”

in the midst of her confession, you feel her fingers sliding into your aching core, gasping when she pumps them in and out of you. the squelching sounds of your walls eagerly taking in her gentle ministrations echo throughout the room. “v-vi, oh my god, vi!”

“do you know what you just did, princess? now, i’ll never be able to leave you. you belong to me as much as i belong to you now… and nothing will ever change that.”

she sighs, removing her fingers from your soaked cunt, admiring the shiny quality of them before licking off the evidence of your arousal. she makes a show of cleaning her fingertips, causing you to press your legs together when you felt your walls clench painfully at the sight.

“you taste so fucking good, princess.” letting out a sigh of your name, vi spreads your legs, hands gripping at your panties before taking them off of you. once you were left bare for her, vi settles herself between your thighs with her lips engulfed over the entirety of your center.

your back arches against the bed, with you crying out to her as your hands delver themselves into her hair. she devours you like a woman starved, drinking everything you had to offer while introducing a finger within your slick heat. your back arches against the bed as you grind yourself on her face, losing all of your senses each time she gently pinches down at your swollen clit.

minutes later, you release yourself into her awaiting mouth, feeling her low moans send pleasurable vibrations across your body. “mmm, my sweet little cupcake…”

vi’s sultry voice sends shivers down your spine, with your mind going hazy. you became dimly aware of how she sheds off the rest of her clothes, not stopping until she remains just as bare as you before wrapping her legs around your own. the sensation of her swollen clit rubbing against yours makes you toss your head back in response, allowing vi to pin you against the bed as she finally acted on her desires for you.

and as you built on each other’s pleasure, you knew that your respective feelings had always been requited within this very moment.

end notes: an unedited fluff / thirst post pertaining to vi. i understand how hot she is, i truly do 🫠

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[sugarikiz]

MOOD SWINGS

୨ৎ ─── when the mood swings and cramps get too much, your down bad lover’s always there to help you deal with it…

&&엔하이픈니키 ✦ 𝑏𝑓. niki x 𝑓. reader ♡ l’avis . . . est. relationship fluff crying periods pda wc384

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mick’s 注記 ─── first day of my period and ive already cried once and rage quit on homework… (so annoying istg) im so annoyed with myself and everything and everybody else that I just can’t even anymore. so, to make me feel better, here I am presenting you with my man and how he would be when he makes you cry on accident!

NIKI NEVER EXPECTED TO MAKE YOU ACTUALLY CRY.

today did not have a wonderful start; you realised your period started as soon as you woke up in the morning, and called off your date with niki because of your crappy mood and cramps. him, being the sweetheart he is, insisted on coming over and cuddling with you, totally fine with helping you out if you needed it.

one moment, you were just debating on what was better — chinese food or korean — when suddenly tears welled up in your eyes for no reason. damn mood swings.

his eyes widened as a sudden panic set in, immediately taking a step closer and cupping your cheeks in his hands with a touch so gentle, one could think you were made of glass. ( read more below the cut >< )

he knew how bad your mood swings and cramps during your period were, sometimes making you a raging ball of fire and tears once a month, but he didn’t expect to make thick tears start to form in the corners of your eyes.

“baby… what’s wrong? did i do something wrong?” his tone was soft — so soft it was barely above a whisper. you shook your head slightly, signalling that it wasn’t his fault.

he gently wrapped his arms around you, holding you close to his chest as you let out a few, small sobs. his heart ached with each one, even knowing that he didn’t do anything to cause it.

even when your sobs stopped sounding, he continued to hold you, rubbing soothing circles on your lower back that he knew would somewhat help the relentless stabbing pain in your abdomen.

you pulled away from his chest, eyes still teary. “i’m sorry, I just couldn’t control it…” you mumbled, slightly embarrassed at having cried for absolutely no reason like this. “it’s not your fault, y/n. in fact, it’s good that you let it out,” he spoke, voice gentle as ever. “so, how about some of your beloved chinese takeout and a movie? and cuddles, of course.”

a smile room over your features in an instant, a stark contrast from the tears that were just beginning to dry on the apples of your cheeks.

“do you really think I’d say no to that, ki?”

thank you for reading !! likes + reblogs are really appreciated ><

PERMANENT TAGLIST 𐔌 ﹒ @liya07v @strvvy-anniee @flufflights @eunandonly @hannamoon143 @irasvr @ateez-atiny380 @amoressb @ikeulove @gudkc @mrsjohnnysuh @sol3chu @nerdywitchcrown @sol3chu @puma-riki

[eufezco]

TOLERATE IT 𓂃 𓈒 ❀

oldman!logan x fem!reader

synopsis – the struggles with the growing distance between you and logan and holding on to a man who has already let go.

a/n – kinda inspired by tolerate it by taylor swift.

angst.

logan was late again, though you’d stopped watching the clock weeks ago. time became meaningless when each hour felt like a reminder of how far apart the two of you had grown. he was late and you thought you preferred it this way, because when he was home, it was worse.

when he was home, he didn’t look at you, like you weren’t even there. he didn’t talk to you, offering only brief replies or silence. the man who once made you feel seen, known, and loved was now a shadow. at least when he was gone, you didn’t have to feel the sting of being invisible in your own home.

the sound of the front door opening startled you from your thoughts.

you'd been cooking dinner for him, if you stayed busy, maybe you could ignore the ache in your chest, the endless questions you no longer dared to ask. his heavy steps echoed down the hall, the unmistakable smell of alcohol followed him into the room like an unwelcome guest.

you turned toward the hall, his eyes, bloodshot, avoided yours.

—hey, —you said softly, your voice tentative.

he didn’t answer, just grunted as he moved past you and toward the chair where he always dropped his jacket.

—i've cooked you dinner, —you tried again, forcing a smile.

—not hungry.

the smile disapeared , your lips trembling slightly as you looked at him. —logan, you’ve barely eaten anything lately, —you said, your voice quieter.

—i said i’m not hungry, —he repeated, the irritation in his voice unmistakable. he didn’t even turn to face you, his focus already on loosening his tie.

you stood there for a moment, clutching the edge of the plate, so hard that you thought it would break under your fingers. the meal you’d poured so much effort into, the carefully laid table—it all felt pointless, like shouting into a void. you opened your mouth to respond, to say anything but your eyes caught on the smudge of red on the collar of his shirt. the words died on your lips, and your stomach twisted as realization hit. lipstick.

—logan? —you said, barely above a whisper.

he followed your line of sight, his expression hardening when he saw what had caught your attention. —don’t start, —he said, his voice low and warning.

—don’t start? —you repeated in disbelief. —logan, there’s lipstick on your collar. you—

—i don’t want to do this right now, —he interrupted, his voice rising slightly, frustration etched into every word.

—but... —you tried again. then you noticed how his hair was more disheveled than usual, how some buttons on his shirt were undone. ever since things started to go wrong with logan, you always had a sneaking suspicion that he was seeing other women. most of the times you didn't say anything, not because you didn’t care, but because the thought of confronting him felt more terrifying than the suspicion itself. you had convinced yourself that if this was the price you had to pay to keep him by your side, you would pay it.

but when you confronted him, he’d deny it—nothing was going on. you wanted to believe him, you tried to believe him. but you knew that something was off. there were things you couldn’t ignore and that he didn't care enough to hide, like the way he would smell different when he came home some nights—like someone else’s perfume clung to his shirt.

—i came from work fucking tired and you are trying to start a fight! these things—these things you do are what makes it so goddamn exhausting to be near you.

you didn’t just drop the plate on the floor, you smashed it. the plate carefully prepared, a gesture of love but now, just like everything else, it was broken beyond repair. without thinking, you stepped forward, closing the space between you and him, your breath coming hard and fast, your fist tight with anger.

his expression was unreadable at first, a flicker of annoyance clouding his features, but beneath it, there was something else—something like intrigue, as if he was daring you to keep going, to show him just how much he had hurt you. your pressed your finger against his chest, steady and defying.

—you don’t deserve a fucking thing I gave you, —you spat, your voice laced with fury that you had been keeping to yourself for far too long. his lips parted as if to say something, but you didn’t give him the chance. —what a shame that this mutation of yours is taking so long to kill you and that i have to be the one to suffer all the shit you are rotting in.

silence settled between you after those words. for a few seconds, you both just stood there, locked in each other’s gaze. his eyes were hard, unreadable, and you couldn't see anything shifting. no sign of regret, no sign of guilt.

—are you done? —he said finally, his tone flat, almost bored, as if your pain was just another inconvenience in his already exhausting day.

you made your way to the bedroom. as you passed him, you bumped your shoulder against his and logan closed his eyes and shook his head. you didn't let the tears fall from your eyes just yet. you refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you break.

you collapsed in your shared bed. the sheets smelled faintly of him, even though it had been weeks since the last time he slept there, a cruel reminder of the distance between you. the sobs broke free, quiet and muffled at first, but then louder.

and he heard you from the living room.

you knew he did and you waited, even as your tears soaked the pillow, hoping—praying—that you’d hear the sound of his footsteps approaching. that he’d walk through the door, sit on the edge of the bed, and pull you into his arms like he used to. that he’d say something—anything—to let you know he still cared, still saw you.

but he didn't come.

instead, you heard the clink of his whiskey glass, the quiet sound of him trying to drown out the reality with alcohol. his attempts to ignore the sound of your sobs failed. but still, logan didn’t move.

the tears eventually took over and you fell asleep.

logan picked up the shattered pieces of the plate from the floor and then went into your room. you felt his arm slide across your back, pulling you closer to him, the warmth of his skin too familiar, too intimate, but it felt wrong now, like a cruel mockery of what it used to be. you whined and tried to push his arm away, your body tensed, trying not to surrender to the moment, and shook, trying to make it clear that you didn’t want him to touch you.

—don’t, —you muttered, still half asleep. —don’t touch me.

yet he could feel how it instinctively molded to his. your body remembered him, the way you used to fit together.

—quit it, —logan said, his voice low and rough. his arm tightened around you, firmly, to keep you from pulling away. then, just as quickly, his hold softened, arms relaxing as they hugged you.

he stayed there all night, his arm around you, holding you close in a way that felt almost natural. for the first time in what felt like forever, his breathing steadied, the weight of exhaustion pulling him into a deep sleep. you relaxed into his embrace but when you woke up the next morning, the bed felt cold. you turned, reaching out instinctively and the space where he had been was empty.

he was gone. but it wasn't surprising, not really. you should've known that he wouldn’t stay. he had always been a man who left—left conversations unfinished, left wounds unhealed, left you in pieces. what was truly surprising, more than his absence now, was the fact that he had been ever there at all.

[fear-less]

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 she can date whoever she wants to, i don't care.

pairing: james potter x f!reader

➥ In which, James and you still aren't on talking terms, he avoids you, never gets too close to you, yet complains to everyone when he sees you get close to your new charms partner.

Warnings: angst, fluff, james pov, this inspired by awae (aka the best show ever), r is a gryffindor lol, this is lowkey super short… 2.1k words, the next chapter will be better...trust

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

It had been weeks. Weeks since James had last spoken to you, the last time you had talked was in december, now you're almost two weeks into february, and the rift between you only seemed to grow wider. At first, he told himself he was giving you space. He thought that if he stayed back, you’d eventually come to him, and things would go back to normal. But that wasn’t what happened.

Every time James worked up the courage to approach you, it was the same thing: you were with him.

Finn Laurier.

James hated how the name left a sour taste in his mouth. Finn wasn’t a bad guy—he was charming, clever, and polite. Too polite, in James’s opinion. Finn Laurier was completely different from James, and that only made the knot of insecurity and jealousy in James’s chest tighten.

While James was loud and brash, Finn had an easygoing, quiet confidence about him. Where James was all about grand gestures and bold declarations, Finn had a knack for subtlety and knowing the right thing to say at the right time. It didn’t help that Finn had somehow managed to claim the spot James had always held at your side, and you didn’t seem to mind.

From across the common room, James watched as Finn leaned in closer to you, gesturing animatedly as he spoke. You laughed at something he said, the sound tugging at James’s heart in a way that made him feel like an idiot.

He slumped back against the couch, crossing his arms over his chest. “What does she even see in him?” he muttered under his breath.

Sirius, sprawled out beside him, didn’t bother to hide his amusement. “You mean aside from the fact that he’s good-looking, smart, and doesn’t look like he’s been moping for weeks?”

James glared at him. “I’m not moping.”

“Sure, you’re not,” Sirius drawled. “That’s why you’ve been staring at them for the past ten minutes like you’re about to hex him.”

“I’m not going to hex him,” James grumbled. “He hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“That’s very mature of you, Prongs,” Remus chimed in from his corner, not looking up from his book. “But maybe instead of glaring at him, you should focus on fixing things with her.”

“Yeah, because that’s gone so well for me so far,” James shot back bitterly.

“Have you even tried?” Sirius asked, raising an eyebrow.

James opened his mouth to respond but hesitated. The truth was, he had tried—at least, he thought he had. But every time he saw you, Finn was there, making you laugh, leaning just a little too close. And every time, James felt like his chances were slipping further and further away.

Meanwhile, you were doing your best to ignore the knot of confusion and hurt that James’s behavior had left behind. You weren’t blind to the way he’d been avoiding you, or how he seemed to retreat every time you so much as glanced in his direction.

Finn had been a welcome distraction. He was kind, easy to talk to, and, most importantly, he didn’t make you feel like you’d done something wrong. But even as you laughed at his jokes and listened to his stories, you couldn’t shake the feeling of James’s eyes on you from across the room.

