#happy pride sliver

[lanternmice]

are they... you know🏳️‍🌈

[dennis7231]

Be gay, do crime

All of yall are valid and accepted :)

[until-the-brahmin-come-home]

"lucy was raised in a culture that was heavily focused on reproduction and, presumably, thus also had a lot of heteronormativity and patriarchal ideals. no, we aren't going to unpack that, why would we? we did this for sex jokes."

[suntoru]

─ ✰ HEARTBREAK ANNIVERSARY.

─ SYNOPSIS: rin misses you. he wonders if breaking up with you was really worth it.

─ WARNINGS: 1.2k words!! angst, regret, pining, exes, perhaps ooc rin, probably bland but!! it’s here

─ AUTHOR’S NOTE: RIN GIRLIES HERE IS UR MAN <3

— rin’s eyes anxiously dart around, scanning for your face somewhere in the stands, an unconscious habit he hasn’t been able to drop. the roar of thousands of fans cheering him on, yet strangely, the absence of satisfaction lingers within him.

it’s weird, even he knows it, that he still hopes his ex comes to his soccer matches. he’s fully aware that you are unlikely to be present, but even so, a lingering sliver of hope refuses to fade. and it’s strange, because he was the one who broke up with you to pursue his career, he was the one who broke your heart, he was the one who'd made you cry... so why does his heart feel so damn empty when you aren’t there to watch him soar?

fuck. this isn’t the time to be thinking about this. so with an annoyed huff, he pushes his feelings aside, and plays ball.

as the final whistle blows, everybody in the stadium erupts into cheers, confetti cascading down to honor the exceptional achievement. japan won nationals, rin scoring the winning goal by himself, marking tokyo's historic first-ever victory. his eyes widen with disbelief, puffing from the exertion of the intense match. the weight of the moment settles on his shoulders, and he couldn't help but look up, expecting to see the familiar sight of your proud face in the crowd, your pretty eyes catching onto his— oh. that’s right. you won’t be there anymore.

his smile falls the slightest bit. the sensation of pride and joy seems to snap almost instantly, and he doesn’t know why. this… this was his goal, his dream. the thing he wanted most in the world, in the palm of his hand. and really, he should be more happy, but he can’t seem to shake off the sinking feeling in his stomach.

his radiant smile begins to falter, a subtle shift in the atmosphere as the waves of pride and joy that had enveloped him seemed to snap abruptly. this achievement, this culmination of his dreams and aspirations, now lays within his grasp. one would expect satisfaction and happiness to course through his veins, yet an inexplicable unease settled in the pit of his stomach, casting a shadow over the moment. ignoring all his teammates’ cheers and screams, he speeds towards the locker room to get changed and go home.

his house really isn’t any better. (he questions if it’s really ‘home’ without you.) the concept of "home" now feels strangely foreign, a place that should be comforting but is instead tinged with an undeniable sense of absence. it's as if the essence of warmth has been drained away.

the once-inviting space lacks the comforting sprawl of your giant stuffed animals overtaking the bed or the mountains of your clothes taking over the closet. a peculiar emptiness lingers, a void that cannot be filled by mere physical belongings. the silence within the familiar walls is unsettling.

rin finds it quite odd not feeling your arms wrap around his torso, giving him a peck as you asked about his day. it’s strangely… quiet as well. there’s no you singing along to some laufey song completely out of tune, no alarm going off because you burnt the takoyaki, or the constant hum of the tv playing in the background. it's a quietude that, rather than offering solace, only accentuates the hollowness of the space. he’s not so sure he likes it.

he stares at the shiny, gold metal he had received. his mind, despite receiving a sparkly, golden-hued award— an emblem of achievement— stubbornly fixates his thoughts of you. he finds himself gazing at the metallic surface, a token of success that pales in comparison to the vibrant memories of your presence. he recalls your playful curiosity, imagining how you would have marveled at the gold medal, playfully testing its authenticity with an endearing chomp. he misses it. he misses you.

and he wonders what you might've changed his contact to. stupid ex, maybe? loser bitch? he deserves it. but he can't help but wonder, is there a possibility he'd still be 'rinnie', or 'my love' with a heart that never made sense because it looked more like a cheeky smile to him? (he wishes he had treasured you just a little bit more.) is he blocked? or is he just another number in your phone now? do you reread the messages he sent to you?

because he does. your contact name is still ‘loml’. he has every single photo you sent saved. he stares at the old "i love you" texts night after night after night. it's pathetic, really, but his heart aches for those moments when you'd scold him for overexerting himself, when you'd sleepily wake up at two am just to make him a hot meal when he came back late, when you'd stick those tacky hello kitty bandaids on top of the scrapes he got from soccer. he misses your good luck kisses, the ones where you'd pull his face down to your height and let out a big dramatic 'mwah!' in front of all his teammates— where he'd grumble and complain but his cheeks were undeniably a bright rosy red.

but above all, the vivid memory etched in his mind is the pain he inflicted upon you. your voice trembling, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks as you desperately clung to his arm, seeking an explanation. "what do you mean, rin? i don't understand. did i do something wrong?" your words quivered, on the verge of shattering, yet he callously shrugged you off, meeting your tear-filled eyes with a chilling glare.

"you're just a distraction. sorry, but soccer's more important to me."

he recalls the way your hand slowly fell away, the slow nod of comprehension, and the sight of your trembling bottom lip as you fought valiantly not to crumble. he was stupid. so, so stupid. he wishes he had pulled you into the shelter of his arms, confessed his foolishness, and reassured you that he didn't mean those hurtful words. or better yet, he wishes he didn’t say them at all. and he wants to ask, have you moved on? do you find your heart fluttering for somebody else, threatening to beat out of your chest like you once made him feel?

to be loved is to be seen. you saw him beyond the carefully constructed mask, piercing through the layers of the egoist the world molded him to be. in your gaze, he wasn't just the world's best striker or sae's little brother; he was itoshi rin. and that was enough for you.

oh, how utterly foolish he was to let you go. are you still as pretty as ever? (of course you are. you’ve never not looked absolutely stunning to him.) do you still smile as brightly as you once shone, his precious shooting star? he hopes you still find a reason to break into a grin every day.

but the question that is constantly on his mind like a broken record player. if he were to grovel and beg, surrendering his pride on his hands and knees, would you accept him back?

for a moment, he considers it. calling you. his finger hovers tentatively over the ‘audio’ call button, mere millimeters away from hearing you again. rin so desperately wishes to hear your sweet voice, see your angelic face, to be able to bask in your presence once more. would you be shocked? happy shocked, or enraged shocked, or maybe you wouldn’t pick up at all. would he go to voicemail? if he left one, would you listen? do you miss him as much as he has missed you all this time? (it’s been a month, but to him it felt like years.) yet, as the gravity of his past actions weighs heavily in his heart, an inexplicable hesitation ensnares him. you… don’t deserve this. you’re healing right now, he’s already chosen himself once, it would be utterly selfish to do it again. with a heavy exhale, he gingerly sets down his phone, fixing his gaze upon the ceiling above.

and suddenly, soccer doesn't feel like his passion after all. he wonders if it was really you.

his bed feels a little bit too cold now.

© KAEFFEINEE 2022-2024. do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works on any platform.

[icallhimjoey]

Almost, Always

♥ ♥          Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader 

Summary: Happy endings aren't for everyone, so it seems, but that doesn't mean that you can't stop trying for one. Question is, are you actually star-crossed lovers that can figure something out, or just absolutely blind to reality and really fucking stupid?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, language, adult themes, smut, cheating

Author’s note: i want to thank @lfdybadgirlsdiw again, bc she sent in a small request that mentioned 'former lovers that keep going back to each other, even if they are seeing other people' which then sparked this whole story into existence 🖤 i also want to sincerely apologise to all the girls that have reached out and taught me that none of us lead unique lives (which in this case is terrible, but also, really comforting) thank you for reading! i hope you enjoy this last part, and i'd love to hear your thoughts!

Wordcount: 7.2K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

The world felt muted. Dull, and empty. Deeply hollow, and completely void of colour.

There was only so much shit a person could take before enough was enough, and finally, after accepting the bare minimum from Joe for far too long, you decided you no longer wanted it.

The sky hung heavy, and the beginnings of what would eventually feel like an endless winter promised to keep the mood low and bleak for the rest of the season. There was an under-skin discomfort only the passing of time was going to be able to shed.

You broke up with Joe.

It fucking sucked. There was confusion, and deep hurt. Anger. Defeat.

And yet, you felt weirdly proud of yourself.

“It’d be better for you to leave him.” Emily had told you time and time again. Finally, you’d listened. You knew she was going to be so proud, which gave a small sense of relief.

Everything else felt bleak, though. Like time had stopped on the moment of impact. Hands of the clock frozen in time, forever showing the point at which it truly landed for Joe.

Joe hadn’t felt like this for a long time. Didn’t know if he had ever felt like this before, if he was honest. There was a difficulty in processing the shock, in accepting there was even a shock to begin with, but he knew you were right. It was why he couldn’t stop saying it.

“Don’t feel bad, you’re right. You’re right.”

It felt wrong to be right, and you didn’t want to be right ever again if this is what it’d be like.

The little sliver of pride inside of you wasn’t getting the attention it deserved in the moment, but that was okay. You’d get to it later. And maybe, one day, Joe would too.

“Will you,” Joe broke the silence, voice hoarse and throat in pain. He cleared it, which didn’t help much, and hopefully finished, “Will you stay the night?”

You’d been sat in the quiet dark for quite a while, just listening to each other breathe. It started with Joe perched on the very edge of his sofa, leg shaking as he tried to come to terms with what you were saying.

You’d sat down next to him then, and he’d immediately pulled you close, hands gripping and trying their best to hold onto whatever there was for him to hold onto still.

Just was a shame there wasn’t much left for him to grasp.

“I don’t think I should.”

You wanted to.

Badly.

But you genuinely didn’t think that would be a good idea.

You felt how Joe shifted a little, arms moving to wrap you up differently from how they had been. He was unsure of how to hold you, but tried his best to find a way that made you want to stay.

“Yea. No… you’re right. You probably shouldn’t…”

If you weren’t absolutely determined, the soft brokenness of Joe’s voice would’ve made you give in instantly.

“But will you?” Joe tried again.

“Joe…”

“I know, I know, please, don’t…” Joe faltered. There were a lot of things Joe didn’t want you to do. Please don’t say it. Please don’t repeat yourself.

Please don’t leave.

There was a stillness that had taken over the room - the world - when Joe realised that you weren’t joking. A stillness where even the wind outside hesitated to stir. You weren’t saying shit just to get a reaction out of him. You weren’t trying to get him to say words you wanted him to say. You’d been serious from the second you’d walked into Joe’s flat, and Joe felt stupid how he had just… immediately dismissed you. How he hadn’t even really listened as you spoke to him.

It had been a few days since you’d seen each other, and you’d secretly been collecting and saving bravery. You’d avoided Joe for a few days whilst you kept busy, storing all the courage you could find in a secret spot inside of your body, waiting for it to be enough to drive you into just fucking saying it already.

Joe hadn’t questioned the stupid excuses you’d come up with to not see him a couple of nights in a row. Hadn’t questioned it at all, didn’t seem to really care about it either, which only added to your valour. To the ‘he doesn’t even give a shit’ narrative that you needed to believe with your full heart, because if you didn’t, you wouldn’t have decided to spontaneously text him, “on my way over” before flying out the door.

If you could stop your hands from shaking, that’d be great, but you were going to do this. You were going to ride this wave of determination, without or with a shaking body.

When you stepped into Joe’s flat, sick with nerves and heavy tension, Joe was hunched over a messy open drawer of a side cupboard.

“Have you seen my earphones? Wired ones?” he rummaged through with both hands.

No hi. No hello. No I’ve not seen you in days, come here, let me kiss you silly.

Have you seen my earphones.

The real important stuff.

“My wireless ones, the left bud has stopped charging itself…”

And you knew exactly where Joe’s wired earphones were.

For a second, you debated giving in. Debated using this as your out. Debated smiling, rolling your eyes all fondly, being the helpful girl Joe needed in this moment. It was tempting to forcibly forget about the one sentence you’d repeated inside of your mind over and over and over again since you’d walked out your door.

Fingers rubbed over the hems of your sleeves as you stood in the doorway still, and you felt where you’d rubbed literal holes into the fabric. 

“Pay a fucking fortune for nice ones and still, it’s the same bullshit, nice or not, it’s…” Joe finally turned his head to look at you when you remained silent. He watched you for a second before he stood up straight.

“Hey… you okay?” he frowned, hands fiddling with whatever junk he’d found instead of what he was looking for.

“I don’t… I don’t think I’m very happy anymore…”

There.

The words were out.

You’d said them, and even though you’d expected the world to maybe crack open and for everything to immediately go to absolute shit... nothing happened.

But you’d said the words, and the tiniest littlest speck of gratification popped up inside of your chest.

You had to actively remember how to breathe, but if you’d leave right now, at least you had said those words.

“All right,” Joe frowned a little, and cast his eyes back down to whatever his hands were doing. “What needs changing then? You can turn the heating up, if you want.”

Joe’s casual dismissal felt sharp as a blade, severing any hope of fixing this. Of saving it. It was completely mismatched to how tense you felt.

“No, I’m not…” you felt your knees shake as Joe continued rummaging. Suddenly, you were way more nervous to say those exact same words once again. “I’m not happy. Anymore.” You had to swallow straight after, mouth dry, tongue thick.

“All right,” Joe made an annoyed face at a random electrical wire he found, and continued, “So what needs changing then?”

His slight annoyance fed everything bad inside. Joe was unknowingly coaxing you into the exact right headspace for what needed doing.

“This.”

Joe still wasn’t looking at you.

“This what?”

Part of you wanted to show your frustration. The anger. Wanted to clench your fists and exhale roughly through flared nostrils to show him, to make him see. You wish you wanted to raise your voice and fight. But the unrelenting defeat of the moment rooted itself deeper inside of your body. The lack of care coming from Joe, the attention he wasn’t giving you, the dismissal of what you’d just told him, because his wired earphones were obviously so much more important than you were... it all combined into nothing more than a simple shrug.

You remained calm, protectively flat, and just… shrugged.

“This.”

You repeated yourself once more, and when Joe didn’t even seem to properly hear you, you looked at the open door that lead to the hallway which had his bedroom at the end of it.

You knew where Joe’s wired earphones were.

