#he also had people give him a reason to care about the sport

[touchlikethesun]

i hate the idea that kageyama is as good as he is because of natural talent. maybe you could get away with thinking that the first few seasons, but we know from the manga that he trained his ass off from the age of 4 he’s been surrounded by volleyball since he was born. ofc to people that haven’t known him from birth, that haven’t seen all the hours that he has and continues to put in, it looks like natural talent. but it’s not. kageyama is as good as he is because of a whole life of constant practice and hard work.

[whore-ibly-hot]

Best friend!Retro-gamer!Yandere x Fem! Or Transmasc!Reader

"My Player Two"

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Dub-con, perverted thoughts, obsession, bullying, masturbation, cum play, begging, general perversion, dry-humping.

(AN: Merry early xmas or equivalent holiday, guys! I have given you all the present of rising from the grave to deliver some submissive yandere horny thoughts.)

A gentle tug shakes you out of your thoughts, making you sit up quickly and turn your attention to your friend, Lewis.

The curly haired brunettes tongue just barely pokes out between his lips, thick coke-bottle glasses slipping off his nose. He's trying his best to play his video game, whilst also keeping one hand on your shoulder. "Hey, I asked you somethin'!" He says, not glancing away from the screen.

"Sorry, just zoned out. Whatcha need?" You tilt your head and adjust your posture when he puts the hand from your shoulder back onto his controller.

"I was telling you that I think I'm real close to beating my Galaga score at the arcade on 54th. Real close to getting my initials up on that screen."

"That's great, Lewis. I'm glad all that practicing with your hands is paying off." He blushes at the encenuation. "You know, if you'd like you could come and see me, when I get that high score. It'd be pretty great." He grabs an old plastic cup by the side of his bed, handing it to you with a shake.

"I've even got a few coins for you, if you want them. Maybe we could play a couple rounds side-by-side, or I could use them, and get you a slushie or something from the prize counter." He looks at you hopefully, with large eyes. You giggle, and reach out to adjust his glasses, pushing them back up his nose. "Sure, Lewis. I can bring my own coins though how much you covet those coins." He chuckles.

The clock chimes 9:00 and your head whips over to see the time. "Oh, geez. I gotta get out of here, Lewis, I've got classes in the morning." He pouts a little, trying to think of a reason to get you to stay a little longer.

"Hey, maybe you could sleep over, just borrow one of my shirts. I'd hate to make you go home, plus I've got food here." He stands. You shake your head as you fumble around for your stuff.

"I can't Lewis, thanks though, I'll see you soon, okay? Uh, call me when you plan to go to the arcade, alright."

"Okay, goodnight then, Y/N..." he watches wistfully as you leave, trying to resist the urge to pull you back for just a few more minutes. He'd give you soda, or some more snacks. Lewis is hesitant to let anyone touch his controllers, but if you wanna play two player, he'll allow it, you'd just have to promise to be gentle. He knows you would be though, your always so gentle. With him, with animals and other people, (though he wishes it was him mostly.).

Lewis has never been popular at your school, it was bad in elementary, and only got worse when the social politics of high school kicked in. He was scrawny, freckled, and loved anything geeky. He was bad at sports and an only child, making him a little socially inept. He didn't care though, he may had wanted someone in elementary to play with, or in sixth and seventh grade to be his friend, but by eight grade year, it didn't matter. That's when he met you. Sweet, perfect you.

You were immediately popular at school. You were friendly, attractive, and outgoing, everything he tried and failed to be. Becoming your friend changed everything for him. He was still bullied and picked on, but it didn't matter. As long as you saw him as worthy, he was happy. His parents even stopped goading him about going out more, once they saw he actually had a friend, which just led him to have more time to stay indoors, with you and his consoles.

He lays on his bed thinking about how much you've meant to him, having set his controller aside, when he realizes the scent of your shampoo is still lingering on his pillow. You smell so good, and there's still a warm patch from where your laying.

"No... fuck." He whines, feeling his cock twitch to life from under his jeans. He runs a hand through his hair, fighting shame and carnal need. He quickly pokes his head around his blinds, making sure his parents aren't home yet. After deciding the coast is clear, He locks his door and gets under his bed, digging around for his book. Eventually, he finds the family photo fromthe christmas card your family sent his last december, just a couple months ago. He feels so dirty for jerking it to your family photo, especially considering your other family members pictures are on the page, but all the cute Polaroid pictures he has of the pair of you are still developing, and he really needs to look at you right now.

Normally, he'd just just turn on the adult late night channels, but he heard from some of the guys at school that usage of those channels are starting to reflect on cables bills, and he'd rather not get his TV taken.

In a moment of desperation, he kisses your photo once, before taping it up to his headboard, and grabbing the nearest pillow. Even though it's not you, and his cock desperately needs to be free from his jeans, he wants to make it romantic. He straddles the pillow, pretending in his head that this isnt weird at all, it's just.... practice for if, no, when he convinces you that he can provide reasons for you to love him.

"Y/N..." he huffs, looking down at the pillow and trying not to think about how embarrassing he's being. "I like you so much, I do, and I need-" he rolls his hips. "I need to be in you, I do." He tries to imagine what you might say.

"I know, i-its my first time too, but it'll be really good. I'll make sure I make you feel good, and I'll go really slow, even if I want to speed up." He begins undoing his pants. "You know, you thought you were being funny, making that dirty joke about practicing with my hands, but I bet some of that dexterity might carry over?" He chuckles, before groaning as he kicks off his boxers. "Stupid, that was stupid. Don't say that when this is a sure thing."

He looks down at his freckled dick, the tip red and leaking, slightly bulbous. He's pretty thin, but a decent length. He's sure if he figured out the right way to use it, he'd make you feel amazing. He's know you'll make him feel amazing.

"I'm gonna put it in now, okay? Y-yeah, yeah I'll go slow. Of course, I wouldn't hurt you or anything, unless you wanted that. I'd do anything for you." He groans, before rubbing his tip against the pillow and pumping his hips slowly. He pants, glasses fogging up.

"S' really good, not just on my dick but... but having you up against me, feels so nice to hold you." He clutches the pillow like a life preserver while he ruts away into it, whispering and panting praises and assurances to it.

"Gonna cum, god, I-I feel it coming. I wanna be a good guy, and pull it out but-" He moans. "You feel so good, I can't." He imagines in his head your on the pill, maybe for cramps, but... maybe just for him. "I-I can cum inside you? Really? Go's, yeah, yeah. Okay, I'll do that. I'll give it to you, and I'll clean you up right after I- shit." He can feel himself losing control at the thought of ruining you, the sight of his cum leaking out of your holes. He moans loudly, though it choked back and emotional enough it sounds like more of a cry. Thick, white cum comes out in strings, all across the crisp white fabric of his pillowcase.

Once that post-nut clarity hits, he groans. How could he be so stupid? This pillow had to be cleaned now, and that would wash out all the remnants of your scent. He sighs as he chucks the pillow case into his laundry basket, and tucks his spent cock back into his jeans. Wiping off his fogged up glasses, he looks at the photo of you again, taking it down from his bedframe. He leans back against the headboard as he looks at it.

"M'so in love with you, I wish I had the guts to say it. I play the hero all day, everyday in my games, why can't I just be like them. Strong enough to get the girl, and keep her. Not jerk off to a pillow and a family photo." He tucks it back under his bed. He'll impress you, he's just gotta find a way.

Several days later, you got a call from Lewis to meet him at the arcade. Grabbing your keys, you head out.

Upon arriving, you enter, and see Galaga. Huh, Lewis's initials were already on the leaderboard! He must've won before you showed up. Heading outside, you hear grunting from an alleyway. Concerned, you peek around the corner, and gasp.

"Hey!" You yell, running up. The two punks who were standing over your battered friend turn there heads, only to snicker. It's two boys from you and Lewis's class.

"Oh, Y/N, perfect timing. This geek was getting taught a lesson." The jock snickers.

"What is your problem? He didn't do anything to you guys!" You push past them to try and help Lewis up, but he looks mortified to see you. "N-no, no Y/N, don't-"

"Yeah, he didn't do anything to us, it's about what he did to you, or maybe, what you did to him." You turn around, and Lewis pales. "What're you talking about?" Your brows furrow.

"This geek has been in that shitty arcade all day, playing that game. When he beat his high score, he started dancing like a little girl. We laughed at him, and he started going off. Yelling about how he didn't need our approval, and he wasn't upset. He had something we couldn't take from him. We asked him, and he said it was you." You tilt your head.

"Yeah, man. We knew this creep had been following you around for a while, but we didn't know he thought you were friends. We said we didn't believe him, and he got so upset he started claiming he was your friend, that you loved each other. Even, heh-" The two laugh. "Even that he fucked you."

"W-what?" You gasp and look at him. "Lewis?"

"I'm so sorry, I... I needed them to believe we were close, that you did care." He blubbers, reaching our weakly to your blurry form, glasses broken.

"He got graphic with it, too. Talked about condoms and taking you from behind up in his bed, since it isn't true, the little perverts been fantasizing about it for a while. If nothing else, we did you a public service, shutting this creeps mouth." The taller jock says, trying to put a hand on your shoulder.

"Don't touch them!" Lewis screeches, blindly lashing out, weakness replaced by a moment of fury. "Jesus, he's crazier than we thought. Need us to walk you home?" The jock winks. You shake your head vehemently.

"Just go." You say coldly, not turning to face them. "Whatever, bitch. Don't blame us if this sicko does something to you." Only you and Lewis are left in the alley now.

"Y/N..."

"Don't, Lewis." You snap, making him recoil into himself. "I trusted you, you were my friend, h-how could you say such lewd things about me?" You ask.

"I-I didn't meant them to be leed, I was just angry. I mean, I would like to do that stuff with you, but it'd be romantic! I'd never try and defile you or something shitty like that. Just please, can we go back inside?" He begs. "I'll get you that slushie like I promised!"

You shake your head. "I... I need some time to process all this, Lewis. I think it's best if we don't see each other for a bit." His face falls. Despite what's happened, you almost regret what you said. He looks broken.

He kneels before you, on the ground. "Y/N, no, please. Your my only friend, my best friend, I'm sorry! I'll never talk like that again, I'll do anything to make it up to you! I-I take hormone suppression pills, o-or... I don't know, take an abstinence pledge, just don't leave. Your my everything, my best friend-"

You've already left the alley when he looks up. A few game tokens lay scattered, meant for you but having been lost from his pockets during his beat down.

"No... you're supposed to be my player two..."

[purplecoffee13]

NFWMB - part 3

Summary: “Harry runs into Y/N in the last place he expected her to be on a random Wednesday evening…”

Wc: 3.1k

Tropes: boxer!harry x innocent!reader

Warnings: none, really

A/N: hi lovely people, hereby I give you part 3 of NFWMB! Be mindful that this is a longer series so the build-up will, therefore, also take longer. It’s a bit of a short part but I promise the next one will make up for it! I also want to thank my bestie for constantly brainstorming this plot with me you know who you are ILYYY🥰🥰🤭🙏❤️ ENJOYYY

General Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Harry had been restless ever since he said goodbye to Y/N and stepped into his car yesterday. It was like his whole body was screaming at him to turn around and kiss her. He had never felt such a need to do it before. Never experienced his body pulling him to hers like magnets, as if he couldn't breathe properly again until he kissed her.

It was scary, to say the least.

He'd had crushes before, or just people he'd found attractive and sometimes popped up in his fantasies, but this was different. It was almost laughable. How did he even know it was different, Harry ridiculed himself. He'd seen the girl— what? Two, three times now?

And then, like clockwork, that lovingly ache in his stomach would multiply in response, and Harry just knew. It was risky, he was aware of that as well, but he just wanted her close, one way or another. Even if he'd have to wait until the day she didn't want self-defense classes anymore to ask her on a date, he would, although it felt almost physically impossible to think of being that close to her and never being able to kiss her.

If he could just kiss her...

Harry frowned, staring blankly towards the heap of paperwork on his desk. He had been busy with this for the last two hours, and his daydreaming about Y/N was the only reason it was not yet finished. He tried to read again, but the letters on the paper just wouldn't form into words. Sighing, Harry looked up from his desk, looking out into the training room, which was on the empty side. It was lunchtime now, so it would fill up again in an hour or two.

The sight of Y/N walking through the room had Harry leaping from his chair. He blinked a couple times, making sure he wasn't dreaming or anything. Nope, he was not dreaming at all, Y/N was in the gym.

Not only that, she was also wearing tight sports leggings. It was paired with a wide oversized sweatshirt that covered most of her ass, but Harry let out a breath anyway as he shamelessly observed her long legs. This was not helping his case at all.

He stayed surprisingly still as he watched Y/N walk over to the treadmill, looking around the room before she steps on it. Harry tilted his head when he noticed her furiously pushing some buttons, and she began running faster and faster.

Where did she learn to run so fast? Why is she running so fast? She must be relieving some frustrations. He’d had days where his adrenaline overflowed as well.

He wanted to go up to her and talk to her, but he stopped himself before he could reach the door. He needed to finish this paperwork before he could do that. It would be great motivation to hurry the fuck up.

So, he did. He finished the paperwork in twenty minutes. It was embarrassing how little time it actually took now that he wasn't daydreaming about Y/N the entire time. It was even more embarrassing to realize that the only reason his daydreams were subsiding was because she was out there, a couple feet away.

Pathetic!

He kept shouting it at himself, yet he still couldn’t seem to care that he was acting like a lovesick teenager. With a smile, he got up from his desk and walked into the training room, going straight for the treadmills.

His face faltered, however, at the sight of empty treadmills. Harry walked over to the one he last saw Y/N on, and his brows raised at the digits he read.

She ran 7 kilometers in thirty minutes? That was incredibly fast. He would have a lot of difficulty with keeping up, he wasn't even sure if he could keep up if he tried. Why didn't she ever mention she was a running miracle?

The sound of a familiar laugh made Harry's ears perk up, and his stomach fluttered as he turned around to look for Y/N. Whatever was fluttering in his stomach died on the spot, however, when he finally caught sight of Y/N... with another man.

She was standing with Alan, one of the personal trainers he hired. Harry had always been careful with his application process, and although he knew Alan was a good guy, he the urge to drop kick him to the ground was too strong to ignore.

How could he possibly have made her laugh like that? How funny did he have to be to make that sound fall from her lips? Harry scoffed to himself, shaking his head as he approached the two.

"Hey!" He conjured a smile for Y/N, which was easy to do, especially since her face lightened up at the sight of him. It told him she felt comfortable in his presence. The assurance that ran through his veins felt like being cuddled up in a warm blanket on a snowy winters' day.

"Harry, hi!" She greeted him, seeming to forget about Alan existence entirely until he greeted Harry. She finally blinked, taking her back to reality.

"Hey man." Alan greeted him casually. Harry just nodded in a response, a small 'hey' falling from his lips before turning his attention Y/N again.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, eyes twinkling with enthusiasm which he hoped would translate into his words as well. Y/N looked away for a second, cheeks turning red as she fiddled with her hands.

"Just— blowing off some steam."

That was definitely a lie, Harry could tell. Not only because she was a terrible liar, but also because she had a habit of looking away and fiddling with stuff whenever she was scared to tell the truth— wait, her hand...

A small stabbing ache filled Harry's chest as he noticed the wrapped bandage around Y/N's palm. He turned to Alan.

"Don't you have a two o'clock?"

It was a bit harsher than Harry usually was towards his employees. He was a stern boss, but still the kind to have a nice chat with. This was a bit out of character for him, but he couldn’t care less about that now. He needed to know what happened, and Y/N would never be comfortable with telling the truth if Alan was still there.

It didn't take more than two seconds for Alan to realize what the true situation here was, raising his brows as he immediately took a step back— literally and figuratively.

"Right. See you around, Y/N." He winked at her as he walked off. Harry clenched his jaw—the pile of profanities in his mind reserved for Alan slowly growing—and eyed the girl next to him, who gave his employee a small wave as he finally disappeared.

"So," Harry looked down at Y/N's hand. "Tell me, what's really going on?"

Y/N shrugged. "Nothing. Busy day at work, so I came here to blow off some steam."

Bullshit. He didn't buy into that being the whole story. She was definitely not telling him everything, but then again, they didn't know each other very well so it was completely valid for her not to bombard him with all her secrets. He wished he could just tell her that she could trust him.

"You ran really fast." He decided to go a different route. When she didn't necessarily respond to that, he added, "like, impressively fast."

"I just had a lot of extra energy to sweat out." Another excuse rolled off her tongue, and Harry decided to stop trying to coax a real answer out of her. He didn't want to make her uncomfortable, but he couldn't resist asking one last question, though.

"What happened to your hand?"