“Everything okay?” Finn asked, his voice cutting through your thoughts.

You blinked, startled. “What?”

“You’ve been quiet all of a sudden,” Finn said, tilting his head slightly. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, no, you’re fine,” you said quickly, offering him a small smile. “I just… I guess I’m a little distracted.”

Finn nodded, his expression understanding. “Fair enough. If you ever want to talk about it…”

“Thanks, Finn,” you said softly, though your gaze drifted back toward James.

He was still sitting on the couch with Sirius, looking like he was caught between frustration and defeat. When your eyes met for the briefest of moments, he quickly looked away, running a hand through his already messy hair.

You sighed, your chest tightening. Whatever had happened between you and James, it felt bigger than anything you could fix with a simple conversation. But you weren’t sure how much longer you could handle this silent stalemate.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

It was now James’s second least favorite day—Valentine’s Day. His least favorite day was still the one he’d sat in Charms class and watched you laugh with Finn Laurier for the first time. That moment had burned itself into his memory, playing on a cruel loop every time he closed his eyes.

But this… this was a close second.

If you had told James back in December that he’d be avoiding you on Valentine’s Day instead of spending it as a happy, loved-up couple, he would have called you mad. Back then, he’d been so sure of himself. So sure that his letter, his heartfelt, trembling confession, would be the thing that finally made you see him as more than just James Potter, your goofy best friend.

And yet, here he was, slouched in a chair in the Gryffindor common room, surrounded by heart-shaped confetti that refused to disappear no matter how many times he swatted it away. The house elves had really outdone themselves this year—floating cupid decorations zipped around the room, shooting glittering pink arrows into the air. James glared at one that came a little too close, muttering something about “bloody overkill.”

“I hate this,” he grumbled, crossing his arms and sinking lower into his chair.

“Well, don’t be sulking for the whole day,” Sirius said, perched on the arm of the couch nearby. His tone was a mix of amusement and exasperation, his gray eyes twinkling with mischief. “We’re all supposed to go to The Three Broomsticks soon, remember?”

James let out another unintelligible grumble, something that sounded suspiciously like “don’t want to,” though the exact words were lost in his sulk.

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Come on, mate, this is getting ridiculous. You’ve been moping around for weeks.”

“I’m not moping,” James shot back, though the words lacked any real conviction.

“You’re literally the definition of moping,” Sirius said, smirking. “You’re sitting here, arms crossed, glaring at a cupid like it personally insulted your family.”

“I don’t want to go to The Three Broomsticks,” James muttered.

“And why not?” Sirius pressed, though James could tell from his tone that he already knew the answer.

James sighed, running a hand through his already messy hair. “Because she might be there,” he admitted quietly.

“She, as in you-know-who?” Sirius teased, though his smirk softened slightly when he saw the genuine frustration on James’s face. “Look, Prongs, you can’t avoid her forever. It’s a small castle. You’re bound to run into her eventually.”

“I know that,” James said, his voice tight. “But I just… I can’t deal with seeing her with him today, alright? Not on bloody Valentine’s Day.”

Sirius leaned back, crossing his arms. “You’re assuming she’s spending the day with Finn, but has she actually told you that?”

James hesitated. “No,” he admitted reluctantly. “But why wouldn’t she? He’s—he’s Finn Laurier, for Merlin’s sake. He’s perfect. Why wouldn’t she spend Valentine’s Day with him?”

“You’re an idiot,” Sirius said matter-of-factly.

James blinked, caught off guard. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Sirius said, standing up and stretching, “that instead of sitting here feeling sorry for yourself, you could actually try talking to her. Maybe, just maybe, things aren’t as hopeless as you think.”

James stared at him, his heart hammering in his chest. The idea of approaching you now, after everything, felt like standing at the edge of a cliff. But Sirius’s words planted a small, stubborn seed of hope in his mind.

“Fine,” James muttered, standing up. “But if this goes horribly wrong, I’m hexing you.”

Sirius grinned. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

As James followed Sirius out of the common room, his mind raced with a hundred different scenarios. He wasn’t sure what he’d say if he saw you—or if he even had the courage to say anything at all. But one thing was certain: he couldn’t keep hiding forever. But it looks like the odds were not in his favor–he felt like his world was crumbling. He knew he shouldn't have listened to Sirius, it just made things worse. You had said yes to being Finn’s valentine–and worst of all, who asks a girl out on valentine's day?

James scoffed, his sadness shifting into a simmering anger. He quickly left the scene, Sirius trailed behind him, struggling to keep up with his brisk pace.

“Slow down, Prongs!” Sirius called.

James didn’t respond, only slowing when they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. He paused there, allowing Sirius to catch up before muttering the password under his breath. As the portrait swung open, James turned to his friend with a scowl.

“I’m never listening to you again.”

“Oh, come on,” Sirius protested, throwing up his hands. “How was I supposed to know Laurier would swoop in right then and there?”

Inside the common room, Remus and Peter exchanged curious glances.

“What happened?” Remus asked, his tone cautious.

“She was right there,” James burst out, his voice rising with frustration. “And so was Laurier. He asked her out! They didn’t even see me—or Sirius, thankfully—but still!” He threw himself into an armchair, running a hand through his already messy hair.

The others stayed silent, unsure how to comfort him.

After an awkward three minutes, Peter cleared his throat and attempted to lighten the mood. “Why don’t we head to the Three Broomsticks? A bit of butterbeer might help take your mind off things.”

For a moment, James said nothing. Then, as if possessed by some newfound resolve, he stood abruptly.

“You know what? You’re right,” he said, surprising everyone. “If she can be completely unbothered after I confessed my undying love for her, then ignore me, and worst of all—start dating some tosser who’s the polar opposite of me—then fine. I’ll move on too. Starting now. Let’s go.”

The other Marauders stared at him, dumbfounded. This wasn’t the James they knew—the James who would spend hours pestering Sirius about why you hadn’t replied to his letters, the James who badgered Remus for details about your every interaction, the James who constantly begged Peter for updates about you in the classes you shared.

It was as if the James Potter they knew had been replaced by someone else entirely.

The streets of Hogsmeade were blanketed with snow, the cold biting at their cheeks as the Marauders made their way to the Three Broomsticks. James led the group, his hands shoved deep into his pockets and his jaw set tight. He was unusually quiet, his normal easy going demeanor replaced with something sharper, more defensive.

Sirius tried to break the silence first. “Prongs, mate, you know she didn’t do it to hurt you, right? She probably didn’t even know how you felt.”

James let out a sharp laugh, his breath clouding in the cold air. “She didn’t know? Oh, she knew. I wrote her a bloody letter, Padfoot. I poured my heart out. If she didn’t get the hint, then she’s thicker than I thought—and she’s not thick.”

Sirius grimaced, clearly regretting his choice of words. “Alright, alright, bad point. But still, Laurier? The guy’s got the personality of a Flobberworm.”

“Doesn’t matter,” James muttered. “Apparently, she likes Flobberworms.”

Peter, trying to ease the tension, piped up, “Well, maybe Laurier’s just a rebound, you know? She’ll realize what a tosser he is soon enough.”

Remus shot Peter a warning look, but James seemed too absorbed in his own thoughts to notice.

“Rebound from what?” James muttered. “She’s never been with anyone to rebound from.”

They reached the Three Broomsticks, the warm glow from inside spilling out onto the snow-covered street. The group filed in, quickly finding a table in the back corner. The usual bustling energy of the pub seemed muted to James, his mind too occupied with replaying the moment he’d seen you say yes to Finn Laurier.

A round of butterbeers arrived at the table, and Sirius pushed a tankard in front of James. “Alright, here’s the plan,” Sirius said, leaning forward. “We’re going to have a laugh, you’re going to forget about Laurier, and tomorrow, you’ll go back to being your annoying, charming self. Sounds good?”

James took a long sip of his butterbeer, the warm liquid doing little to ease the ache in his chest. “Yeah, sure. Forget about her. Easy.”

“James,” Remus said gently, “it’s okay to be upset. You don’t have to act like it doesn’t bother you.”

“I’m not acting,” James snapped, though his tone softened almost immediately. “I’m fine. Really.”

Sirius exchanged a glance with Remus, both of them unconvinced.

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[lilbabypanda-blog2]

Phainon x (fem) reader

Part1 part2 PART3

The group packed up quickly, with Tribbie cheerfully skipping ahead, Trailblazer casually snacking as always, and Dan Heng trailing behind with his usual quiet presence. Phainon lingered just slightly, trying to collect himself as his heart continued to race from Y/N’s earlier compliment.

He caught up as they began walking along a narrow path, the ancient stones of the city outskirts giving way to rough terrain. The air smelled faintly of moss and something metallic, and the ground was uneven beneath their feet.

Y/N walked ahead, her sword strapped securely to her back, her expression calm but focused. Phainon tried to focus on anything but how cool she looked.

“So, uh, Y/N,” he said, sidling up to her with a casual grin. “You were really amazing back there too, you know. The way you took down that big guy? Legendary.”

Y/N glanced at him, her face lighting up with a smile. “Thanks, Phainon. But it’s not really that impressive when you’ve had as much practice as I have.”

“Not impressive? Are you kidding?” Phainon said, his voice rising slightly. “You climbed a living boulder like it was a staircase! That’s… that’s beyond impressive! That’s—”

“Admirable?” Tribbie chimed in from ahead, turning to walk backward so she could grin at them. “Heroic? The stuff of legends? Keep going, Phainon, I’m enjoying this.”

Phainon stumbled over his words, shooting her a helpless look. “I mean, yeah, all of that! But I wasn’t—I wasn’t trying to—”

Trailblazer snickered, patting Tribbie on the shoulder as they both turned back to the path. Dan Heng, walking quietly a few paces behind, sighed audibly but said nothing.

Y/N just laughed. “You’re sweet, Phainon. But I couldn’t have done it without you all holding the others off. Teamwork makes the dream work, right?”

Phainon flushed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Y-yeah, totally. Teamwork.”

They walked in companionable silence for a while, the crunch of their footsteps on gravel the only sound. The scenery began to shift, with jagged cliffs rising on either side and strange, glowing carvings etched into the stone walls.

Dan Heng finally broke the silence. “The traces we’re following—there’s a higher concentration up ahead.” He gestured toward a fork in the path, one side leading to a darker, more enclosed area while the other veered toward an open, rocky clearing.

“Splitting up might save us time,” Y/N suggested, already assessing the terrain. “Dan Heng, you and Trailblazer could take the path on the left, and the rest of us can check out the clearing.”

Dan Heng nodded in agreement. “It’s logical. But if either group encounters trouble, don’t engage until we regroup.”

Trailblazer gave a thumbs-up. “Got it. No heroics… unless they look really cool.”

Y/N rolled her eyes fondly. “Sure, just don’t die trying to show off.”

As Dan Heng and Trailblazer disappeared down the left path, the remaining trio headed toward the clearing. The rocky terrain was uneven, with glowing crystals jutting out at odd angles.

“Alright,” Y/N said, scanning the area. “Let’s see if we can pick up any more traces.”

Tribbie wandered a little ahead, poking at the glowing crystals with her staff. “These things are so weird. I feel like if I touch the wrong one, the whole place might explode.”

“Maybe don’t touch them, then,” Y/N suggested, raising an eyebrow.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Tribbie grinned, but she stepped back cautiously anyway.

Phainon, meanwhile, was sticking close to Y/N, his usual energy tempered slightly by the eerie atmosphere. He couldn’t help but glance at her every so often, marveling at how calm and composed she seemed.

“Hey, Y/N?” he said suddenly.

She turned to him, her expression curious. “What’s up?”

“Do you ever, uh, get nervous? You know, before a fight or something?”

Y/N tilted her head, considering the question. “Sometimes,” she admitted. “But I’ve learned to channel it. Nervous energy can be useful if you use it right.”

“Huh,” Phainon said, looking thoughtful. “That’s… really smart. Makes sense, coming from you.”

Y/N smiled. “What about you? Do you ever get nervous?”

“Oh, me? Nah,” Phainon said quickly, puffing out his chest. “I’m as cool as they come.”

Tribbie snorted loudly from a few feet away. “Sure, Phainon. That’s why you nearly tripped over a rock trying to dodge one of those stone monsters earlier.”

“I was strategizing!” he said, his voice rising an octave.

Y/N laughed, and Phainon couldn’t even be mad about being called out because the sound of her laughter was worth it.

Before he could say anything else, Y/N crouched down, her sharp eyes catching something on the ground. She reached out and brushed away a layer of dust, revealing faint scorch marks and a few shards of glowing crystal.

“Looks like we’re on the right track,” she said, holding up one of the shards for Phainon and Tribbie to see.

“Good find,” Phainon said, leaning closer to examine it. “You’ve got an eye for this stuff, huh?”

“Comes with the territory,” she said with a shrug, slipping the shard into her bag. “Let’s keep moving. Whatever left these marks can’t be too far ahead.”

As they continued onward, Phainon couldn’t help but glance at Y/N every now and then, his golden-retriever smile never far from his face. Even in the middle of potentially dangerous territory, she had a way of making everything feel… lighter.

And if he tripped over a rock once or twice while sneaking glances at her, well, Tribbie was kind enough not to comment.

For now.

The group tread cautiously through the glowing clearing, the jagged terrain surrounding them like a maze of natural traps. The scorch marks and glowing shards scattered across the ground were undeniable signs that something was lurking nearby.

Y/N raised her sword slightly, the sharp metallic sound cutting through the tense silence. “Stay alert. We’re close.”