What followed were slow and measured footsteps that carried you over into Joe’s bedroom where you found the wired earphones in one of his bedside tables before you slowly made your way back over to him.

With a soft hand, you reached for one of his and held it in yours, palm up, to place the earphones into.

“Oh! Where did you find–”

“I think I need to stop thinking that things are going to ever be different…”

You looked Joe in the eye, and it was like he only then noticed what he was looking at. Like the earphones being found closed a chapter, and now there was attention for you and, oh, you didn’t look very happy.

“It’s never going to be different… is it?”

You looked very sad, actually.

Sort of drained of life.

Really tired.

“Hey, are you all right?” Joe discarded his earphones to the side and grabbed hold of one of your elbows, pulling you a little closer.

“Things aren’t going to ever be different, are they?”

You saw how Joe copied the knit of your eyebrows, face going from a little confused to very suddenly filled with deep worry.

“Wait, what do you mean?”

“Like, with us. This.” You stepped back, just slightly, creating distance.

“Are you… are you being serious right now?” And Joe stepped forward, moving right along with you to close that distance again.

“I think...” you sighed, eyes closed but back straight and chin up. Strong. “I think I need a change.”

“Baby… a change like what? What are you talking about?”

One of Joe’s hands cupped your cheek, thumb pushing underneath your jaw, taking the weight of your whole head as he tipped your head just right for eye-contact.

“Joe, I’m not… this isn’t what I want.”

“Me?”

No.

“Us.”

“Oh…”

Joe’s eyes moved between yours, searching for the slightest little bit of softness you still had for him.

He found it easily.

“I’m sorry.”

But he hadn’t expected the compassion there to be sympathy and pity for the situation you were placing Joe into.

At first, there’d been a surge of angry confusion. Of Joe stepping back and jokingly accusing you of being daft. Of telling you that your heart had frozen over because he probably hadn’t turned the heating up high enough. He asked if you’d eaten. If maybe you’d been drinking. Anything to make sense of what was going on, of why you’d walked into his flat on a random evening to tell him things he didn’t want to hear.

Then, there’d been yelling. Hurried large steps got paced around his living room, his arms flying about in unrestrained wild gestures. “You keep referring to past mistakes! You always say you forgive and forget, but you’re not forgetting shit!”, “Have you been hanging out– did you just come straight over from Emily? Has she been planting shit into your brain that you– you can’t actually be fucking serious right now!”, “God, this is so fucking annoying! You’re being annoying!”, “Are you sure this is what you want to do? The worst. Just the fucking worst!”. Joe’s voice went up as he screamed, cracking when he got too passionate, and you wished that had been new information to you.

Eventually, there’d been a weird composed faux acceptance that felt like a manipulative tranquility that Joe adapted to simply show you that you didn’t actually want what you were asking for. A childish, ‘Fine, I’ll give you what you want, see how it sucks?!’ just to prove to you that you were wrong.

When you didn’t budge, and it all finally really landed, everything changed.

Joe turned soft.

Went from frantic movements to suddenly sighing the deepest sigh he’d ever sighed to slowly making his way over to you, hesitating slightly when moving in to hug you, but then going for a full both-arm-tight-wrap-up when you didn’t flinch away.

After about a minute of tightly embracing, you heard Joe sniff close to your ear, and you realised he was crying.

“Joe, I’m sorry, I–”

“No, no.” Joe pulled back, used his sleeve to quickly wipe at his face before going, “No, look at me. Look. You’re right. I’m the one- no, look. I’m the one who’s sorry. I’m sorry. Don’t– you’re right, you’re…” Joe moved both his hands into his hair, a flash of panic, and had to take a few steps as he inhaled deeply.

“You’re not annoying.”

You saw how his jaw clenched. How he rapidly blinked to keep further tears at bay.

“I don’t know why…” Joe started, sitting down on the edge of his sofa as he rubbed a hand across his face. “It just… it never even occurred to me that you had the option to… to go anywhere. But you’re right.”

You didn’t care about being right. It didn’t feel nice to be right about something so devastating.

Looking at Joe, broken boy unsure of where to steer his thoughts and his emotions, you knew this wasn’t what you wanted. This wasn’t what you’d envisioned for the both of you. But, to be fair, almost nothing about what you’d become together had come about because you’d envisioned it that way.

You moved to sit down next to Joe and got immediately taken a hold of.

“Will you stay the night?”

“I don’t think I should.”

“Yea. No… you’re right. You probably shouldn’t... but, will you?”

“Joe…” you couldn’t tell him you would. Couldn’t reply with the ‘I will’ he wanted from you.

“I know, I know, please... don’t…”

If you weren’t going to stay the night, at least Joe would have this. Long quiet minutes, sat on his sofa together. Touching. Staring into nothingness. The longer he could keep you there, the better.

He found new ways to hug.

Different ways to hold.

Arms moved, swiped, squeezed and felt, mapping your every inch in a desperate bid to remember.

Joe took hold of the back of your neck in the exact way he knew you liked, thumb pressing into the dip at the base of your skull, rubbing small circles there.

And you gave him that.

Gave him this moment, frozen in time, just before you’d eventually walk out without plans of ever returning.

“You do know,” Joe started off, voice barely there in a whisper, words pressed into the skin just behind your ear. “You know that I really do love you, don’t you?”

And the world shattered.

The first real and sincere I love you that you’d ever gotten from him.

That wasn’t meant to hurt like it did.

“You know that right?”

All you could do was give a small nod that Joe felt with his face as you fought with all of your being to not burst into tears.

“I love you.”

The cruelest goodbye present you hadn’t asked for, thrusted into your lap at the worst possible time, and you had no other choice than to just simply accept it.

“Yea... love you, too.”

You can see him in the reflection of the window that the treadmills are aimed at, leisurely strolling into your line of sight. Towel over his shoulder, wearing his grey hoodie, wired earphones already in his ears, and eyes on his phone as he seems to sort through a playlist.

It’s been a day.

One single day.

One day since you’d woken up on his sofa.

One day since you’d said yes to a morning coffee that you probably shouldn’t have said yes to.

One day since you’d called the guy in your flat and had to explain why you’d left him in your bed on his own in the middle of the night.

One day since Joe sat across the table from you, coffee in hand, and listened to you stutter through vague excuses.

One day since you’d groaned at yourself for being so fucking stupid, and asked Joe, “What the fuck are we doing...”

One day since he’d shrugged and regretfully told you he wished he had an answer to that question.

To all of your questions, for that matter.

Joe showing up to your gym isn’t coincidental. It simply can’t be. It makes no sense for Joe to go to the gym that’s right around the corner from your flat.

There’s also no way he hasn’t seen you.

There’s not a chance he doesn’t know you’re here.

This is what Joe does, what he did just a short while ago, and he goes about it in almost the exact same way.

His slow pace gives him away.

The fact that he stops just as he has passed you, giving the free treadmill next to yours a quick glance as if he’s only just decided, yea I can do a bit of cardio here, why not, gives him away.

The moment his fucking awful purple pumas touch the machine next to you, you stop looking at him in the reflection. Eyes straight ahead. You keep them firmly trained on yourself instead, and keep a steady pace.

Yea. You hate the gym.

But you’re here to work out, and work out only.

Not to socialise.

Not to potentially run into someone.

Not to prove to someone, to anyone, that you’re a person that goes to the gym now.

No.

You’re there to work out. Guilt has been slowly eating at you until the anxiety of it all, the extreme criticism aimed at yourself, became too much and physical exercise seemed like the only healthy way out.

The only healthy way through.

You’re working out to feel better about yourself, about the choices that you’ve made, and you fucking hate every single second of it. But, you’re only about halfway through what you’d set out to do, and the plan is to fucking finish it. To do the full routine, no ifs ands or buts.

From your peripheral vision, you can see how Joe turns the machine on and how he throws the screen of yours an obvious glance.

Then, he sets the speed to just a little faster than yours.

Idiot.

For a little while it’s easy to ignore him. Makes sense, since you’ve gotten a lot of practice over the years. You could look right through him if you wanted to, face blank, eyes all hollow. Sometimes that was just what he deserved, and you remember how it always felt shockingly good to push his buttons by simply pretending he wasn’t there.

You’re an expert in driving this man insane.

But driving him insane isn’t the end goal here – instead it’s trying to hold yourself together, to harden yourself just enough, to not let him drive you insane.

So you ignore him.

Focus on your breathing. The whirring of the treadmill. The miles you’ve already run. How may more you have to go. Your own heartrate. The position of your feet.

Left. Right. Left. Right.

Breathe in, in.

Breathe out, out.

God, you fucking hate running, but there’s something that itches you about the fact that Joe put the speed of his treadmill a half mile per hour faster than yours.

And it’s not a fair race – which is what this fucking is now: a race – because he’s just wandered in and you’ve been going for a while already.

But maybe that’s actually good.

This guy’s not warmed up. Just got on the treadmill and started bolting.

Idiot.

It doesn’t take long for Joe’s breathing to pick up. For it to become audible to you, and you know he’s not going to be able to keep this up much longer. 

Just when you think Joe’s going to reach over and lower the speed of his treadmill, you decide to double down on this inevitable win and press the plus button twice.

Twice.

And fuck, you immediately regret it. The burn in your legs is merciless. An unforgiving persistent ache, yet the burn in your lungs is worse.

In, in. Out, out. In, in. Out, out.

Some of the sweat that’s dripping down your face gets stopped by your eyebrows, yet some also gets past and goes straight into your eyes, but fuck off, you’re winning.

You can do this.

You can pretend you just wanted to run extra fast for a minute. Maybe two.

Four minutes.

You manage four minutes before your start getting scared your legs are going to turn into actual jelly. For fear of tripping over your own feet and launching yourself backwards across the gym floor, you have to slow it down.

The second you do, Joe does as well.

It feels like your lungs have forgotten how to absorb oxygen, but you’re walking, and it’s fine. You did slow down your treadmill before Joe did, but you ran faster than him and, all together, ran for much longer, so it’s a win.

You’ve won.

You’ll die on this hill– you won and Joe lost and he is a loser.

There’s another moment where you can see Joe glance over, and even though you’re both at a walking pace, he still goes to adjust his speed so it’s higher than yours. Then, he removes his earphones.

Time to acknowledge his presence.

“You don’t go to this gym.” You manage to say before Joe gets a chance to get a word in.

Shit, you’re panting.

“I don’t?” But so is Joe. “Weird place for me to be then.”

You give him a look.

“Why are you here?”

Joe pulls a face he always pulls when he’s about to make a joke. It’s a stern face that’s hiding a smile so well, it just looks like he’s a frowning asshole.

“Hmm. Why... am I here?” he repeats seriously, pensive, like the answer escapes him. Then he looks around and uses an arm to showcase the gym he’s in, like it’s obvious he’s there to work out. It makes you feel like he’s making fun of you, which immediately stirs up animosity inside you.

“Well,” you start collecting your things. Towel, water bottle, phone. “Good luck. Get swole, or whatever.”

And you’re off.

“I’ll see you for a coffee, after!” Joe calls after you, and when you turn your head, you see him smirk as he wipes his towel across his forehead.

“No thanks!” you make yourself sound as polite and upbeat as you can whilst turning him down.

Joe watches you walk away, past some of the rowing machines, and he sees how other guys glance a look at you.

He doesn’t blame them.

If he’s honest, he doesn’t really know what he’s doing here, just that he wants to be near you. If that means going over to yours unannounced just to see you cross the street and enter the gym, rushing back home to get his own kit and making his way back over to get a guest pass, and then super casually accidentally ending up on a treadmill next to you, well, then... that’s what he’ll do.

Joe doesn’t know what he’s doing.

What you’re doing.

Why he’s been excited every time he’s seen you over the past couple of months. Why he’s been sad every time you parted ways again.

He doesn’t know why you keep coming back after you ended it all, but what he does know is that it must mean that it’s not over.

Not fully.

There’s a door there, still open enough for him to squeeze through, and yesterday, he realised he would actually rather hurt himself whilst struggling to get through your door, than pick any of the other doors that girls are holding wide open for him.

Joe watches you make your way over to the weight machines and you decide to pretend Joe’s not really there. Decide to pretend that there’s not something dangerously delightful about seeing Joe all sweaty and out of breath.

You get on with your work out routine.

Do the leg press for a bit. Some leg curls. Some extensions.

Nothing for the arms.

You have no upper body strength, and Joe’s watching. You’re very much doing your best to pretend he’s not there, but, you still find yourself secretly checking if you’re being watched.

And you are.

You ignore the furious blush on your cheeks and tell yourself it’s just because your exercising. The heat you feel in your face is just there because you’re moving. S’got nothing to do with Joe, who’s in your peripheral vision the whole time.

He’s strategically moving across the gym floor, standing in front of mirrors that reflect the best views of you, and yea, sure, he’s holding weights in both his hands, but he’s not really doing much, is he? He’ll curl an arm up every couple of seconds, but there’s barely any effort there.

Which makes sense.

Joe’s busy watching.

He’s watching you work out as discretely as he can.

He knows you’re aware of it too. Knows you’re following his whereabouts. Sees you check over your shoulder a little more often than seems normal to check your surroundings. Knows you’re having the absolute worst time because you hate physical exercise like this, but he watches as you power through.

Watches as you seem to finish up.

Watches you leave for the changing rooms, and he quickly does the same. Drops the weights he was still holding right where he’s standing and rushes to get his things because he wants to be ready and waiting by the door when you walk out.

You’re faster than expected.

Joe’s only just left the men’s changing rooms, zipping up his jacket, when he sees you emerge from the women’s.

You see him too.

Of course you do.

But you look right past him as you leave the building, and Joe has to scramble to get the door before it smacks him in the face as he follows you out.

“That was a quick shower.” Joe muses, following your tail.

“I shower at home.” You simply answer, looking for traffic both ways.

“Yea? Can’t tempt you into getting a quick coffee together somewhere?”

Joe dashes after you as you cross the street and comes to walk next to you.

“I’ve got coffee at home.” You dismiss him, but Joe hasn’t given up half his morning for you to suddenly use your sound, responsible mind. Not after yesterday.

“Oh, great. Even better.”

For whatever reason, even after all the interactions you’ve had with Joe post break-up, this feels like the first time it means something. Maybe it’s because it’s been a literal single day since you woke up next to him on his sofa, or maybe it’s because it was a little difficult to look at yourself in the mirror after.