Y/N frowned, looking down at her hand, as if only just now remembering that it was visible to other people as well. The pained look on her face stirred a feeling of worry in Harry. He hated that he couldn't read her thoughts and make sure she was really okay.

"Just my regular clumsiness." She said, sounding strained.

"Y/N, you know you can talk to me—"

"Hey! Are you going to Sophie's party?" She suddenly chimed in, cutting Harry off. He was so thrown off by the question that he couldn't think of anything clever enough to intercept her interruption.

"Uh, yes." He answered blankly.

"Oh thank God. I was hoping you'd say that, I was afraid I wasn't going to know anyone there." She smiled at him, and every other thought that Harry had had in the last hour suddenly flew out of the window. The corners of his mouth pulled up.

"Isn't Sophie inviting other colleagues as well?" He asked, still grinning from that smile she just gave him.

"Yes... but Sophie runs with the cool crowd."

Harry chuckled. "You make it sound like it's high school."

"That's because it is." She shrugged. "Sophie is with the popular kids, like a cheerleader."

"And what does that make you?" Harry tilted his head. Y/N tilted her head, thinking it over for a few seconds, before she answered:

"The audiovisual geek."

A snort escaped Harry's throat. He hadn't expected that answer at all, nor did he believe it to be true. An angel like Y/N being at the bottom of this food chain she was explaining? She was clearly undermining herself, once again.

"What? It's true!" She exclaimed, giggling softly as she watched Harry shake his head.

"Well, I'll be there, so at least you'll have one friendly face around."

"Good. But I'm warning you, I'm probably going to be clung to your side the entire night, so be prepared to get sick of me." She teased.

She teased. Was she flirting with him? By the way her lit up, doe eyes were looking at her, it kind of seemed like she was. She was especially bold today. Last week she had to chug half a water bottle after Harry touched her. He fought back the smirk that threatened to break out on his face as he answered, deciding to play into her cheekiness.

"That won't be a problem, love."

Y/N's smile faltered ever so slightly, her cheeks turning a rosy red much like they always did whenever Harry would say something like this. She swallowed, quickly eyeing at the ground before meeting Harry's gaze again, as if reminding herself to get herself together.

"Uhm, anyway, I just— I had a question... about the self defense classes."

Harry had to keep himself from laughing at how quickly she had gotten flustered, and quirked up a brow to indicate she go on.

"I want to build some muscle. You know, gain some extra strength, like you said last week." She clarified. Harry hummed, crossing his arms. "Well, Alan was telling me that he's a personal trainer, and he has these plans for beginners. Do you think it would be a good idea if I did that?"

Abso-fucking-lutely NOT.

"No." He said, his selfishness getting ahead of him.

"Oh."

The sound was small, but Harry could hear the severe disappointment. Oh god, was an absolute monster. The poor angel was telling him about wanting to put in extra effort and here he was, rejecting her idea with harshness that wasn't even reserved for her. It was reserved for Alan, and his nose, which he was going to break soon.

"I think it'd be better if I make you a custom plan, one that'll match with the self defense classes." He elaborated. To be honest, that wasn't exactly the reason why he'd said no in the first place, but he simply did not want her to be around Alan if she could be around him.

"Oh, okay." Y/N responded, her eyes lit up at the sound of his promise. "If it's not too much trouble."

Harry scoffed. "Not at all, angel."

There it went, the nickname rolled off his tongue again. He couldn't help it, it was just so easy. Despite Harry's display of coolness, he eyed Y/N to see what her reaction was to the nickname. The last time, she'd ran away, literally. She basically sprinted to her apartment. Now, her bottom lip was stuck between her teeth as she fought a smile.

He could've sworn he was going into cardiac arrest. This was the best possible reaction to him calling her angel. It was also the worst, because now all Harry could focus on were those damn plump lips.

"I should probably get a gym membership then, huh?" She tried to fill the silence that fell when Harry stopped trying to keep the conversation going and decided to just admire her face instead.

"We can take care of that next week." He said, his eyes trailing down to her lips and back up. Y/N looked like a deer in headlights, her mouth opening ever so slightly to say something, but a loud voice interrupted the both of them.

"Y/N?!"

Both their heads whipped around to see Sophie standing in the door opening. Other people were looking at the crazy woman in the doorway as well, but Sophie didn't care as she marched towards Y/N and Harry.

"What are you doing here?"

"Oh, just blowing off some steam." She smiled, using the same excuse she'd told Harry. "Wanted to go for a run outside but it's pouring rain, so I thought this would be a better option."

Sophie nodded, not entirely convinced as her eyes darted between Y/N and Harry. The sole look on her face told Harry that he wasn't going to be let off the hook so easily as soon as Sophie got him alone, which would be soon, because Y/N was quick to say

"I'm gonna go... I've got some paperwork to finish at home." She stammered, taking a few steps towards the door.

"Of course, good luck sweetie. See you tomorrow?" Sophie's voice was soft like honey as she addressed her angel of a friend. Y/N nodded and gave her a hug before peeping a small 'bye' to Harry and rushing out the door.

Harry couldn't stop staring at her, not as she walked out the door, nor as she walked to her car. He felt like he'd waste her beauty if he didn't just look at her all the time. Like, if he didn't appreciate it enough now, if he didn't memorize all the details on her face, he would regret if she suddenly left his life.

"You are going to tell me what the fuck is going on right now." Sophie's voice cut through the thoughts that clouded his common sense. When he turned his head to her, her face was stern. A born lawyer.

"Nothing." Harry frowned at her, a bit frustrated with the fact that he was speaking the truth himself. He wished he had more to lie about other than his boyish crush on Y/N. Unfortunately, 'more' seemed to be quite out of reach.

"I wasn't born yesterday, Harry. Just tell me." Sophie put her hands on her hips, waiting for her to spill her guts. Instead, Harry shrugged. He had nothing to confess, because he and Y/N were just friends. Not even, they weren't even friends. Just trainer and trainee. For some reason, that realization stung a whole lot.

"I told you, nothing is going on." He growled. Sophie raised her brows; she'd clearly hit a nerve and the expression on her face read 'bingo!'. But she didn't push him, something Harry was expecting her to do.

"Listen, Harry. You're one of my dearest friends, and I'll always support your decisions, but I'm telling you right now... be careful." She warned him slowly, the serious tone of voice making Harry's ears perk up more at what she said.

"Y/N is a great girl, sweetest person I've ever met. But she's young, Harry, and she's only lived a very secluded life so far." She explained, and Harry clenched his jaw, heart straining at the confrontational tone. "If you're serious about her, great! I love her, she's amazing and I think you'd be very good for each other. But if you view this is a 'one and done' kind of situation, then I strongly suggest you pick someone else because she really likes you, I can see it."

The corner of his mouth quirked up. "You think she likes me?"

The next sound that left him was a yelp, flinching at Sophie's hand punching against his upper arm.

"Was that seriously the only thing you got from my speech?" She squinted her eyes at her friend. He only had that cheeky grin on his face.

"It was the part that stood out most." He wiggled his eyebrows, earning another slap against his arm. Harry hissed, moving away from Sophie. "God you hit hard, do you take self defense classes or something?"

"You have five seconds to disappear or I'll go full Kung Fu on your ass, Harry." Sophie grunted, pouting an accusatory finger at him.

"Actually, what I teach is not called Kung Fu—" She corrected her, having too much fun with this situation. He wasn't able to stop himself from teasing his friend, mainly because he didn't want to. Harry was in a bit of a cheeky mood now that Sophie had told him Y/N liked him.

"Two more seconds Harry." She growled, rolling up her sleeves.

"And speaking of self defense, your punch was kind of weak. Have you been lifting those weights we talked about—"

"Time's up!" Sophie exclaimed, and before she'd finished her sentence, Harry was running back to his office. He was in his office just in time to lock the door and laugh at the middle fingers Sophie was holding up for him. After a few minutes, she gave up and began to exercise, leaving Harry alone with his running mind.

"...because she really likes you, I can see it." 

He was aware that he was grinning like an idiot as he replayed that sentence over and over in his head while creating a membership card for Y/N on his computer and sending the bill to his own bank account, but he didn't give a fuck. He didn't care if the whole word could see him giddy over this angel of his, in fact, he would only love to show her off.

She liked him. He couldn't believe it.

Taglist: @meetmeatyourworst @mema10 @seafoamwhispers @namoreno @inkedskin @fangirl509east @mellamolayla @lizsogolden @prettydelilah

[spacecowboyy0]

crumbling

summary: you and peter go to the avenger's tower on a field trip and you have a breakdown, then get comforted by buck and nat! angsty then fluffy

notes: autistic!little!reader, you and peter act like siblings and i envision them in their last year of highschool, peter’s field trip is a huge trope on Ao3 idk if tumblr people are aware of that 

tony stark isn’t in this because i hate him, he’ll never be in any of my fics, i don’t care!!!

1.6k words

When it was dark, you would sometimes show up at Peter’s window, and stay the night. The habit started in middle school, when things at home were too much to bear alone. After the first few times, the window remained unlocked and May told you that you were always welcome, even if no one was home. Peter knew how important it is that you could rely on him to be there during rough nights, so he felt bad when he started sleeping over at the Tower. Peter also knew how intimidating the Avengers are, but he was sure that you would get along with them. He would talk about you so much that the team kept asking when they could meet you. He knew that you would be welcome to stay over whenever, not only when you were in crisis mode. 

On a regular Wednesday after school, Happy picked the two of you up from school, and drove you to the Tower. That night, despite your intense anxiety, you had a wonderful time. You played card games and ate delicious food that Bruce cooked. It ended with Natasha telling you that if you ever needed help, you could call her. This was the beginning of unconditional love and support from people who could’ve never imagined getting close to. 

Out of everyone on the team (excluding Peter), you latched onto Bucky very quickly, with Natasha coming runner up. You know an autistic person when you saw one, and after one movie night with that man, you knew. Bucky became a huge father figure/big brother role in your life; you just seem to click. It’s Bucky who understands your aversion to certain foods, why you need things to be a certain way, why you can go to loud concerts but want to sob at the sound of chewing.

You can’t really explain why you’re so close to Natasha or when it started. Nat is secretly a huge softie, and you’re one of the lucky few who is shown her warm heart. She feels motherly, in a way that warms your bones and calms your mind. No one can give head scratches as well as she can, or braid your hair as perfectly.

~

You were sitting in Mr. Anderson’s class when the field trip to the Tower was announced. You whipped your head around, meeting eyes with Peter, who sat a few seats behind you. For you, it wasn’t that big of a deal, somewhat funny if anything, but you had a feeling that there would be some special appearances from the team during the trip. Fortunately for you, with the protection of Bucky and Natasha, you knew that whatever shenanigans were pulled during the trip, they’d be targeting Peter rather than you. Peter, judging by the grimace he sported, seemed entirely less enthused by the announcement. Shifting your eyes over to MJ’s (evil) smirk and Ned’s delighted grin, you knew those two were excited for different reasons. 

When school was let out, you followed Peter to Happy’s car, and drove to the Tower together. There, you handed the permission form to Nat, who had been forging your mother’s signature for a while now. You shoved the slip into your bag and forgot about the trip for the next two weeks.

~

Now it’s the morning of the field trip, and you’re already tired of everything. You don’t want to talk. It’s not that you can’t talk, you just don’t have anything to say. You had such a high anxiety week, and now masking is too difficult to keep up, and you really want to feel small. You want to feel a nice fuzzy instead of the anxiety fog you have been feeling way too much of recently. Your brain is buzzing in a way that probably means that you’re very very close to crumbling. While you don’t want that to happen at the Tower in front of your classmates, you know Peter would handle it. You just hope that Bucky or Nat will be around to rescue you. 

~

Everything was going smoothly, you made it through the loud bus ride to the Tower, survived all the beeps at security, and now you’re onto your first activity after getting a tour of R&D. In a group of four, with Peter, MJ and Ned, your group is tasked with coming up with a small robot that would fulfill the two slips of criteria you randomly selected out of a bowl. You got “rainbow” and “do a flip.” As you fold the paper of your 3d prototype (something to keep your hands busy more than anything), you nick your finger on the edge of the sheet. You rip your hands away from the model on instinct, letting it drop onto the table in front of you. There’s a pause as you stare at the tiny bit of raised skin on your thumb. There’s no blood but your eyes well up with embarrassing tears. Peter, who is sitting beside you, stops scribbling for a moment when he sees you still out of the corner of his eye. 

“What’s going on?” To your hyper-sensitive mind, you’re convinced his whisper could be heard from across the room. It’s not helping. You turn to him, and you see his eyes widen when a tear slides down your face. It’s all crumbling down just like you had anticipated, and now there would be nothing stopping your dysregulated, tired mind from exposing your very not-neurotypical needs to anyone who asked. 

“Hey, what are the tears for, bug?” The whimper he got in response, caught the attention of Ned and MJ. While you love them to bits, more eyes on you is not what you need. You put both of your feet on your chair so that you can shove your face into your knees, and hope that it muffles your quiet sobs. Peter pulls out his phone, he had also anticipated this breakdown, so he sends a text to put his plan into action. 

With a nudge from Peter, and MJ’s arm around your shoulders, you walk towards Mr. Harrington where he’s talking to your tour guide. MJ leads you past where Peter stops to talk to your teacher, and into the hallway. Even in the hall with less people around, you’re so in your head that you’re mortified by your red face and the stimming you tried to suppress. After what feels like ages, Peter appears and replaces MJ’s grounding touch, and takes you to the nearest elevator. It’s only a short wait before you step into the elevator, and when the doors close behind you, you both let out a sigh of relief. Although yours is more of a shudder with how fast your breathing is. 

The ride is fast and soon you’re stepping into Bucky and Steve’s living room, where Bucky is waiting for you. Peter watches as you run into Bucky’s awaiting arms and collapse in his embrace. You sob without restraint and bury into his neck. Peter slips back into the elevator and heads up to your room, which is next to his own. Bucky walks around the room, rocking you in his arms as you wait for Peter to come with your stim basket. Peter returns with the basket, picking out a few he thinks you might need before going down to the floor where your class is. 

Now it’s just you and Buck, the sounds of crying and the noise of the city coming from the open windows. Reaching down for a moment, he picks up a squishy for your hands, and a chewy for your mouth that is gnawing on his shirt. He sits down on a couch, and creates a little bit of space between you to draw your attention to the toys. You take the squishy, but reject the chewy after a moment of contemplation. You return to your cozy spot pressed against him, but switch to chewing and sucking on your fingers. Bucky, now trapped with you on his lap and confused as to why you didn’t want the stim toy, signed to FRIDAY to get Nat’s help. 

After a few minutes, the elevator doors slide open silently and Nat walks over to the pair on the couch. Buck points to the basket on the side table, and finger spells “soother.” He suspects that you would have one, considering how much he catches you almost chewing on your fingers on a daily basis. Nat finds a light blue soother in a case near the bottom, takes it out, and hands it over. Buck gently removes the thumb in your mouth and slips in the soother before you realize what he had. He can feel your muscles relax and your heart slow to a natural rate. 

As you wait for Pete to return from his tour, Bucky puts on The Princess Bride, and the three of you enjoy the slow, quiet peace. You, drained from your emotional day, rests your head in Nat’s lap and your legs lie across Bucky’s lap. With your eyes closed, soothed by Nat’s fingers stroking your hair, you listen to the movie and savor the comfort of the moment.

Interrupted by the noise of footsteps, you lift your head to see Peter walking towards you. You smile softly, slip out your pacifier and greet him quietly. “Hi Petey.”

“Hi baby, how are you feeling?”

“I’m ok, mostly tired.” He stops in front of the couch, looking down at you. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a can of cherry Coke. “Stopppppp, thank you!” You smile and take it from his hands. 

“No problem, figured you could use a treat.” He looks at your water bottle and empty bowl on the coffee table. “You don’t need anything else? You’re good with just relaxing the rest of the day?”

“Yeah, this is perfect.”

this might turn into a series??? idk! i'd love to write more, gimme some prompts!

[tojivu]

bite me ❤︎ ! ⋆ jjk men

an. my first multichar work !

cw. hickeys/lovebites with gojo, geto, toji, nanami + the terrible aftermath. suggestive, otherwise quite sfw. f!reader. suguru isn't a curse user.

playing. bite me by enhypen.