Phainon stepped closer to her, his signature golden-retriever grin still present, though his eyes were sharp with focus. “Don’t worry. If anything jumps out, I’ll handle it.”

“You’ll handle it?” Mydei snorted from behind, his rough voice carrying just enough mockery to make Phainon glance over his shoulder. “Didn’t you almost trip over your own sword five minutes ago?”

“Strategic repositioning,” Phainon shot back, puffing his chest out. “You wouldn’t understand, Mydei. It’s a finesse thing.”

“Right,” Mydei drawled, his blonde-red hair catching the glow of the crystals as he cracked his knuckles. “I’ll keep that in mind while I’m taking down twice as many as you.”

Tribbie, skipping a few paces ahead, waved her staff around like it was a baton. “Oh, boy. Here we go again. The Phainon versus Mydei Show, round 57.” She paused, smirking over her shoulder. “You know, if you two spent half as much time fighting monsters as you do fighting each other, we’d have wiped this place clean by now.”

Before anyone could respond, a deep, grinding sound echoed through the clearing. The ground seemed to vibrate beneath their feet, and from the shadows emerged hulking figures of stone and crystal.

The Titankin stood tall and menacing, their faceless, humanoid forms glowing faintly with runes etched into their surfaces. Some carried swords as broad as tree trunks, while others held bows strung with crystalline energy.

“Alright, guys,” Y/N said, her voice calm and commanding as she gripped her sword. “We’ve got company. Let’s not make this harder than it has to be.”

“Hard? Please,” Phainon said, flipping his blade with a flourish. “This’ll be easy.”

“Bet I take down more than you,” Mydei challenged, his fists glowing faintly as he prepared for battle.

Phainon rolled his eyes but grinned. “Oh, it’s on.”

Y/N sighed. “Can you two not—”

“Ready? GO!” Phainon yelled, charging toward the nearest Titankin with Mydei hot on his heels.

Y/N groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Of course.”

Tribbie giggled, hopping to the side as one of the archer-type Titankin fired a glowing arrow her way. “You gotta admit, it’s kind of fun watching them trip over themselves trying to one-up each other.”

“Fun isn’t the word I’d use,” Y/N muttered, dashing forward to engage one of the sword-wielding Titankin.

The battlefield erupted into chaos.

Phainon darted around the heavy strikes of a massive Titankin, his movements quick and graceful as he delivered a series of precise slashes to its legs. “That’s one down!” he called triumphantly as the creature crumbled into rubble.

“One?” Mydei scoffed, delivering a powerful uppercut to another Titankin, causing cracks to spiderweb across its torso. He followed up with a crushing blow that sent it collapsing in a heap of stone. “Two for me!”

“Oh, come on!” Phainon shouted, narrowly dodging a glowing arrow. “That one didn’t even put up a fight!”

“Don’t be mad just because I’m better,” Mydei retorted, smirking as he squared off against another enemy.

“Better at being annoying, maybe!”

Y/N, meanwhile, was weaving through the battlefield like a dancer, her sword flashing as she expertly dismantled the Titankin one by one. She didn’t have time to indulge in the boys’ antics, but she couldn’t help but smirk as she caught snippets of their bickering.

“Focus!” she called out, parrying a massive swing from one of the larger Titankin.

“I am focusing!” Phainon shouted back, leaping onto a boulder to get a better angle. He launched himself off it and delivered a devastating blow to one of the archers, splitting its crystalline bow in half. He turned to Mydei, grinning.

“Three down!” Phainon called out, his blade flashing as he leapt backward, dodging the heavy swing of a stone sword. He twisted midair, landed smoothly, and sliced through the Titankin’s glowing core. “Make that four!”

“Four?” Mydei snorted, dodging an arrow that narrowly grazed his shoulder. “I’m already at six. You better pick up the pace, golden boy.” He delivered a brutal punch to the chest of another Titankin, cracks spreading through its torso before it crumbled to the ground.

“You’re counting that one?” Phainon yelled, pointing accusingly at the pile of rubble. “It fell over because it tripped! You didn’t even hit it that hard!”

“Still counts,” Mydei said smugly, flexing his fists.

Tribbie laughed as she hopped onto a rock for a better view, her blue eyes gleaming with amusement. “I’m just gonna say it—you two are hilarious. You’re like those birds that fight over shiny things for no reason.” She waved her staff, blasting back a Titankin archer. “Meanwhile, Y/N’s probably lapping you both.”

“I heard that,” Y/N called out, her voice steady as she parried the massive blade of a Titankin. She stepped inside its guard, her sword flashing as she delivered a precise strike to its glowing core. The creature froze for a second before shattering into a heap of glowing rubble. “And Tribbie’s not wrong.”

Phainon’s head whipped around, distracted for a split second, which earned him a close call with a stone sword slicing through the air by his shoulder. He yelped and ducked, countering with a well-placed slash to the monster’s legs. “You’re saying you’re ahead of me?” he asked incredulously, finishing the Titankin off with a dramatic spin.

Y/N didn’t respond immediately, instead focusing on taking down another Titankin with a smooth series of strikes. Her movements were quick and calculated, every step and swing perfectly timed.

Mydei, mid-punch, glanced over at her with a frown. “She’s bluffing. There’s no way she’s ahead of me.” He delivered a devastating uppercut to a Titankin, sending its head flying clean off its shoulders.

Y/N only smiled, which, of course, made both men more suspicious.

“Seven!” Phainon yelled triumphantly, dodging and weaving through another attack. “Seven, Mydei! You better start worrying.”

“Eight,” Mydei shot back, slamming his fist into the chest of another Titankin. He glanced at Phainon with a smirk. “You’re gonna owe me dinner at this rate.”

Tribbie rolled her eyes, blasting another archer from a distance. “Wow, the male ego is really something, huh?”

Finally, the last Titankin fell, its glowing shards scattering across the rocky ground. The battlefield fell silent except for the sound of the group catching their breath.

Phainon wiped sweat from his brow, turning to Mydei with a triumphant grin. “Alright, what’s the tally?”

“Nine,” Mydei said confidently, crossing his arms and looking far too pleased with himself.

“Ha! Ten!” Phainon declared, pointing his sword at Mydei like he’d just won a duel. “Looks like dinner’s on you, my friend!”

Tribbie chuckled, hopping down from her perch. “I wouldn’t get too excited, golden boy.”

“What? Why?” Phainon blinked, confused.

Y/N sheathed her sword, her grin easy and casual as she stretched her arms. “Because I got 20.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

“...What?” Phainon said, his voice cracking slightly.

“Twenty?” Mydei stared at her like she’d just sprouted a second head.

Y/N shrugged, brushing some dirt off her sleeve. “Yeah. You know, while you two were busy arguing and trying to impress each other, someone had to actually take care of the problem.”

Tribbie burst out laughing, nearly doubling over. “She got more than both of you combined! Oh, this is gold.”

Phainon’s jaw dropped, his face turning red—not from embarrassment, but from sheer disbelief. “You—you were counting?”

“Of course I was counting,” Y/N said with a sly grin, crossing her arms. “It’s not my fault I’m better at multitasking than you two.”

Mydei groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I’m never hearing the end of this, am I?”

“Nope,” Y/N replied cheerfully.

Phainon blinked, then rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Well… uh… you were incredible out there, Y/N. Seriously. I mean, you always are, but today especially.” His usual golden-retriever energy returned in full force, though his cheeks were still faintly pink.

Tribbie nudged Mydei with a smirk. “Look at him, blushing like she just crowned him king of the world.”

Mydei rolled his eyes. “Pathetic.”

Phainon ignored them, flashing Y/N a grin that was only a little bit nervous. “Next time, I’ll catch up. Promise.”

Y/N chuckled, patting him on the shoulder as she walked past. “Good luck with that.”

Phainon just stood there, staring after her, the goofy grin on his face refusing to fade.

The group made their way deeper into the rocky terrain, the eerie glow of shattered crystal fragments lighting their path. The air was cooler here, heavy with an unnatural stillness that made Tribbie glance nervously over her shoulder every few minutes.

“So… does it feel like the ground’s gonna swallow us whole, or is that just me?” Tribbie muttered, clutching her staff a little tighter.

“Just your imagination,” Y/N replied casually, stepping over a fallen rock. “Probably.”

Tribbie squinted at her. “Probably? That’s not comforting.”

“Relax,” Phainon said brightly, his usual grin plastered across his face. He gestured to the rocky surroundings. “If anything weird happens, I’ll protect you!”

“Wow, I feel so safe,” Tribbie deadpanned, rolling her eyes.

As they moved forward, Mydei, who had been walking ahead of the group, suddenly stopped. “Hold up,” he said, holding out a hand. His sharp eyes scanned the ground.

“What is it?” Y/N asked, stepping closer to him.

“Something’s off,” Mydei replied, pointing to a patch of the rocky ground that looked slightly… different. The texture was smoother, the color faintly darker, almost like it had been worn down by something—or someone.

Y/N crouched down to examine it. She brushed her fingers over the stone and noticed faint grooves carved into it, leading in a jagged line toward a nearby outcrop. “These look like tracks,” she murmured.

“Tracks?” Phainon asked, leaning over her shoulder with barely contained excitement. “Like… a secret path?”

“Possibly,” Y/N said, rising to her feet. She followed the grooves with her eyes, her brow furrowing. “Whatever made them was big.”

“That’s encouraging,” Tribbie muttered, though she followed behind eagerly as Y/N began tracing the path.

The group walked in silence for a few moments, the faint glow of the crystals growing dimmer as they approached a cluster of large boulders piled haphazardly against the side of a cliff.

“Dead end,” Mydei said, crossing his arms.

“Maybe not,” Y/N countered, stepping closer to the boulders. She placed a hand on the surface of one, her gaze narrowing. “There’s something behind these.”

Phainon immediately perked up, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. “You mean like hidden treasure? Or ancient ruins? Or a monster nest?”

“Could be all three,” Y/N replied dryly.

“Fantastic!” Phainon said, clearly missing her sarcasm.

Tribbie poked one of the boulders with her staff. “Alright, so how do we move these without getting crushed?”

“Allow me,” Mydei said, cracking his knuckles. Without waiting for a response, he stepped forward, placed his hands on the nearest boulder, and shoved. The rock groaned in protest before slowly rolling away, revealing a narrow passage that sloped downward into the darkness.

“Show-off,” Phainon muttered under his breath.

“You’re welcome,” Mydei replied smugly, gesturing to the newly revealed path.

The passage was just wide enough for one person to walk through at a time, its walls smooth and slightly damp. Faint symbols were etched into the stone, glowing softly as the group descended.

“This is definitely leading somewhere,” Y/N said, her voice echoing slightly.

“I vote we turn back before we stumble into something we can’t handle,” Tribbie whispered, though she didn’t stop walking.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Phainon asked, his excitement palpable. “This is an adventure!”

“An adventure that could kill us,” Mydei muttered, though he followed without hesitation.

As they reached the bottom of the slope, the passage opened into a vast underground chamber. The ceiling was high and arched, supported by towering pillars carved with intricate patterns. In the center of the room stood what looked like an altar, surrounded by more of the strange, glowing symbols.

“Whoa,” Tribbie breathed, her voice filled with awe.

Y/N approached the altar cautiously, her sword at the ready. The air felt heavier here, charged with some kind of ancient energy. “This place is incredible,” she said, running her fingers over one of the carvings.

Phainon walked up beside her, his grin softer now as he took in the room. “You’re right. It’s beautiful.”

“It’s also probably dangerous,” Mydei pointed out, eyeing the shadows warily.

“Dangerous and beautiful,” Phainon said cheerfully. “Like Y/N.”

Y/N turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “What was that?”

“Uh, nothing!” Phainon said quickly, his face turning pink.

Tribbie snorted. “Smooth.”

Before anyone could comment further, a low rumble echoed through the chamber, and the glowing symbols on the altar began to pulse.

____

The chamber was eerily quiet, save for the faint hum of energy resonating from the glowing symbols on the altar. The group moved cautiously, their footsteps echoing softly off the smooth stone floor.

Y/N stood at the center of the room, studying the carvings etched into the towering pillars. Her fingers traced the lines of the ancient symbols, their glow pulsing faintly under her touch. “These are definitely not from the same era as the city above,” she muttered, more to herself than anyone else. “This is... older. Much older.”

Tribbie wandered toward the walls, tapping her staff lightly against the stone. “Well, it looks cool. Creepy, but cool.”

“Cool and creepy are rarely good combinations,” Mydei said, standing by the entrance with his arms crossed. He scanned the room with his usual skeptical frown, his gaze lingering on the darker corners.

Phainon, meanwhile, hovered near Y/N, watching her examine the carvings with a curious tilt of his head. “Do you think it’s some kind of warning?” he asked, pointing to a set of jagged symbols that spiraled outward from the altar.

“Could be,” Y/N replied, her brow furrowing as she knelt to inspect the markings on the floor. “Or it might be a map... or instructions.”

“You’re saying you don’t know?” Mydei asked, smirking faintly.

“I’m saying I need more time to figure it out,” Y/N shot back, though her tone was more amused than annoyed.

Phainon crouched beside her, peering at the symbols with a thoughtful expression. “You’re really good at this, Y/N. Like, way smarter than I’ll ever be. It’s kind of amazing.”

Y/N glanced at him, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Thanks, Phainon.”

Tribbie snickered from across the room. “He’s doing that thing again.”

“What thing?” Phainon asked, his grin faltering slightly.

“The thing where you turn into a lovesick puppy,” Tribbie teased, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Am not!” Phainon protested, his cheeks flushing a light pink. He quickly stood, clearing his throat.