You stop walking abruptly and it takes Joe two whole steps to realise you’re no longer next to him.

“What are you...” you falter, brow furrowed as you look at him.

“Doing?” Joe finishes for you, then shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m doing what we do– what we have been doing.”

He says it so plainly, like there’s not a million things wrong with that. Like he hadn’t invited you over to stay the night at his flat when there was a whole other person in his bed, likely wondering why the fuck she woke up on her own, just like the guy you’d left in yours.

You’re terrible people, and what Joe is meant to do, is self-loathe in his own time until the feeling has faded enough for a new bout of dumb decisions. You know, like you’re doing.

“You can’t just–...”

“Can’t what?”

Your eyes fall to Joe’s stupid trainers, his faded ugly purple pumas, and you hate how you like that he wore them.

This is never going to be over, is it?

You know with every fibre of your being that you shouldn’t.

But, fuck.

You want to.

You really, really want to.

“Don’t you feel bad?” you ask, hoping that at least Joe will confirm that you’re not overreacting.

You should feel bad.

The both of you.

There’s the slightest moment of introspection from Joe that you see across his face before he smiles at your rosy cheeks and goes, “I do. But not... not about this. What does it matter if I want to go and have a drink with you? Hmm? Who cares about that?”

Well.

Probably that girl that slammed the door of his flat yesterday. And, you also kind of hope that he cares, but it’s difficult to sort through and articulate your thoughts and feelings about that in the moment.

“Do you feel bad?” Joe asks, a hand reaching over to touch you on the arm.

“I feel terrible...” you admit on a heavy exhale. You also feel sweaty and sticky and gross.

“I’m sorry.”

“Yea, well... you should be. Because it’s your fault,” you show the slightest of smiles and fall back into step. “And because your shoes are ugly.”

Joe watches you walk away for a bit, trying to wrap his head around it. Around you. Finds that he was right before: he just wants to be near you, still.

He just wants to be near you always, actually.

He’s lucky you’ve got the same issue.

It’s why you let Joe into your flat.

Why the first thing you do when you get in is make Joe a coffee since he was so adamant about having some.

When he sees that you’re not making yourself a cup, he goes and does it for you. Makes you the perfect cup of coffee, exactly how you like it, and you have to really hide how giddy that makes you feel. Can’t give away how that means something to you. So instead, you make him laugh when, in lieu of sugar, you slide a salt shaker across the table, just because you think Joe needs to know that he’s welcome here, but that he’s not really... welcome here.

“You’re so annoying, my God.” Joe shakes his head, fondness practically dripping from the words as he smiles. He’ll make you a million more cups of coffee if it means you’ll make him laugh like that.

In turn, you laugh at jokes Joe makes about you going for your shower, telling you that you must be exhausted and he’ll gladly help out and hold you up. You know, no big deal, even though he remembers that your shower is small and barely fits two people in.

“We’ll just have to stand really close together.” you quip, joining the bit.

“It will be so awkward for me, but I’ll self-sacrfice, not a problem.”

You laugh together, and Joe drinks the coffee you made for him, and you drink the coffee that he made for you. There’s a moment of silence before you semi-seriously say, “I’m really not meant to have you over.”

It’s complicated. It’s fine, but it’s not.

“Yea... you probably shouldn’t. You’re right.” Joe flirts. “You’re right.”

“I don’t know what I was expecting though...” you sigh, leaning back in your seat. “We’re not to be trusted, I don’t think...”

Joe eyes you for a short moment, then leans forward a little and carefully says, “You’re allowed to set your expectations aside every once in a while, you know... we can just enjoy our time. Nothing wrong with that.”

You can’t help but smile, because the sentiment is sweet, but unfortunately, it doesn’t really work like that. Before you know it, you’ll be back right where you were before, kicking yourself over placing yourself back in that same crappy situation.

A grimacing discontented nose-scrunch does all the talking for you.

“All right,” Joe says on the back-end of a sigh, slapping both legs as he gets up, already heading towards the door. “I know when I’m not wanted.”

You put an arm out and get a handful of his sleeve before he gets even close to leaving, and Joe turns his head to grin at you like you’d played directly into his trap.

Which, you probably just had done.

Had been doing.

“Oh?” Joe startles playfully. “Am I wanted, then?”

The handful of shirt gets pulled into your direction until Joe’s standing really close, and you have to tip your head back all the way to look up at him.

“Do you want to hear me say that I want you?” you challenge his neediness as one of his hands finds your cheek. You know exactly that’s what he wants to hear.

“Is that hard for you?” he challenges your obduracy right back, thumb softly rubbing the skin under your eye, knowing full well how hard of a time you have with sharing your feelings in the moment.

It’ll never be lost on you how there’s so little you can hide from one another. It’s comforting in the most perilous of ways.

It helps that Joe is very upfront about his wants. He’s in your living room for a reason, which makes it a little easier to admit to a truth you can no longer deny.

You wouldn’t have invited him over if you didn’t want him here.

Obviously.

It’s a big ask to set expectations aside in the long-term, but in the short-term, temptation and comfort always seem to win all too easily. Hence the handfull of fabric you’re still holding.

That doesn’t meant that Joe deserves the satisfaction of hearing you say that, though.

“No.” you smile, eyes casting downwards. “But… do you want to know what is hard for me?”

Without any hesitation, you let your hand find the bulge in his jeans, and Joe flinches at the contact, his other hand immediately around your wrist to control your next move, grip tight, like he’s using it to not lose his balance.

“Don’t.”

With his eyes shut, he exhales a slow breath.

“Oh?” your eyebrows shoot up in the same way his had done earlier. “Am I wrong, then?”

Joe has to bite back a smile, and there’s a moment where you’re just staring each other down, your hand touching growing parts of Joe, and his hand keeping it right in place. It’s hard for him to look away from your eyes and the sparkle they look at him with.

It’s a big ask to set expectations aside... when you haven’t really got any to begin with.

Joe’s voice comes out a little gruff when he says, “How about that shower?” all lowly, giving a slight nod up in question as he bites into his bottom lip.

The only way out seems through.

But, just before you give in all over again, something pipes up in your mind that turns you solemn. Something Joe said the night before.

“You um...” you swallow thickly and slowly remove your hand from Joe’s jeans. “You said we weren’t the best, before...”

This dance between heartfelt earnestness and teasing banter is becoming a little confusing, but, to be fair, everything about you and Joe is confusing.

Joe’s hand on your cheek is warm, and you let the words you’d just said linger. Let them speak for themselves. You haven’t asked Joe a question that needs an answer, but you wait for him to figure out what you mean all by himself.

Why should you go have a shower with Joe if he doesn’t think you’re good together? If things can’t be better than before?

“Before...” Joe repeats and then slowly lowers himself next to your chair and leans on a knee so he’s more at eye-level with you. He’s choked with tenderness for you, especially when you look like this, not unlike what you looked like when you barged into his flat a night ago. “Before, yea. But that was–...”

Then.

This is now.

Joe’s hand is still on your face, his steady touch unmoving, but now his fingers curl under your jaw and around your ear, and it burns your skin. You want to allow yourself to enjoy the gentle touch, but you can’t. Shouldn’t. Your wants are too risky.

Anxiety swells and you can feel how your fingers are searching out a bit of fabric to run along, but you’re not wearing long sleeves. It’s why your next question comes out all choppy.

“Will it b-be different?”

Your question implies a whole lot. Implies a want for something new. For something better. Something different. And, perhaps most terrifyingly, it implies a want for something together.

You think if Joe is going to be completely honest with you, he should tell you no. However, logically, you also understand there’s a current heavy throbbing in his underwear that might influence things slightly.

Still.

You want to hear his answer.

Want to know what he’s really doing here.

What his expectations are.

Joe can’t predict the future. But you desperately want him to.

“It can be.”

Instant disappointment.

In Joe, and within yourself.

It can be.

It’s the most non-committal answer Joe could’ve given. It’s guarded. Evasive. Without clear indication or attitude of feeling.

You hate it.

But then you watch as he slowly grabs hold of one of your hands and guides it to the sleeve hem of the hoodie he is wearing where your fingers immediately find home and rub to their hearts content. It’s embarrassing how your shoulders instantly relax.

Joe clears his throat, cradling your face in both of his hands now, and adds, “It should be.” which he makes sound like a promise.

It should be.

It should be because you are both older and wiser and have learnt lessons and have grown. It should be because you are new people, with old habits but with new intentions.

It should be because you really want it to be.

It should be because Joe is really going to try.

That’s all you want.

All you need.

It should be makes you whine and drop your head fully into Joe’s hold.

It should be has you accept Joe’s lips that press firmly against yours.

It should be allows you to be picked up and lead over to your bathroom where you both undress at lightning speed.

It should be has you under the stream before the water’s even fully warmed up, standing really close together, and not just because the shower’s small.

Emily’s absolutely going to kill you.

But she’s allowed.

She can murder both you and Joe together, and you’ll continue doing what you’re doing right now in whatever the afterlife even is until the end of time itself.

Time can stop, for all you care.

Joe touches you in the shower until your legs can quite literally no longer carry you, and then Joe touches you in your bed until every single cell of your body is violently shaking in pure delight.

It should be different.

It will be different.

And different starts right fucking now.

“I love you.”

Joe pants the words heavily into your skin. Into your neck, your collarbone, your shoulder. Wants them to settle there and never leave. He seals them in with kisses, and repeats mumbling praise that he hopes will cling onto you for a while as well.

You’re convinced he’s just saying things because it feels right in the moment. Because he wants to prove to you that he’s right.

You lay together, bodies on top of each other, and it takes longer than feels normal to come back down from what you’ve just done. Joe holds you in place on top of him, both his hands wrapped around your arms, and when you try to move, when you try to let yourself slide off and fall onto the mattress next to him, he only further strengthens his grip.

“I love you.” He then says more clearly, and he sounds like he’s admitting it to himself just as much as he is to you. Like it’s something that he needs to hear himself articulate more than it’s something that you might need to hear.

It’s unbelievable that he’s here, right now.

He fully thought you’d be done with him by now, yet, here you are, wanting more of him. Different. Yes. But more all the same.

“Love you, love you, love you.” Joe punctuates with kisses.

Joe finds that he’s still as full of emotion for you as he was when you were still together, but there’s a huge difference in voicing it. In saying things aloud for other people to hear.

For you to hear.

“Yea,” you smile, tickled by the tone of Joe’s repeated confession, convinced you’ve pulled the words straight from his dick. “Yea you do.”

There’s no way Joe is thinking with his brain right now.

A soft scoff comes from him before he tries his best to sound like a schoolteacher as he demands, “Say it back.”

You huff a laugh to that, still feeling a little floaty and too far gone for a coherent response. All you can think about is how Joe’s still inside of you, and how he is keeping you there.

Then one of his hands lets you go, but is quickly followed by a well-aimed poke to your side that has you squirming. Joe remembers all your vulnerable spots, knows exactly where they are, fucking dick.

“Say it back! Say, I love you too, Joe.”

In your giggling, you manage to sit up a little and glare down at Joe, but you’re smiling, which completely ruins the effect, and it turns him a little soft inside. You then lean back down a little and give him a peck by his ear which serves to shut Joe up.

He decides it’s enough of an answer, close enough to an I love you said in return. He knows you do, anyway.

In your next move, you snuggle into him, cheek rubbing into his skin, and, fuck, Joe’s done for.

“Yea… yea, you love me too.”

“Shut up.” You whisper, giggles stuck in the back of your throat that you try your best to contain, ones that Joe lets out easily.

“Too bad you’re so annoying.”

“Yea.” You squeeze Joe tighter and let your teeth scrape the skin of his chest. “I’m the worst.”

There’s no phone buzzing on the bedroom floor.

There’s no other people hiding in a different room in your flat.

No... Jessicas, or whatever. No Jaspers.

You’re in the centre of your bed together, no sides picked or chosen, and the temperature inside reflects neither icy Antarctica nor the Amazon rainforest.

It should be different.

Better.

It already is.

Are you risking making the same mistakes all over again? Yes. Are you willing to still go ahead and give this a try? Also yes.

“Will you stay?” Joe quietly asks, silently and warily bringing up how vulnerable he felt when you broke it all off months ago.

You move your head to look him in the eye for a second.

“I should.” you whisper back, reassuring you in same way Joe had reassured you.

“Will you stay?” you repeat Joe’s question, but know what he’s going to say before he even opens his mouth.

One of his hands snakes around to hold you by the back of your neck.

“I will.”

the end

---

The Taglisted

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taglist currently full, apologies!

[kiwi-but-the-bird-not-the-fruit]

This one request is for Nefero/ femReader.

For the past week, Nefero has been seeing his girlfriend less and less. His girlfriend has been having out with genderbent!Manny (I'll call her Manuella) a lot lately. At first, he doesn't mind that his darling has new friend. He likes that she's happy. However, He gets jealous. Between class the girls quickly go to the restroom and come out all smiles and giggling. When lunch rolls around, femReader is sitting with Manuella when she and Nefero usually sit together. And when Nefero goes to see Reader, Manuella is by her side talking up a storm. Thinking they're going through to a rough patch Nefero invites femReader on a date on Saturday to smooth things over. But surprisingly Reader rejects his offer and tells him she's busy. Nefero has a lot of pride, he can't bring himself to tell Reader that he's worried about their relationship. On the Saturday, Nefero goes to the mall for some retail therapy. While shopping, he sees Reader and Manuella hand in hand going into a shop. Hurt and crushed, Nefero goes home in tears. Later on, he gets a message from Reader saying she's coming over and she wants to tell him something. Because Nefero ain't no punk, dries his tears, fixes his makeup and meets Reader outside to confront her. But instead of a new girlfriend with her, Reader has a new septum piercing in his favorite color. Wha??? Turns out Reader had wanted the new piercing for some time now so she's been asking Manuella about hers (Side note: Manny from Monster High OG has a ring through his nose or a septum piercing). Manuella been giving her tips on how to care for it and showing cool ring designs. Despite being excited, Reader was a bit nervous so Manuella went with her with for support her to get the piercing on Saturday. She was shaking a bit. so Manuella held her hand to keep her still and steady. The reason why Reader didn't tell Nefero about it was because she wanted it to be a surprise to show off her cool and new accessory. Happy that is was all an misunderstanding. Nefero embraces his girlfriend.

My apologies for this being so long. Thank you for your time.

This is just amazing love this prompt and don't worry I enjoyed reading it your really creative and makes my writing go so much smoothly, so I really appreciate it!