GOJO SATORU is a cocky fucking bastard. just 12 hours ago, he had you wrapped around his finger — quite literally, as well — and his lips were practically superglued to the delicate skin of your neck and collarbones. it didn't occur to you, though, that your boyfriend didn't have the weekend off; after all, he did tell you he was going to be home the entirety of it.

well, you should've known that satoru would do anything to have his way with you — a little white lie, that's what he tells himself — but he had to admit that he couldn't think very straight, otherwise, he wouldn't have let you leave so many.

it's 11 in the morning when you receive a text from shoko. you can hear the disgusted yet unsurprised tone through the pixels, asking you why your boyfriend was sporting roughly 4 — yes, they were so obvious that she could count — patches of purple on his neck and jawline.

shoko: satoru looks like he got in a fight with a leech lol

when satoru comes home, the mortified feeling intensifies by tenfold — they're much more obvious in real life. the colour has faded a little, but hickeys are still hickeys, and your boyfriend is still an imbecile.

"what?"

"you have no shame," you turn your head away from the man standing at the entryway of your shared home, and back to the television. "you said you were gonna be home. you left before i woke up—"

"important jujutsu stuff," satoru interrupts. he takes his blindfold off, quick footsteps as he makes his way to the couch. your arms are folded together, an attempt to show satoru that you were upset. "couldn't be helped, baby. 'm sorry."

you turn your head towards him, eyebrows furrowed when you realise your boyfriend doesn't care one bit — he thinks there's nothing wrong with people knowing he's unavailable, and even more so when you're the reason.

"can you at least use some of my foundation?"

────────────────────────

GETO SUGURU has a little bit of dignity, but the collar of his shirt is a little too low to be coincidental. he secretly loves it whenever his friends ask about it, tease him about finally having a girl when he's been alone for so long.

it's a friday afternoon when he's at the gym getting his daily workouts in, and his cheeks flush when satoru nudges his bicep and lets a hearty laugh out; "aw, suguru's gotten busy, huh? this why you didn't turn up yesterday?"

suguru groans and tells satoru to shut the fuck up, but there's no denying that he was in fact busy. nevertheless, of course suguru had decorum; he covered himself up in front of the public and his family, but he really couldn't care less if his closest friends knew about what he was up to.

besides, his neck wasn't as bad as yours — he could only feel guilty as he watched you paint colour corrector and various shades of concealer on your neck, even doing the chilled spoon method; eventually giving up and settling for a scarf when they don't do the trick.

"i didn't know you were going out today," he says from the bed as you sit across the room at your mirror. "i fucked up."

"'s okay, sugu!" you smile reassuringly, contrasting the worried look on your face that spells it out for him — the sweet tone of your voice only makes suguru feel worse. "the scarf will work fine."

"i'm still sorry, baby. really."

he really isn't. but the guilt makes up for it, he thinks; he only hopes your mother doesn't catch a peek of the purple hiding beneath the fabric.

────────────────────────

TOJI FUSHIGURO also does not give two fucks. this man could leave the house absolutely littered in bite marks from your pearly whites — he loves looking at himself in the mirror in the morning, when you're still fast asleep, just admiring the artwork that is his body and the proof of the love you have for him on it.

this wasn't the case with the girls he used to mess around with, though. he absolutely loathed having any evidence of a woman on him, whether that be the scent of her perfume lingering on his clothes or in his apartment — or her messages appearing on his lock screen and his friends asking about it.

yet, it's different with you; but he supposes everything has been different with you. he thinks he's serious this time, about the relationship you two have — and he wants everyone to know that too, though he'll never say that out loud.

"tojiii?" you whine, arms stretching out as your eyes adjust to the sunlight that pours into the bedroom. you turn to his side of the bed, and you're not surprised when he isn't there — it's ironic. the first time you woke up in bed alone after a night with toji, you panicked and thought that he disappeared.

it's just then that your lover opens the door, duffle bag slung around his shoulder diagonally; his right shoulder hits the doorframe, almost fitting the entire width, and you feel heat rush to your cheeks when you see the hickeys on his neck.

you use your arms to push yourself up, sitting cross-legged on the sheets. "did you go out like that?"

"like what, princess?"

you smile at the name, but your lips don't part to answer — toji knows you know, but it's annoying how he acts so natural about it. he sets his bag down and his strong arms wrap around you, picking you up as if you're light as paper.

"show off," you mutter against the crook of his neck. "you need to start wearing hoodies to the gym."

toji catches a whiff of your scent and thinks you're dense for saying such a thing — he is finally proud to have someone by his side, so he might as well let everyone else know. he has to.

"not happening."

────────────────────────

NANAMI KENTO does cover up, but he wouldn't mind if someone saw them. he's very mature about it, really — not embarrassed in the slightest. after all, you were his wife and he was your husband. things are bound to happen between you two behind closed doors.

that doesn't mean he wouldn't try to conceal them, though. he asks to use your makeup to hide them — only to be fucked over when your shades don't match all too well. it's only then that he lets an exasperated sigh leave his lips, and you feel a hundred times guiltier.

"i'm sorry, kento," you bite down on your bottom lip out of worry. "maybe we can use the spoon?"

he shakes his head. nanami was running late, and he had to leave immediately.

"it's okay, darling," he presses a kiss to your forehead. "yaga won't be upset."

you knew gojo would tease him endlessly, and you also knew that nanami couldn't stand him. you almost tell him to stay home for a little longer so you can figure out a way to fix this.

"it's nothing to be ashamed of. we're adults," he reminds you, as if the events of last night and the evidence of said events do not. "i'll see you when i'm home?"

you sigh, middle and thumb fingers rubbing your temples. if only you were thinking straight — but you knew that was almost always impossible with kento. "okay. have a good day at work, ken."

kento plants one more kiss on your lips, and he has to pull himself away before another second passes; he always had trouble stopping himself with you.

he supposes that habit has come to bite him in the ass, now.

"thank you, sweetheart. i will."

yeah, gojo will never let him live this down.

280124 — is this ooc.

[konpeitonom]

college! dating headcanons for grant curly. pt1

sfw— lowercase intended ^_^

fem reader —

requests are open and heavily encouraged, i write for every mw character ^.^

notes; majority of these are self indulgent, and an excuse to take a break from my finals! the people on tumblr need my mediocre headcanons. not proofread im lazy. there *was* gonna be a nsfw section but i guess only if the people rlly want that..

— god he would be so unbearable at first. he’d try and find an excuse to hang out with you and that excuse would be studying. like, whether or not you guys live on the same floor in the dorms or just in the same class he’d always be like..

— “hey do you have notes for ___”, “do you wanna study with me in the commons?” “what grade did you get on the paper? we should compare next time”

— he would be so annoying about it and he wouldn’t even realize. sorry. haha.

— he’d just chalk it up to him being a bit more comfortable with you, you’re easy to talk too! but in reality he just needed reasons to see you. and what better excuse than classes?

— as a study partner however. maybe you get things done. most of the time you do. him however? he kinda needs someone to keep him in check. if hes alone he’ll end up doodling on all his papers and have to go back to a far away building to reprint his assignments.

— he’d doodle animals i think. big animal guy. he’d compare you to animals he thinks are cute and you may or may not take offense to that. it’s his way of flirting, honest!!

— i think after awhile he’d be more open to inviting you to other things. i’d start with school events then movies then maybe walks in a park nearby! he is not dense, if you seem uninterested he’ll back off.

— once you two start going on dates (whoever confesses first, it is up to you..) but nonetheless, he will insist on paying first. at least for the first few. if you don’t intervene he’ll pay for all. haha. it’s just how he was raised.

— cute cheap things though. like maybe a drive in movie theater, or ice cream, or walking around a pretty area downtown.

— he seems like a mint chocolate chip guy. the type to deny that it tastes like toothpaste. it’s just mint!! that or something healthy. as healthy as ice cream could get.

— he would play some kind of sport. i do not know a thing about sports, so i’ll leave it at that. he’d want someone who’d come to his games and support him and be there!! being there is the way he feels most loved, most likely.

— he would get injured so easily. whether that be from sports or him just being clumsy he is susceptible for injury- someone out there is out to get him.

— he’d like it if you patched him up. he likes being taken care of too! after a few times he’d just end up feeling bad and do it himself, but if you insist he wouldn’t mind that either..

— i also mentioned in my general headcanons that he is a morning person. in college that is true as well, but he would be taking the fattest afternoon naps. you, friends, family, school, work, sports… he is taking a nap.. maybe join him!!

— this is a common occurrence in curly fics. but he is the big spoon. he likes squeezing and squishing you like a plush doll.

— with all that on his shoulders he is not the best at managing his time. he would be extremely apologetic if he was late in anyway to a date and such but it’s bound to happen.

— he is friends with other girls. sorry. i think it is a green flag if a guy can be friends and only friends with girls. just means they view girls as more than a potential girlfriend. he’d never give you a reason to worry about him cheating, but if you had any sort of insecurity he’d adjust that thought process of his or just give you extra reassurance!

— during finals/mid-terms he is extra attentive to you. it is a stressful time for him but that must also mean it’s stressful for you too. small things like getting you food when you’re studying, making sure you’re taking breaks.

— ideal college bf. need a guy like him.. sob.

[inthelibrarybtw]

get to know college!basketball!captain!rafe

college!basketball!captain!rafe who has loved sports since he was a kid, fell in love with basketball when he was around 10 and took it seriously from that moment on. he wants to go professional after college if he can but is also working on his finance and administration degree. He has always been very smart and doesn’t worry a lot about grades but understands the importance of them, reason why he got a full ride in college and got recruited for the basketball team. who is very disciplined with everything that he does, once he commits to doing something he will do it and will do his best. he loves going out with his friends but also likes to stay in, secretly he loves cooking all thanks to his mom and his sister. 

college!basketball!captain!rafe who is very cocky and a flirt, knows he is good-looking and that’s the reason why everyone thinks he’s a player, he has never had a girlfriend in college. Everyone seems to know him and or fall for him, he doesn’t really care about it but it boosts his ego. He has been around a bit yes, but not as much as people think, he is picky even if he doesn’t like to admit it. He thrives on teasing people, especially his friends but he’s also very kind and intentional, not everyone gets to see this side of him. His family is very important to him, he has a good relationship with his parents and sister. 

college!basketball!captain!rafe who is very easy to please, just some good food, music, and his friends and he can be the happiest man alive. who loves watching movies and of course, never misses one basketball game, usually watches them with his dad or his friends, it’s his favorite thing to do. Has never missed one basketball practice since he was 10, just the very counted times he has been sick. His love language is physical touch, gifts, and acts of service the last two he prefers giving them than receiving them. Quality time could be added to but in very specific scenarios. His favorite artists are J. Cole, The Weekend, and Kanye. who is also a dog guy, every time he sees a dog he asks if he can pet them. 

college!basketball!captain!rafe who loves being an older brother but sometimes he wishes the age gap wasn’t that big, fortunately, he has a cousin his age who might as well be his sister. they grew up together and are kinda inseparable thanks to that. He usually goes to her to talk about his feelings, since he knows he won’t get judged by her. he’s not the best at showing his feelings, or so he thinks, usually his eyes speak volumes, and anyone can see it but him. no, but really, talking about how he feels sometimes can be the hardest thing he can do. he tends to put everyone first and even if he’s this confident guy when it comes to his feelings he’s anything but. 

college!basketball!captain!rafe who is incredibly perceptive about how other people feel as long as the feelings are not directed at him because then he’s blind. who likes to take time to get to know someone and help as much as he can. who also can easily get angry when things don’t go his way and when this happens he prefers not to talk to people in case he says something he doesn’t really mean. If he’s really frustrated he tends to isolate himself to calm down but if he needs to talk to people he will be very cold towards them, and he immediately regrets it.

authors note: i always have trouble writing intros because i don't know what you should know before reading and what you should discover while reading but i finally finished it. i'm very obsessed with him, and i hope you guys too :)

taglist: @zyafics @maybankslover @niaunoffical @marleymarleymarleymarley @rafesbabygirlx @akobx @papercranesandinkstains @masonmountme69 @winterivory if you want to be added send an ask or comment! :)

REBLOGS, COMMENTS AND LIKES ARE ALWAYS WELCOMED

INTHELIBRARYBTW ✧.*

[salmonskinrolltf]

Soulmates 2

[Here's a sequel of sorts to my previous story Soulmates (you don't need to have read it to understand this story). With thanks to @guytransformedforever, @beardobession, @tf-vigilante, @maletransformationlover, @clevertreephilosopher, @scorpionofredsand, and @maletffanatic for providing the photos used as inspiration.]

Hello, my name is Tyler. This is me:

And this is my roommate, Dylan:

Now look, I don’t have a problem with gay people. My cousin is a lesbian. And Dylan is a great roommate. Stays out of my way when we’re not gymming together, but is always down to hang when I need someone to talk to. I just wish he would be less in my face with all his gay shit. Rainbow flags everywhere, blasting Ariana Grande at all hours, constantly bringing new Grindr hookups back to the apartment but giving me side-eye when I ogle women. It’s just… too much for me.

Here’s the thing. I might actually be able to change that. I have this friend Evan, who I’ve wingmanned for on a few occasions over the past year. One night, when we were getting drunk together, he shared his secret with me. He has a magic gift. He clasped my hand and said “tomorrow, you will wake up and have this magic too.” And sure enough, the next day I could feel a tingle coursing through my veins, and I automatically had the knowledge of how to channel it.

Now I have the ability to change somebody’s future. I can’t fiddle with anything that’s innate or has already happened to them. Like, I can’t just make Dylan straight. But I can shape his future decisions or actions, and my magic will make alterations to speed the process along. Like if I made him decide to work out more, he would basically become a muscle beast within the week. Not that I’d do that. I still gotta be the alpha here. I just want to make him a little more… palatable. Someone cool to kick back with all the time, even if he sucks dick. Let’s see... I think I know what will work.

TOMORROW, DYLAN WILL BECOME OBSESSED WITH SPORTS

———————————

Hello, my name is Dylan:

Sports are my LIFE. I never cared about them much growing up, but about a month ago I felt the urge to join my local queer volleyball team and never looked back. It became my everything. It’s been great exercise, but on top of playing volleyball and getting totally jacked off of it, I’ve loved the sense of camaraderie. I love my team. So much so that I even pierced my nipples on a dare when we lost the semifinals. My teammate River also recommended I stop dyeing my hair, and I think the look is really working for me. For some reason, even though it’s only been a month, my hair has grown out significantly since then. Was the red dye stunting its growth or something? Anyway. I also feel like my roommate Tyler and I have really bonded. We’ve been watching baseball games together and I think he appreciates how into it I am. He says he’s excited to bro out while watching football together in the fall.

I love Tyler, but here’s the thing. Maybe I love him too much. I’ve always had this huge crush on him, and no matter how many random Grindr hookups I try to distract myself with, I just can’t stop hoping that one day he’ll give up women for good and decide he loves me. Especially now that we’re spending all this time together, bumping chests when our team wins and shit.

I know us getting together is never going to happen, but I have this… temptation. I was born with a gift. Or maybe I wasn’t. Something my twink friend Paul told me made me think maybe he had something to do with it. Anyway, I have the ability to reshape someone’s past. I change just one thing about their past, and everything about their present just ripples forward to reflect that change. It’s a delicate art. Changing something big can have huge effects that are totally unpredictable. It’s a major temptation to make Tyler gay, but who knows how he’d turn out. Plus, I think that’s just too invasive.

But… Maybe I could change something small about him. Something that would make him less my type, and allow me to move on and focus on finding a boyfriend who would actually be into me. I’m into nice guys. I really love how kind and caring he is. And come on, he’s a FIREFIGHTER. So maybe I can try…

TYLER GREW UP SELFISH AND SPOILED

———————————

What’s up, I’m Tyler.

You dig the jacket? Yeah, I’m still a firefighter, I’m just off duty. But babes dig whatever look I rock, you know what I mean? I get what I want, and what I want is a lot of one night stands. I know how to get ‘em, too. I’m so glad I made the decision to grow this beard out a year ago, it’s opened so many doors for me. And opened a lot of legs.

I’m getting what I want from Dylan, too. Finally, I have a roommate who’s willing to grab brews and watch the game with me. But I think I fucked up when I changed him. Queer volleyball isn’t exactly “sports,” at least not in my book. I thought he’d come out like a linebacker or something! I mean, nipple rings were never part of the plan. The gay guys seem to really go for them, too, so he’s got an even steadier stream of Grindr hookups coming in and out of the place.

On top of that, I’m a little sick of his shit. He’s always giving me lip about stupid stuff like leaving my dishes in the sink or dropping my unwashed uniform on the bathroom floor. He says it’s unsanitary. Like his parade of twinks aren’t dying to sniff that shit anyway. He just doesn’t get it. I think his volleyball teammates are a bad influence too. They’re all so obsessed with aesthetic and anti-hetero rhetoric. I still can’t make him straight, but I can definitely make him less… annoying.