Y/N, oblivious as ever, was already back to examining the symbols. She stepped closer to the altar, her focus narrowing on a particularly intricate carving. “There’s something strange about this part,” she murmured, leaning in for a closer look.

Phainon stepped forward instinctively, his hand hovering near her arm. “Uh, careful—”

Before he could finish, the ground beneath Y/N’s feet gave a sudden, ominous crack.

“Y/N!” Phainon shouted, lunging forward, but it was too late.

The floor crumbled away in an instant, and Y/N disappeared into the darkness below.

Tribbie screamed, dropping her staff as she ran toward the edge of the newly formed pit. Mydei was already there, his sharp reflexes keeping him from tumbling in himself. He grabbed Tribbie by the shoulder to keep her from getting too close.

“Y/N!” Phainon called, his voice echoing down the dark abyss. He dropped to his knees, peering into the void with wide, panicked eyes.

There was no sound except for the faint crumble of debris.

“Is she—” Tribbie started, her voice trembling.

“She’s alive,” Mydei interrupted, his tone firm as he scanned the edge of the pit. “There’s no way she’d go down that easily.”

Phainon clenched his fists, his usual smile completely gone. “We have to get to her. Now.”

[weneeya]

Third years in haikyuu reacting to reader dressing up all pretty ?

pretty for you m.list | rules

pairing. karasuno's third years x reader

characters. daichi, sugawara, asahi, kiyoko

note. yes yes yes, i want to write this (i assumed it was karasuno's third years) and ofc i included kiyoko bc i love women sm <3

⎯ Sawamura Daichi

When you told him you would be late, he almost immediately started to panic. Were you okay? Did you have any problems? He thought you would have told him if anything was wrong, but he could not help it, he was way too protective of you. Daichi always needed to be sure that you were doing fine and that nothing was troubling you too much. 

He was trying to reassure himself when he heard your voice calling his name from behind his back. He turned around in no time, and froze the second after he saw you. You were so pretty. He always thought you looked pretty, of course, but today? It was even more. He took a step closer to you, noticing the way you seemed to be panicking a bit about his silence. 

Daichi gently took your hand in his, and brought it to his lips so he could leave a soft kiss against the back of it. “You look amazing.” He told you, and his warm smile eased all of your worries. You smiled softly, glad that he liked the effort you made for him. 

“Sorry for the lateness, I just wanted to look perfect,” you explained to him, and he chuckled a little at your words. You really were adorable, nothing would change that and he knew it. 

“Don’t worry, you can be late all you want if you look this great.” You felt your cheeks burning slightly at his words, and he took your hand in his larger one.

⎯ Sugawara Koushi

You were just supposed to chill out at Suga’s place, nothing more. He wanted to show you something apparently, and you could not wait to see what it was. You did not really know why, but you wanted to make some more efforts to look especially pretty today. Perhaps you needed it, to be told compliments. 

You knocked at his door, and he opened it in no time. He was all too excited to be seeing you. When his eyes laid on your figure, they moved up and down to take a better look at your outfit. They lingered a bit longer on your face, before a smile appeared on his lips. 

“You’re so pretty. Is that for me?” He asked, and you cleared your throat while looking away. You nodded softly, which made his smile grow a bit wider. He quickly took your hand, closing the door of his room behind him. “What are you doing?” You asked him, a bit surprised. 

“No way we’re staying here when you look this pretty! I want the world to see how gorgeous my girlfriend is.” And you swore you felt your whole body melting at his words.

⎯ Asahi Azumane

He was always so nervous when he was seeing you alone. It made no sense, because you two were together, and he knew you were the most sincere and sweet person he ever met in his life. Yet, he couldn't help but feel stressed every time. It was in his nature after all. It was a force which was stronger than him. 

He arrived late because of his bus, and it made him even more nervous because he did not want to make you wait too long alone outside. When Asahi finally arrived, his eyes almost immediately locked on your figure. 

You always looked pretty. You were probably the prettiest girl he ever met in his whole life, and he was not even exaggerating. But your outfit made you look even prettier ; and the way you tied your hair? He swore he could have faint right here and right now, in the middle of the street. 

He walked to you quickly, not wanting to make you wait even more than it was already the case. He cleared his throat, and you looked at him with the softest smile on Earth. How could he not be a nervous mess with you around? He sighed slowly, easing himself down as you wrapped your arm around his. 

“Do you like how I dressed today?” You asked him, and he immediately looked at you with a smile. Did you really expect him to say no? He could not believe it. 

“You’re gorgeous, really. I almost fell down back there when I saw you from afar.” His words made you chuckle a bit, and he did the same when he heard you. You really were the best at soothing him down after all.

⎯ Kiyoko Shimizu

She was the prettiest girl you knew. She looked so good in everything, all the time, and you could never understand how it was possible. So when you two decided to go out to do some shopping together, you decided that you wanted to try to be as pretty as her. You did not want her to go out with someone not as good as her. 

Kiyoko was not the most expressive girl, and you knew it well. You did not dress up for her to say anything, but you secretly hoped she would love the way you looked for her today. You were both sitting at a cafe, drinking something hot to warm yourselves up. 

“You really are pretty today. I like the way it looks on you.” She said out of nowhere, after she put her cup down on the table. You almost choked on air, before you looked up at her with your cheeks burning. 

“You think so..?” You asked, a bit hesitant, and she met your eyes. The way she looked at you meant everything, but she still replied so you would not doubt her words. “Of course I do. You’re always pretty though, don’t worry about it.” 

You could not restrain the light smile that appeared on your lips as she reassured you so easily, making your heart race and your stomach do flips. She really was doing so much efforts for you, and it made you so happy.

thank you for reading!!

[luvvictoria]

Be fucking for real

+ pairings. sukuna ryomen x f!reader

+ tags. romance, heavy (?) angst, dark romance themes, eventual smut (?)

+ a/n. Reblog with your favorite line! It would help me to grow my account !! Thank you in advance. Thank you so much for your support ! It means very much to me! Also if you want to take a little peek at the next chapter here is my ko-fi !!

+ summary. He's not the type to go for aftercare

The cold air of the penthouse seeped into your skin as you stared at the ceiling, blinking back the tears threatening to spill. It was always like this — a routine that felt like drowning in slow motion, leaving you gasping for something he never offered.

Sukuna’s presence lingered in the room even though he’d left for the balcony. The faint scent of sweat, his expensive cologne, and something darker, more primal, clung to the sheets. You turned your head slightly, catching a glimpse of him through the open sliding door. His broad back was illuminated by the city lights, shoulders relaxed as if he hadn’t just shattered you in a way only he could.

The cigarette between his fingers glowed faintly as he exhaled, smoke curling into the night sky. He looked untouchable out there, as if the world outside this penthouse didn’t exist. You knew better. Sukuna existed in a world of his own — a world where you were nothing more than a fleeting indulgence, a vessel for his desires.

You’d tried before. You’d begged for scraps of tenderness, for something resembling care. “Could you just… stay? Just for a little while?”

The memory of his scoff stung as much as his indifference. “Why? You got what you wanted, didn’t you?” he’d said, his tone laced with mockery.

But that was the thing — you never got what you wanted. Not really. Not from him. And yet, here you were, tangled in sheets that smelled of him, heart aching for a man who didn’t even spare you a second glance as he walked away.

Sliding out of the bed, you wrapped the sheet around your body, more for comfort than modesty. The cold marble floor sent shivers up your spine as you stepped toward the balcony. Sukuna didn’t turn to look at you when you pushed the door open, the sound barely registering over the distant hum of the city below.

“Do you ever feel anything?” you asked, your voice trembling but steady enough to reach him.

He took another drag from his cigarette, exhaling slowly before glancing at you over his shoulder. His crimson eyes gleamed, a mixture of amusement and mild annoyance. “Feel what?”

You clenched the sheet tighter around you, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “Guilt. Remorse. Anything other than… whatever this is.”

He turned fully now, leaning against the railing, the cigarette dangling between his fingers. “You knew what this was from the start,” he said, his voice cold, unyielding. “Don’t pretend you didn’t.”

Your chest tightened, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a boulder. He was right, wasn’t he? You’d walked into this with open eyes, knowing exactly who he was. Sukuna wasn’t the type to change, and you weren’t naive enough to believe you could be the exception.

But it didn’t stop the ache. It didn’t stop the hope that, maybe, just maybe, he’d prove you wrong.

“Why do you even let me stay?” you whispered, the question more for yourself than for him.

His smirk was sharp, cutting through the darkness like a blade. “Because you keep coming back,” he said simply. “And you’re good at keeping me entertained.”

The truth in his words was a slap to the face, leaving you breathless and reeling. You turned away from him, stepping back into the room, the warmth of his gaze — if you could even call it that — burning into your back.

As you sank onto the edge of the bed, the sheet pooling around you, you made a decision. Maybe you couldn’t change him. Maybe you couldn’t make him care. But you could stop letting him break you, piece by piece.

For the first time, the thought of walking away didn’t feel like a loss. It felt like freedom.

You stayed there for what felt like hours, staring at the floor, listening to the muffled sounds of the city below. The weight of everything settled heavily on your shoulders. The memories, the fleeting moments where you thought there might have been more, played like a cruel film in your mind. You thought about the times he’d pulled you close, not because he wanted to comfort you, but because it suited his mood. The times his touch felt almost gentle, almost loving, but always fell short of what you needed.

Tears finally spilled over, hot and angry, streaking down your face as you clutched the sheet tighter. You hated how much power he had over you, how even his absence in the room made you feel like you were suffocating. You hated how you’d let yourself believe, even for a second, that you meant something to him.

The sound of the balcony door sliding shut broke your thoughts. Sukuna walked back into the room, his expression unreadable. His eyes swept over you briefly before he headed toward the dresser. He didn’t say a word, didn’t ask if you were okay, didn’t acknowledge the tears still wet on your cheeks. It was as if you were a ghost, invisible and insignificant.

“I’ll be gone for a few days,” he said flatly, pulling a shirt over his head. “Don’t wait around.”

The finality in his tone was like a dagger. He didn’t even bother with an excuse, didn’t try to soften the blow. He never did.

Something inside you snapped. The quiet, desperate hope you’d clung to for so long crumbled, leaving only raw, aching anger in its place. You stood, the sheet falling away as you faced him fully.

“You’re a coward,” you said, your voice trembling but loud enough to stop him in his tracks. “You act like nothing matters to you because you’re too afraid to feel anything real. You use people, you push them away, and for what? To prove you don’t need anyone? You’re pathetic.”

His eyes narrowed, the room suddenly heavy with tension. For a moment, you thought he might respond, might lash out, might say something that would cut you down. But he didn’t. He simply stared at you, his expression unreadable, before turning and walking out of the room without another word.

The sound of the door clicking shut echoed in the silence, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you didn’t cry. You didn’t chase after him. You didn’t crumble under the weight of his indifference.

Instead, you took a deep breath, the cold air filling your lungs, and began to gather your things. This time, when you left, you knew you wouldn’t be coming back.

[disneyprincemuke]

the grudge * fem!driver

it takes the whole village to make them realise that racing should not be coming between the friendship they spent years building

pairings: alex albon x fem!driver, george russell x fem!driver, logan sargeant x fem!driver, lewis hamilton x fem!driver, nico rosberg x fem!driver

warnings: -

notes: hi there.

(series masterlist) | (📂 the sophomore year)

(prev)

the past couple of days have been empty. eerily lonely at times when she wakes up just to drag her feet downstairs of her parent’s home to get a meal by herself and make her way back up after. prior to their predicament, she had planned so many activities to do with logan over their week off.

she turns over when she wakes up, just like every other morning and picks up her phone. hoping, wishing, desperately waiting for a specific text message to dawn her. there are several other notifications but they just don’t seem to matter.

when will logan text, when will he apologise— more importantly, when can they be best friends again?

she misses him.

she’s wondered over the past few days since they fell out mid-race, how other people get through something like this. it’s never been a problem, not for them, because they made a promise.

sure, they were young, but it was easy to think that they would never let their careers get the better of them.

she remembers speaking in hushed whispers, as if it was a crime, promising one another that they would always be best friends no matter what. they would never let what happened to others happen to them.

she hasn’t spoken to oscar much either. she tries to lie to herself and say that he’s probably busy spending time with lily and his family, but a smaller part of her assumes that he’s pulling away because of logan. oscar tries to convince her and say that isn’t the case, but she’s slowly starting to believe her lie.

she lays awake for some time wondering if logan missed her the same, or if reaching out had ever crossed his mind. she can’t be the only one feeling this way, right?

her finger hovers over his caller id, going back and forth the decision of dropping him a call. but she is still insistent that she is not wrong. he clearly clipped her car, so why should she? everyone could see that but him.

it hurts, but it hurts more than when she would get into days-long arguments with oscar.

she hasn’t had her own share of a heartbreak, but somehow hurts in the way that some of her friends would describe it to her. it’s more than the pain you feel when you’re falling out with a best friend.

instead, she locks her phone and gets out of bed to start whatever is left of her day.

is this really how it’s going to be? losing his best friend over one crash out of the many others they’ve had since they met?

he stares at the ceiling with stubby resting his paws on his stomach, pondering if he truly is doing the right thing by holding out.

but every time he thinks of finally apologising, he remembers every other time that he had to put aside his pride just to keep her around. not that it truly ever mattered — their friendship always comes above all else — he just finds it incredibly unfair.

how about this once, she is the one who puts her pride aside to keep their friendship? does it really have to always be him?

then he starts to wonder if he is the only one who thinks of their friendship this way. maybe he’s the only one holding onto something that’s dwindled over the years; she has new friends anyway.

logan misses her. the apartment simply isn’t the same without him waking up to his door opened slightly after she borrowed one of his hoodies to wear for a walk, or the shrill baby voice she likes to use when talking to their pets, or the whining and pouting she gives him when she doesn’t want to go out by herself but refuses to ask him if he wants to come with her.

sometimes he misses her more than a best friend should. though, that’s not really the point.

it makes sense now to him how friends fall apart when they’re in the same sport. but even with just one example, there’s also another pair of best friends who seem closer than they were before.

now he is conflicted. none of it makes sense at all.

but only time can tell if he is doing the right thing. or, if she would even realise that their friendship should be greater than whatever the hell the situation is right now.