I definitely like the idea of a more vulnerable side of Nefero so I'll make it cannon for their relationship and honestly I was gonna add some vulnerability when it's just the two of them alone

(Also I do remember Many having the septum piercing he rocked it.)

Alright here we go!

__________________________________________

Prompt-The reader hasn't been as active in the relationship for about a week she's hanging out more with Manuella (genderbent! Many) and Nefero is very desperate for readers attention /jealous and oh so secretly vulnerable.

Established relationship

Will be suing [Name] as substitute for (y/n)

Readers Nickname, my jewel/my queen

h/c)= hair color

(h/s) =hair style

(h/t)= hair type

(N/n)= Nickname

(E/c)=eye color

Angts with happy ending

________________________________________

Monster high is seen in plain view, the sky is a fangtastic shade of gray with the big stormy clouds covering for miles

Mansters and ghouls are seen entering the school with chitter chatter all around

In comes a limousine, the door swings open to reveal the De Nile Brothers fighting with each other

"You knew I was gonna use those earnings and you took them!" Cleon yells at his older brother who seemed unbothered by his younger brothers tantrum, he ignores him and walks up the stairs as Cleon keeps on yelling his undead heart about the stylish earing he took from grandmother's tomb.

Nefero walks in and searches around with an almost hopeful stare, yet to the untrained eye that wasn't his girlfriend he looked forever resting bitch face.

He glances side to side but doesn't see a sliver of (h/c) hair around the crowd of onlookers but he doesn't find her, there was pit forming deep in him but he simply moved on with long strides, making every Monster and ghoul to make way his majesty Nefero De Nile

Nefero walks to his locker and finds his girlfriend, he becomes ready excited he walks a little more faster and as he approaches he sees her new friend, her name was Manuella

Normally he wouldn't mind her friends but recently it made him mad how much time the two were having, like somehow he didn't exist in her ethereal world that sometimes he'd look at himself and think he wasn't the one to be in such a presence.

Now he truly felt it, making his skin crawl with frustration and oh so well known jealousy.

It wasn't a good color of him; he'd prefer his signature dark green with ofcourse the fiery red he saw [Name] as.

She wore a apple red skirt and black crop top with a gold skull design, she had on platform heels with red bottoms and her (h/c) (h/t) hair was in (h/s) that had green clips on the side of her head,her face was done softly but with bold red and black eyeshadow.

As he walked towards the two he adjusted his earring which he thought would get her attention for at least a minute.

"Hello my queen" he grabbed her waist leand down a bit to her neck and kissed it softly. [Name] looked at him and smiled sheepishly "oh! Hey Nefie, whats up" she turns which makes his hand leave her waist as well making his body just be in front of [Name] not letting him be as close as he wanted.

"Oh nothing, just wanted to walk to class with you is all my jewel" he took her hand and gave it a kiss. [Name] nodded her head smiling then took back her hand and grabbed his hand, then continued talking to Manuella as they walked to class.

At the very least she was holding his hand so he was happy for the meantime.

_______________________________________

In class it seemed that the only thing that was important to [Name] was talking to Manuella and sometimes he could have cursed that they were whispering at times but he let it go because it could be a personal ghoul problem and he didn't want to but into something that he wasn't needed for.

As time went by Nefero resorted to at least paying some attention to class he twirls his hair around on his finger but his mind still swirled with thoughts of his dearest, who was just inches away from him.

Oh how he craved for her to hold his bicep or caressing his face as she took notes while he looked at her. He keeps twirling his dark teal and gold hair as the class goes on.

*Ring Ring Ring*

The bell announced the end of the class, Nefero got up and was going to get [Name]'s chair and pull it out for her to then be created by an empty seat, he quickly scans the classroom then sees her and Manuella rushing out of the leaving an empty seat with the confused manster.

He looked very dumbfounded for a few seconds to then change up his attitude and continue like nothing happened at all

Nefero is seen walking the hall looking to each of his side with his eyes,he makes sure no one can tell he's getting desperate or that he's actively looking or someone, normally he would announce proudly that he is looking for his girlfriend but he had been feeling unsure on where he stood at the moment

'Does my jewel not love me anymore?! Did she find someone else! She must be bored of me! Is that why?!' The manster is beginning to hyperventilate, be it camouflage by his smirk but his un-dead heart was filled with pressure deep within his chest.

He looks to the side to finally see his darling [Name],walking out the bathroom laughing along side Manuella, Nefero becomes once again jealous on the inside, he was about to approach them but the bell rings for their next class separately since he couldn't bribe bloodgood to have then take all the classes together but she said no but still gave a fair amount he was pleased with that but not fully.

As he watches [Name] and Manuella laugh all the way down the hall till they disappear he feels...neglected? He's not sure but it could be for all he knew, he was not used to this treatment, and as the tall prince stood there in the middle of the hallway almost every Monster was in their class while he just stood there...for a while.

As lunch time rolled around we can see [Name] with Manuella who is talking really enthusiastically to the ghoul next to her, Nefero walks into the cafeteria in hopes to at least be sitting with [Name] and ask her on a shopping date.

'Maybe if we go on a date shopping around will fix what's going on' he thinks as he approaches their usual table to be created by Manuella talking quickly with a bright smile, looking at [Name] making the poor guy frustrated that she was still taking his personal time with his girlfriend.

He shrugs himself up, smooths out his hair back and proceeds to walk up to [Name] with confident strides.

When he gets to her free side he starts to say "hello my queen,are you free this Saturday? I'd like to go with you to the mall, maybe buy you a matching new wardrobe for me and you" he looks at her smiling, expectancy in his purple bright eyes.

[Name]'s smile falters into a sympathetic one "oh Nefie I'm so sorry I can't this Saturday I'm busy that day" she looks down sheepishly and ashamed that she had to let him down on his kind offer.

[Name] felt extremely guilty to do this to her wonderful boyfriend but she would make it up with the surprise she had planed just for him and only him, she just loved Nefero so much,more than words can say,so it really did hurt her to leaving him like this for the past week to plan her surprise with Manuella.

Nefero looked away as he shook his head and walked away quickly out of the cafeteria he would just not eat for now, maybe later, just when he's not distraught and sad.

[Name] watched as her boyfriend walked out in a haste, she turns to her friend "I feel awful, I hope he'll like the surprise but this is killing me Manuella" Manuella reassures her "don't worry (n/n) I'm sure he'll love the surprise and understand why you've been hanging out so much with me this week" [name] nods and gives a small smile "yeah hope so"

_______________________________________

Saturday rolls around and Nefero gets out of the limo that sits in front of the large mall, this was the next best thing he could do for his paranoid brain,he had previously spent the whole night worrying.

But that thought was so silly she wouldn't do that, not after the countless times they shared their most intimate secrets to each other, especially not when they had touched skin with skin in the most close/intimate of positions.

He walks along the endless hallway in the mall, his teal and gold hair sways behind him, the heels on his knee high boots click on the floor.

'No she wouldn't' he told himself over and over as if he said it as many times as he could it would eventually become a secret spell to possibly prevent his worst fear.

[Name] leaving him without a second thought.

Nefero walked along the mall with his servants. He hadn't gone into any store so far but eventually he probably just not as quickly as usual.

He turns a corner and as his eyes redirect landing on a well known figure, it was his girlfriend walking hand in hand with Manuella going into a store

"..." Nefero stopped in his tracks stunned, he stared in shock and disbelief at what he was seeing, there wasn't a good explanation for this, right?!

She couldn't do this to him could she?!!

He quickly turns the other way and starts to run back to the entrance where he frantically looks around "where is the limo! Get it here now!" He yelled at his servants " get it here this instant!"

After several minutes the limo gets there and Nefero practically leaps into the backseat and starts barking others "TAKE ME BACK HOME THIS INSTANT" tears start to quickly run down to his cheek and chin, his usual elegant composure gone and stripped.

____________________________________

In his room we see Nefero sobbing into his velvet pillow he wears a green robe his hair is all messy and stuck to any exposed skin with sweat and tears, there's used napkins surrounded him, an empty bucket of chocolate ice-cream on his nightstand

"*sob**snif*Nefero tries to keep his sobs to a minimum but the intense feeling of betrayal was just too strong so he wept hard not caring anymore, how could he? The only ghoul he truly loved was with another for what it seemed to him, so might as well cry his un dead heart all he pleased.

Nefero looked to the side at his night stand that held the discarded carton of ice-cream and next to it the photo of him and [Name] he'd have to pack it away later, he stared into those (e/c) eyes and felt his own eyes sting from the endless river of tears.

*Buzz* *Buzz*

The sound of his eyecoffin getting a notification made him stop for a brief moment, he reluctantly gets up from his laying position and goes to grab it, he takes in a sharp breath when he sees who had texted him, it was [Name] it read

'Hey! Im coming over, i want to tell you something'

Nefero frowns but decides to at least confront her, he gets up takes off his robe to reveal that he still had his outfit from the mall, he goes to his vanity and quickly reduces his makeup to at least look decent and not like a pathetic mess.

After 20 minutes getting ready (which was shorter than the usual time) he walks down to the front of the house and as he gets to the front door the bell rings meaning [Name] arrived

Nefero walks up, opening the door with a cold expression; he expects to see [Name] and Manuella together but it was just her he raises an eyebrow.

[Name] covers her nose but a grin is still seen from underneath "Nefie look!" She takes down her hand to reveal a green septum piercing.

Nefero stares in confusion "wait what?" [Name] sees he's confused so she goes to explain herself "I know I haven't been as present in our relationship, it was because I've been wanting to get this septum piercing but since I didn't know much I asked Manuella to educate me and help me pick!" She quickly explains

"and so when I told you I couldn't go with you to the mall today it was because I was going to get it but I needed some moral support so Manuella came with me even helped me relax holding my hand since im kinda bad with piercings, remember my belly button piercing and how you held my hand? I need that but i couldn't spoil the surprise" her wide smile as she told the story.

"You.. wanted to surprise me with a new piercing of my favorite color" he gets up close to her face reaching a hand to the side of her face moving her head side to side looking at it clearly "it's beautiful" he smiles relief going through his body that it was just a misunderstanding on his part

"I love it" his darling smiles at him ecstatic "Really!" She holds his hand that was on her face and squeezes it as she jumps up and down "Haha yes my jewel!" Nefero picks her up and swings her around, he sets her down and hugs her tight her chest pressing against his "I guess I need to stop over exaggerating things in my head" he whispers in her hair "what do you mean Nefie?" She asks still being pressed into his chest

"I sort of thought you got bored of me and were cheating on me with Manuella" [Name] gasps "Nefie! I'd never do that!!" She huffs backing away and crossing her arms.

Nefero laughed at her cuteness "yes yes I know I was just...*sigh* very confused and hurt when you started to pull away and be around Manuella, you could say I was jealous she took all your attention" he admitted looking down at his shoes in shame, [Name] gets up close and cups his cheek making him look at her "my darling Nefie I'm truly sorry I made you think that I got bored of you or that I didn't love you,and for what it's worth-" she took a deep breath looking deep into his eyes with a smile.

"I will never stop loving the Manster I fell so deeply for since the first day we met,you are my world you are my sun and i your moon without you my existence would be meaningless without your beams of light I'd be left in the unseen,unnoticed but YOU can see my cracks and uneven edges only you can see up close unlike any other." She leans in and kisses him sweetly on his lips, happy tears start to flow down from Nefero's eyes as he uses his hands to close the gap between them once more and kisses back with just as much love.

The sweet close connection of their lips danced the same tune they've known, tongue's intertwined as passion mixed itself with desire, they stop for air gasping hot heavy pants "thank you my jewel, you are truly my goddess sent from the heavens and to think you would chose me" he steals another kiss.

"I'll always chose you in any life...in any universe" she grabs his hand smiling "Let's go inside Nefie I've missed you~" She purred making Nefero blushed yet smiled at her "lead the way my queen~”

____________________________________________

Hi hi! hope you all liked this one and hope I did it justice, I may edit later maybe change a few things,but for now I'm quite happy with how it turned out thanks for the request!!

@myjerseygirlblog

Hope it's up to your standards and I honestly love your request their so creative and they push my brain to think so if you have any more at any point in time please request away!!

And any other person who wishes to see their request/promt written of any monster high or ever after high character x reader one-shot, please request away as well!

And I feel like I'm getting better in suggestive sensual insinuations? Idk I'm trying my best

Hope ya'll have an awesome day/night

byeeeee ♡♡♡♡

[juniperdugong]

Forgot Your Lunch - Scoups

WC: 1023 || Genre: Fluff :) ...Angst :( || Happy (late) Birthday to this very handsome man!! ❤

A/N: If this does well maybe a pt.2 with what happened? (I totally don't have a whole story in my head about this fic alr...and this totally wasn't meant to be a teaser but got out of hand)

Some songs that inspired this fic!

Those morning hours, right before the sun shines in all its splendor, when most people are still resting their tired brains, and when quietness feels like a warm welcome to the day.

These were Seungcheol's favorite hours. The slivers of warm orange sunlight peaking through the curtains illuminating the space, giving the house a different type of glow. He relished in the fact that no one, not even you, was awake during this time. It gave him all the pleasure of gazing at your sleeping figure and giving you a few feather-light kisses before he actually got started with his day.

Seungcheol had gotten really into cooking when you two got together. Watched the tutorials, wrote down the recipes, and did a lot of the grocery shopping when he had the time - he even asked for help from Mingyu when he was really struggling. All of this effort put in for one simple goal - to be able to make your lunches for work.

He took great pride in making sure your lunch was not only healthy and balanced but nice on the eyes as well! Presentation was half the battle of cooking in his (humble) opinion.

Today wasn't any different, after haphazardly washing up he waltzed into the kitchen and chose a fitting playlist for such a joyful morning. He knows what to make, one of your favorites, a very simple and delicious spread of kaarage, a rolled omelet, rice, and a mix of fruits and vegetables cut up in the cutest little shapes! (Never forgetting the homemade spicy mayo, of course.) It's a specialty of his - and more than that - it was the first lunch he made you that you had raved about to your coworkers, only boosting his ego evermore.

Humming along to the music he went through the motions of washing and cooking the rice, setting out all the ingredients he'd need, and placing all the dishware on the counter in an assembly line. The few times that you'd woken up early enough to witness this practiced scene you'd have to admit that it was impressive the way he had gotten it all down to a T. Like a drill sergeant he would lead the charge in the kitchen, at least in the mornings, and if you ever dared to lift a finger…the earful you'd get before work- But what else can you expect from the most loving husband in the world AND the leader of one of the top kpop groups in history?