TOMORROW, DYLAN WILL START HANGING OUT WITH MORE STRAIGHT PEOPLE WHO WILL HELP HIM STOP WORRYING ABOUT STUPID SHIT AND BE LESS PRISSY, WELL-GROOMED, AND UPTIGHT

———————————

Yo, I’m Dylan.

Yeah, I cut my hair shorter than the last time you saw me. The upkeep was just getting to be too much, y’know? A couple weeks ago, about the time I dumped that lame-ass volleyball team I was on, I just got bored with shaving every day, too. I invested in a trimmer and now I rock the stubble look, and it’s working for me. I’ve gained a bit of weight since then, and it’s all for the better because I joined my local football league. Having a few extra beers with my new buds afterward just adds to my potential as a linebacker, anyway.

I thought hanging out with more straight people would make me get used to their vibe and kinda inoculate me against Tyler, but I’m still totally obsessed with him. He’s more of a bad boy now, but I’m finding that less unappealing than I used to. Plus, he’s still parading around in his uniform all the time. I can’t help it! I’ve jerked off more times that I can count to his Mr. June photos in the local firefighter calendar.

Whenever I see his mom, she’s constantly going on about how, out of all his Tonka toys growing up, the fire truck was always his favorite. She thinks that’s why he grew up to be a firefighter. Maybe I can change that core memory into something a little more… disreputable. That would definitely make him not my type anymore. I hope.

TYLER’S FAVORITE TOY GROWING UP WAS A TONKA MOTORCYCLE

———————————

Fuckin’ A, man, I’m Tyler.

God, I love my hog. She’s a beaut, ain’t she? My parents wanted me to grow up to be a doctor or a lawyer or a firefighter or some shit, but all I ever wanted to do was ride my hog. Chicks want to ride my hog too, and I let them. As long as they don’t go near my bike! Hahaha, get it? Fuck, I love life. Let me take another drag on this stogie real quick.

Where was I? Oh yeah, my roommate, Dylan. I wish I didn’t have to room with anyone, but my boss at the garage keeps refusing to promote me. I should knock him around one of these days, see if that changes his mind. Anyway, sure, Dylan isn’t so much of a priss anymore. He doesn’t give me shit if I leave my grease-stained clothes on the couch or light up when we’re watching a football game.

But I wanted him to be straight-acting, you know? I tried to train him up as my wingman but he wore a super gay shirt with all these see-through holes to the party, and all the chicks kept their eyes on him the whole time! Fucker. Why can’t he be more like his brother? I’ve seen pictures. That dude is a full on redneck slob, got a Confederate tattoo and everything. I know they had the same backwater-ass trailer trash upbringing, why can’t he be rougher around the edges? You know what… maybe he can!

TOMORROW, DYLAN WILL REALIZE HE WANTS TO EMBRACE HIS WHITE TRASH UPBRINGING

———————————

Hey y’all, I’m Dylan.

Hoo-ee, life has been good lately. I dunno why I resisted my good ol’ boy roots for so long. This goatee really makes me look rugged, dunnit? Also the chest hair. So grabbable. I decided to stop shaving my body, and poof! There it went. A full rug, within like two days I reckon. Like a sign from God. This is how I was always meant to be.

I know I was trying to push away my crush on Tyler by making him not my type, but what’s the fuckin’ point? I need someone who can handle me, and this hot as fuck biker dude I’ve created might be the only one who can handle me at this point. I ride ‘em rough and bareback, just like the horses back home, and weak city dudes just can’t handle it.

Will he be the same if he’s not straight? Maybe not. But as long as he can take my eight inches, I’ll keep him around. I vaguely remember having some sort of compunction about changing him so drastically, but I’m too horny to remember what it was.

Fuck it.

TYLER WAS BORN GAY

———————————

Uh… hi. I’m Tyler. Who are you again?

Sorry, I’m pretty forgetful. Daddy Dylan says I don’t gotta remember shit though, as long as I let him ride me as rough and as long as he likes. He’ll do all the rest for me. He tells me where to go, what to do, who to do. There are so many nice, hot guys who are willing to pay our rent if I turn a few tricks. I love it.

I’ve been like this as long as I can remember. My mom and dad kicked me out when I was 18, in my senior year of high school. I was caught sucking my English teacher’s dick behind the locker rooms. I never went to college after that, but it’s not like I was getting good grades anyway. Sucking Mr. Brentmon’s cock wasn’t for my health, you know. He had a nice juicy one, too. I still dream about it sometimes.

What was I saying? Oh yeah, I took up with this biker gang for a while after getting kicked out. I’ve always had a thing for bikers. But once they got through using my ass, they got bored. It was hard for a while, but now things are oh, so easy. I get all the dick I could ever want. I have a roof over my head, and no job to worry about. All I do is go to the gym and eat and fuck and I never have to think. Dylan said he might take me out muddin’ sometime too. I don’t know what that is, but anything Dylan does is fun. Fuck, I love the way his goatee tickles my skin when he kisses me, so rough, so manly. Way manlier than I’ve ever been. It’s so fucking hot. I love how he takes care of me.

I really have no complaints. I wouldn’t change anything about my life, even if I could remember how…

[shirakow]

˗ˏˋ꒰ summary ꒱ ; crying damien because he's overstimulated ?

‧₊ ᵎᵎ ☀️ pair ⋅ ˚✮ ; Damien LaVey x Male!Reader

⁺ ⛧ ; self-indulgent post because I finally got to play Monster Prom again. I don't care how niche it is today I am still posting about it !! This is also based on that one choice in the game <3

Damien was too cute!

Earlier he was whining about seeing potential spoilers for "Sport of Seats" because he missed an episode due to the fact that he was gone for reasons he would not elaborate on that surely didn't involve the nearby orphanage.

But now look at him, he was crying!

You never knew you had the ability to make Prince's cry, much less the Prince of Hell of all people. "Has your brain finally turned to mush?" You whispered into his ear as you gave a particularly harsh thrust to his prostate which earned a sob from Damien.

"N-Nooo moreee....!~" Damien clawed at the bedsheets under him, his red cock leaking with cum that pooled on the white fabric of the mattress.

"Let's mess up your brain so good you won't even know how to read."

Is what you told him a few hours ago. "Clearly you need more if you're still able to form sentences." A grin formed on your lips as you pushed his head down on the bed, and snapped your hips forward on his ass, creating a loud slapping noise.

The mere sight of his winking hole almost made you cum, but you didn't. Not unless Damien begged hard enough. "A-Ah...!~ Mmmh, fuckkkk...!~" Damien bit his bottom lip as his eyes rolled back, "T-There fuck, please...! Keep hitting that fucking spot...!" He begged whorishly with a drunken smile on his face. You rose a brow at his words.

It's that easy to forget why you were mad when a good dick's fucking you, huh?

"What? This spot?" You taunted by purposefully missing it. Damien sobbed and shook his head, squirming under you while more tears rolled down his cheeks. "Y-You fucking cocksucker..!" He glanced back at you with a glare, only for it to fall when he realized you were not gonna give him what he wanted if he kept being bratty.

"Just give it to me, please, please...! I-I won't ever chase you down with a knife again...! Please just ruin me you s-shith—A-AH!~" Damien didn't even have to tell you twice! Although he begged with empty words, you gave in. You're not that mean after all.

You let go of his hair and instead placed both your hands on his hips, before going back to fucking straight into his prostate by changing the angle of your thrusts. The squelching sound that Damien's hole made was so erotic, so wet and so slippery—even the thought of recording it just made you even harder.

Damien squealed as his toes curled. You didn't even know he could make such a sound.

But hey, at least you kept your word.

© shirakow ; MORE DP INCOMING !!

[ohmyeyesmyeyes]

because of brock

brock boeser x f!reader

summary: a breakup because of brock

warnings: swearing, hints of a slightly toxic relationship/lack of trust between two people, hints of unrecognised emotional infidelity, fluff, awkwardness

word count: 8.7k

Petey was first to knock – twenty minutes early as per usual. Usually you’d invite him in, sit him down, pour him and drink and carry on setting things up for everyone else; he’d offer a hand, maybe help lay the table. Not this time.

This time you threw the door open on your way to the kitchen, not even sparing a second to greet him, before rushing into the kitchen, the beeping of the oven signalling something was ready, but you couldn’t of the life of you remember what. You hadn’t wiped the table, put the tablecloth on, tidied the living room (or moved the mess from the living room into your room to at least make it look more presentable), got the drinks out, or even finished cooking everything.

And Petey took all of that in from where he’d stepped into your apartment, a bottle of wine securely in his hands, and sporting a slight wince upon hearing the swearing and clanging from the kitchen area. He quickly placed the wine on the table, shrugging his coat off – and for the first time ever, he found you accepting his offer for help, a rather frazzled look about you.

It was only after he’d got the drinks out of the fridge, wiped the table, put the tablecloth down, and double-counted the placemats that he knew that slightly frazzled look was for a reason. You hadn’t really uttered a word since he’d walked in, just a simple greeting and multiple thank you’s for his help. You hadn’t really smiled once, and you’d not even attempted small talk like you usually would.

You’d just kept quiet, throwing things in and out of the oven, eyes anxiously darting to the clock above the door.

Elias was a little hesitant at asking. There was something tingling in the back of his head, like he knew what you were about to say, and he wasn’t so sure if it would be okay to bring it up so close to everyone arriving if you got upset. He was also less-prepped on how to look after you. That had always fallen to Brock, or at least, it used to be.

He eyed you in the kitchen where you’d taken to stacking up the right number of plates, hair falling out of a braid, before carefully stepping closer, “Where’s Noah tonight?” He asked tentatively.

Elias almost winced at the cut-up glance you wore, swallowing hard and immediately avoiding looking at him. He could tell you were trying not to act too hurt, or maybe it was simply practice before you had to perform this facade in front of everyone else. Your hands were still busy, and he heard you sigh a little, “We broke up.” Was all you said, shooting a curious glance in his direction, probably to gauge his reaction.

And because Elias had suspected that answer, his face didn’t really tell a tale of shock. His brows were raised a little, but he was clearly sympathetic, offering a nod of understanding, “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head, more hair falling out of your braid. 

Elias nodded again, brain itching. You were good at acting like you were fine, but this was a new level of nonchalance – even for you.You’d clearly been a little flustered in the time he’d spent helping you set up, and nearly every year you stressed a little playing host, he’d beared witness to it time and time again; there was no other real evidence you were too affected by it – not like how he’d initially predicted.

There were no teary eyes, achy throats or raspy voices that suggested you were holding back tears. Your body language didn’t give anything away.

“When did you guys break up?” He found himself asking, more out of his own curiosity.

He knew you well, which was why he found there was something a little irksome about the entire thing.

You didn’t seem to care that he’d pried after you’d said you didn’t want to talk about it, because there was barely a second’s hesitation before you were answering him, “About two months ago, I think.”

Elias blinked. Two months? You think? He could have sworn last week you’d made a comment about Noah playing golf, which must have meant…

“Does Brock know?” He frowned, trying to work out the mental maths of the tangled timelines.

Brock hadn’t said anything about it if he knew. In fact, he’d been pretty miserable for a while, now that Elias was thinking about it, which meant–

“No.” 

Oh. Oh.

“You’re the only person that knows.” You admitted shyly, rubbing a hand against the back of your neck as you pressed your lips into a tight line, “I’m just trying to sort some things out, first. But please don’t mention anything, I want to be the one to tell people.”

He nodded, “Of course.”

You offered him a rather relieved smile, “Thanks.” You could tell Elias had about a hundred other questions he was dying to get the answers to, but his reserved smile let you know he respected your wishes. 

That, and the insinuation behind your words had been pretty clear – at least it would have been to Elias. To anyone else, maybe not so much.

***

Elias wasn’t an idiot, and he knew you didn’t take him as one, but it didn’t exactly take a genius to realise that you’d been avoiding Brock all night. The poor guy had been on edge since he walked into the apartment, probably expecting Noah to jump out from behind the door and send him glares all night, because that’s what had happened almost every time the two of them entered the same room within the last two years. 

You got quiet and kept a careful eye on Noah, yet remained ready to jump to Brock’s defence if Noah did end up being provoked in some way; Brock tried to stay out of it all, but it was kind of difficult when Noah kept making the issue about Brock, even if he hadn’t done anything worthy of the attention. And in all honesty, it had Elias wondering why you ever put up with Noah in the first place; even when it was you and Noah, it had always been you and Brock.

Yet, even after having broken up with Noah, you maintained that ten-feet-apart-unspoken-notion, and Elias had to applaud your dedication to keeping up appearances.

And he, ever the observer, could feel the tension get a little thicker with every minute that went by when some brave soul chickened out of bringing up the elephant in the room. He thought it was bad when everyone seemed to stall after greeting you at the door, having got used to Noah being at your hip, but things had gone from bad to worse after the food, and now it felt like the room was stifling with all the tension.

He supposed he should stay out of it, but he kept catching you and Brock share glances out of the corner of his eye, and each time you broke eye contact, he could practically feel Brock deflate next to him – and that was about as much as he could take before he turned to Quinn on his other side, the Captain quietly sipping on his drink and content to listen to others conversations.

He nudged him, and Quinn shot him a befuddled look before leaning closer, “Ask about Noah.” Elias whispered subtly, purposefully looking straight across the room to avoid arousing your suspicion.

Quinn seemed to think about it for a second, and Elias glanced back, only to be faced with raised eyebrows, and an ‘is this really what i think it is?’ look written on his face. Elias nodded, and Quinn sat up a little straighter, shooting a pointed stare at Brock’s side profile.

It took Elias' meaningful shake of his head for Quinn to instantly clear his throat and lean closer to you, “Hey, where’s Noah tonight?” 

His voice was quiet, a hushed murmur, but because of the close proximity Quinn had with Brock, the latter heard it perfectly. And Elias feigned composure, choosing to glue his eyes to Brock like he had no part in Quinn’s question – but even without actually looking at you, he could feel the temporary heat of your stare on the side of his face.

He just scratched his nose.

Brock on the other hand, seemed to still, his knuckles going a little white against the glass he’d clutched in his hand. And like Elias, he was subtle about his interest in the conversation, but he might have held his breath, and he might have tuned out everything else in a bid to make out your response.

If Noah wasn’t here, from Brock’s perspective, that meant he could actually talk to you. 

“Um…” He could sense you cringe at the question, and his brows furrowed a little. It wasn’t like you to hesitate, “In Atlanta.”

Brock couldn’t help the way his neck snapped to look at you. You were still giving Quinn your full attention, but almost like you could sense his piercing stare, your concentration wavered, slipping to him. And, for the life of him, Brock could not get a read on you. It was like your eyes were trying to tell him something, but the rest of your face seemed to remain neutral – completely unbothered by the fact that your boyfriend (who refused to travel for work) was not only in another country, but on the opposite side of the continent, almost.

Then, in the blink of an eye, you turned back to Quinn.

Brock didn’t move an inch, anticipation curling up his spine uncomfortably. 

Quinn seemed to follow his train of thought, though, because the next thing that came out of his mouth was an automatic, “How come?”

Brock could have sworn the corners of your mouth turned up fractionally. He could have sworn you just didn’t give a shit. 

“We broke up.” You shrugged simply.

If he’d had a mouthful of his drink, he would’ve spat it out. If he’d been standing, he’d have had to sit down, and he could have sworn his heart dropped to his feet all within a second. He felt warm, maybe a little too hot for comfort, and he had to take a swig of his drink to ease his dry mouth.

Quinn carried on, “Why?” Almost tumbled out of his mouth, perhaps in a manner that might have been viewed as a little insensitive, something he seemed to catch onto, but before he could even splutter an apology, you were already talking.

And Brock wanted to turn up the volume of your voice so he wouldn’t risk missing a single breath, pause or word of what you were about to say. He wanted to record it, so he could listen to it later and know he wasn’t making it all up in his head.

But when your eyes slid over to him for a mere millisecond, he almost fell on Elias. When someone asks why you broke up with your partner, you don’t look at the person who seemed to accidentally cause more arguments and tensions than ever recorded in your personal history. You don’t look at the person that probably understood you better than anyone else you’d ever met.

Because if you did, that meant something.

It meant it hadn’t been in Brock’s head: the soft looks when no one was looking; the gentle touches. It started out as a way to compensate for the way Noah seemed to zero in on your friendship and forbid either of you talking to each other in front of him. The hours you used to spend in each other’s company was reduced to almost nothing, and Brock had had to live through two years of that. Well…there were a few exceptions to that in regards to personal things – you’d actually moved in with him for a bit then.

But Brock had been missing you for two whole years, it didn’t matter that you had the same friends or saw each other every couple of weeks. He’d taken a step back, for your sake, but it had only made things worse.

And now you’d thrown him a glance.

“Just wanted different things.” 