“you’re telling me that you and rocky have not spoken for an entire week?”

logan shrugs, “yeah, i guess.”

alex’s gaze follows logan as he walks across the room to take a seat, an eyebrow raising in confusion at his nonchalance. “and you don’t plan to?”

“not unless she reaches out first.”

logan lifts his gaze from his hands and meets alex’s eyes. alex doesn’t even know how to go about the situation anymore – it seems like he’s said everything he could say to logan to try and amend their friendship. yet, there’s still nothing he says that could convince him otherwise.

it would be a shame to see a friendship fall apart over a crash during a race.

not everyone can have what they have and maintain it for as long as they have. of course, he knows, he’s best friends with george.

a week into their 2-week break and she is holding out longer than he’s expected. he’s very apologetic for the fact that her car had spun and hit the wall, but it’s just unfair that he was expected to be the one apologising for the crash itself.

the crash was caused by 2 people, not just him. he’s sure there’s something there that she could have done better to avoid the accident.

“i’m heading out to grab lunch with george after this,” alex grins, “would you like to come with us?”

“sure.”

she swings her hand up to stop the man from opening his mouth to speak to her, the door in her other hand. “don’t tell me you’re here for what i think you’re here for.”

“i’m not?” george grins with hesitation, dropping the pint of ice cream he’d gotten to soften her up for the conversation he wants to have. “come on, you need to speak to logan.”

she sighs and rests her hands on her hips. “i know sebastian sent you.”

he presses his lips together. “no, he didn’t.”

“it’s because i’m ignoring his text messages,” she scowls. yet she still takes a step back and opens the door wider and gestures for him to come inside. “i’m not stupid.”

george walks in, handing her the pint of chocolate ice cream he’d picked up. “it’s not your favourite brand, but it’s still chocolate ice cream,” he mutters. he turns as she closes the front door and huffs. “you need to speak to logan before all of this gets out of hand too fast and you regret it.”

“does he regret sending me into the wall?” she raises an eyebrow. when george continues to stare at her, blinking blankly, she nods and turns on her heel to walk into the kitchen. “you know this wasn’t my fault — you saw the footage, george! that’s so unfair!”

he sighs. he’s never been in this situation with alex, but he can only imagine how his world would around if they were. sure, it’s hard to get past something like this, especially at the stage of their career, but he just isn’t sure how to help either.

yes, logan had been the one to close in on her on the track, but why couldn’t they just recognise they were both wrong one way or another?

“okay, fine. whatever,” george says exasperatedly. “actually, i’m here to ask if you wanted to get lunch with alex and i later.”

she raises an eyebrow with a small smile. “sure!”

“sorry,” george laughs airily, putting his phone face down on the table. he moves into the booth alongside the younger girl. “alex is running a little late.”

“that’s alright,” she mutters, reaching out for the menu. she opens the menu before it dawns on her.

she lowers her menu and turns stiffly to george who is reaching for his menu and takes his seat. “what?”

“why are you sitting next to me?” she raises an eyebrow and throws her head back slightly.

george puts a hand to his chest. “do you hate me?”

she shakes her head. “no! it’s not like that,” she scowls, “you always sit next to alex when we get lunch.”

he tilts his head and narrows his eyes as he pretends to think. “do i?” he scrunches his nose. “i don’t always sit next to him.”

but he knows that she poses an incredible point. he, however, hadn’t expected her to be so observant, as opposed to her typical carefree and non-analytical nature. perhaps this entire fallout has changed her slightly, especially without logan always next to her.

she hums without another word, confusion still written on her face, before she looks at her menu again.

she’s been to this restaurant numerous times since moving to london. it’s actually her favourite. a classic between her and logan, always making it out of their way to get food here when they’re back in town.

she doesn’t actually need the menu — she orders the same damn thing every time, swearing to herself that she will try something new her next visit. which she is something she abides by most times, always ordering a new side dish or by forcing logan to get something she wants but is too scared to try.

“i thought you would have memorised that menu front and back considering how much you come here,” george jokes, his eyes darting from his menu to the entrance of the restaurant.

he shakes his leg in anticipation, aimlessly flipping through the pages yet he still has not retained one dish in his head. it’s never going to work.

in the back of his head, he hears alex’s voice telling him again and again that it would.

“funny. that’s the same thing logan says whenever we eat here.”

truthfully, george hadn’t even brought logan up in the time they’ve been together. he’s pleasantly surprised that she was the first to address him again after their initial conversation at her parents’ front door.

“does he?” george grins slightly.

“yeah,” she lifts her head, lips pursed together as she stares into the distance, “i always make him order something new that i could try because i’m too scared it won’t be to my liking.”

he’s surprised. he didn’t think logan could come up in such a peaceful topic at this time of day. he thought that she would keep it hostile even when speaking of him.

“that’s very thoughtful."

she grins. “yes, i guess he is a very thoughtful guy.”

george sits up and adjusts the sleeves of his sweatshirt. he clears his throat. “speaking of logan-”

“no.”

“what?” he cried incredulously with a hand in the air. “you brought him up first!”

“no.”

“fine.”

oh, they’re not going to eat at her favourite restaurant, are they? logan furrows his eyebrows as he’s led forward by alex and he increasingly gets more nervous as they get closer.

spending this much time away from her has made her miss her so much. he’s almost afraid that it might really be the end of their friendship at all.

he’s never eaten here without her. he acts annoyed all the time when she forces him to try a new dish every visit while she has the luxury of sticking to her comfort food, but truthfully, he finds himself searching for her voice in the silence.

can he really have a meal without her at her favourite restaurant? surely not. yet he follows alex inside without another word. he nervously looks around, finding remnants of all the meals he’s had with her here.

he sees george in the far corner of the restaurant, lifting his arm to wave at logan with a small grin. alex abruptly stops walking that makes logan halt before he can run into his back.

the expression on alex’s face is something logan has only seen a couple of times on the older guy. the thai sucks in a deep breath and holds his hands up in the air, “don’t be mad.”

logan raises an eyebrow. “why would i be mad?” he tilts his head as he tries to come up with a reason that assumption would come up. “it’s just a restaurant, i can eat here without rocky.”

“yeah,” alex nods with his lips pressed together. “that’s the thing.”

just then, a shrill and disgusted ‘what’ throws the relaxing aura of the restaurant off.

he knows that voice anywhere. he swears he is haunted by that scream in his sleep when he’s done something he shouldn’t have and is trying to keep a secret.

a head pops out of the plants in the divider. she turns her head and finds logan, standing in the middle of the restaurant just as shell-shocked.

so to hell with their argument, right? he should just apologise and get it done and over with then he can get his best friend back. and all will be right in the world.

logan swears that her gaze softened when she saw him standing there. he has to reason out with himself not to run over and pull her into the tightest hug he’s ever trapped her in. a lot has happened in the past week, and every time he thinks of reaching out, he hesitates.

in hindsight, why does he hesitate? this is literally his best friend in the whole world.

and she swears she will jump over this damned divider to get to logan. should she punch him or jump into his arms for a hug? this might be the longest she hasn’t seen the boy and the feeling of familiarity washes over her in relief.

“logan,” she says his name in a soft and airy sigh. the corners of her lips curl into a small smile as her shoulders drop from their tense position. “hi.”

“hi.”

his heart starts beating faster when she pushes past george to get out of the booth. alex jogs to where george stands, cozying up next to his best friend as they watch the scene unfold. they’ve never tried to parent-trap anyone into reconciliation before. this is a first and if they succeed, they would never shut up about it.

she walks over to him, smile still intact with her back straight. she stops right in front of him and her hands clasped in front of her.

her smile grows and she takes another breath. she can’t seem to find the right words to say to him now that he’s finally in front of her. “hi.”

logan grins, “it’s nice to finally see you again. i missed you.”

“i missed you too.” she presses her lips together and glances down at her feet momentarily. she raises her gaze again.

when george had finally told her logan was joining them for lunch, a million things ran through her mind. half of her thoughts wanted to start fighting all over again but the latter just wanted to sit down in silence and make up for all of the time they’d lost.

“did we really get ambushed by alex and george?” she snorts softly, looking over her shoulder where they stand with one another, staring intensely at them.

logan grins with a small nod. “i’m surprised they pulled it off, really.”

silence looms over them once again — the implications of the crash threatens another fight. logan’s heart starts beating faster as he remembers again why exactly he’s very persistent on getting an apology. just an apology, that’s all he’s asking for.

there is simply so much more to it than just the younger girl putting her pride aside over the crash. sure, whatever, he can come out and admit that it was ultimately because of a mistake from him on the track. what he can’t accept is the girl's unwillingness to initiate reconciliation.

does she truly care so little for him to be a part of his life?

“let’s go and get lunch,” she says, beckoning him forward to where alex and george are. she takes a couple of steps away. “i was really sad at the thought of eating here without you.”

“is that all you have to say?” logan raises an eyebrow. he stays planted where he stands. she whirls around in confusion. “we haven’t talked the longest in our lives and you’re just going to invite me to the table and act like we didn’t just have a fight?”

she presses his lips together and clenches her jaw. “if anything, you’re the one ignoring it — you caused the crash, remember?”

logan scoffs. how shallow. “oh, get over the crash already! you seriously don’t even see why this entire thing is an issue? are you seriously so stupid?”

“we were so close,” george mutters in a soft sigh. “why are they stupid?”

“i wish i knew.” alex purses his lips together before he steps away from the table. he clasps his hands together and steps in between the two, just as she took a step forward to answer logan. he holds his arms out to her to keep her distance from logan. “okay, i see it’s still too soon.”

“it wouldn’t be too soon if she could just realise how insensitive she’s being!” logan scoffs softly, pointing an accusatory finger at the girl. he’s fully aware of the eyes watching them in the restaurant. “i know racing is everything to you, but i swear if you keep acting like this, you’re going to lose every single person you love.”

she scoffs, taking a step back. her eyes start to glisten, making logan start to feel bad. “of course, it’s everything to me, i dedicated my entire life to get where i am.”

“yeah, so much so that you’re willing to burn bridges to stay where you are.” logan turns on his heel. “i will have lunch at home instead, alex. thanks for inviting me out.”

“if you missed her and she missed you, what’s the problem?” oscar turns the seat around to face logan. “good on alex and george for trying to get you guys back together while i was gone. i really thought all this would blow over by now.”

logan shrugs. he turns his phone over and over on his stomach, swaying back and forth. “you don’t understand. she’s changed.”

“you keep saying that, mate,” oscar sighs tiredly. he throws himself back into his seat. “i still don’t know what you mean.”

logan feels a little silly. saying it out loud suddenly feels so superficial and overtly sensitive. “it’s stupid.”

“well, if you’re letting this fight drag out this long, there has to be a reason behind it.” oscar smiles slightly and nods at him, truly curious as to why all of this has blown so out of proportion. “what is it?”

“when we crashed, we both got out of the car,” logan starts slowly, nitpicking his choice of words for the fear of sounding a little too unreasonable, “she never asked me if i was okay. it was a pretty nasty crash for both of us.”

that’s it, really. that’s his only problem with it — she had never asked, not once, if he was okay. she’d just started getting angry, which was understandable, but it never really hit him why he was feeling so sad until he started getting examined for his injuries a while later. he’s personally curious if she was feeling better, but she still hadn’t asked him yet.

which kind of sucks because he’s starting to feel like he cares more for her than she does for him.

“oh, i see.” oscar sits up. “okay, i totally get it. i’ll speak with her.”

logan shakes his head, “you don’t have to. if she doesn’t realise it on her own, what does it really say about her, you know?”

“i know, but i’ll try talking to her first.”

so oscar doesn’t exactly talk to her himself. truth is he can’t bring himself to be the one to speak with her about logan; he just knows he can’t pick a side. whatever she says, he’ll be trying to defend both sides and they’ll never get anywhere with it.

so, he asked if sebastian would speak with her. even then, sebastian hadn’t dared to speak with her about this. he would be able to have conversations with her about anything except this.

he just knows what she would throw back in his face so he already knew immediately that he shouldn’t be the one to.

so he went to the next best pairing who could potentially fix it.

the young girl gapes up at the duo towering over her as she sinks into the couch. she’s suddenly felt so small, a contrast to her initial bratty attitude from being interrupted from her lunch.

“what are you guys doing here?” she blinks. “why are you even together here?”

“what do you mean?” nico tilts his head. “don’t you like me? i thought you liked me? you said you like my presence.”

she furrows her eyebrows. none of this makes sense unless there’s something she’s failed to connect. “i do, but like… why are you here in front of me?”

“we just wanna talk,” lewis grins, folding his arms over his chest. “we need to talk to you.”

her confusion slowly contorts into something of suspicion. a scowl carves her lips as her eyes narrow into a glare. “seb sent you, didn’t he? this is about logan?”