It's like everything, all the problems and worries, drifted away during this time. The sole issue in Seungcheol's entire world being what you would eat for the day. It was his way of showing you that he still cared and that he was still very committed. With a job that kept him away from you for such long periods of time and that took up all his energy and attention when he was home, it only felt right to do something as small as wake up before you and devote some time to you - even if you weren't always there to see it.

It would be a very hard task to try and tear away the smile that grew from him as he carefully assembled the different pieces of your food into a bento box. The only change in expression coming from the way his brows would furrow and his mouth would form a pout when he was ultra-focused with a knife or when he was gently making the finishing touches.

He took the chicken from the hot oil and placed them on a paper towel-lined plate - he knew how much you hated the excess oil when you ate. Turning off the stove in a swift movement he turned his attention to slicing the egg roll into perfectly proportioned pieces that you could eat in one bite. Then the fruits and vegetables - today's variety, some blueberries, leftover chocolate-covered strawberries, and a small salad with cherry tomatoes, all served with a small toothpick - he took note of that little comment you had made about how eating things with a toothpick makes the experience a bit more fun.

With a little jaunt in his step, he moved to put the puzzle together in an eye-pleasing manner. And once he was satisfied - he stepped back from his masterpiece. His gift to you. He looked at the clock-

8pm.

Oh.

It's night time.

That's right.

He stilled completely, coming back to reality. He left the kitchen with a ruffle to his hair. Dragging his feet into the bedroom he let his hands roam around the cold sheets, desperately searching for your warmth - your figure.

This was your bed too! The one you shared. C'mon, you remember, right? You're supposed to be here.

He looked out the window, no slivers of sunlight. Just the light pollution of a bustling city.

It's late and you're supposed to be home now, works done. It's supposed to be done.

He balled up all the sheets in his two fists and knelt on the bed. Gritting his teeth through tears that didn't dare hold back his emotions. And he punched that mattress so damn hard he could swear it felt like a human fighting back against him. The tangling of the sheets feels like Seungkwan and Dino holding him back from doing something else to hurt himself. He screamed so loud that his throat hurt, and he choked himself with the sound until red and veins popped. Drunk on something akin to anger but closer to loneliness he headed face-first into a pillow - but oh it was yours. The one you laid on just a few days ago. His tears and snot smeared across the blank canvas created a gross mirage but he didn't care. He let himself sit there, inhaling everything you left. Wailing into your remnants - curling up into your side of the bed, what would always be your side of the bed.

You forgot your lunch. It's here with him. "So come back, y/n. I'm really fucking sorry."

A/N: Hey guys...been a minute (a few days) And I come back with this- I do really like this though. Love me some happy memories and train wreck tbh. Let me know what you lovelies think! Have a great weekend or week, depending on when you see this. (protip DO NOT read this while listening to "The Place Where He Inserted the Blade" almost shat tears) Please Reblog and Comment if you enjoyed ! (They act as power-ups for me)

Taglist (OPEN): @bemybabiibish @bath1lda

[skybristle]

rbs > likes

happy pride everyone

[sliver and moon and the background r the lesbian flag, saint is agender + some colors stolen from the slivermoon drawing]

[charmercharm3r]

i cant NOT think about jeongin asking the 9th member for help with/practice kissing (the phrasing is weird but i lovee this idea 😭)

Masterlist

prev: three, next: five

☆ﾟ

“It’s not that I haven’t wanted to… It just never happened.”

Jeongin was defending himself like his life depended on it. Not that he needed to, no one blamed him or thought it was weird— more of a pride thing on his end.

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” you crumpled the empty water bottle in your hand and turned to Jisung. Raising and bringing it down playfully onto the top of his head, Jisung didn’t run from the scolding. “Why’d you put him on the spot like that! What’s your dating history like then, hm?”

Jisung immediately skipped over to Jeongin to take him into an embrace while the younger attempted to escape. “Ew, hyung— get away! You’re sweaty!”

When he managed to catch him, Jisung rubbed his cheek into Jeongin’s shoulder, “don’t feel bad, Jeonginnie. I’ve kissed people, but don’t worry, it’s not that fun.” Jeongin looked at you with a face that begged for mercy but not attempting to push him away.

“He’s lying, kissing is really fun,” Hyunjin chimed in and took a seat the open space beside you. “Kissing me is even more fun. C’mon Y/N’ie, just one?” He shoulder bumped you and puckered his lips.

“Kiss each other.” With that, you excuse yourself to the bathroom, only to come back minutes later to find Jisung pinning Hyunjin to the floor trying to take your words literally. You turned around and left again before witnessing anything that’ll make your eyes burst into flames.

☆ﾟ

What was probably hours had passed and everyone since forgotten about what had been said in the practice room, entirely too preoccupied with other things. Like singing lessons, for example. The session just didn’t go as you had hoped, that one high note was kicking your ass. As you walked through the corridor towards the exit, you could hear a soft voice from another occupied room.

Peaking through the small sliver of window, Jeongin was sat alone in the tiny confined space. You knocked twice before letting yourself in. He wasn’t startled, but surprised to see you, though the happy expression he wore quickly changed to something more melancholic.

“You’re still here? I thought your lessons ended an hour ago?” You stood in the door frame not wanting to invade too much of his space. Jeongin was always emotionally delicate, though he put up a hard shelled front.

“Yeah, just wanted some quiet before going home.” He twiddled his fingers, mind clearly not in the same room.

“Okay, wanna head back together? I can wait for you, I’ll grab us something at the convenience store.”

“Actually, can you come in?”

You closed the door behind you and sat in the spare chair. “Are you okay?”

He hated talking about his feelings, let alone things as personal as what Jisung had brought up earlier today about kissing. Jeongin has no idea how to go about it. He can’t articulate that he thinks you’re so pretty and that the way your nose crinkles when you laugh is adorable. It’s hard to put into words that he’s never kissed anyone because he didn’t want to waste his first with someone temporary because, “I only get one.”

Your eyebrow raised, “one what?”

His voice caught in his throat, hardly able to push the words past his lips, “one first kiss.”

“Are you still thinking about what Jisung said earlier? It’s nothing to feel bad about.”

Jeongin fidgeted a second longer before deciding to bite the bullet. “Take it. I don’t want it anymore.”

Fuck, he scared you. You’re looking at him like he has two heads and is speaking in tongues. “When you say it like that, I don’t want you to jump into things just because everyone else does. Don’t rush—“

“I’m not rushing. Like, the total opposite,” he sat on the edge of his seat and that much closer to you. “There have been people who wanted to kiss me, and I’ve wanted to kiss them. But I felt like I couldn’t? If I’m going to kiss someone, I want it to stick. Those people, they were temporary and I knew that, it wouldn’t have been fair to them. Now, I’ve been putting it off for so long that I think it’s not even an option anymore. But… then I look at you, talk to you, exist around you. It feels, for lack of a better word, right?”

At a complete loss for words, how have you not crumbled around him earlier? Let alone noticed he felt that way? You sat still with your lip between your teeth, running through all the possibilities that could follow if you were to go through with what he’s asking for. There was the fact that you already kissed one of them— briefly recalling your stolen moment with Felix— and that Jeongin hasn’t shied away from complementing you when he could or being all together boyfriendly. Even if you didn’t think of dating him, what harm could kissing him really do? If anything, doing it will satiate that need for the both of you, then close that chapter.

“Okay, but don’t tell Hyunjin. It’ll make him jealous.”

“More than when you kissed Felix?”

“How do you know that?!”

“I live with him?” He said it as if you were the stupid one to believe none of them would find out. Case in point.

You sighed, “yes, more than that time.”

As you moved and got more comfortable, he copied in sitting up straight and puckering his lips. “What’re you doing?”

“Getting ready to kiss you?” You rolled your eyes.

Jeongin came from a good place, even if he was entirely clueless. You suppose he was just parroting every time Jisung exaggeratedly tried to kiss the next nearest person. It was kind of endearing, a little geeky, but heartwarming nonetheless.

Putting your hands on his shoulders, you pushed them down to get him to relax. Then scooting your chair closer to his, you spread his knees to let your own take up that space. Jeongin let you maneuver him however you pleased, breath hitching as you stole his hands to place them lightly on the tops of your thighs. His hands were huge, not new information, but definitely a new feeling now that he was touching you. He was on the taller side, broader shoulders and probably able to wrap around your entire body if you hugged him properly. All those thoughts briefly swam around your brain just from the image of his hands on your thighs.

Jeongin was felt as though he was sweating bullets, but still immensely excited. Physical touch wasn’t his most favorite thing in the world, but he enjoyed it when it was you. These small, lingering touches, like where his hands were now, he probably enjoyed it more than he should.

“I’m going to put my hands on your neck, is that okay?” Jeongin nodded immediately, holding his breath. The warmth of your palms on his pulses made him shiver. “Don’t over think it. Kisses don’t need to be aggressive, they also don’t have to be too gentle. Just find a balance, not every person you kiss will want the same thing.” He nodded and absorbed every word that dripped from your perfectly plush lips. At some point he almost stopped listening and focused on your lips all together.

“What do you like?” He blurted out nervously. You giggled, oh so beautifully.

“We’ll get there,” your fingers traced back to comb through the hair at the back of his head teasingly, Jeongin almost fully leaned into it like a puppy. “Be calm. All the time in the world.”

Jeongin’s hands lightly kneaded the flesh of your thighs in anticipation, in need and desperation and longing to just feel your lips on his for the first time. He didn’t realize you were slowly drawing in closer and closer, then he could feel your breath fanning across his mouth and suddenly all the air was sucked from his lungs. “Make sure they want this as much as you. Look into their eyes, hold them tenderly, then ask. Can I kiss you?”

Glassy, watered over with all the stars staring back at you, “please.”

“That’s not a confirmation.” You were so close that the heat radiated off your body made Jeongin overheat in the best way possible.

“Yes, please kiss me.”

You were slow to press your lips to his, whereas as soon as the contact was made, Jeongin leaned further into you, almost shoving you out of your chair. Quick to push him back, you held his neck a little tighter and reined him in. Taking the hint, he put his excitement into his hands that now squeezed your thighs tighter and tighter, not that it hurt. His lips softened more, less eager but just as excited, he followed your lead.

The simple peck ended far too quickly for his liking, chasing as you pulled away. “No, no, more please.”

He moved to grip the bottom of your chair and tug the entire thing closer with the scrape of the legs on the floor echoing with a screech. Now you had nowhere to go, further trapped between his legs where you’d put yourself and Jeongin now reaching for your waist with one hand and the other cupping your jaw. And you didn’t hate it. Actually, you loved it. Getting attention from the one person that hates giving or receiving attention feels so rewarding, which is why you let him take what he wanted.

Long fingers threaded through your hair and tugged you to meet his lips half way, you fell forward into him and let your arms wrap around his neck. For his first time kissing, he was surprisingly well versed. Everything you’ve told him up until now he applied in his rather scattered yet charming kissing technique. He was everywhere all at once and it made your brain fuzzy.

Close lipped, simple, safe, eager, yearning, wanting, warm, fervorous, you didn’t want to let go almost as much as he did. Jeongin lightly whined when you pulled away, chasing after you again and keeping your upper body pinned to his. You hadn’t realized that your knees were pressing against his pelvis until you leaned a little back and he softly whimpered one more time.

“I don’t think you really needed kissing lessons.” He shrugged, smug. “Did you just wanna kiss me?” Another shrug and a crooked smile. “You little shit.”

“Don’t worry, I don’t kiss and tell.” You couldn’t tell if he lied, but truthfully you didn’t care, it didn’t matter.

Rolling your eyes again, he leaned in for a soft peck, molding your lips together sweetly, honey like moans being swapped between mouths.

That is, until the door to the vocal room was being burst open. You jumped in Jeongin’s hold, the both of you looking at who had just ruined your lovely moment.

“Oh, come on! Jeongin?! That is so not fair!” Hyunjin took up most of the doorway with Jisung peaking on his tiptoes over his shoulder.

A sigh fell from your mouth, patting Jeongin’s shoulders and reluctantly slipping from his grasp. He sat still, shriveling into the backrest of the chair as you gathered your stuff. “Aren’t you coming?” You asked him. Sheepish, he scratched the back of his head and pulled the hem of his shirt lower. “Nevermind, see you tomorrow, Jeonginnie.” He avoided eye contact again as you ruffled his hair and pushed past Hyunjin and Jisung.

The two followed behind you, bombarding you with question after question, mostly about how good the kiss with Jeongin was. Hyunjin was dramatically livid, nothing out of the usual, storming ahead of you and Jisung down the stairs to head home.

Jisung lightly pulled you back to a stop, curious eyes looking at you. “What is it?”

“I— I know I joke about kissing, said it’s not that fun and everything but…” he trailed off as though he couldn’t trust the words that he truly wanted to say. You waited patiently until he could articulate himself. “Can I be next?”

☆ﾟ

A/N: it’s been a minute..hoping posting this can jumpstart me into posting more!! i really missed writing and finding this in my inbox after a month was so fun n cute to write, thank u anon!!!

[suguwu]

naoya and gojo’s sister makes me mentally unwell in a dangerously good way, if you have any more thoughts on the topic i am waiting patiently 👀👀👀👀👂👂👂👂

negl i have been thinking about Them. so i am happy to oblige with a few more thoughts about them!

—

satoru, you think, is annoying.

he stabs one of your hairpins into place, the metal chiming, a sweet summer sound. sunlight catches in the ornate petals of it. you reach up and adjust it; it's cool against your fingertips.

"satoru."

he doesn't look at you, picking up another hairpin, this one burnished with age, its pearls gleaming, moon-touched. you wonder when he stole it from his grandmother.

he's more careful with this one, tucking it into your hair with long pianist's fingers. you tilt your head to help him, but he nudges you back into place.

you glance at him in the mirror. he's wearing sunglasses today; you can just make out a sliver of blue, the sky come down to earth. heaven devoured.

he reaches out for another pin.

you grab his wrist. infinity is slick against your skin, a glass wall, but then you feel the warmth of him. the quiet rhythm of his pulse.

"i don't like you this quiet," you say.

"i don't like you getting married," he returns.

you hum. "is that what you're sulking about?"

he makes an outraged noise. "i'm not sulking."