Brock took a sip of his drink in an attempt to stop himself from scoffing at your blatant lie. It was written all over your face plain as day. Your shoulders were a little tense, and you could no longer look at Quinn for more than three seconds at a time before the uncomfortable-ness seemed to prick you in the temples.

And Brock knew that without you even saying anything.

Quinn nodded out of the corner of Brock’s eye, accepting the answer and clearly not wanting to pry for fear of making the entire situation more awkward.

And through the pounding heart and racing thoughts, Brock took a deep breath, turning to Elias only to see the blonde smirking at him from over the top of his glass. He didn’t have it in him to roll his eyes or pull a face at his friend, so he pushed himself out of his chair and made for the kitchen, glass empty.

Only, when he pulled open the door to the fridge, there was nothing left of what he had been drinking. For some reason, as he looked around at everything else on offer, he couldn’t pick. He was reading labels – familiar ones, too, ones that he liked – and he couldn’t decide which one he should settle for because he couldn’t have what he’d been drinking the entire night. He only wanted his drink, and all the other options were just becoming even less desirable by the second.

He stared at the contents a little while longer, the cold from the open door beginning to set a chill in his bones, before swallowing and shutting it without another thought. He could settle for lemonade or water or something. He turned to the sink, rinsing out his glass and picking the tea towel off the oven door like it was second nature, and it wasn’t until a glass was placed down on the kitchen island behind him that he was made aware he wasn’t alone.

His chest seemed to swell at seeing you awkwardly standing on the other side of the counter, looking rather as if you were about to say something. Your palm came down to rest against the cold granite, and you swung your eyes to the fridge, sighing and wandering over to it.

Brock turned back to the sink, keeping an eye on you in his peripheral vision. He almost smiled at the fact that you seemed to hesitate choosing something too, before shutting the door and turning to the bottle of wine already on the counter, hastily filling up a clean glass.

There was a strange tension between the two of you; not knowing what to say to each other because there was so much to say, but there were people in the other room, and it was all rather exhausting. You inhaled, trying to ease the familiar tightness in your chest that always seemed to appear when you looked at Brock.

He was wearing a pale blue button down with dark jeans, blonde hair swept back using his hands. He had his back to you, and you took a swig of wine to ease your nerves. 

It was as you placed the glass back on the counter, unconsciously twiddling your necklace that he turned around, leaning against the sink, towel thrown over his shoulder with a clean and dry glass in his hand.

He was looking at you, and you felt your lips twitch into a smile – awkward, but real – that disappeared almost as quickly as you’d done it. He didn’t echo the same sentiment, instead choosing to furrow his brows, clenching his jaw and zipping his eyes into the living room.

“Why did you break up with Noah?” He asked after a quiet moment, intently fixing his gaze on you as you inhaled, slightly caught off guard with the upfront question.

You’d expected him to ask it eventually, but this was the first time you’d had real privacy in ages. A little icebreaker wouldn’t have hurt. But now wasn’t really a time to joke or dance around it, either.

You just sighed, “Wanted different things.” It was the answer you’d given earlier – not a lie, exactly, but not the entire truth. And judging from the way Brock seemed to immediately leave after you’d told that to Quinn, he must have seen through it.

He blinked, shaking his head like he couldn’t quite believe it, “Like what?” He challenged, folding the tea towel and putting it on the side, glass quickly following as he took a seat at the island, facing you.

The close proximity almost instinctively had you wanting to look over your shoulder to check if Noah was watching from somewhere, but then that feeling of paranoia seemed to dissolve. The knot in your chest loosened, and you felt your shoulders drop slightly. 

Part of the reason you’d held off telling people – Brock specifically – was that the truth would just invite even more questions. Maybe even arguments: you dated Noah for two years and when a couple has been together for a certain period of time, certain things are expected, and when that opportunity presents itself, sometimes the wrong questions are answered.

But you held your nerve, looking straight into Brock’s eyes as you hesitated a little. You’d never uttered the words to anyone other than your best friend and your parents.

“He proposed, actually.” You muttered, immediately biting the inside of your cheek as you watched Brock carefully.

It felt like a relief to admit it out loud, a load off your shoulders. Speaking about it made it true, and you felt less trapped because of it. Noah made you feel trapped, and a lack of Noah meant a lack of that claustrophobia. 

Brock seemed to freeze, his mouth parting in shock and any previous scepticism completely erased; his brows were furrowed, and he looked away from you, processing. One hand ran through his hair, and then, almost as if to check, his attention went straight to your left hand. At the noticeable blank space on your finger, he seemed to gain the courage to look at you again.

There was confusion there, but he seemed incapable of speaking.

“It’s kind of weird because I never actually knew what I was going to say when I thought about it as a hypothetical situation, but then he put the box on the restaurant table and people were watching, and it was the easiest and hardest ‘no’ I’ve ever had to say.” You breathed, clenching your jaw and trying to block out the look of betrayal on Noah’s face that had etched itself in your head – you couldn’t quite escape it yet. “And now he’s in Atlanta because he thought that it would make sense to propose and then make me move to another country because he got a promotion. Guess he hadn’t considered me not wanting to marry him.” You laughed, despite yourself, it quickly dying when the guilt came flooding in again.

You’d loved Noah, but it had changed towards the end – you both seemed to change, and a part of you was still mourning the future you thought you’d have had when you started dating.

It was funny how things changed, because you were pretty certain you were more in love with the blonde in your kitchen than you ever were with Noah, and it was just a shame that it took the threat of moving to Atlanta and marrying someone very much not him that made you realise it.

A man proposes, and the first thing you think about is leaving Brock, and suddenly the answer is just as clear as day. It had crept upon you slowly, harmlessly at first (a simple crush), until it had evolved into this loud, obnoxious thing that you couldn’t ignore.

You’d planned on breaking up with Noah anyway, it was starting to fizzle out for the both of you, only Noah’s reaction had been to propose. That had always been the difference.

“He proposed in public?” Brock asked, tone a little firmer, and when you quickly glanced at him there was some quiet rage on the planes of his face.

That had been the difference between Brock and Noah. Noah thought he knew you, but Brock was the one who actually did.

You nodded.

Brock scoffed, shaking his head, “He always was a dick.”

And you didn’t have the heart to disagree. You kept quiet, focusing on a spot on the granite work surface and absentmindedly taking a sip of your wine.

Brock seemed to take in your silence, looking at you closely. He hadn’t been able to get a read on you in front of everyone – you were always a little too good at keeping up appearances for the sake of not worrying others – the only difference was you seemed to unconsciously zone out of it when you were with him. Your eyes got softer, more vulnerable, and you seemed to unwind – like you knew you didn’t have to worry about being judged, or watched, or anything else.

It was always just you and Brock.

And that’s what was happening now: your hair fell in front of your face as you followed the wine glass with your eyes, and you didn’t make a move to tuck it behind your ear. Your eyes were glossy, not with unshed tears, but emotion, and you had bags under your eyes, probably from a lack of proper sleep. Brock supposed this dinner wasn’t helping matters either, especially not if he walked in through the front door to see Elias watching you with concern as you avoided everyone. It wasn’t just him. 

You lifted your head, eyes flitting to him briefly. 

“Are you okay?” He asked quietly, feeling himself lean towards you. 

He wanted you to be okay, but it was a big ask given the circumstances. You nodded, but it did nothing to quell the rising urge to wrap you in his arms, have you touch him without having to worry about that shitty ex of yours. 

Selfishly, he didn’t want to let go if he gave into that urge, but, as usual, when it came to you, you were more important than his own silly little aches and yearns. He’d mastered patience at the expense of his own happiness when it came to you, and he could wait longer – that was a no-brainer.

But the nodding wasn’t comforting: you’d nodded when he’d asked you that before and been crying. It was like an automatic ‘I’m fine’ was just programmed into you, and he didn’t even think you were sure why you did it.

“Are you sure?” He asked, wanting, needing you to give him something else other than a nod.

“Yeah.” You breathed, hands a little clammy at the way he seemed to stare right into your soul, “It’s just…I thought I’d be more affected by it, but I-I’d already detached myself because I was going to break up with him anyway.” You trailed off, voice getting quieter as though your admission was taboo. 

Both of Brock’s hands seemed to lose sense as they fell to the counter, his arms crossing and then uncrossing.

It was instantaneous, the way he seemed to flush, his heart hammering at his ribcage at the insinuation of what you were saying. 

“You were?” He echoed, not quite believing it. Between the past few months, and everything you’d told and done this evening, he was beginning to think that maybe he wasn’t just imagining things – everything that had happened was for a reason, “How long had you been thinking about breaking up with him?”

“A while.” Then, “It hadn’t felt right since the summer, and I’ve had, like, two months to think about it so–”

“You broke up two months ago?” 

The look on Brock’s face almost floored you. Somehow it had you regretting ever not telling him in the first place, even despite knowing it was for the better. There were so many emotions swimming in his eyes, but the only one you could pick out was upset.

It felt like you’d been kicked in the stomach.

“Apart from family, only Lauren knows.” You immediately began to backpedal, wanting to wipe the expression off his face as soon as you could: you had to make him realise. You weren’t quite ready to act on it, but you needed him to know, “I had to figure some stuff out before I told you. Noah had to move out and I changed the lease, and I needed to think things over.”

His face relaxed, before he raised a brow, something akin to an apprehensive understanding melting on his face, as though he was hesitant to take it for what you meant, “What things?”

You swallowed, nerves tingling in your chest. You inhaled, trying to build up your courage, “You things.”

He opened his mouth, leaning back as though the deliverance of your words knocked him backwards, but no words came out. And you didn’t quite have the bravery to keep looking at him when he didn’t know what to say, so you turned your back, reaching to fill up your wine glass again. 

You spun back around, only to face a still-dumbfounded Brock, and a hesitant Elias hovering by the doorway. You could tell from the way he still had a hand on the door and his frantic eyes as they hovered between you and Brock, that he instantly sensed he’d just walked in on something.

But you refused to look at Brock, mostly just because you didn’t know what you’d do if it turned out he was looking at you with distaste. In fact, you tried to avoid his eyes, though you could feel them piercing you with some desperation – but he didn’t say or indicate anything as you made your way back around the island, closer to the door and to Elias.

You tried a smile, though from the way the Swede seemed to switch his gaze from you to Brock behind you, with a little hardness, you figured it didn’t perform as you wanted. But you were glad for the interruption, “You coming in for a refill?” You asked, meeting him at the door.

He shook his head, dragging his attention back to you with a sorry smile, “No, I just came to say goodnight. Me, Quinn…and Brock are gonna go now. It’s getting pretty late.”

Brock shook his head from behind you, trying to catch Elias’s attention. He knew his friend was only making an excuse for him because you had looked a little shaken when he walked in, but you both had, and the last thing he wanted was to leave after that faint admission of some kind of non-platonic feelings. It had taken a lot in you, he could tell.

Not just the admission, but breaking up with Noah. And all Brock wanted was to sit you down and talk about it, not just for his own clarification, but because you needed to hear it from him, too.

Yet, with the stern glare Elias was pinning him over your head as the two of you hugged briefly in parting, he knew he didn’t have a choice. 

He stood next to Elias, who kept a firm grip on the back of his shirt like a parent and their kid with a tendency to go wandering off, but it was for different reasons. It seemed once Elias and Quinn had announced that the three of them were leaving, almost everyone else had taken inspiration, so now there was a queue to the door and you, and Brock was seemingly at the back.

He wanted to say goodbye, but he had a gut feeling that he was about to be dragged out of the door before he could cause any more damage, though all he’d ever done was just show his face in these kinds of situations (he would willingly admit that sometimes he had to ask around to actually see if you were going in the first place; if you were, it was a no-brainer, but he had on occasion turned an invite down purely because you were busy).

The entire situation was frustrating him, and the irony in that wasn’t lost on him, especially because when he walked through the door earlier, this wasn’t the outcome he’d ever anticipated. 

Elias moved his hand from his shirt to Brock’s bicep, squeezing to get his attention, “What happened in there?”

Brock blinked, his eyes briefly flickering to Elias’s, purely just to gauge his reaction, before flipping back to you – he hadn’t been able to tear his eyes away from you since you said The Thing that just about took his breath away and simultaneously gave him oxygen to cure the breathlessness – certain Elias wasn’t too pissed at him, “Noah proposed.” He breathed, able to catch the way Elias’s mouth fell in shock out of the corner of his eye, “And she said no, but it turns out she was gonna end it with him before that.” His mind seemed to run through everything you said, as it had been, your voice playing on loop like a scratchy record player in the back of his mind, and he huffed a conflicted breath. 

It was something to know you returned a fraction of what he felt for you, but it was another thing to know that he was part of the reason you said no. 

Did it make him a homewrecker? A third party? 

Is this the price of his own happiness? The guilt?

“‘Cause of me.” He finished, finally turning back to Elias with knitted brows.

The two of them looked at each other for a few seconds, Elias clearly digesting everything. Quinn was oblivious, yawning off to the side.

“You two never…” Elias trailed off, widening his eyes pointedly, and Brock scoffed, shaking his head.

“Fuck no. You really think either of us would–”

“It’s not your fault, then.” Elias shrugged, ignoring Brock’s words, “It’s neither of your faults, you know that, right?”

Brock breathed. Elias was a pretty cheeky guy, his comments were ruthless but they never had a single ounce of malice, yet there was something about the way he so effortlessly forewent that kind of reaction and chose to reassure Brock that had him nodding, “I think I needed to hear that.”

“Could tell. Thought you were going to shit yoursel–Hi.” Elias coughed and spluttered, his attention no longer on Brock as he fought to change his words before you caught onto what they’d been talking about.

He turned to look at you, accidentally misjudging the distance, because as he turned, his shoulder bumped yours gently, and you instinctively looked up at the contact, both of you just caught for a split second. 

Brock clenched his jaw at your thinly veiled apprehension at having to face him again: you were twisting the rings on your fingers, and you inhaled sharply – awkwardly – when he turned to you.

You’d never done that before with him. 

And Brock was stunned, not because you were literally stealing the air out of his lungs every time he looked at you (you were breathtaking – always were, always had been), but because that was the first time you’d touched and he felt the tingle from where you’d brushed him. The skin under his shirt seemed to burn at it.

You were so magnetic sometimes that it rendered him speechless.

And that was all happening inside him when you were almost instantly turning to Elias, brushing off the contact like nothing had just occurred. Brock felt his hand go to touch the area you’d bumped into, holding onto his bicep with wonder.

When had Elias dropped his hand?

He sucked in a breath, needing the oxygen in his head before he lost it completely. Before he could overthink it, he tilted his head in your direction, the action drawing you from where you’d been lightly conversing with Elias again (since when were you two such good friends?), “I…” He started, suddenly faltering when Elias sent him a sharp look – one so severe that Brock felt Quinn tune back in, “I had a really good time tonight.”

It wasn’t really the time or the place. Not with all the people and not with so little time.

Something seemed to fall on your face, and Brock hated that it was because of him. He hated himself because of it. The way you immediately fixed it – a small falter in character for the sake of everyone else, and you went back to pretending.

“Good, I’m glad.” You nodded, forcing a smile, and he echoed the sentiment.

He felt it drop, though, his face almost morphing into a sorry frown, if that was even a thing. 

“I’ll talk to you later.” He winced at himself, feeling Quinn begin to pull him towards the door this time, Elias quickly jumping in to save the situation and what little confidence Brock had in his social skills. 

It was only when all three of them had made it outside, drowned in complete silence the entire way down the steps to the door of the building, that Quinn bit the bullet, “What was that car crash I just witnessed back there?” He laughed in disbelief, looking between Brock and Elias for an answer.

Brock’s chest was aching too much to reply, so Elias took the liberty of explaining it, a small smile on his face, “That was the beginning of Brock and—”

Quinn’s brows shot up his forehead, almost going missing under his hair, “Shut the front door.” His jaw dropped, turning to Brock for confirmation.

All he got was a tight-lipped line that resembled more of a grimace.

“I mean, I’m happy for you, man, and because I’m your friend, I feel like it’s my responsibility to also point out the fact that she just broke up with her boyfriend of two years.” Quinn seemed rather uncomfortable at throwing the reminder out there into the open, cringing when Brock seemed to glance at the floor, eyes glazed over, “Is she ready for that?”

Brock swallowed, looking to Elias for guidance. Every word Quinn said was true. And when the words were spoken out loud, the entire thing suddenly seemed futile. 

What was he thinking? A person didn’t just get over something like that immediately–Except…

“Actually she broke up with Noah two months ago.” Elias muttered, “Because of Brock.”

Quinn stopped walking, causing the blondes to halt, the three of them crowing the pavement, “Oh.” He breathed, “Shit.”