“i told you she’s smarter than to fall for the excuse that we’re here just to spend time with her,” nico points out, turning to lewis. “she’s a degree holder, of course, she will see right through us.”

“and i said it doesn’t matter if she does. we just need to get the message across,” lewis rambles at nico before he turns to the girl. “i’ll keep it simple.”

she looks up, uninterested, sinking back into the couch with her arms folded over her chest. “okay. try and change my mind.”

“is logan your best friend or not?”

she presses her lips together. “yes, he is. or at least he used to be.”

“do you love him or not?”

she doesn’t answer. what does he mean by that? is there an agenda to this that she hadn’t anticipated for? is she really that obvious?

“what does that mean?” nico whispers. “you hate him or what?”

lewis rolls his eyes. “as a best friend. i don’t care if you’re in love with him, rocky. that’s not what we’re here for.”

she looks away momentarily. “yes, i love him as a best friend. what the hell does that have to do with anything? i’m sure he loves me too yet he doesn’t want to apologise.”

“is this racing thing seriously so much more important than keeping your best friend in your life, though?” nico smiles. hopefully, that gets through to her.

she scowls, “i don’t know — you tell me.”

“rocky.”

“it’s a genuine question, lewis.”

“this isn’t about us.”

“it can be if you want.”

“stop diverting!” nico yelps. “listen, okay, if you don’t fix this, you’ll need to live with yourself losing your best friend over one crash! not just for the time being, rocky, forever! for the rest of your life! can you really live with that?”

“maybe.”

“take me seriously!” nico stomps a foot on the ground. “he’s not going to leave the grid. can you really live coming into the paddocks on weekends all by yourself? no logan to carry your bags, no logan to giggle with when you want to, no logan to have meals with, no logan to come home to in your shared apartment with your pets. really?”

she sucks in a deep and shaky breath. she can’t. she really can’t see living the rest of her life out without logan around to annoy and cry to.

the past couple of days holding out from speaking to logan has been so difficult but can’t really get herself to admit to it. she can’t see herself winning any more races in the season and not leaving to celebrate with him, or flying back after race weekends to relax in their apartment with a bottle of wine.

lewis huffs. “you maybe need to be the one to swallow your pride if you don’t want to lose this friendship.”

“and i heard from the grapevine that you still haven’t ask logan if he’s okay.” nico looks away and innocently tries looking around the room to avoid her gaze. “his crash was pretty bad, you know. he had a concussion too.”

“did he?” she asks, her tone a little more gentle and her voice softer. “is he okay now?”

lewis shrugs. “go and ask him yourself.”

she stands up and brushes her pants. “you’re right. get out of my way, i’m going to apologise to my best friend.”

she pushes past both of the older men and grabs her car keys from the table by the door. she halts right before she makes it out of the room and turns. “thank you. i really appreciate this. i can’t imagine what it took you guys to get together just to put some sense into my head.”

she steps out. “maybe when logan and i make up, i could take some sense into you!”

logan expected it to come in the form of a short phone call, maybe a long text message. not for her to show back up at their apartment with takeout in her hands and a small grin.

“what?”

“can i come in?” she grins hopefully, peeking into the apartment. “i brought us takeout from our favourite place.”

logan steps aside and opens the door wider. “why are you asking me for permission? this is your apartment.”

“i know,” she sighs as she steps in to take off her shoes.

logan closes the door behind her and he puts his hands into his pockets. it’s still very nice to see her and he’s genuinely missed her more than ever.

distance makes the heart grow fonder or something like that.

he waits for her to start up a conversation. when they stand in silence, him staring at her back as she slowly takes off her jacket, he attempts to walk past her. he was watching a movie with stubby after all.

“how are you feeling?” she suddenly asks, stopping logan right behind her in the very cramp entryway into their apartment. she stands up straighter and turns around, attempting to make a step back when she realises their proximity. “i heard you got a concussion too.”

he can’t help but smile slightly. so that’s what she’s here for.

finally.

“i’m feeling alright. just whiplash and muscle pain, nothing new,” he admits softly. “what about you?”

she grins. “i’m feeling okay,” she mutters. “i’m sorry i didn’t ask if you were okay. you must have felt like i didn’t care about you at all.”

“you didn’t get your podium because of me. i’m sorry too,” logan puts a hand on her shoulder and shakes her slightly, “it was in the heat of the moment. sucks that it took you this long to realise though.”

“are we best friends again? i got us food.” she raises the bag of takeout with a giggle and a feeling of warmth in her chest. “we didn’t get to eat the other day, after all.”

“of course, you’re my best friend, you idiot.” logan throws an arm over her shoulders as they walk into the apartment. he ruffles her hair from the top of her head and smacks it gently. “let’s not fight about something like that ever again.”

“well, don’t crash into me again when i’m fighting for a podium.”

“seriously?”

“okay, i’m sorry. i’ll make that joke again in 3 weeks maybe.”

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @vellicora @ironmaiden1313 @elliegrey2803 @33-81 @darleneslane @nikfigueiredo @happy-nico @namgification @localwhoore @c-losur3 @notawc @sadg3 @kazuha-pista-badam @mellowarcadefun @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @woozarts @meadhbhcavanagh @2bormaybenot @a-disturbing-self-reflection @mclarengf @xoscar03 @nomie-11 @green-thots @tinyhrry @iwilleatyourgod @inejismywife @love4lando @louvrepool

[starwarskawaii]

Annoyance and Empanadas

A Miguel O'Hara fic

Alright, here's that Miguel fic. Dedicated to Lan ( @chaithetics ) for always believing in and encouraging me. Proofread by my husband, @kitsunot . So if I made a mistake, blame him.

A/N: This is self-serving, reader is HEAVILY based on me. No word count because I am lazy.

Edit: possible part 2 if you guys like this one. So make sure to let me know!

CW: disabled reader, possible slightly ooc Miguel, mentions of Miguel's *gestures at his life*, no use of Y/N, second person voice, mentions of mobility aids, disability is not specified but is highly based on my experiences with fibromyalgia, female reader, mentions of brain fog, mentions of safe foods, reader is slightly implied to be autistic, PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF I MISSED ANYTHING

You were annoying. Not annoying like Peter B, who always had a quip and lacked boundaries. Not annoying like Miles, who questioned Miguel constantly. Not even annoying like Hobie, although you were a bit of an anarchist. The first thing you had ever said to Miguel was, "I support women's rights and women's wrongs. I do not, however, support men's rights OR men's wrongs, so I hope you've improved." No, you weren't annoying like any of them. You were annoying like Lyla. You were annoying because you knew him. You knew him entirely too well. Which was quite possibly the worst kind of annoying you could be.

You sauntered in on your purple forearm crutches, thinking of what you could say to piss Miguel off. As much as you'd like to pretend you were a quick thinker, the brain fog made it near impossible to come up with anything on the fly. So as you sauntered in, you thought of what you could do to make those veins pop on his neck and forehead. You liked those veins.

Miguel heard you coming. How could he not? Mobility aids are not stealthy. Not in the least. Miguel knew what was coming, and he braced himself for whatever quip you had up your sleeve. Your quips were worse than a Peter Parker's; you had studied him. You came from a universe Miguel stumbled on accidentally. A world where he and all the other Spiders were just characters in comics and movies. And you happened to be Miguel O'Hara's number one fan (and biggest hater, somehow simultaneously). You had made tons of posts analyzing him on some site, tumbling, maybe? He couldn't remember. He brought you on for a few reasons, but mainly to help the algorithms predict events in the Spider's lives.

"Ohhh, Miiiiiggy!" Came your voice, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"What? I'm a bit busy, you know, " came his reply.

"Too busy for me, Migs?" You pouted and batted your lashes. You knew he couldn't resist that.

Miguel was surprised. No quips yet. That's a first.

"Too busy brooding to listen to your favorite right-hand woman?" There it was. There was the jibe at him. You loved doing that. You were probably worse than Lyla.

Lyla popped up and snickered "He was just brooding, how did you know?"

"Lucky guess. Migs, my love, would you care to tell me why the caf has no empanadas?"

"Aye, you came here to interrupt my ensuring the fate of the Arachno-humanoid poly-multiverse over an empanda?"

"They're your recipe, we all know they're the best in the multiverse" you reasoned with him.

"They're my mother's recipe, technically, and I'll make you some when I take you home." Miguel always took you home. You had a lot of issues with the stupid 2099 high-tech stuff, and it also required use of at least one hand, something you rarely had the luxury of, unless it was a no mobility aid or a wheelchair day. So Miguel made sure you were safe.

"Fine, fine. When are you taking me home, speaking of? Should I just wait here, or should I try to navigate the awful upside down maze you created while I wait for your self-imposed penance for the day to end?" Man you were annoying. Man you knew him well.

"I'll finish up soon. Wait here," his face softened as he looked over at you. You were making yourself comfortable on a chair, placing your aids to the side and getting into that position you liked to sit in. The one that seemed uncomfortable, but you swore was best for your hypermobile joints.

You reminded him a lot of Lyla. Lyla, who Xina had programmed to heckle him. Lyla, who he never had the heart to reprogram. You knew all his buttons. Just like Lyla. Just like Xina... You were also like Gwen. He had initially seen you as much more like Gwen. You had a baby face, so he had assumed you were younger. You had half-shaved hair, which you had actually gotten done because of some singer in your dimension, the year before Spiderverse came out. You had always loved Gwen Stacy, though. It wasn't hard to see why. You were smart, you liked nerds, you were incredibly confident, you were kind of punk, but also hilariously materialistic, not in a fancy clothes way but in a "I have to have this figure or I will cry" way. You were a lot like the Gwen of 120703. You loved that Gwen.

You were very different from all of them, though. He remembered stumbling upon your dimension by accident. A dimension where there were no heroes. A dimension where there were somehow still supervillains. A dimension where, even when faced with a lack of heroes, some people still had hope. You were one of them. He had initially infantalized you. Your mobility aids, your interests, the baby face, the fact that you clearly needed a caregiver, but stubbornly lived on your own all made him see you as younger than you were. You had had many arguments before he finally realized how capable you are. That you're tougher than most Spiders are, save for Sun Spider, who has EDS (you LOVED Sun Spider). That you deal with 24/7 full body pain, work a full-time job, and somehow manage to take care of yourself.

You had shown him so much. Like punk versions of him that you thought were hot. He hated them. He hated that you found that attractive. It made him question for a moment if his appearance was alright. Of course, you would like piercings and tattoos. You had multiple of each. He never really thought much of it before. You had shown him art of him pregnant. You both hated that one. He had learned so much about you. In a way, he had become the caregiver you needed. He made sure you ate, he popped into your dimension to help with your laundry, he helped you on low mobility days, he cooked for you, he helped you set up appointments and refill meds when your brain just wouldn't cooperate. He admired you. He thought you were incredibly strong. He made you empanadas because they're a safe food for you. He secretly loved the way you loved his cooking.

You cared for him. Really, truly, deeply cared. You had listened to his pain and felt it like it was your own. You were so empathetic. He realized that your disabilities and baby face and your being a few years younger didn't matter at all. You were more mature than he was. You knew pain, you lived with pain, you had lost so much and had dealt with it a long time ago. You helped him pick apart his mind, healing what had been broken by grief. He had spent so many nights sitting on the floor of your apartment, next to your couch, pouring his heart out to you. The girl who had fan art of him up on her walls. He was pretty sure he loved you, but too worried he was confusing gratefulness for that painful emotion he hadn't felt in so long that he couldn't bring himself to say anything. You were in love. How could you not be? He let you see him so vulnerable. He was also 6'9, built like a tank, perfect dark skin and hair, newly emotionally open, and had clearly come to genuinely respect you, in a way you struggled to find as a disabled woman. You were much less subtle about your feelings than he was. You flirted constantly. But he was as dense as his muscles.

"Alright, I'm done, cariño," Miguel said. "Time to go back to your dimension, and get you some food. Did you actually eat today?"

"Uhhhh, what answer do you want to that?" You said, only half joking, with a nervous laugh.

"You'll be the death of me, hermosa"

He was used to the quips. He was used to the forgetting to eat. He was used to it all, and he hoped it could stay that way. Miguel O'Hara loved how you annoyed him. And he hoped you would continue to, for at least as long as Lyla has.

[bestalbertcamuslover]

Platinum Blonde

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

✯ pairing:  RB! Sebastian Vettel x Engineer! Reader ✯

✯ content warnings: none ✯

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

Coming back to work after the break wasn’t the most thrilling experience. Sure, she loved her job, but there was something about vacation that always seemed sweeter—maybe just a little more time off would’ve been nice. However, any lingering post-vacation blues vanished the moment she walked into the paddock and saw that sight.

Sebastian Vettel, rocking platinum blonde hair.

She blinked, doing a double take as if her eyes were playing tricks on her. That hair color—so bold, so unexpected—had an oddly magnetic effect on her. She always thought he was good-looking and undeniably charming, but somehow, the shock of bright blonde only amplified it. She found herself stealing glances, fighting the urge to stare, wondering how such a simple change could leave her feeling so off-balance.

She threw herself into her work, as focused as ever, yet every break felt like a betrayal of her resolve. Her eyes would inevitably wander, seeking him out across the garage or wherever he happened to be. What’s wrong with me? she wondered, internally chastising herself as her thoughts began to drift into muddier, more unprofessional territories.

The question that kept looping in her mind—the one that embarrassed her more than anything—was whether he noticed. Did he catch her staring? Did he notice how her words stumbled slightly whenever he walked by? That ridiculous hair color wasn’t helping either. It only made him more distracting, more present.