"you are."

"am not!"

you eye him in the mirror, raising a brow.

he huffs. slips another hairpin into place. he runs a gentle finger over it; it clinks quietly. you think of the windchimes that hung in the plum tree, the way your mother closed her eyes to listen to their song.

she was not invited today.

you take the final hairpin before satoru can. it slides into place perfectly. your brother's hands slips to your shoulders; he squeezes, one long, hard pulse.

"he won't treat you right," he says.

you tilt your head, considering. naoya is oddly careful with you, despite his sharp pride and even sharper tongue. you think of the way he looks at satoru and sigh.

"i think he will," you say.

"because?"

"because he thinks of me as something of yours."

satoru's grip tightens.

"he—"

"—is a zen'in," you say. "really, it's to be expected."

satoru pauses. then, slowly, he reaches up and takes off his sunglasses. you meet his eyes, the burning comet-tail of them.

"i'll kill him if he hurts you."

you smile.

"not if i kill him first."

[tsumuus]

Kuroo stood in his apartment, the weight of the silence pressing down on him like an anchor. The dim light from the setting sun cast long shadows across the room, painting everything in hues of orange and gold. He could hear the faint hum of the city outside, but it felt distant, like a world he no longer belonged to.

He ran a hand through his messy black hair, trying to make sense of the turmoil inside his head. Memories of you flooded his mind, each one a bittersweet reminder of what he had lost. The laughter you shared, the quiet moments of understanding, the way your eyes lit up when you saw him- it all felt so real, so vivid. But reality was a harsh contrast.

You had broken up with him a month ago. The words still echoed in his mind, a constant reminder of his failure to keep you. "I can't do this anymore, Tetsuro. The distance... it's too much." Your voice had been laced with sorrow, and he could see the pain in your eyes as you spoke. He had wanted to reach out, to hold you, to tell you that everything would be okay, but he had been paralyzed by the weight of your words.

His job had taken him away from you, and no matter how hard he tried to balance everything, it had never been enough. The late- night calls that turned into missed calls, the visits that grew shorter and less frequent- it had all chipped away at what you had. He had tried to ignore the signs, to pretend that everything was fine, but deep down, he had known it was only a matter of time.

Kuroo walked over to the couch and sank into it, the cushions feeling too empty without you beside him. He stared at the coffee table, cluttered with remnants of your life together- a mug you had left behind, a book you had been reading, a photo of the two of you from happier times. He reached for the photo, his fingers tracing the outline of your smile. You looked so happy, so full of life. He wondered if you still smiled like that, or if the breakup had taken that away from you too.

He closed his eyes, trying to hold onto the image of your smile, but it slipped away, replaced by the look of sadness you had worn the last time he saw you. The lines between memory and reality blurred, and he struggled to distinguish between what was real and what was just a figment of his imagination. Sometimes, in the quiet moments of the night, he could almost hear your voice, feel your presence beside him. It was a cruel trick his mind played on him, offering him a sliver of hope only to snatch it away.

He had always prided himself on being strong, on being able to handle whatever life threw at him. But this- losing you- was something he couldn't accept. He loved you too much to let go, to move on. He replayed every moment in his mind, every argument, every tender touch, every promise made and broken. He couldn't help but wonder if he could have done something differently, if he could have fought harder to keep you.

a/n short blurb i wrote while i was away on vacay but im back now lol

masterlist

[weemsfreak]

The Only One

Hi ya'll, happy pride month!!

Sorry for being mia, I have been quite busy with school and also working on this (slowly) all of June. I was unsure of the vibes I wanted this story to give, as I have been feeling confused(?) as of late, and for some reason June has brought many feelings and a couple crap experiences that I wanted to incorporate into here. I did make the story hopeful toward the end, but I just wanted to say that if anyone feels this way, you are not alone!

Calling our Lesbian Headmistress to help make the confusing and lonely times a bit better with a pride event. I know not everybody likes to celebrate pride in this way, but I thought it was cute.

Larissa Weems x studentreader (platonic) ~4.6k words

Part of my 'All the Time' series, based on reader being a lesbian but struggles with her sexuality and falls for her straight friend (canon experience ;))

Warnings: partially closeted, mention of family not understanding, self reflection (internalized homophobia/being proud)

༻༺

Nobody ever talks about how lonely it is, being queer in a small town.

The lack of representation, of places to go, and people to meet. The sliver of hope that you will feel safe if you decide to venture, if you decide to try.

Her with him and him with her and 'girl crush' this and 'man crush' that.

But all in all, you thought that perhaps the worst of it all was the feeling of being the only one.

You listen to songs that describe other places, places you wish your mother would tell you to go.

You know she wants you to stay, but you can't ignore the crazy visions of you in…well, somewhere that perhaps doesn't exist- or maybe it does.

Somewhere a different version of yourself could live; hopeful, happy, proud.

Your favorite movie, which makes you feel accepted, alive, is less than ten years old, even though you're a fan of old classic Hollywood.

You don't see yourself in them.

Many times before, you've heard people say 'it would be so much easier to be gay.'

They must've been joking, of course; but being gay was not a joke.

They joke about being gay but they've never wondered if their family would still love them.

They joke about being gay but they've never been scared of their friends abandoning them and talking behind their back.

They joke about being gay but they've never rejected a man with the reason of being interested in women, just for the man to ask if it's the truth, 'they could turn you', so they say.

They joke about being gay but they've never been the quiet one when others talked about boys.

They joke about being gay but they've never felt like they were disrespecting women because they found them attractive.

They joke about being gay but they've never been the outcast.

They joke about being gay but they've never worried about their loved ones not attending their wedding.

They joke about being gay but they've never pretended to like men to try and fit in with their peers.

They joke about being gay but they've never had nobody to talk to.

They joke about being gay but they've never had nobody to cry to.

They joke about being gay but they've never wished they were a boy, for the sole reason of a woman liking them back.

They joke about being gay but they've never had to love somebody in secret.

They joke about being gay but they'll never know what it feels like.

As bad as you felt, through the loneliness, the grief, the 'what ifs' and the doubt, it wasn't the fact of being queer that scared you, it wasn't that you weren't open, or accepting.

What did hurt though, was what came with it.

The fear of never finding someone, the fear of being rejected and harmed in public, the fear of never understanding how you really felt; the fear of feeling too deeply.

There have been times where you almost, almost, decided to leave it be.

'In another life' you said, shrugging your shoulders as a tear dripped down your cheek at the thought of faking it, and marrying a man.

But one day, you were reading a book dated from the 60s, when the realization hit you.

Years ago, regrettably not that many, you would not have the choice, you would not have the freedom.

And here you were, in the age of progression, hiding away in the land of heterosexuals.

You had a choice, you had freedom.

For the woman before you who were stuck in sham marriages, cried themselves to sleep, snuck around with another woman and feared for their life, for the women who raised children but not with whom they loved, for the women who had no such thing as freedom of choice.

You would not fake it, you would not hide, you would be your true self for them, and for you, regardless of the very possible fact that you could be the only queer in this small town.

༻༺

The headmistress stood outside of the chemistry classroom one gloomy morning, greeting students as they entered as your teacher always did.

You sauntered through the halls as you watched your peers and their modernistic and typical ways.

You weren't sure who's twisted idea it was, to put hundreds of adolescents in underfunded schools run by people whose dreams were crushed years ago…but you admired the sadism.

Opening your locker and retrieving your books, your sketchbook met the floor with an echo when a guy accidentally bumped into you.

"Oh crap, sorry Y/N"

You gave him a menacing look, before taking a breath and straightening yourself out.

"No worries."

His friend, who had shoved him into you, continued on to class as he spoke from down the hall. "C'mon man, leave the freak alone."

You expected him to continue on as well, but he didn't.

"How are things going?"

You'd likely be late for class if he kept the conversation up.

"A lot of this" you shrugged, pointing to your books.

"Yea, me too. The harvest festival is coming up though, I know you love the fall, and all things creepy."

You huffed in amusement, nodding your head.

"It’s nice to have things to look forward to."

He smiled and nodded, looking to his feet.

"Well, I'll see you there. Maybe I'll message you?"

You shook your head uninterested, not holding him to it.

"Sure."

Bending down to pick your sketchbook up off the floor, it was open to a doodle you had done which was rather, well, not appropriate for school.

Slamming your sketchbook shut, you stood and met your locker mirror; your own reflection, as well as the principals, smiling back at you.

Jump scare.

"Good morning, darling."

You spun around in surprise, staring wide eyed.

"Principal Weems, good morning."

She nodded as she looked at you in amusement, hoping to hide her true thoughts about your morning interactions.

"Where is Ms. Currie?"

The principal tilted her head at you, "Out today. I was notified last minute, so I'm your substitute."

Well, it was your lucky day.

The principal never failed to notice your…disinterest.

She didn't fail to notice the way some students picked on you, nor your lack of emotion; your presence of indifference towards men.

She saw herself in you, you were just like her.

That thought brought her both joy and pain.

༻༺

Sitting in the quad, you nervously twisted your fingers as you watched your friend approach.

You had heard, apparently, that it was a 'cannon lesbian experience' to have a crush on your friend.

Man were they right, and man, did it hurt.

She sat with a smile, though you could see that her attention was diverted.

"Hi."

"Hey Mar."

You swallowed, looking her in the eye across the table.

"I um, I was thinking, the Rave 'N is soon, maybe we could go together…"

Just then, you watched Gannon make his way to the table and sit beside your friend.

She squealed lightly, pulling him closer to her.

"Y/N, did I tell you Gannon and I are going to the Rave 'N together?!"

Your heart dropped, but it wasn't anything new, it wasn't at all surprising.

For you knew your friend liked men, but you had thought that maybe, well, you didn’t know; maybe there was hope that someone could be like you.

"Oh, uh, congratulations."

Your heart panged as they looked into each others eyes, smiling in anticipation.

"So, what were you talking about?"

You shook your head and let out a weak chuckle, quickly thinking of an excuse.

"I um, I was thinking maybe we could get ready for the Rave'N together, that could be fun."

Marcella smiled as she stood, linking her arm with Gannon's.

"Sure! I'll see you later!"

The principal, who supervised lunch in the quad, watched your rejection with disappointment and regret.

It dug deep, it brought back memories of her own time at Nevermore; the hate and the heartbreak that she felt, that you felt.

Sometimes, things never changed.

'I don't know if I believe the way I feel is real

And I often wonder if it is

Watching your friend dance with a guy

And pondering whether it's what she truly wishes

Should you step in, or leave her be?

You know you wouldn’t wish it, but does she?

It hurts a bit, a little, a lot; watching her dance so close to him

And maybe she'd dance with you like that too

But not in this life, no, not now,

For she's dancing with him, and you watch from the crowd'

༻༺

You knew it wasn’t the fault of your own; the despair, the regret, the loneliness.

But, you couldn't help but feel it when you were alone, so utterly alone, regardless of the fact that you could be surrounded by people.

They'd never understand the feeling of being so outcast, ironically, the feeling of being so different. The feeling of being told that how you felt was somehow wrong.

You felt it, you felt it wholeheartedly; and how could your heart be wrong?

Your parents, who never meant any harm, contradicted themselves.

Honestly, you couldn't exactly say how, but it hurt in a way that you didn't understand.

You thought maybe they were smarter, more knowledgeable, perhaps wiser than you.

They had always said that you could talk to them, but it was useless, as any attempt made you feel worse, not better.

They had been on this earth for sometime, however, surely they must've experienced the hate, and transformed themselves to some degree?

Wishful thinking.

They could never be so open.

And you think, maybe that's what hurt the most; wishing they could understand, wishing they would care enough to understand.

Alas, wishing was useless.

There were nights where you prayed for an older, wiser being to cry to. Someone who could tell you what to do and how to feel, someone who would listen, someone who would care.

Someone who would see you. Someone who understood, because they felt it themself.

༻༺

You made every attempt to be true to yourself.

To not lie, to let yourself feel what you felt, to get out more; to live.

It was hard to be true to yourself, though, when your friends agreed to accompany you to a pride day in Jericho, and then ditched you.

You resented them, you envied them, they didn't know what it felt like; they never would.

The hurt multiplied ten fold when June came around. The hiding, the thinking, the loneliness, it didn't settle, it didn't stop.

After an hour of scrubbing off your makeup, crying face down into your bed, and ditching your  themed outfit, you arrived in Jericho, the opening ceremony finished.

The town square was very festive, multiple restaurants and shops agreed to host a scavenger hunt, crafted special meals to celebrate, provide smaller fun activities, and fireworks. You were proud of the small town of Jericho, they were trying; as were you.

And although they were trying, these activities were not really fun to do, well…alone.

Alas, that's what you were. Alone.

Passing by the Weathervane, you saw a small group of Nevermore students on their way out. You wanted to join in, but you didn’t know them, not that well.

Peering over at the counter, you found a drink special for the day;

'buy any regular sized drink, get rainbow whipped cream for free.'

You snorted, it was rather cheesy, but cute.

Stepping up to the counter, you ordered an iced coffee.

"Would you like rainbow whipped cream on that?"

You sighed, about to shake your head no when you heard a voice at the other end of the counter.

"Thank you, dear. This looks delicious."

She was standing tall with a red lipped smile, peering down at her hot chocolate; rainbow whipped cream on top.

You had to agree, it did look delicious.

"Yes, uh, whipped cream please."

As soon as your drink was made, you beelined it for the door, hoping she wouldn't see you.

It wasn't that you didn’t want to see her, it wasn't that you didn’t want to talk.

It was that you didn’t want her to see you- alone.

Unsure of where to go next, you stood on the sidewalk and tried your drink; delicious.

The doorbell rang and she stepped out, gazing around the streets.

In a flash, you turned and headed down the sidewalk, away from the activities, away from her.

"Y/N?"

You stopped, slowly turning as if you were unsure of where the voice had come from.

A wave, a smile, and she was next to you in a few strides.

"Darling, you're going the wrong way, the festival is this way!"

She never failed to make you happy, her and her rainbow hot chocolate.

You shrugged, "I uh, I don't really want to participate."

Her head tiled in question as she caught sight of your drink.

"You're not interested in celebrating pride?"

Well, that just made you sound homophobic. You shook your head quickly.

"No, no I am. I just, my friends were supposed to come with me but, they changed their minds I guess."

The principal looked down at you, your head hung in sadness, perhaps shame.

Today was not a day to be sad, it was not a day to be shameful, it was a day to be proud, to celebrate.