Elias threw a concerned glance towards Brock at his silence. It never did him good if he was living in his own head, “Noah also proposed and she said no.”

“Double-shit.” 

“Yeah.” Brock answered numbly, head twisting back to your apartment building.

They hadn’t walked far, barely one block, but he could see the window to your apartment, your shadowy figure walking past the window. He inhaled, the exhale fogging up the air around him.

He didn’t have to be looking at Elias and Quinn to know they were sharing similar glances, and he turned back to them, catching their sombre looks red-handed. He shook his head, sighing. He took a step forward, intending to continue their walk to the Uber spot, but something hit him in the chest. It was a gloved hand, and he followed the owner to Elias.

“Yeah?” He asked cautiously.

“You forgot your scarf.” Elias said.

Brock frowned. He didn’t think he’d come wearing a sca–Oh.

He looked to Quinn, who was smiling secretively, and upon noticing his eyes on him nodded his head in the direction of your building.

Brock nodded, turning to Elias once more, “Yeah, I did. You guys don’t have to wait for me, I can get back by myself.”

“Yeah, we know.” Quinn smirked, before gasping as Elias delivered a swift, calculated blow to his diaphragm, knocking the air out of his lungs, and muttering a quiet ‘shut the fuck up’ under his breath as he did so.

Brock ignored them both, already starting the quick walk back up to you, though when he knew he was out of sight from his friends, his brisk walk turned to a hurried run, using the railing on the stairs to launch him up further. By the time reached your door he was breathing heavily, hands a little clammy. 

He took a couple of breaths, running his hands through his hair before knocking on your door.

You were mid-way through clearing the glasses from the coffee table when there was a knock at your door. You stopped where you were, quickly reaching to pause the episode of Gilmore Girls – you weren’t expecting anyone else, and no one had left anything behind.

It could be a neighbour, but they knew to announce themselves–

“It’s Brock.” 

His voice filtered through the door, and the glasses in your hand momentarily slipped, your heart pounding. You threw a cautious glance to the clock above the door: it had barely been five minutes since he left, and honestly, you weren’t even expecting him to ‘talk to you later’. You’d told yourself not to get your hopes up, but either way he’d changed his mind.

This was sooner rather than later – and you were far from prepared. In fact, you were pretty exhausted.

But it was Brock.

You walked over to the door, peering through the peephole to see Brock with pink cheeks and a slightly heaving chest; coat unbuttoned as he put his hands on his hips. His face was tilted away from the door, giving you a full view of his side-profile as his teeth grazed his bottom lip anxiously. 

You stifled a smile, not wasting a second before opening the door, one hand still clutching a  few glasses by their stems. His head snapped to you as you opened the door, a relieved smile automatically making its way onto his face. 

“Sorry, um, I just needed to talk to you.” Brock started, looking at you but clearly struggling with his words. His eyes were bouncing from you to things behind you, nerves eating at him, and you smiled – to ease his mind.

“Sooner rather than later?” You stepped to the side, allowing him to step over the threshold and into your toasty apartment, though with the way he immediately shedded his coat again, he was clearly a little too hot.

But he nodded anyway, draping his coat across the back of the sofa, “I hope that’s okay?”

“Yeah, of course.” You nodded, “I’m just gonna put these in the kitchen first, do you want anything to drink?”

“No thanks, not right now.” He muttered, and you nodded, moving into the kitchen and placing the glasses by the sink, before turning around only to see Brock walk into the kitchen carrying bowls and even more glasses and placing them by the sink.

He rolled his sleeves up his forearms, and you could only stare in disbelief as he made himself at home, wandering back into the font room and rearranging the cushions around him, twisting back to you with an impatient look on his face.

“Sorry.” You muttered, making your way back to the sofa and sitting an appropriate distance away from  him. 

The TV was still on, and a few of the candles you’d set up earlier were beginning to fade and flicker, the lighting somewhat romantic. But it was cosy, and you pulled the blanket from the back of the sofa across your lap, offering the other half to Brock, who shook his head.

“I ran up the stairs, so I’m warm enough.” He cleared his throat awkwardly, “But thanks.”

You nodded, not sure what else to say.

It was very rare that either of you didn’t know what to say; awkwardness was never really a term you used to describe your relationship with Brock – it was always pretty natural. There were silences, but only the kind where nothing had to be said. So this was uncharted territory in more ways than one.

You inhaled, biting the bullet, “So, where should I start?”

Brock looked at his lap briefly, picking off a scrap of lint, “’Why didn’t you tell me you guys broke up?”

You tilted your head at him, “Noah was still hanging around for a while, and he said some stuff about you, us, that, had you been there, would have just made the situation worse. If I told you, you’d have probably come over–”

“Yeah.” He pulled a face, “‘Course I would. I wouldn’t have wanted you to be by yourself.”

“I wasn’t. I had Lauren.”

“You could have had me.” He muttered, eyes devastated – not for him, but for you. He didn’t want you to have had to go through it alone, and it killed him that you refused yourself of that extra support, “I would never have tried anything–”

“I know that.”

“I wouldn’t have provoked Noah – I never did, by the way, he just had a random need to…” he stuttered, “The guy had it out for me and I never even did anything.” He sighed, jaw clenching in frustration.

You nodded.

Noah had had it out for Brock; he hadn’t initially, it was something that had developed the longer you’d been together, and it had slowly ended up getting worse. Worse in that you felt like you couldn’t even look at Brock if he was in the room without causing an argument between you and Noah, and that was draining.

But not entirely Noah’s fault, either.

“It wasn’t random.” You confessed, closing your eyes and briefly touching your temple to ease the brewing headache at the conversation. It was the dredging up of little issues that you’d caused, intentionally or not, that it all accumulated to. They weren’t the sole reason for the end, though. 

Brock went quiet, gaze locked on you, chest steadily rising and falling with each breath. You were finding it hard to actually look at him, the pressure of the entire situation beginning to creep upon you.

“What?” He breathed delicately, as though he was afraid he’d misheard you.

You felt like rolling your eyes, but you kept it to yourself, “I told you Noah said some stuff, right?” He nodded, rather breathless, “He said that I’d been leading him on for a while because in the end, it wasn’t him that I wanted to see when I walked through the door. I think it was partly my fault; when we first started going out, he asked about you – something about the way you looked at me – and I told him that we always seemed to miss each other, that you were my ‘what if’, or whatever, but that it didn’t matter because it was him I was dating. That’s why he seemed to have it out for you, because you didn’t have your own girlfriend to ‘distract you’ as he so kindly put it. He thought that if you were single, and still hanging around, that somehow I’d just end up losing interest in him because I really just wanted you.”

He seemed to digest your words a little, and with each second that passed, you felt yourself become more restless, eager for him to say something to kill the little voice in your head telling you that you’d just got it all wrong.

“I mean, in a way, he was right.” You huffed, eyes a little watery but not threatening to turn into tears.

Still silence.

“Okay, so he was right about me, then.” You pulled the blanket further up your lap, refusing to look at him. If you did, you were scared that the watery eyes would turn into the full waterworks, because, as much as you’d initially tried to deny it when you were with Noah, you had always wondered about what would have happened with you and Brock, if anything at all.

He was an easy person to love, and he made you feel important. You’d just started to have a more serious soft spot for him as the years had gone on, but you’d kept out of even stepping there because when you seemed to be single, he’d be in a relationship, and he always seemed happy. 

Who were you to ruin that for him?

“He was right about me too.” 

You swore if you’d have moved even a little faster that you’d have ended up with whiplash with the speed you turned to look at him. You’d imagined this, but it had never seemed realistic.

He seemed unfazed by the way you maintained a neutral disposition, wanting to keep your guard up just in case he said something else.

“Do you remember when we met?” He asked, hesitant, a little timid, but soft nonetheless.

You found yourself nodding, “Elias’s party three years ago.”

“We talked for about an hour, until I got a call from my manager, and when I came back in, you were talking to someone else.” He sniffed, red colouring the tips of his ears as he started to tap the cushion rhythmically, “You looked so happy I didn’t dare to interrupt. What I’m trying to say is that since I got to know you, I’ve been trying to find someone who makes me feel half the things that you make me feel all day, everyday, and even on the days I don’t see you, and I haven’t come close.” He took a breath, the look he fixed you with next stealing the air from your lungs, “I’ve tried telling myself that she was perfect, that I really must be happy…but it doesn’t change anything when the root of the problem is that she’s just not you.”

You shut your mouth, not quite remembering when you jaw dropped, and just looked at him. The way that, even after all you’d said, he still looked a little worried about it all; the way a few strands of his hair had flopped in front of his eyes, but he didn’t seem to care, because you were his centre of attention. The way he was trying to smile at you, but his chin seemed to wobble with doubt. “There’s no one like you, not for me. I haven’t been able to even stomach anyone else since I broke up with her, and you were why I broke up with her. And I swear to God, when I left for New York and you came to say goodbye, I thought you were going to kiss me.”

“I was.” You admitted, unable to help the way your bottom lip wobbled.

He nodded sadly.

“But you’d just broken up with her and I hated the idea of being a rebound.” It was your turn to sniffle, “And then when you came back, you never even brought it up. I took it as you not wanting that with me, and then…” You trailed off.

The story finished itself, really. Then Noah came around. Shook some shit up.

“I didn’t bring it up because it felt wrong talking about it over the phone. I tried texting you, but nothing felt right, and then when we did see each other, someone always interrupted. Then Noah showed up and stuck around.” 

“I don’t regret Noah,” you murmured, Brock catching your eye as he shook his head in agreement, “I really did love him, I just don’t think it was enough for me in the end, and I’m so pissed at myself that it took two years to realise it.”

Brock’s fingers itched to touch you, to release the bottom lip you’d caught between your teeth, to smooth the crease on your forehead. But now wasn’t the time.

His head rang with Elias’s earlier words, “It wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t anyone’s fault.” He sighed, still fighting to repress the urge to give your hand a reassuring squeeze. He knew what he wanted to say, but the last thing he wanted was to either rub it in your face or have you thinking the wrong thing, “Some people are meant for each other at different points in their life, depending on circumstances or who they are at that time. People change, no one can help that.”

“What about the other people?”

“What do you mean?”

“The other people that change but don’t break up?”

“I think you just answered your own question.”

You sighed, frustrated, “What decides that, though?”

Brock was quiet, mind ticking, “I think if you love someone enough, that even if they do change, it won’t matter. I like to think you adapt to love the changed parts of them, otherwise what would be the point of loving someone?” 

“That’s nice.” You admitted, feeling mildly comforted by his words. They felt sort of like a promise of sorts.

“Can I ask you a question?” Brock asked after a moment's silence. 

You nodded, taking in the timid expression on his face as he ran a hand through his hair, combing back the loose strands. You hadn’t noticed it earlier, but there was a bracelet on his wrist, almost like a knotted piece of tape.

You swallowed, heart pounding. It looked very familiar — almost exactly like the same piece of tape you’d given him ages ago because he felt like he was missing out on a good luck charm.

“If I hadn’t been in the picture, would you still be with Noah?” 

If Brock hadn’t been in the picture…that thought wasn’t a particularly comforting one. In fact, a life without Brock, even in the outskirts, sounded pretty miserable in your opinion. 

However, in regards to his question, the answer was pretty obvious.

“Probably. Maybe, it’s hard to say.” 

His face seemed to fall at that admission, “Sorry.”

You shook your head, smiling softly, “Don’t be, I prefer it. If anything, I think it says that I’d have settled for someone that makes me feel less than what I feel for you, and the idea of that is pretty dull.”

The corners of his mouth lifted, “Pretty dull?”

You shrugged, “At least pretty dull.”

“What now, then?” 

You swallowed, heart hammering wildly against your sternum at the suggestion in his words. You hadn’t ever really expected you’d get this far with Brock – ever. The endless missed opportunities or bad timings felt like an accumulation of signs not to give into your feelings for him, not a ‘bide your time’ kind of thing.

“I need some time before…”

Brock nodded, smiling like he’d expected your answer. In fact, knowing the kind of person he was, it wouldn’t have been a shock at all if he’d even anticipated it.

“That’s fine by me. I’ve waited three years, I can wait a little longer.” He joked, and this time you noticed the way his hand seemed to jump towards you, before he clenched his fist, folding it under his arm to quell the urge, “I do mean it, though. Take all the time you want, I’ll keep my distance–”

The overwhelming surge of panic that seemed to just crash over you at his promise of distance seemed to come over you quickly. You’d just got him in arm’s distance, and now he was about to leave you alone?

“Hopefully not too far.” You interjected, “I mean, I broke up with Noah two months ago, I’ve already had a lot of thinking time.” And at the insensitive bluntness of your hurried words, you added, “I just need to…close that chapter.”

He nodded, jaw clenching as he fought an excited smile. And, almost to distract you both, he turned to point at the TV, “Do you want to press play?”

[rzyraffek]

Slashers with y/n that just gets along with everything

Like slasher could litteraly kill somone near y/n and she would be like alr alr whats really important is that you are happy🤠😎. Im sorry that first 2character had super long headcanons while last ones have way less :( I had no ideas Request open!

Billy Lenz

He always expects some sort of negative response when he calls people and when he heard new voice on the Phone he got even more exited cuz new person new reaction! He totally didnt expect her to just go "yeah yeah sure buddy, anyways... how is your day man? Cuz im so so tired...*starts normal converstation*

He probably tries to stay in character but he is so caught of Guard he doesnt know how to react really (hehe the table has turn)

Now he kinda hopes that she will pick up cuz shes very intresting😈 billy likey

"Ew its this creep again! He is asking for you y/n? Of please dont tell me you befriended him??" "So what? He said hes favourite fruit is strawberry he cant be that bad!" *billy saying slurs on the phone*

You need to constantly tell him that, no Billy no harrasing women isnt sexy, you arent quirky, you are mentally ill

"Y/n i killed that bitch that was gossiping about you 🧍 " "👍good for you billy im glad you found healthy way to cope with that negative emotion😇" "on god"

His whole moral compass is created around the simple question 'does it hurt y/n?' .1:no it doesnt so feel free to do it .2 do not do it, she will ban Billy from sweets (bad ending)

The man from hush

This guy. This dude. This Little gremlin. He is upset that he gets no reaction! Like please oh please act all angy when he 'acidently' shot tire in her car! But oh no ofc no, she had to be like "oh its okay honey i have backup in garage🥰" hes like HHUH SINCE WHEN WE HAVE GARAGE

Like tbh thats how i imagine how they met: he saw her, he wanted to hunt her, she was so chill that she didnt even leave her household while the power was off and he went inside and just saw her having lil nap on couch. 🧍🤨erm exuse me gurl im trying to roleplay epic hunter here tf

He probably kidnaped her cuz she was too weird to just kill her but he didnt want to risk her calling police. He probably tied her up and yeeted her on backseats. And then she begun judging music on the radio"yo big guy can i get some good music taste?" "What? Whats wrong with Taylor Swift?"

He will overshare everything to kinda check where is her limit if it comes to being chill "yeah so i killed this old lady.." "im sure you had good reason🥰" "🤨... anyways... yeah so i was drinking some redbull when some guy said i look ugly so i shoot his head off and-" "HEY HEY hold up geez you CANT drink Energy drinks?? Bestie you know it is unhealthy?? Also you like hunt for sport it will ruin your condition!? How you gonna shoot people with shakey hands?? You crazy or something?" "Damn😔"

Micheal myers

I tried to put him here but i realised he will be as chill as her.

Like he can give her gifts covered in blood and she' just going to clean it and wear it like nothing happened or completley ignore it

He cares about this stuff as much as y/n so like not at all. I mean tbh theres is a bit of difrence: shes at least positive about it! Like "yeah micheal go for it, love🥰😇 i know its hard to cope with trauma take it all out alr?" Shes trying to be a good supporting gf not her fault she never had serial killer bf!

Brahms Heelshire

He lives for attention! What do you mean the war crime he commited this lunch break is okay!?!? Baby pleasee

But this negativity disapears the moment he realised he can get a lot of positive attention when he will do some nice stuff! "Oh honey I didnt kill any rats today" "oh that's amazing brahms I'm sure you and the rats inside walls will get along well soon🥰" (rats in walls bully brahms)

Please complement him or he will get a tantrum and destroy something

Brahms and rats have very hard past i might do seperate hc about that

Ghostface

"Look babe! My newest victim *shows photo*" "ugh baby...😰 you NEED to buy new camera or watch some youtube tutorials about how to take good photos" "aw man whats wrong with my pictures 😔"

Otherwise y/n supports his hobbies! People need to grow😇 (and he needs to grow up)

If theres 2ghostfaces(like in most movies) they will bet money on how long you gonna keep this 'do whatever as long as youre happy' act. Well they didnt know that this wasnt an act but her personality

Also they will probably try to use this chillnes aginst her like "oooh y/n something terrible happened! I crushed my car oh what will i do!" "Alr bestie i will drive you over there😇" "😈omg you are so nice i totally didnt expect that(heheh i dont need to pay for gas today (hes very evil))

[chodzacaparodia]

The thought that of all the people in Blue Lock, Reo and Nagi would choose each other over football makes me want to scream.