She shook her head, trying to dismiss the idea, but deep down, the thought made her heart race. What if he knew? What if he could see right through her calm façade? The possibility both terrified and thrilled her.

She had just managed to lose herself in her clipboard and notes when the shadow fell over her desk. She looked up, and there he was. The hair was just as bright under the sunlight as it had been in the garage, and the smirk on his face told her that he had caught her off guard.

“Busy as ever, huh?” Sebastian said, his voice warm and laced with playful curiosity.

She blinked, scrambling to gather her composure. “Yeah, you know, making sure everything’s perfect,” she replied, gesturing to the papers in front of her like they were the most important thing in the world.

His smirk deepened. “That’s good. Though I have to say, you seem... distracted today.”

Her stomach flipped. Did he know? Did he actually notice the way she’d been stealing glances all day? “Distracted? No, I’m just focused,” she said quickly, forcing a tight smile.

“Focused,” he repeated, his tone teasing, as if he didn’t buy it for a second. He leaned slightly closer, resting a hand on the edge of her desk. “Is that why you’ve been staring at me every chance you get?”

Her cheeks burned instantly, and she fumbled for a response, caught completely off guard by his boldness. “I wasn’t staring” she stated, but even to her, the denial sounded unconvincing.

His grin grew wider, and he tilted his head, studying her with those sharp, knowing eyes. “No? Must’ve been my imagination, then,” he said lightly, though his tone made it clear he didn’t believe her for a second.

She opened her mouth to respond, but couldn’t think of anything that didn’t sound like an admission. He let her squirm for a moment before stepping back, giving her space to breathe.

“I’m just messing with you,” he said, his voice softer now, though there was still a mischievous glint in his eye. “But if you do have any thoughts on the hair, feel free to share.”

She hesitated, caught between embarrassment and the undeniable pull of his easy charm. Finally, she blurted out, “It’s… bold.”

Sebastian chuckled, running a hand through his platinum locks. “Bold, huh? I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She managed a small laugh, finally starting to relax. “It’s definitely… eye-catching.”

“Good to know,” he said, giving her a wink before straightening up. “Well, don’t work too hard, okay? I’d hate to think I’m the one distracting you.”

Before she could respond, he walked away, leaving her with her heart racing and her thoughts spinning. That grin, that hair—it was going to be a very long weekend.

And it was, yet, a great weekend for the team as Sebastian won the race with a large gap behind him. The exhilaration from wins was always strong, and gosh, her stomach felt like a nest of butterflies after they had all drunk a few Red Bulls.

The team’s celebration was in full swing. Music thumped, champagne flowed freely, and laughter filled the air. But she couldn’t shake the feeling of her heart pounding for reasons beyond the race. It wasn’t the thrill of the victory—it was the sight of Sebastian, his platinum hair slightly mussed, his grin wide as he soaked up the joy of the moment. He was magnetic, more so than usual, and it was driving her mad.

After a while, she needed a break from the noise and slipped away from the crowd, weaving through the garage to find some peace. She found herself close to Sebastian’s driver’s room, the door slightly ajar. Peeking in, she saw him sitting on the couch, his race suit peeled down to his waist, a bottle of water in hand. He looked up and saw her hovering in the doorway.

“Hey,” he said, his voice softer than it had been all night. “Hiding from the party?”

She smiled sheepishly and stepped inside. “Something like that. Needed some air.”

He gestured to the spot beside him. “Come in. I promise not to celebrate too loudly.”

She hesitated for a moment before taking the seat, the quiet hum of the garage a stark contrast to the chaos outside. They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, and then he spoke again, his tone teasing. “So, was it the hair? Did it bring me luck?”

She laughed, shaking her head. “No, I think it was the driver.”

“Good answer,” he said, leaning back against the couch, his gaze lingering on her. “You seemed pretty excited out there. Nice to see you loosen up.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled. “It’s hard not to when the team does so well.”

He nodded, but his eyes didn’t leave her. “And yet, you still seem a little... distracted.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “I could say the same about you,” she countered, trying to deflect.

He smirked. “Touché. But let’s not pretend we don’t both know what’s going on here.”

Her stomach flipped at his words, the intensity in his gaze making it hard to breathe. “Seb, I—”

Before she could finish, he leaned in, closing the small distance between them. His lips brushed hers softly, testing, giving her every chance to pull away. But she didn’t. Instead, she leaned into him, her hands finding his shoulders as the kiss deepened.

When they finally broke apart, her cheeks were flushed, and his grin was wider than she’d ever seen. “Guess that’s one way to celebrate,” he said, his voice low and teasing.

She laughed, her nerves melting into something warmer. “Don’t get used to it,” she joked, though the look in her eyes said otherwise.

“Oh, I will,” he replied, his tone full of playful confidence. “You’ll just have to deal with it.”

Before she could fire back a response, he leaned in, catching her off guard as his lips pressed against hers. It was soft at first, testing the waters, but when she didn’t pull away—when she leaned into him instead—it deepened. Her hands instinctively reached up, fingers brushing through his hair. That hair.

When they finally broke apart, both slightly breathless, he raised an eyebrow, his playful grin returning. “So... do you hate it?”

“Hate it?” she repeated, laughing softly as she ran her fingers through the strands again, this time with purpose. “Seb, I loved it the second I saw it. It’s infuriating how much it affects me.”

His grin widened, clearly pleased. “Infuriating, huh? I can live with that.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was no denying the warmth in her gaze. “I mean, it’s obnoxiously bold and completely unnecessary, but somehow... it works.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he teased, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “So, you’re saying the platinum blonde was a good decision?”

She sighed dramatically, though the way her hands stayed tangled in his hair betrayed her. “I’m saying it’s... distracting. You walk into a room, and I forget how to form coherent sentences.”

Sebastian laughed, the sound low and warm as his hands rested on her waist. “Good to know. I’ll keep that in mind next time I need to get your attention.”

“You’re insufferable,” she muttered, though her smile said otherwise.

“And you’re still holding onto my hair,” he pointed out with a wink.

“Oh, shut up,” she said, pulling him back in for another kiss, this one bolder, as if to prove a point.

He didn’t argue, and instead leaned into the kiss, his hands finding her waist.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

✯ authors note: I really love platinum blonde hair, is such a turn on tbh

English is not my first language and I hope you liked it <3

[jenosonlywife23]

Hoodie-Tee

Lowkey got pissed while proofreading this hehe!!! Anyway Jeno is so cute teehee!!

The sun was shining brightly, the perfect weather for a picnic. A light breeze carried the laughter of your group as you all sat on a checkered blanket, snacks and drinks scattered everywhere. Jaemin was laying on his back, staring at the clouds. Haechan was cracking jokes, making everyone double over with laughter, while Chenle munched on a bag of chips, giving commentary on everything.

You were seated beside Jeno, comfortably leaning against him as you picked at some fruit. Things were perfect—until Arin shivered and caught Jeno’s attention.

“Are you cold?” Jeno asked, already shrugging off his hoodie before she could respond.

Your eyes narrowed slightly. Oh, really?

“I’m fine, but—”

“Here,” Jeno said, draping his hoodie over her shoulders.

“Thanks, Jeno,” Arin said with a smile that lingered a little too long for your liking.

Chenle, ever the observant one, glanced at you with raised eyebrows, his chewing slowing as if he were watching a drama unfold. You pursed your lips, trying to keep your composure. It wasn’t Arin’s fault, but it still stung. Jeno’s hoodies were your thing, something he always reserved for you.

He should know that.

When Jeno leaned toward you with a bright grin, holding up a strawberry like he was offering you a gift, you turned your head away.

“Not hungry,” you mumbled, folding your arms across your chest.

Jeno blinked, confused. “You sure? You love strawberries.”

“I’m sure.”

Haechan looked over, sensing the tension. “Uh-oh, trouble in paradise?” he teased.

“Shut up, Haechan,” you snapped, a little sharper than intended.

Jaemin finally sat up, rubbing his eyes like he’d just woken from a nap. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you and Jeno said in unison, though your tone was far less convincing.

Chenle, still munching his chips, leaned closer to you and whispered, “You okay? You’re looking a little… stormy.”

“I’m fine,” you muttered, though your clenched jaw said otherwise.

Jeno reached for your hand, but you pulled it away, grabbing a drink instead. He frowned, his confusion growing by the second.

“What’s wrong?” he asked softly, leaning closer.

“Nothing,” you said, plastering on a fake smile. “I’m just peachy.”

Jeno tilted his head, his gaze searching yours. “Did I do something?”

Finally, a clue. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. “Nope. Not at all.”

Haechan snickered. “Bro, she’s mad at you.”

“I’m not mad!” you insisted, though your voice was a little too loud.

“Yeah, you’re not mad,” Chenle chimed in, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

Jeno looked between you and Arin, clearly trying to piece things together. When it finally clicked, his eyes widened. “Wait, are you upset because I gave her my hoodie?”

You stayed silent, sipping your drink aggressively.

“Babe…” Jeno started, but you cut him off.

“It’s fine, Jeno. It’s just a hoodie.”

“But—”

Before he could finish, you grabbed him by the wrist, yanked him toward you, and put him in a light headlock, your strength catching him off guard.

“My hoodie. My thing,” you muttered close to his ear, your voice low and sharp.

Jaemin burst out laughing, nearly toppling over. Haechan was cackling so hard he had to hold his stomach, while Chenle simply gave you a slow clap.

“Okay, okay! I get it!” Jeno said, his voice muffled as he tried to wiggle out of your hold. “You’re gonna mess up my hair!”

“Good,” you said, finally letting him go.

He turned to face you, his cheeks flushed and his hair slightly mussed. “I didn’t know it meant that much to you.”

“Well, now you do,” you said, crossing your arms.

Jeno reached for your hand again, this time gripping it firmly when you tried to pull away. “I’m sorry,” he said, his tone earnest. “I didn’t mean to make you upset. My hoodies are yours, okay? Only yours.”

“Damn right,” you muttered, though the corners of your lips twitched upward.

Arin, oblivious to the drama, returned the hoodie with a sheepish smile. “Thanks again, Jeno. I’m fine now.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Jeno said, though he didn’t even glance her way. His full attention was on you, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Forgive me?”

You sighed, finally relenting. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

He grinned, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your cheek. “And you’re scary when you’re jealous.”

“You haven’t seen scary yet,” you teased, though you couldn’t hide the smile creeping onto your face.

As the group dissolved into more laughter, Chenle leaned over and whispered, “That was better than any K-drama.”

“Shut up, Chenle,” you said, though you couldn’t help but laugh along with him.

[bumblebee-online]

perchance some shrimp x reader who acts like pinkie pie from mlp (shes excitable, happy, loves to bake, but sometimes a bit strange if you dont watch)... maybe some hcs or a oneshot idc :3

⟡ ݁₊ . shrimpo with an excitable s/o!

☎️; woo yaayy da shrimper for today! my fav pony is fluttershy teehee ^_^ hope U like it Nonny,,!

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

The two of you couldn’t be any more different, and it’s honestly shocking to everyone else how you managed to get along in the first place. Shrimpo hates just about everything, and he makes sure nobody forgets it. Meanwhile, you’re the complete total opposite! Either you like everything, or you’re at least filled with curiosity about it. Then there’s Shrimpo, lacking your energy, preferring to ignore anything he doesn’t think is worth his time.

Yet thanks to the soft spot you worked so hard to earn, Shrimpo would begrudgingly ease up and join you in your little hobbies. Baking? He hates baking! …But if you really insist, he’ll give it a shot, “just don’t expect it’ll turn out any good!”

And the surprising part is that when Shrimpo actually puts in the effort (thanks to your wonderful motivation), he turns out to be a pretty good baker! During those quiet moments when it’s just the two of you alone, whether it’s painting together or some other creative crafts activity, you can’t help but notice that Shrimpo has a knack for art when he’s comfortable and willing to try. Beneath all the constant criticism lies a hidden talent only you could bring out.

But do keep in mind that if something goes wrong, Shrimpo might freeze up and start doubting himself, diving into a rant about how stupid he was for even trying. But you’re always quick to brighten his mood with your upbeat reassurance, easing his nerves before his frustration boils over and he gives up.

Shrimpo doesn’t ignore your slightly odd demeanor, which might come off as a bit off-putting to some other Toons. Sure, your positivity is contagious and appreciated by everyone— there’s hardly a Toon who doesn’t like you! But you can be a little bit… scatterbrained. Your outlandish ideas, while good-intentioned, aren’t always the most convenient solutions to others’ problems. At first, Shrimpo found it hilarious, assuming you were purposefully trying to throw the other Toons into chaos. But when he realized you were just being yourself, which was only shortly after your confession, it unexpectedly became something he found quite endearing, not that he’d ever admit it though.

Your relationship is kinda like an equal balance of sun and moon! Your unyielding optimism contrasts with Shrimpo’s straightforward honesty, which helps ground you when your boundless energy starts to feel overwhelming. At the same time, you’re always there to help him out of his shell and motivate him to give things a try.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

[theink-stainedfolk]

The Game We Play

Snippet

---

The once-bustling luxury bar, Echelon, was now eerily quiet, save for the murmurs of officers taking notes and the distant hum of sirens outside. Police tape sealed off the area, and evidence markers dotted the room. The sleek, golden interior—once a haven for the city’s elite—was now a grim backdrop for crime scene photos.

Detective Carmine Allison stepped in, the air heavy with the unmistakable tension of something gone horribly wrong. He spotted him immediately.