"Well, I am here with a few Nevermore students. I am proud to support them, no matter who or what they are."

You couldn't help but smile crookedly in awe, meeting her appreciative blue gaze. She bent down closer to you, softening her voice. "That includes you, love."

Your heart beat fast as you stared in surprise, tears threatened to spill as you felt accepted and cared for, for the first time in a long time.

Taking a sip of your drink with a shaky hand, you fiddled with your jewellery.

The woman saw you thinking, contemplating.

She felt the exact same at your age. Knowing who you were, to an extent, but pushing the feeling away with every chance you got.

You didn’t want to, she knew, you wanted to be proud, she knew, but it was hard when you felt like the only one, the only one in this small town.

"How about we try the scavenger hunt, hmm?"

You looked up at her with a frown, but inside you felt joyful.

"We're probably already behind" you chuckled.

The woman waved a hand in dismissal, "Nonsense. We have a good chance if we work together."

༻༺

1.

You made your way back into the Weathervane, retrieving the first clue to the hunt.

'If the first pride flag was designed in Jericho, it would've been designed here.'

You passed the first clue to her, knowing the first pride flag was designed in 1978. If it had have been designed in Jericho, well, you had three options.

The woman smiled, gasping lightly as she recalled "'Sew it forward', it was established here in the 1960s."

༻༺

2.

You followed the intriguing woman to 'Sew it forward', watching as she retrieved the second clue and stamped the pride book red.

She took the clue between her fingers, narrowing her eyes at the small writing.

'This famous bar in New York City was the site of the 1969 riots, a pivotal event in LGBTQ+ history. Find the Jericho bar that starts with the same letter.'

You racked your brain around the bars in Jericho. You have never been to the bars besides for lunch.

"Stones!"

The principal raised a brow at you, a small smirk on her face.

"What?! Just because I'm not of age doesn’t mean I haven't been. Stones has good pizza."

A loud laugh was heard throughout the fabric shop. You were overjoyed that you could make her laugh freely, albeit most likely sounding stupid.

She headed for the door; and you would follow her anywhere.

༻༺

3.

Arriving at Stones, you found those also attempting the hunt, and those drowning in drinks.

You stamped the book with the second stamp, orange, and retrieved the third clue.

'Locate a pin or item that displays personal pronouns or sexual orientation, both important ways to respect people's identities.'

Leading the way out into the street, you looked around.

You didn’t remember seeing a shop with a prominent pin or badge.

"A pin or badge."

You looked up at the tall woman, her eyebrows furrowed in question.

Raking your eyes over her form, you found a brooch on her jacket, one you knew she wore often.

Lips.

"Where did you get that brooch?"

She peered down at her brooch, straightening it out as a light blush overtook her cheeks.

"Oh, my brooch. I got it at the antique shop, Uriah's Heap."

Uriah's Heap, a shop so very, well, out of the ordinary.

It was your favorite.

You stared at her for a moment hoping she would catch on, until her eyes widened in excitement.

"Let's go!" she smiled, grabbing your hand as she drug you to the shop.

༻༺

4.

You stood outside of Uriah's Heap, finding a large progressive pride flag pin on their window.

You knew this was a scavenger hunt, a race of some sort, but you always loved searching for hidden treasures in the shop that many people didn’t appreciate.

Following the principal, she found her way to the antique jewelry.

Choosing a vintage locket, you placed it on the counter and found a basket of pins staring back at you.

"Hello, did you find something of interest?"

The woman, who you remembered enjoyed chaga tea after working here on outreach day, peered down at you.

"Yes, may I purchase this?"

Peering over at the tall woman, she held a brooch up to you.

"Do you think this is nice, darling?"

A brooch which you thought resembled an eye. Very fitting for the principal and her unique look.

"It's beautiful, it matches your bracelet."

She smiled gratefully down at you, placing it on the counter.

"You are very perceptive" she remarked.

The lady rang up both items, the principal speaking up.

"Oh, I'll purchase that separate."

You shook your head at her with a sly smile, "I got it Principal Weems."

After purchasing your items, the principal retrieved the fourth clue and stamped the book yellow.

'What LGBTQ+ novel, written by Sheridan Le Fanu, preceded Dracula?'

You had read this book recently, an easy clue, really.

"Carmilla"

The woman looked down at you in surprise, nodding her head.

"Great novel, absolutely the best. I'm proud" she winked.

You smiled, gaze landing on the floor bashfully before peering back over at the pins in the basket.

The woman noticed and sorted through them. "Hmm, so many options. Would you like one?"

You watched as she held them in her hands to you, every option they had available.

There were so many colors, so many flags and pronouns.

You hummed and hawed over them, knowing which you wanted to chose, but still unsure.

"Well, I think I like this one."

The principal chose one; red, orange, white and pink stripes staring back at you.

Your mouth opened in shock as you watched her pin it to her jacket.

She smiled mischievously, "What's the matter, darling?"

The lesbian flag, something you didn't see often included in pride merchandise.

"I, uh, are you…" you stuttered.

The woman chuckled, straightening out the pin. "A lesbian?"

You nodded speechless as you stared up at her, thrill running through your veins.

She clasped her hands together and gave one nod, a bright smile as she batted her eyelashes your way.

Her support, her happiness, the confidence that she had, it made you want to cry.

You were so, so happy for her, you were so very proud.

Proud of her for her openness, proud of her for her representation, proud of her for being her true self, and for showing others that it was okay to be gay.

Grateful for her bravery, to show others that they were not alone.

You took a deep breath, "Can I have the same one?"

She dug through the pins, finding the very same flag and holding it out to you, "May I?"

You nodded, presenting your jacket to her.

She pinned in on, running a hand soothingly over your arm.

"I'm so very proud of you, darling."

You breathed in heavily, taking in her sincere and caring smile before meeting her gaze.

"I'm proud of you too, Principal Weems. And I'm so happy for you, thank you."

It was all the principal had wished for on this day, to help at least one person through their journey. To help you present yourself, to help you feel like you deserved to be seen, to help you feel proud.

"Of course, love. Now, where can we find the novel 'Carmilla'?"

Well, the library or bookstore, of course. But, you took a bet that Carmilla may not be at the library, so you headed to the bookstore.

༻

5. Crow bookshop

You retrieved the second last clue, stamping the book green.

'Locate the basket prepared for a festive outdoor meal, filled with colorful snacks and drinks. Perfect for a celebration under the open sky.'

The principal looked down at you in contemplation.  "The Basket, like the restaurant?"

You shrugged your shoulders, unsure of where else they would be referring to.

༻༺

6.

You arrived at 'The Basket', a restaurant just before the beach.

There were a few specials, a fruit basket, a flight of ciders, and a flight of sliders.

You knew the principal was a fan of burgers.

"Are you hungry?"

The tall woman looked down at you, smiling as she read over the special.

"Chipotle, Bacon and cheese, Veggie, Bean, Texas, and Chicken sliders. Would you like to share?"

You looked over the menu, rereading what she had just rhymed off.

Nodding, you asked, "What's a flight?"

She chuckled, ordering the special for you both.

"You're about to find out."

Sitting at a table on the back patio, you settled down across from the principal.

A moment silence, you looked her up and down, questioning many things.

An older, wiser being. A beautiful one who appeared to be pretty open, who seemed like she'd understand, who seemed like she cared.

"How did you know that you liked women and not men?"

The woman raised her gaze to you, lips stretching into a sad smile.

She took a deep breath and smoothed a napkin over her lap.

"Well, when I was your age, this small town was all that I knew, just like you.

I knew that I didn't feel the same as my peers, I never cared to talk about boys, I never really fit in in the way that I hoped to.

One day I realized that I wouldn't at all mind kissing my friend, in fact I longed to" she chuckled. "Representation was lacking, but what little of it there was, it helped me realize how I felt as I grew. It's hard to accept yourself, for many reasons, but when you try to push it away, it doesn't get any better, it never changes."

Your voice was hoarse as you asked in confirmation.  "It never changes?"

She shook her head, "It never changes. You have to decide for yourself.

Do whatever makes you happy, feel whatever makes you happy, no matter how different it is, no matter how alone you may feel."

You pursed your lips as tears built in your eyes, she was right, of course she was.

"Well, it helps knowing I'm not the only one."

The woman nodded her head in agreement, wallowing over the memories of her feeling alone, of her heartbreakingly coming to the realization of how she truly felt, of who she really was.

It brought her sadness, to know that others felt the same; perhaps even worse.

"The journey is not an easy one, it's not for the weak. You have to know that you're strong, and you're worthy, always."

The sliders were placed on your table, averting her attention.

She carefully cut them all in half, holding up a piece of the bacon and cheese as she offered the rest to you.

"Bon appétit."

The principal stamped the book blue and picked up the last clue.

 '"At midnight, in the month of June, I stand beneath the mystic moon." What establishment is named after this poet?'

She looked down at you with a finger pointed your way.

You scrunched your eyebrows, Edgar Allan Poe.

The only establishment could be, "The Poe!"

You and the principal laughed, shouting the answer at the same time.

༻༺

7.

 You headed to The Poe, a small museum and shop on the beach that sold trinkets, drinks, and ice cream.

Principal Weems stamped the last page purple, turning in the scavenger hunt book to the shop.

"Well, congratulations! You were fifth to finish the scavenger hunt."

You laughed, fifth place.

The tall woman smiled down at you with a wink, "We're losers."

You both were, in fact, losers.

After collecting your prizes and ordering ice cream, which the principal insisted on, you made your way to a bench on the beach.

You watched the woman with great interest. An intelligent, interesting woman she was. A powerful, selfless woman. A perceptive woman, a force to be reckoned with.

You hoped and prayed that you would grow up to be at least half the person that she was.

The principal caught your interest with a low chuckle.

"I'm having lots of fun with you, love, but I'm sorry you had to spend the day with your principal."

You tilted your head in confusion; you were not sorry, not one bit.

"I'm not sorry. Today was the best day I've had in awhile. Thank you."

The woman pouted, opening her arms to you; you gladly embraced her.

With a deep breath you pulled away, placing your hand in her soft reassuring one.

"So what happened with your friend? The one you wanted to kiss?"

The principal chuckled remorsefully. "Nothing."

Looking out over the water, her smile turned to a frown.

"I wanted to hold her, to protect her from men with all the fury I had grown.

They don't see her beauty like I do, they don't care to.

But unfortunately, it's the same old story."

She turned to you with sad eyes.

"A girl cries over a girl and that girl cries over a guy, and well…

it goes on and on and on,

and it doesn't stop.

It never stops."

You were just like her, perhaps there was hope for you.

Just then, fireworks lit up the darkness of the beach. All colors of the spectrum were on display, but all you saw was red, orange, white, and pink.

Your attention was then diverted to a girl wearing a Nevermore uniform as she made her way to you.

She waved, "Hi Principal Weems."

She then looked to you. "Hi Y/N"

She spoke with the principal as you analyzed her. You recognized her, but you didn't know her name, so how did she know yours?

The girl's eyes landed on you once again, meeting your gaze. You didn't want to ask.

"Aura, I like your pin." A sly tone to the older woman's voice.

You followed the principals gaze to the pin on Aura's jacket, then you peered down at the pin attached to yours.

"Thanks Principal Weems" she smiled, eyes slowly trailing to the woman's pin, then to yours.

Your eyebrows furrowed, and Aura's raised in surprise.

"Oh, we all have the same pin!"

The principal chuckled, gazing down at you with a bright smile.

"See darling, you're never alone. I promise you're not the only one."

[voltronisanobsession]

Heyyy can you please do Keith Kogane x a reader who is a space princess?? I love your work btw!!

Keith Falls for a Space Princess Headcanons

Thank you so much, I’m so happy you enjoy my writing!!! I hope you don’t mind that I did headcanons💔 I found this so cute bro I CANT 😭

Also I got another request similar to this one so I’ll debate if I’ll write a different scenario or not!!

Keith’s first impression of you wasn’t anything too extraordinary

Lowkey believed that you would just be another person they rescued from the Galra💀

But once finding out that you were a space princess like Allura, coming from a long line of ancient alchemists and sorcerers, it really peaks his interests

Depending on if you meet before he finds out he’s part Galra or after, that’ll start off the relationship

If we’re talking before, it would be a relatively chill introduction

Being a space princess often gathers you a lot of recognition but Keith captures your attention because of his lack of interest

While you’re used to many treating you with high respect, Keith just treats you normally, with the same tough attitude he has with everyone!

He basically treats you like a normal person, something you haven't felt in a loonnngg time💔

But if it's after he finds out he's part Galra and reveals it, then things would be REALLY tense, on your end at least...

The Galra have made you and countless others suffer for centuries, so knowing one of the paladins of Voltron, who are working to rid of the Galra Empire, is galran himself 😶

Yeah you're especially tense around Keith, untrusting toward him which bothers him for some reason

BUT MOVING ON

Of course, your own curiosity toward the boy ultimately leads you to spending more time with him

At first, he might find your lingering presence somewhat annoying since he isn't used to someone giving him all this extra attention

Always asking him questions during his training, sticking with him when out on missions

At one point, Keith gets used to your presence, a sense of normalcy falling between the two of you quickly as the weeks pass quickly

He opens himself up to you slowly, giving pieces of himself and his life to you while you do the same :D

He'll give you slivers of what his life was like on Earth while you share your own stories of life on your planet

He learns more about your culture, your duties as a princess, and even the history of your ancestors (something which you take pride in)

Because of the amount of time spent together, you guys grow close with every new mission and planet Voltron visits

And with this, this means that Keith begins to grow kinda protective of you?

LIKE LISTEN

He starts caring for you as time passes and he doesn't know exactly when things have been changing between the two of you??

He doesn't know when he began staring at you more often, he doesn't know when he began anticipating your arrival every morning, and he ESPECIALLY doesn't know when his heart began fluttering at the mere sight of you

Maybe it was the elegance that seemed to permanently stick to you after years of being in a royal court

Or maybe it was your constant nagging whenever he was around, sneaking past the walls he built around his heart

Or perhaps it was the caring hand you placed on his shoulder whenever his emotions got the best of him

He would totally go to Coran about possibly courting you because why not LMAO

Coran knows how princesses are supposed to be courted (hopefully), Keith just wants to impress you the best he can and fully believes only Coran holds the secret

So you’re just witnessing him falling over his own feet trying to approach you with uptight mannerisms while Coran watches his every move from afar

“For you my, uh, lady?” *holds out flower*

Cue Coran whispering loudly, “Good, good!”