Usually, the protagonist blindly believes in the "Power of Friendship", but Isagi is different and becomes even bigger egoist from chapter to chapter. Even Bachira, whose reason for joining Blue Lock was to find a friend, eventually realized that he didn't really need Isagi to enjoy football.

And who, from among the group of egoists, finally decided that friendship (or love) is more important than football?

Reo - the boy who could have everything. Who got what he wanted. Who had people around him, but never any close relationship. Who made it his own goal to win the Football World Cup so theoretically he should do whatever it takes, no matter the cost, to get it.

And Nagi - a lonely boy who had no motivation in life. Who never had anything to fight for. Who never knew what friendship and having a loved one was, because his only company most of the time was a cactus. Who had no greater purpose in life.

Who could have guessed that this friendship would make Reo change his priorities and Nagi finally find motivation in life and start working hard?

Because we have to admit it. Reo is more focused on Nagi than winning the World Cup. When Nagi chose Isagi, Reo didn't think that his goal of winning the cup was in jeopardy. He was simply devastated by Nagi's loss. Victory was the last thing on his mind at that moment, because his entire mind was occupied by Nagi. And Nagi only did all this because of Reo. He tried so hard not because he put football first because he didn't care about this sport at all at the beginning. He only started playing because Reo asked him to. Football only became more exciting for him over time and this was mainly due to Reo. Because Reo give him a reason.

And Reo wants NAGI, not himself, to become world champion. And Nagi did all this FOR REO so that they could both realize THEIR dream - to win the cup TOGETHER.

They could both focus on their own development. But even when they were separated, each was constantly thinking about the other. Ultimately, they decided to stay together and fight for their shared dream. This distinguishes them from most egoists. Everyone has their own individual goal. But Reo and Nagi share their goal together. They are both part of each other's dream.

They can't separate football from each other because their relationship is a permanent part of THEIR football.

Also Nagi is an inseparable part of Reo and Reo is an inseparable part of Nagi.

I'm not surprised by Ego's dislike for Reo and Nagi (although can this guy show sympathy for anyone?). He wants to create an egoist who will put football first. But Nagi & Reo are not like that. Their relationship is more important than football. Their relationship, in a way, determines THEIR football.

They ultimately chose each other over football.

[patrophthia]

red ears, and redder strings | theodore n.

pairing: theodore nott x hufflepuff!reader

genre: red string soulmate!au, fluff, slight humor, slight very slight angst, confused feelings, unrequited love but also not really?, not beta read

wc: 7.2k

this is a request ! thank you anon!! it’s so cute i loved writing this :>

there’s two OC, one of them is named mark, hufflepuff (based off of nct mark, i love that lil canadian guy) and elio. i also wrote theodore based off of nct’s jaehyun and sungchan hehe.

taglist: @mersmoon @pleasingregulus @l--absinthe

"I'm going to need a favour from you," I say first, his eye brows rising slightly at my words. "I need you to keep us being soulmates a secret."

"It's not you, I promise," I added quickly. "I'm sure you're a great guy, you're very handsome too but I'm just— I can't just let faith decide on who I'm going to spend the rest of my life with. It's like I don't have a choice with what goes on in my life; and I can't ... have that."

"So I'm begging you, please," I plead. "Please, don't tell anyone about what we are."

"I can pay you." I offered. And If Nott wasn't so caught off guards by how I was able to say the exact things he had planned to say 30 minutes before, he would've laugh at the prospect of being paid when he already had a fortune in his hands. "I don't have much but I could also do your work for the year, just don't," I pause, "tell anyone until I'm ready, please."

Theodore won't admit it but he feels impress. Because deep down, the Slytherin in him would've never been able to beg for something the way I'd just beg of him. And if he wasn't so taken aback by how I basically read his mind, he would've said something more coherent than: "Okay."

"Okay." I repeated his words, nodding. And even though he didn't audibly give me a reason to trust him on it, I knew that he meant it.

A part of me thinks that that must've been why we were soulmates because why else would I so blindly trust him on this secret of ours.

Tug. Tug. Tug. Blaise has been tugging at Theodore's pinky for the last five minutes now. Doing it over and over just to get a rise out of the brunet. But Theodore, quite honestly, couldn't care less as he watched the string tied around his pinky finger bounce with each pull of Zabini's hand.

Blaise, like the menace he is, enjoys bothering his best friend by pulling at the red string of his, but seeing as he couldn't actually see the string, the Slytherin has settled with just laying on Theodore's bed and repeatedly pulling at his pinky which sported the string instead.

"Honestly Nott, why are you so against finding your soulmate? We both know they're in this school so why won't you just make the effort to find them?" Blaise asks, pulling at his pale pinky once more. "Here I am, balls deep into finding mine and I find out that they're all the way in Durmstrang. Do you realise just how lucky you are?"

"Zabini stop," their other dorm mate, Elio, tsked. "Maybe he's just not ready to find them yet."

Blaise turns from his position on Theodore's bed to look at Elio. Retorting, "or maybe he just doesn't want to find them?"

"And that's okay," Elio replied with a roll of his eyes. "I'm sure he has a reason."

Blaise's attention shifts back to Theodore. "And that is?"

Theodore clears his throat, "I just don't want one."

Blaise squints his eyes, "uh huh," he lets out in disbelief. "Somehow I don't believe that."

"Okay," he murmurs, "I just don't like the concept of soulmates."

"And that's all to it?" Elio asks, fixing his tie as he listens into Theodore and Blaise's conversation.

"Yes." And when neither Blaise nor Elio seemed to believe him, he added. "And I'm tired of people pretending to be my soulmate despite the fact that I could clearly see they aren't."

"People have done that?" Elio asked, perplexed at the complex.

"For the right price people would do anything." Theodore mumbled, and when he noticed that Elio was heading out the door, he asked. "Where are you going?"

"I'm meeting Mark at the library," Elio says with a blissful smile. "I'll see you at dinner."

When Elio finally leaves, Blaise turns to Theodore with a dumbfounded look. "Mark?"

Theodore feels his pinky being pulled once more. "His soulmate."

On the other side of the castle, Mark watches as I throw my head on the table —albeit, dramatically, a groan slipping from my lips. Mark giggles, his nose scrunching along with it as he asks me what was wrong.

I lift my left hand up and into his line of sight, his giggles turning into a full blown laugh as my pinky pulls itself over and over in the same direction. "They're doing it again?"

"They're doing it again," I mumbled, lifting my head back up to look at my finger. "It's so annoying. I'm going to punch their face in the second I see them."

"That's a bit extreme," Mark says lightly. "Just tell them to stop doing it or something."

"Why do that when I can result to violence." I replied, tugging at the string as a sign for them to stop. "They do it all the time, it's so irritating."

"Well at least you know they're close by," Mark states, going back to his book. "Or else you wouldn't be able to even feel their pulls."

"Yeah." I nodded. "I guess that's something."

"What?" Mark asks, sensing a slight shift in the atmosphere. "Do you not want to find them?"

I shrug, "not really."

"Why not?" Mark follows up, abandoning his work completely.

"I just think that I shouldn't let the universe decide on who I spend the rest of my life with, is all," I say. "I want to make that decision myself."

Mark nods, humming, "I see where you're coming from." Understanding as ever. "But I also think it's nice that there's someone out there who will always be by your side no matter what, whether it be platonic or romantic, you know?"

"But that's not guaranteed, is it?" I counter. "I've heard stories where people found their soulmates but they didn't care for one another at all. I mean, at the end of the day, soulmates can't actually be soulmates if one doesn't reciprocate the other's feelings. So why try finding them at all if you're going to find out that they want nothing to do with you?"

"But what if they do," Mark argued.

"But what if they don't."

Mark sighs, "and if they do?"

"And if they don't—"

"Hi." I was cut off. "Shit! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt you," says Elio, eyes wide and apologetic. "What were you guys talking about?"

"Soulmates actually," Mark says with a smile, his pupils dilating at the sight of Elio. "Why are you here?"

Mark and Elio found out that they were each other's soulmate on the train ride over. Elio couldn't find his friend's carriage on the Hogswart Express and we were lucky enough to have empty space for the Slytherin.

"I wanted to see if you wanted to have dinner with me," Elio says. "And I also wanted you to meet my friends."

Who were, if I remembered correctly, Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, and Theodore Nott.

"Oh," Mark glances at me, then back at Elio. "This afternoon?"

"Yeah," Elio nodded. And I sense that he wanted to add 'when else' but held back against it. "At the Slytherin table, Is that okay?"

"Sure," Mark says, nodding quickly. "I'll see you."

Elio breaks into a smile, bidding a goodbye as he turns on his heels. "You're coming with me," Mark says the second Elio was far enough to not overhear us. "No arguments."

Two Hufflepuffs sitting idly chatting with four well known Slytherins must've been a weird sight for anyone that passes by. But Mark was having a fun time and that's all that matters.

Or to me at least. Mark sat to my left, with Elio sitting opposite him. Zabini was on my right, with Malfoy in front of him; leaving Nott right in front of me.

"Are you taking potions?" Zabini asks, trying to make conversation, seeing as Mark and Elio were the only people in this table who actually knew one another.

"Yep," I replied, placing my utensils down. "Are you?"

"The four of us are," Malfoy snickered. "At least there's two more tolerable people in that class with us."

Glad to know Malfoy found Mark and I tolerable. "So . . ." I drew out, thinking of anything we could chat about. "What did you guys do this summer?"

"Blaise dragged us to Europe to find his soulmate," Malfoy answered bitterly.

"Oh." The better part of me was intrigued, wanting to know if he did find them. I turned to Zabini beside me. "Did you find them?"

"No," he says, a slightly disappointed look on his face. "Too many students at Durmstrang and too little time."

"Well there's always next year," I say, trying to encourage him.

Zabini hums in agreement. "What about you? Have you found yours yet?"

Elio called out my name before I could answer his friend, and when I turned to him, he held out a goblet filled with pumpkin juice for me to take. Reaching for the glass, I felt a tug at my pinkie but paid no heed to it as I took the goblet from Elio's hand. Resting it on the table, my eyes caught onto a twinkle of red glowing right in front of me.

With furrowed brows, my line of sight found its way to the seat opposing mine, and along with it, the person who took the spot. Red string wrapped around his left pinkie, just like mine. Glowing slightly under the candle light.

Realisation settles in as I slowly look up at Nott, taking in his blank wide eyed expression that seemed to be processing the same information as I was.

Just to be sure, my hand reaches upwards to rub at my eyes before my vision falls back once more to my left pinkie, then the red string that connects me to the boy right in front of me.

Theodore Nott was my soulmate.

"Can you pass me the salt?" Malfoy asks Nott from his side, causing the brunet to break out of his trance.

Our eyes met for the briefest second, unspoken understanding warming up within me. And when Nott shifts his attention to where the salt currently resides, the tip of his ears shined as red as the string tethering us to one another.

The Marauders map is a great stalker tool to have. I didn't have it per se, but I knew people who did and they were kind enough to lend it to me when I needed it. I owe Harry a favour for this.

My eyes glance between the footsteps on the map tagged: Theodore Nott, and the corridor in front of me. Trying to be as quiet as I could with each corner I turn, if I were to get caught chasing some guy who seemed to be coming my direction at eleven P.M at night then who knows the kind of punishment I would get.

Theodore was walking with purpose when I found him. He walked with enough purpose for me to need to jog after him just to catch up. A hand latches onto his wrist, pulling him into one of the many secret corridors Hogswart held.

"Hi," I said breathlessly, panting as I watched him decide between fighting or flighting. He seemed to have found me harmless, settling on just gazing down at me instead. "Just give me a second to catch my breath."

There were many things he didn't say, just observing as I tried to calm myself down. I noticed a few things then about him, he was tall, lanky even, his doe eyes and hair the direct contrast of his pale skin, and his jawline was sharp enough to cut through wood.

"Uhm—" I stood up to my full height and found that I had to peer up at him. Freakishly tall motherfucker. "—I'm not going to waste your time by beating around the bush, so I'm just going to spill it."

"Actually I needed to have a word with you," he murmurs. And I have to reel myself over because that must've been the first time I heard him speak.

"Well, I found you first so I speak first," I tell him with a tight lip smile. "You can speak after okay? Okay."

His eyes squinted and I could tell that he was frustrated with not being able to get his words in.

"I'm going to need a favour from you," I say first, his eye brows rising slightly at my words. "I need you to keep us being soulmates a secret."

"It's not you, I promise," I added quickly. "I'm sure you're a great guy, you're very handsome too but I'm just— I can't just let fate decide on who I'm going to spend the rest of my life with. It's like I don't have a choice with what goes on in my life; and I can't ... have that."

"So I'm begging you, please," I plead. "Please, don't tell anyone about what we are."

"I can pay you." I offered. And If Nott wasn't so caught off guard by how I was able to say the exact things he had planned to say 30 minutes before, he would've laughed at the prospect of being paid when he already had a fortune in his hands. "I don't have much but I could also do your work for the year, just don't," I pause, "tell anyone until I'm ready, please."

Theodore won't admit it but he feels impressed. Because deep down, the Slytherin in him would've never been able to beg for something the way I'd just beg of him. And if he wasn't so taken aback by how I basically read his mind, he would've said something more coherent than: "Okay."

"Okay." I repeated his words, nodding. And even though he didn't audibly give me a reason to trust him on it, I knew that he meant it.

A part of me thinks that that must've been why we were soulmates because why else would I so blindly trust him on this secret of ours.

Platonic soulmates. That's what Theodore and I decided on. Well not really, Theodore had brought up the idea of cutting our soulmate ties completely with a spell he'd found but the Hufflepuff in me couldn't actually go through with the idea so we decided on platonic soulmates. Or just classmates who are hiding a secret that would blow up in their faces if anyone found out.

Hogsmeade weekend came faster this year; Mark and I (along with four other Slytherins who'd found their way into our friend group) were lucky enough to make the trip.

It hasn't begun snowing yet, although the weather sure felt like it. The temperature was warmer this morning, which was why I found it unnecessary to bring my jacket, and now, in hindsight, I see that that was a terrible idea.

It was getting late, and the weather was not getting warmer at all. "Dude, are you okay?" Mark asks. Dude must sound weird to the other four pure bloods. But dude, to me, was Mark showing that he cared for me. "You've been shivering for the past five minutes."

"I'm fine," I say, a clear lie and we all know it. "I'll just cast a warming spell, don't worry."

Mark's brow furrowed, "are you sure? Here—" he shrugs off his coat, "—just wear mine."

I didn't have to look around to know that the four Slytherin were watching us. And under any other circumstances I would gladly take Mark's jacket, but that was a somewhat intimate thing to do. Especially in front of his soulmate, so, like the civilised person I am, I shook my head and cast a warming spell on myself.

"Dude stop being stubborn, you're literally freezing."

"And I look good doing it so just take your coat, Mark." I argued.

"Okay then." He sighs. "If that's what you want."It's not. Mark pulls his coat back on as he continues walking down the Hogsmeade streets with the rest of us behind him and Elio. "So where should we go next?"

A grasp on my elbow, takes my attention away from Malfoy's answer to Mark's question. I look down, finding slim hands holding onto me. My gaze trails upward to find Theodore who had halted both our steps as he shrugs off his coat.

The brunet nudges it forward, wordlessly offering it for me to take. And when I shook my head, feeling uneasy at the prospect of making him suffer the harsh weather if I did take his jacket. He insists: "It's fine," he says, nudging it forward once more, the red string on his pinkie clear as ever. "I run hot."

"And is cold blooded," Zabini snickered to receive a glare from Nott. I stifled a giggle, finally feeling at ease with the two of them. Zabini's demeanour seems to soften at my half assed attempt to hide a laugh, and tells me to: "Just take it."

Okay. Fine. I will take it. The cold was biting my ass anyways. I reached out for the jacket but was pleasantly surprised when Nott helped me into it instead. "Thank you," I murmured.

Theodore, or at least his coat, smells like a combination of things that I could only assume he likes; things like: the sea, books whether it be old or new, earl grey tea, bearded irises, and vanilla.

Nott only hums at my gratitude, listening back into Mark's conversation with Malfoy.

"You never did tell me whether you found your soulmate yet," Zabini says suddenly. "Have you?"