Rafayel Oliveri sat in the center of the chaos, hands cuffed in front of him, yet somehow still looking every bit the untouchable heir of Kingston Enterprises. His tailored suit was immaculate, his posture was relaxed, and his face held an infuriatingly calm smile. He sipped from a glass of orange juice—orange juice that an officer had begrudgingly poured for him, because of course, he’d asked for it.

“Detective Allison,” Rafayel greeted smoothly as Carmine approached, his voice carrying over the murmurs with ease. “What an absolute pleasure.”

Carmine’s brow furrowed. He hadn’t even introduced himself yet.

“You asked for me,” Carmine said, his tone clipped.

“And here you are.” Rafayel raised his glass slightly, as if in toast, the cuffs clinking against it. “Prompt as ever, I hope. Though I must say, the atmosphere could use a little work. Do they always interrogate suspects in such... uninspired settings?”

Carmine ignored the jab, glancing at the officers standing nearby. One shrugged as if to say, Good luck with this one.

“You’re in a crime scene,” Carmine said, crossing his arms. “Not a five-star restaurant.”

“And yet,” Rafayel mused, taking another sip of his juice, “they serve an excellent orange juice here. Though I did ask for ice—twice, in fact. Your officers are terribly unaccommodating.”

“Let’s cut the theatrics,” Carmine snapped. “A man is dead, and you’re the prime suspect.”

Rafayel tilted his head, studying Carmine with unsettling curiosity. “Ah, yes. The part where you paint me as the villain and assume you’ve already solved the puzzle. Tell me, Detective, do you enjoy games?”

Carmine bristled. “This isn’t a game.”

“Oh, but it is,” Rafayel countered, leaning forward. The cuffs caught the light, but his confidence didn’t waver. “And if you’re half the detective they say you are, you’ll figure it out.”

“Figure what out?” Carmine demanded.

Rafayel smiled—a slow, deliberate thing that sent a chill down Carmine’s spine. “If I killed him, find out why. And if I didn’t...” He let the words hang in the air, his eyes gleaming. “Well, I’m sure you’ll want to know why anyway.”

The room seemed to hold its breath as the two locked eyes. Carmine was the first to break the silence, gesturing to an officer. “Get him out of here.”

“Always so serious,” Rafayel said as they hauled him to his feet. His cuffs rattled, but he still managed to look unbothered. “I hope you’re better at investigating than you are at small talk, Detective. For both our sakes.”

As Rafayel was led away, Carmine stood rooted in place, a faint sense of unease curling in his chest. This wasn’t going to be a simple case, and something told him Rafayel Oliveri wasn’t just a suspect—he was trouble wrapped in silk and silver.

---

My ♡s: @paeliae-occasionally @willtheweaver @drchenquill @wyked-ao3 @the-inkwell-variable @corinneglass @seastarblue @keeping-writing-frosty @oliolioxenfreewrites @vesanal

[kiyomitakada]

god the fucking horror of being kiyomi takada though. leaving the murders aside. there's this boy in your college class who is nice and charming and has a bit of a mean streak and you're 90% sure he's not as into you as you're into him but you ask him out anyway and he says okay :) and then he disappears. for months. when he comes back he looks different, more confident and more haunted, but he remembers you and the two of you go out a few more times before you lose contact after graduation

and then he calls you again. he calls you just when you've become kira's spokeswoman, doing meaningful work for the first time, and he's just as charming as ever. he admits he would never have called if you hadn't become famous recently but he thinks this is fate. and well. you do still kind of have a thing for him. so okay, you meet up, and he is gorgeous and silver-tongued and says he loves you and there is a little voice in the back of your head telling you this man is dead.

[opheliasam]

what is spn about if not humanising the monster (people who do objectively violent and wrongful Things) vs. villainising the humane (people who are labelled inherently wrong and sinful and therefore mistrusted and ostracised again and again . Regardless of what they do. they are not granted the grace of mistakes, or imperfections—they are held to a standard of ideality so strict it’s disturbingly cruel. Every thing they do Has to be about making up for what they are. The only way they r accepted is if they accept this rhetoric and use it to self-flagellate and overcompensate and beat themselves up again and again—)

[kamitv]

Your best friend Sukuna is a complete slut.

Though you’d never say that aloud—albeit more than true. That's the only way to describe him because why else would he be in your bedroom, sitting on the edge of your bed, with his legs spread wide open, fingers wrapped around his thick cock, and groans of your name leaving his lips?

Because he’s a goddamn slut, that’s why. And normally when you interrupt his… sexual acts, you quietly apologize and rush off as quickly as possible.

Yet, here you were, being ordered by your best friend not to run away this time.

“I’m not gonna repeat myself,” Sukuna’s raspy and slightly husked voice drawls out to you, eyes boring into yours from across the room, “Bring your ass over here.”

Funny how he said he wasn’t going to repeat himself only to follow up with a literal repeat of his initial order-

“Now,” He hums, his voice sending a chill down your spine.

You stiffen up where you stand, trying your absolute best to keep your eyes anywhere and everywhere else except for the hand he had stroking his cock.

Gulping, “Sukuna-,” He shoots you a pointed glare and you start getting nervous. “You can’t just… j-jerk off in my room and expect me to… to help you.”

“Fuck,” He hisses, your eyes nearly falling on him again as the low noise makes you fidget, “Fine, then get out,” Sukuna tells you.

Your brows push together at the audacity of him, not that it really surprises you anymore, “But-“

“Out. I’ll be done soon,” He cuts off, sitting back and fisting his cock at a quicker pace, eyes drinking in every inch of your still figure.

You didn’t want to look at him. Nor did you want him jerking off in your bedroom. But, you also didn’t want to leave for some strange reason.

Hence why you just stand there and look around your room as if you don’t know the interior already. Sukuna can’t help but crack a smirk as you stand there, his breath growing heavy before he calls your name— watching the way you flinch at the sound.

“Kinda’ awkward if you just stand there, y’know,” He chuckles out to you, finding you oh so amusing.

You frown, “Kinda’ awkward if you just jerk off in my bedroom.”

“It wouldn’t be if you came over here,” He snaps back.

You hate how quick he always is with his responses, something you still haven’t gotten used to throughout all your years of friendship. Swallowing, you just barely glance at the man, “What?” You huff out.

Your eyes were on his and his were on yours. Tension was vexed into his gaze, desire pouring out of his maroon shaded eyes and making you so utterly nervous as you stood across the room from him.

All as he just sat there, shirtless, tattooed and chiseled chest very difficult not to gaze at, large thighs spread lewdly, and hard curved cock twitching within his grasp as precum oozed out his tip.

You couldn’t help the way your gaze dropped for a moment, catching sight of his cock and the way his plump tip glistened under your dim bedroom lighting. His hand movements got noticeable faster as you watched and you drew your thighs closer together.

Sukuna lets out a deep sigh, “Y’know,” The sound of his voice makes you flinch yet again and you lift your gaze as though you’d been caught doing something wrong, seeing the smirk on his face, “You can come get a closer look.”

You bat your lashes at him, “W-What?”

“Is that all you know how to say?” He chuckles, “Hah, just c’mere already,” He suddenly requests, voice softening ever so slightly. “I won’t bite.”

And that’s… roughly how you ended up on your knees in between his legs. With a mouthful of his cock, you don’t even remember what’d come over you after you listened to his request and came close to him.

One moment you started shyly teasing him about being a pervert who jerks off in your bedroom and the next you were curling your fingers around his shaft and making your way down to your knees. Sukuna had let out a long shaky sigh as he watched you settle in between his spread legs, his urge to tease you dying off as some other emotion swelled within his chest.

He’ll never admit it to you but, he was shy. How could he not be when your soft hand begins stroking his cock like he’s just some kinda toy for you to play with—what’d you expect him to do when you look up at him and lean forward to wrap your lips around his drooling cockhead? 

Unfortunately for him, his expression gave away everything and as soon as his dick began disappearing into the warm caverns of your mouth, he was a goner. A hand was now tightly gripped onto your scalp, his breathing unsteady as he watched you suck him off with that pretty ass mouth of yours.

He’ll never be able to forget the sight of drool spilling out from the corners of your mouth while you tried your best to take him all the way into your throat. And his mind just about blanks when you move your hands to his thighs, push them further apart, and then sink down completely—your lips meeting his base.

Now that was a sight to see. 

“F-Fuck,” Sukuna stammered, the sound alone leading you to choke a bit as a moan attempted to leave your throat. His darkened eyes were seconds away from rolling to the back of his skull with how sexy he found the sight of your lips bulging around his thick cock.

When you finally do pull your mouth off of him, he doesn’t even get a moment to breathe before your hands are wrapping around him. He goes from leaning back slightly to sitting up a bit straighter and moving his hands down to one of your wrists, his lips unknowingly quivering.

Then a pant escapes him and you’re bringing your eyes back up to look at him. “Slow, woman—fuck, go… hah, slow.” He says hoarsely.

Oh the desperation on his face was priceless. Why ever would you listen to him when using two hands to jerk him off is all it takes to receive a slightly pouted lip and furrowed brows from him. He probably doesn’t even realize the face he’s making at the moment, too grumpy trying to take control of the situation to feel his features faltering. 

You coo, “Aw, go slow? But, ‘Kuna, I thought this was what you wanted?” 

The nickname you just threw at him has to be evil in some way, shape, or form because the wild twitch it invokes is enough to have your hands tightening their grip around his thick cock. 

Sukuna grits his teeth and you can see a vein popping out in his forehead—he’s so annoyed with you now that the roles have reversed, it’s cute. “Fuck you,” He curses, as if that’ll help him avoid the embarrassment bubbling up within him right now.

“Oh, there he is,” You purr, removing one of your hands just to angle his cock back toward your lips and then tapping it against your skin gently. “S’kinda hard to be mean to me when I’m makin’ you feel so good, isn’t it?”

He swears you’ll be the death of him. He’s never experienced this side of you, nor was he aware it even existed. All he’s ever known you as was his shy roommate who’s so unintentionally attractive that it pains him to be around. Is this really the same woman who was stuttering moments ago when she walked in the room and caught him jerking off??

Sukuna huffs out an almost bratty breath of air, “Stop… talking.” Just as he’s never seen this side of you, you’ve never seen this side of him and fuck is it hot. He’s usually such a big intimidating man and yet here he is literally folding and gasping to your touch.

You completely strip your hands away from his cock and then open your mouth, staring right up into his eyes as you whisper, “Make me.”

All that embarrassment and temporary shyness is gone within the blink of an eye. Sukuna’s stumbling up slightly to his feet and grabbing a firm hold of the top of your head, letting out a gruff sigh while taking his dick into his hands and properly aligning himself with your mouth.

His chest is glistening in sweat and his head is pounding, he was all nervous seconds ago for what? Because of you? Oh please.

It only took those two words of yours for him to remember who the hell he is as he then thrusts his hips forward and quickly fucks himself into your mouth. “That’s more like it,” Sukuna grunts, giving your mouth some mean thrusts as he forces your head to move and meet each one of his motions. “Fuckin’ slut, m-makin me nervous,” He admits hoarsely, his tone aggravated with you. “Who do you think you are, huh?”

You’re obviously too busy getting your face fucked to answer that properly but the moan you let out that leads to drool filthily dribbling out your mouth is enough of a reply for him. Especially when he catches how it drips down onto your thighs. 

Sukuna releases a pretty groan out into the air at the mere sight of you. He thought he was losing his mind before but now it’s even worse. You don’t even have your hands on his thighs to try and brace yourself or control what’s happening—you just let him have his way with your throat, taking things a step further and moving your hands behind your slightly arched back.

Fuck, he needs a picture of this. He desperately needs this display of you burned into the forefront of his mind for the rest of his life. Especially as he starts hitting the back of your throat and you purposefully choke against him. Sukuna’s other hand lifts to cover his mouth because he swears he almost whined.

Your throats too fuckin’ tight, you’re holding eye contact with him for too damn long, and if he feels your tongue flick against that specific vein of his one more time—

“Hnngh—” Sukuna moans, his grip almost bruising as his head flies back and his cock presses right against the very depths of your mouth, hips stalling with the way his orgasm comes rudely rushing out of him. 

Then he feels you swallowing and even though he was trying to keep you head still, you begin to bob yourself back and forth on his cock while he’s cumming and that’s when a whimper is choked out from his lips. Sukuna’s whole body just clenches and he’s letting out all kinds of sounds as his hand, now shaky, holds onto your head for dear life.

Even when he stops cumming, you’re still sucking and his eyes roll back, voice coming out strained. “S-Shit, fuck—stop,” Sukuna moans again, “Please?” Never in all your years of living did you ever think you’d hear Sukuna Ryomen begging you for something and yet here you are.

You steadily pull your mouth off of him with a slick pop, sting after string of saliva hanging in between his tip and your glossy lips. He’s above you panting for a moment before stumbling back to sit down on the edge of your bed again.

A hand of yours moves to causally wipe your mouth off and you don’t even know if you wanna tease him now or later about what just happened. “So, that was—”

“Don’t speak,” He cuts off immediately, his voice surprisingly airy. “Ever. Never bring this up again.”

You snort, “Promise me you won’t jerk off in my room again, first.”

Sukuna scoffs. “Tch. Whatever.”

Like the vixen you are, you begin to lean toward him again and you don’t know if you image it but he flinches ever so slightly. “Promise me,” You say as your hands meet his knees and you begin to lift yourself up.

His eyes go wide and he internally panics at the sight of you moving. “Fucking fine. I promise.”

Smiling, you move to lean over his tensed body and plant a kiss on his cheek, “Good boy.”

…

Yeahhh, his brain just powered off.