Despite how endearing it is to see Keith try and keep up with the traditional courting, you have to reassure him that you don’t mind that he isn’t apart some royal family (he’s lowkey insecure that you might prefer someone with a similar background as you)💔💔

You like him for him, not caring for his status at all

With that, you both have a good flowing relationship, his intense personality softening with your own pleasant personality

He learns to control his emotions because of you while you learn to show more of your own because of him!!

You also show him the sort of sorcery you’re able to do, having learned from a young age to harness the power that resided into, which he finds SUPER cool and kinda confusing

He’s trying his best to understand😔

He still sometimes feels like he isn’t enough for you though so please PLEASE make sure to tell him other wise😭🙏🙏🙏

He holds you in a high regard because of your status as a princess, he makes sure to tell anyone he comes across that so they treat with respect😭😭

You’re lowkey embarrassed when he begins bragging about your heritage like bro stop😭

Yeah despite this, he still manages to not associate you with only being a space princess, but an honorary member of Voltron

He’s super soft for you I can’t😭😭

[hippolotamus]

WIP Wednesday 🖤

tagged by the lovely and talented @tizniz @eddiebabygirldiaz mwah! 💖 the beans have taken a swift and sudden break, so I'm cheating by using segments that none of you have ever read before. not once. promise. have this bit of young Evan and Maddie from the witch!eddie/familiar!buck au

Hershey, PA - 1998

“Pleeeeease?” Evan pleads, giving Maddie his widest grin and best puppy dog eyes. In his six years and two months of being alive, this tactic has never failed him. 

Tonight she’s been tasked with babysitting while their parents are out. Which makes him happy because that means she’s the one tucking him into bed and reading him a story. As soon as she finishes their book, because it’s just them, he can’t resist asking for her magick. 

It’s not like she’s not allowed to use it, but for some reason their mom and dad never seem happy when she does. Unless it’s for a practical reason. Even then they look uncomfortable, barely being able to watch while she uses her gift. 

Shouldn’t they be happy? Not every family has magick, but they’re so lucky with Maddie. She’s a natural healer, with the power to make people better. She always makes him better whenever he gets a cut or scrape from falling off his bike, or does something tricky like that time he jumped off the swings and hit his chin when he landed. 

“I should have known you would ask,” Maddie teases.  

She takes her time putting the book back on the shelf and switching off the bedside lamp before making herself comfortable at the foot of his bed. There’s a sliver of light streaming in through the curtains, enough to see Maddie tuck her hair behind her ear and wiggle her fingers at him. The wiggling is mostly for show (he thinks) and to make him giggle. She’s always doing her best to make him smile. He wonders if everyone has a big sister like her. He hopes so. 

Maddie holds one palm out, showing him it’s empty before she turns it face up. With her other hand, she stirs her pointer finger in her cupped palm. Excitement and anticipation run in a gentle current under his skin. It’s a little like a swarm of butterflies in his tummy, or the feeling he gets when the car drives over a big hill. He clutches at his blanket, leaning forward to get a closer view of the pink and green beginning to form. 

“Ready?” She asks.

“Uh-huh,” he answers, eagerly nodding his head. 

They’re only slightly out of sync with one another as they begin counting out loud. “One… two…” Evan takes a deep breath, as much as his growing lungs can hold before Maddie exclaims “Three!”

His breath rushes out of him, blowing into the pink green glow. He watches in awe as it disperses, making the sunburst patterns on his walls light up, warm and golden, illuminating the space like fireflies. 

“You did it!” She praises him as if he had any influence on any of what just happened. He gives her an enormous grin anyway. It feels impossible not to with how content he feels. 

“No, you did!” 

“Well, you did the most important part,” she argues good naturedly, tousling his hair. 

He beams with pride, leaning into the touch. Thankfully, she takes the hint and strokes his forehead with her thumb. 

“Okay, lay down. It’s way past your bedtime.” 

“Not sleepy,” he protests through a yawn. When she gives him an incredulous look, he burrows into the covers, letting his head loll to the side. “Hey, Maddie?”

“Yeah?”

He hums as she resumes lightly scratching his scalp. “Do you think I’ll get my magick soon?”

“I-” Her movements slow almost to a stop, but start again before he can complain. “I don’t know.” 

“Hope so,” he mumbles sleepily. “Can’t wait to have mine, just like you.” 

The mattress shifts and soon he feels her press a kiss to his temple. “Get some sleep, Evan. I’ll be here if you need anything.”

The reassurance is a formality — of course she’ll be around. It’s nice to hear the words anyway. Before she leaves the room, he’s already drifting into a calm slumber, beautiful shades of pink, green, and gold dancing behind his eyelids.

np tagging @actuallyitsellie @epicbuddieficrecs @loveyouanyway @a-noble-dragon @mountedeverest

@diazheartsbuckley @weewootruck @saybiwithme mi amor @bidisasterevankinard @shipperqueen6

@ramonaflow @taketheplanspinitsideways @spotsandsocks @dangerpronebuddie @theotherbuckley

@stereopticons @kitteneddiediaz @daffi-990 @diazsdimples @your-catfish-friend

@thekristen999 @filet-o-feelings @wikiangela @underwaterninja13 LOML @lizzie-bennetdarcy

@rainbow-nerdss @steadfastsaturnsrings @inell

@theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @rmd-writes @welcometololaland @jesuisici33 @shortsighted-owl

@queerbuckleys @bi-buckrights @elvensorceress @bucksbiawakening @giddyupbuck

@hoodie-buck @indestructibleheart @ladydorian05 @lemonzestywrites @monsterrae1

@statueinthestone @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @the-likesofus @thewolvesof1998 @watchyourbuck

@wildlife4life anyone else who wants to 😘

[halsinningiswinning]

Have you got a favourite BG3 headcanon to share? :D

I actually have quite a few, but I couldn't pick a single bloody one. So instead you get a delirious pain fuelled rambling about a few HC's I have~ Some, mind you, are gonna be sexual.

Thank you SM💞 This was a lot of fun!

1 ) Lae'zel is the most likely to earn her Red Wings. Sorry Astarion, but she's built different. His complicated relationship with sex would delay him having that chat I think, but maybe he can take the second place.

Lae'zel on the other hand always seems into her lover, and as a Githyanki would not have the same cultural understanding of menstruation. Why would it gross her out? She's seen her lovers blood before, on rare occasion spilled it herself. Finding out that they just bleed, casually, on a fairly regular basis as a part of their fertility cycles would both amaze and disturb her. We know her opinion on pregnancy and birth, so she'd find the reasoning behind menstruation to be pitiable, but the physical reality of it would be no less fascinating to her. Pour one out for any lover she has who isn't as comfortable with it as she is, because she fully will not understand their discomfort.

2 ) Gale isn't very good at sharing a kitchen. He's all too happy to cook for those he loves, be it romantic or platonic. In many ways it's an act of love and devotion, and it never feels like a chore to him even when he doesn't get much thanks.

He's less happy to have people cook for him, but he's mature enough to step aside. It'd be selfish of him to deny others the pleasure he sees in cooking, so as long as it's not too often he can accept it. Tho, in his youth I do imagine he was a picky eater, and his preference for cooking started there. Boy genuinely felt he was the best cook since he liked his food the best. Genius that one is.

His grace collapses when he's forced to share a space while cooking. Unless you remain out of arms length from him at all times he will make an annoyed little huff every time he sees you. It's not personal, you're just throwing off his groove. If frustrated enough he will simply grab your shoulders and move you out of his way. His ideal form of cooking together is him doing all the cooking, and you simply sitting in the corner talking to him, occasionally trying whatever he presents. It's a good thing.

3 ) Wyll actually has an unhinged story for just about every part of Baldur's Gate. I firmly believe we only got to hear a sliver of his stories in the game. I'm sure he knows not everyone wants to hear every detail, so he only shares what he thinks are the good bits. However, all you need to do to find out more is to ask him if he's been to that location before.

Oh to wander around the city with him on a lazy afternoon.

That fence? He was 12 when he climbed it, fell from near the top. His father was nearly beside himself, but a bush broke young Wyll's fall so he suffered no real injury. Just to his pride.

That tower outcropping? At only 8 years old young Wyll had wandered off, amazed at the view. Curled up in a little window hole, he fully missed the Fist hunting for him. Poor Ulder thought he'd been snatched away. Florrick found him asleep on the ledge, hours after he wandered off.

Keep him talking and you'll get nothing done. Wyll would thrive as a bard.

4 ) I think Halsin has large ebbs and flows in his libido. He's very sex positive, but I don't think that means he's hypersexual. He's had phases of his life where he certainly was, both before and after his drow capture, but it's not his baseline.

On the other hand he's had just as many phases of hyposexuality, sometimes lasting decades at a time. While I've used clinical language, he would not. To him his libido is simply obeying its own natural cycles, even though his highs and lows are more extreme than the average person may experience.

[youaintnothinbuta]

hiii! could u pretty pls do a jack kelly x reader with the reader secretly being pulitzers daughter? (kinda like katherine’s storyline lol) :))

"So we wasn’t too good to be true?" — jack kelly x reader

Summary: Jack finds out the hard way that you’re Pulitzer’s daughter and he’s not happy about it. But, after forcing him to listen to you, you show him that he can trust you.

Pairing: jack Kelly x pulitzersdaughter!reader

Word count: 1,000

Warnings: Fluff with a bita arguing! Sry if there’s typos <3

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It was late and cold, Jack was hurting and angry. He’d gone back to the newsies from Pulitzer’s office, trying to disband the strike. The boys didn’t take this well, yelling and shouting at him like they hadn’t been friends for most of their lives. He stormed around on his rooftop, kicking and punching the railings, his breathing ragged as his body tried to keep warm in the cold air, and his brain tried to fight off the emotions that were becoming all too much for him to contain. The newsies, however, weren’t even the half of what was working him up so much. No, it was you. He was furious and sad.

While in Pulitzer’s office, he noticed the stamp patterned over all the documents spread all over his desk. Jack could barely remember what Pulitzer said to him. His head hurt, his brain felt like lead. That stamp had the same emblem as the one in your necklace, the one you’d told him was a family crest.

He wasn’t exactly being quiet up there, the echo of metal ringing and his angry cries made it pretty easy for you to find him.

“Jack,” you spoke his name as you climbed up the ladder to meet him.

Jack took a sharp breath in, “you shouldn’t be here.”

“What? Jack, we’re worried ab—“

“You’re worried, huh? Yeah, right.” Jack’s voice was raw with emotion, his words tinged with bitterness as he cut you off.

You frowned, confusion knitting your brows together as you approached him cautiously. “What are you talking about, Jack? What’s going on?”

He turned away from you, unable to meet your gaze as he wrestled with the truth threatening to spill from his lips. “I knew it was too good to be true,” he confessed, his voice barely a whisper, “I saw your matching family crest with Pulitzer. Nice surprise, really. I mean, how long did you think you could lie for?”

You froze, your heart skipping a beat as his words sunk in. “Jack, I…”

He spun around to face you, his eyes filled with a tumult of emotions – anger, sadness, confusion. “You lied to me, a-and every other newsie” he accused, his voice cracking.

Tears welled in your eyes as you reached out to him, but he recoiled, pulling away from you. “Jack, please, let me explain—”

But he shook his head, his jaw clenched with determination. “I don’t want to hear it,” he spat, his words laced with hurt.

“Jack, I’m not my father.”

“No.”

“Jack-“

“I—I’m not an idiot. I shoulda known,” he groaned, “girls like you don’t wind up with guys like me. Just piss off.”

With that, he turned away from you, his shoulders hunched against the biting wind as he retreated into the darkness of the rooftop.

You weren’t about to let him do that.

“No Jack,” you gripped the back of his shirt, pulling it to turn him to face you. Before he had the opportunity to turn back around, you gripped the collar of his shirt in both hands, forcing him to look at you.

“I am not my father. I am on your side, Jack. YOUR SIDE. I didn’t tell you he was my father because I knew you’d immediately disregard me.” You stated, not once letting your eye contact be broken.

Jack's gaze softened as he looked into your eyes, the intensity of your close proximity playing with his head. He swallowed hard, his throat tight with emotion as he struggled to find the right words to say.

You could see the conflict playing out in his eyes, the battle between his wounded pride and the sliver of hope he still had left. And then, without a word, you released your grip on his shirt and took a step back, your own emotions threatening to overwhelm you.

You gripped at your necklace. With one hard yank, you pulled it off your neck, snapping the clasp. He watched as you leant over the railing, tossing it as far into the night as you could. Turning away from him, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what you knew would come next – rejection, dismissal, the final nail in the coffin of what could have been.

But then, just as you began to descend the ladder, his voice stopped you in your tracks.

"Y/N."

You paused, your heart pounding in your chest as you turned to look at him from the ladder.

"So we wasn’t too good to be true?" he asked, his voice soft yet filled with uncertainty.

You hesitated for a moment, your mind racing with a thousand thoughts of what to say. And then, summoning every ounce of courage you had left, you climbed back up the ladder and leaned against the railing, meeting his gaze head-on.

"Why don't you kiss me and find out," you challenged, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jack scoffed and shook his head. But as he looked into your eyes, he realized there was no jest in your expression, only a fierce determination and a vulnerability that mirrored his own.

“Wait, you’re serious?” he asked, his voice tinged with astonishment, his accent thick with disbelief.

You didn’t say anything, your gaze never leaving his as you held his stare, your heart pounding in anticipation.

And then, without another word, Jack closed the distance between you, his hands cupping your face as he pressed his lips to yours in a kiss that was both tender and passionate.

In that moment, everything else faded away – the cold, his anger, his hurt, your fears, the weight of the world on your shoulders. There was only Jack, only the warmth of his touch, the softness of his lips, and the overwhelming rush of emotions that came with him. Good ones.

There was a hunger in the way he kissed you, as if he was trying to convey all the emotions he couldn’t put into words. You pulled away, the soft smacking sound of your lips parting from his broke the silence.

“I am Y/N Pulitzer, Jack Kelly. Or should I say, Francis Sullivan.” You teased.

“You know?” His eyes widened, wondering how on earth you found out his birth name.

You shrugged, “We’re even now,” and extended your hand for him to shake.

“Nah,” he pushed your hand away, back down by your side, “I’d rather kiss.”

He smiled, pulling your body into his until your lips met again.