"No," I answered, and unlike earlier, he actually believes in this lie of mine. "And I'm not really looking for one either."

"Funny," Blaise says with a mischievous smile. "That's what Nott also said." Not exactly, but it was something along that line. "Are you sure you're not each other's soulmate?"

From the corner of my eyes, I spy the tip of Theodore's ears flushing. The pink contrasting his dark features adorably. His face showed no emotion, his brown doe eyes rolling with feign annoyance. "I'm pretty sure I'd know my soulmate if I saw them as often as I see her, Zabini."

"Wish it were that easy," I mumbled, adding onto the illusion of us not being tied to each other.  "I'll let you know when I find out who they are though."

"Really?" He says testingly.

"If you're so invested in it then yes."

He smirks, "let's hope you keep your promise then, princess."

Little did Zabini know, his promise had already been broken.

Faith must've been playing some kind of sick joke. I knew that I'd be taking potions with the four Slytherin, but for me to be studying a love potion on the first day I had class with my 'soulmate' was just plain evil.

And I think, something along the lines of Professor Slughorn making Nott and I be the first to take a gander at the potion, to smell it and to describe what it smelled like to us, was even more cruel.

A glance at Nott, and another at the brewing pot in front of us, had me taking in a deep breath as I prepared myself for what's to come. I took a step forward, Nott to my side, and leaned forward to take a sniff at the potion.

The first round of scents were pleasant, home cooked meals, the smell of my clean room after a tiring day, my favourite snack and the likes of it. Then the second waft of the potion hits and I wondered whether it was what I was actually attracted to or what I was supposed to be attracted to since all I could smell was nothing but Nott.

Or at least the scent of his coat; sea salt, books, vanilla and a hint of his (what I think is) argan oil shampoo, which I assumed I could only smell because he was so close by.

"So?" Professor Slughorn egged us on with a smile. "Tell us what you smell."

Nott and I shared a look and I knew then that we could only smell one another. "The sea," I took the initiative to speak first. "Vanilla."

"Is that all?" Asks the Professor. "Is there a special someone you smell?"

Yes. Is what I didn't say, only shaking my head as I nudged at Nott's side for him to speak next.

"I'm sorry Professor but I couldn't really smell anything." Nott says barely above a whisper.

Professor Slughorn's furrowed his brows in concern. Did Nott not have something he loved? "Nothing at all?"

"Not really," the Slytherin murmurs. "I could only smell her."

Her?

Oh.

Me. I'm her.

Okay.

"Really?" Slughorn murmurs, clearly fascinated. "Well isn't that interesting?"

Nott only hums, moving away from the pot and as I turned with him, my eyes caught onto the pink tinged on his ears. Cute.

I couldn't even take a step towards my desk when Zabini swept me away, Malfoy by his side. Zabini smiles widely at my curious expression, and I wonder for a second if Nott has broken his promise and told them about our secret. Cautiously, I asked him. "What?"

"We need a favour."

"No." Was my first and final answer. Zabini only frowns, not the slightest bit faltering his quest. "I need you to steal Theodore away for a day." He says, instead. I shook my head, repeating myself, "No."

"Oh come on," Blaise pouts, "his birthday's this Sunday and we want to throw him a small surprise party."

"Which won't be a surprise if he was there," Malfoy adds unnecessarily.

"Why can't you be the one to distract him or whatever you're planning on making me do?"

"Because he'll suspect it," Malfoy answers with a roll of his eyes. "Nott's smart, he'll get suspicious of us."

"And he won't get suspicious of me?" I retorted.

"I haven't thought that through actually," Blaise murmurs. "But! We need all hands on deck to plan the party and fill it up with things he likes."

"And I can't help with that?" I ask.

Malfoy rolls his eyes. "What do you know about Nott?"

That he is my soulmate. But besides that, quite literally nothing. Okay. One point to Malfoy and Zabini, I guess. I sigh, slowly accepting my defeat. "What about Mark?"

"Mark's going to help us set up with Elio."

"Why can't you ask for the house elves to set it up for you?"

"Why can't you stop asking us questions?" Malfoy snaps.

I turn to the blond, my expression sour. "Hey you're the one asking me for a favour here, I don't think you can afford to be a bitch to me right now."

Malfoy rolls his eyes again, more attitude than ever. "So you're going to do it?"

"I never said—"

"Great!" Blaise cuts me off. "Have Theo out by ten A.M and have him back by six P.M, okay?" He says excited, and yet not loud enough for Nott, who had been sitting three desks away from our conversation to hear. "Okay! And if you guys do anything, please use protection we're way to young to have kids—"

"Oh fuck off." With a chuckle, Zabini finally leaves me alone, dragging Malfoy with him. With the two Slytherins no longer in sight, my eyes drift towards the only empty desk left and make my way towards it.

One, two, table passes, until I finally reach an empty seat and I find myself meeting eyes with Theodore. His face remains stone cold as ever, only looking at me blankly. He didn't have to say it for me to know that was curious about what his friends had said to me.

Setting my stuff down, I sat beside him and I found myself mustering up the courage to go through with Zabini and Malfoy's favour. "Hey," I start, Nott now giving me his undivided attention. "Do you want to go out this weekend?"

His expression changes for the slightest second that if I hadn't been watching him, I'd have missed it. "I thought we agreed on keeping it platonic."

"Yeah," I agreed quickly. "And that's not going to change anytime soon. Think of this as us bonding as platonic soulmates."

He guessed he owed me that, which was why he stood outside of the Hufflepuff's Common Room idly, waiting for me to come out and get on with our soulmates bonding day.

A smile came across my lips when I spotted him, looking as out of place as possible. "Hi," I said, going up to him. Theodore didn't bother replying, only standing tall as he waited for me to lead the way.

The ride to Hogsmeade was awkward —as to be expected from two people who knew little to nothing about one another. Theodore climbed out of the carriage first, offering a hand to help me off of the ride.

Before we began our journey, Theodore caught onto my wrist with his right hand, his left reaching for his wand and wordlessly, he casted a warming up spell on me.

"Thank you." I'd be lying if I said that it didn't have an effect on me. "So where should we go?"

His lips pursed, thinking. "You didn't plan anything?"

"Not really." This favour was a last minute thing, I didn't have time to actually plan things out. "I thought we could just walk around and look at things."

Theodore wasn't the easiest to read, but I knew from the shift in his features that he was judging me. He then nudges his head to the side. "Let's get you something to eat."

Theodore took me to a bakery by the end of Hogsmeade, the shop was heavily vanilla scented, people coming in and out every second. Nott ordered a vanilla danish, then another when he looked at my face.

I ordered my pastries, and reached into my bag for the sickles I needed. Before I could actually get it out though, Theodore was already pulling me to the side, mumbling a "don't bother" as the next customer made their order.

I frown, handing out the few sickles I owed towards him, he took a glance at my hand, then back to my face. "What did I just say?"

"I can't just let you pay for me."

He didn't say anything, but his expression alone suggests that he won't be taking my money anytime soon.

"Seriously, dude, I can't just let you pay for me."

"Let's go," Theodore deflects, taking a parcel filled with our purchases when the shop's clerk handed it out to us.

I followed after him, not before attempting to shove my money into his pockets and failing to do so when he shifted away from me. "You're being rude."

"Oh I'm being rude?" Theodore scoffs, and I think that that must've been the first time I hear real emotions in his voice. "For paying for you?"

"Yeah," I replied. "Paying for someone is only nice when they want you to pay for them."

"Well," he murmurs. "What's so wrong with me paying for you when you want me to pay for you."

"Don't gaslight me!"

Theodore smiles at my word, a small laugh bubbling out of him. "I'm doing no such things." And then, he adds in a mocking manner, "dude."

What an ass.

I led Theodore towards The Three Broomsticks, if he wasn't going to take my money then I'll just have to get him something in return. I ordered two butterbeers as he began unwrapping our pastries.

He handed mine to me and dug into his vanilla danish. A minute passes, the two of us eating in silence and I wondered if I should've just taken him to a movie instead, maybe then it'd be less awkward.

The butter beer arrives and I took a sip, wiping my lips with the back of my hand right after. "You have a little something—" my finger points towards my upper lips "—there."

He made quick work in wiping it off, eyes casting down as he turned his head to pick up a tissue paper. His red ears made a reappearance then, embarrassed as ever.

After we finished our meals, Theodore excuses himself as he heads towards the bathroom. I think then that this was the perfect opportunity; I called out to one of the shop's clerks and when they approached, I asked for the check.

The shop clerk, an elderly lady, frowns, "what are you talking about, love? Your boyfriend already covered it."

What? "I'm sorry, you must've gotten me mixed up with another table, I haven't paid yet."

"No?" She frowns. "The brunet, pale, about ye height—" the woman gestures over her head "—isn't with you?"

With me, yes. Boyfriend, no. "Did he pay?"

"Yes," she smiles, "just a second ago really."

If I could scream out of frustration I would. I glared at Theodore when he returned, he seemed to know what had happened as he walked with pride.

"You're not as smart as you think you are," he says, grabbing his things. "I knew what you were thinking."

"Well." I stood up, gathering my things as well. "What am I thinking right now?"

"What an ass I am." Smart ass.

"Lucky guest." I murmur.

"Is it now?" He replied testingly, taking my things from my hands.

I squint my eyes, looking at him threateningly. "I will destroy you, Theodore Nott."

"I'd like to see you try." The amount of stuff in his hands made him look ridiculous, walking out of the inn with little to no expression at all when he adds: "soulmate."

I returned Theodore to his friends by six, having snuck into the ladies room to send a patronus to Mark before doing so. Not a minute goes by when his patronus returns, a cheetah opening up its mouth to cheerfully say: "Okay dude, We're ready for you!"

I did what was asked of me and brought him to the room of requirements, Theodore trailed after me, clearly confused but never uttering a word about it.

Once we arrived in front of the door, I turn to meet his eyes. "Why didn't you tell me today was your birthday?"

He blinks. "It wasn't important."

"Your birthday isn't important to you?"

"No." He murmurs. "Why are we here?"

I push the door open, and it takes him a few seconds to realise what had happened. Elio jumps out, Mark by his side screaming as loudly as they could "happy birthday!"

Theodore stares at them for a bit before turning to me, "is that why you spent the day with me?" He asks first. "They put you up to this?"

If I heard disappointment in his tone, I didn't let it get to me. Mustering up a small smile, I push him towards his friends. "Enjoy your party, Theo."

Elio and Blaise swept him away, pulling him towards one of the corners where the snacks were placed. My expression must've been telling, of what exactly, I didn't know. But Mark seems to notice it, asking me in a quiet hush. "Are you okay?"

I nod distractedly. "Yup, why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know," Mark frowns, "you look a little off."

I smile at him. Mark knows me better than I knew myself. "I'm fine," I reassured him, "just a little tired."

"Okay," Mark says, leaving it at that with a sceptical look. "Let's get you something to drink."

"Was today just a ruse to get me away from the castle?"

Theodore had found me an hour after we arrived, looking distracted as ever when he handed over a slice of cake he'd saved for me.

"What?"

"You didn't actually want to bond with me, did you?"

I thought over my options, should I lie to him or just let him know the truth. Deciding on the latter, I tell him: "yeah, Zabini and Malfoy asked me to—" the clench in his jaw caught my attention "—wait, are you upset?"

Truthfully, Theodore says, "yes."

To say I was baffled was an understatement. "Why? What's wrong? Do you not like the party?"

"No," he counters. "It's not the party, the party's fine."

A beat passes by, Theodore hesitating. And then, finally, he says. "It's you."

"Me?" Have I done something to upset him? "Did I say something—"

"I thought you wanted to spend the day with me."

"I'm sorry." I'm not sure why exactly I was apologising but it felt like the right thing to do. "But to be fair, you didn't actually want to spend the day with me, did you?"

He avoids my eyes and I knew then that things can no longer be platonic. "I think you should leave before I do something idiotic."

"Like?"

"Kiss you."

How does one respond to that? His ears aren't red this time round. The look on his face is torn between hesitancy and distress. And I was stupid enough to reach up to him, a palm cradling his face, meeting his dark eyes.

A second passes and when he doesn't make to move away, I stand up to the tip of my toes and press my lips onto his. Theodore leans down, easing the strain of my neck as he kisses back without missing a beat.

A bump of the nose causes us to pull back, looking at one another with wide blown eyes before a subtle glow catches our attention. Tied to our pinkies, the string glows red, a shot of spark passing from his end towards mine only for it to lose its light when none comes from my side to ignite it.

What the spark means exactly, I didn't know. But I will not spend another second waiting around to see what it might meant. "That was a mistake," I say quickly, gathering my things. "Goodnight, Theodore."

I didn't know why I didn't notice it at first, but as I walked away, slice of cake in hand; the feel of plastic beneath the cake caught me off guard. I bring it into my eyesight, a vanilla danish neatly wrapped with a note attached to its side.

It seems like you've got me wrapped around your finger. Do me a favour and don't let it linger.

Blaise had a theory. And that theory consists of his two friends who had yet to find their soulmates. Or so they say.

Gathered around the room of requirement were the same people who attended Theodore's birthday party, give or take five people less.

Blaise stands in the middle of the room, the rest of us lounging on the sofa as we watch him speak. "Come here you," he points at Theodore, then he turns to me, "you as well."

My nerves gets the better part of me, causing me to glance at Theodore for help despite knowing that we were both drowning in the same boat. Did Blaise know about us being soulmates? Did Theodore tell him about it? Maybe I shouldn't have trusted him so blindly.

"You two," he says loudly. "Have been lying to us!" And then, a few notches down, he adds, "I think."

My brows furrowed, feigning innocence. "How so?"

Like a magician, he lifts up his hand dramatically, then grabs Theodore's pale hand in it. And in my eyes, the string was as visible as ever. I think I know where he was going with this and there's nothing to prepare me for what's to come next.

"Pay attention to her fingers okay?" Blaise instructs. I feel faint, dizzy, all the adjectives for nauseousness as each second passes by. "Her soulmate pinkie to be exact."

This is it. This is when they find out and Mark hates me for the rest of his life because I didn't tell him I'd found my soulmate.

Mark frowns, his bottom lips caught in his teeth as he watches on sceptically.

Blaise pulls at Theodore's pinkie, the same exact motion he'd done on end for the last couple of months. And, just like it had before, my finger pulls to Theodore's direction. Blaise pulls at it again and the same set of motions repeats itself.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Elio spoke first.

"Well," I began, everyone's attention turning to me. "Because, it's not your fucking business." Mark stifles a laugh at my words. "Theodore and I chose to keep it a secret for a reason."

"And that reason is?" Malfoy chimes in.

I didn't have to say anything for Theodore to know what I wanted them to know. "We didn't want soulmates."

"And now?" Blaise follows up. "Do you still not want soulmates?"

"Honestly?" I say. "I don't know."

It takes Theodore five seconds to note Mark's arrival at the Slytherin table. And it takes him another three seconds to notice that I wasn't there with them.

Mark chats animatedly with Elio, not once pausing to explain my lack of appearance at tonight's dinner.

Maybe they've grown too fond of me, or maybe Blaise likes me more than Theo thought he did, because he was quick to ask Mark where I was. "Doll's, not having dinner with us tonight?"

"No." Mark didn't even bat an eyelash at the pet name Blaise used. "She caught a cold and asked me to bring her something when I get back."

Theodore eyebrow's knit together curiously. "She's not in the infirmary?"

If the people at the table noticed the hint of concern in his voice, they didn't show it. Well —everyone except Mark that is. A gasp falls from his lips, staring at Theodore with wide eyes. Did he fancy his best friend?

Mark catches himself, shaking his head as he explained. "She said that it was just a common cold and that it'll go away soon. She didn't want to waste Madam Pomfrey's time when she could be focusing on something more pressing."

And when Theodore's eyes narrows. Mark feels the need to clarify himself. "Her words, not mine."

Theodore stands up then, excusing himself as he tells Mark not to worry about me and that he'll get something for me to eat. Mark didn't even get a chance to remind him about my meds before he slipped away and into the kitchens.

Mark didn't stress over it though, something in him knew that Theodore would not forget my medications.

A set of knocks lands on my door, approximately fifteen minutes later. And with a groggy "come in" from my bed; the door clicks open, Theodore standing behind it with a tray of food floating behind him.

"Theo?" I rub my eyes, unsure of what I was seeing. "What are you doing here?"

"Mark tells me you're sick." Did he? "So I brought you dinner." That's ... nice of him to do.

Theodore stands awkwardly by the door, not stepping an inch into a room. A part of me wonders if he was a vampire, waiting to be formally invited in before he could actually do anything. "You can come in."

The tray of food floats over first, resting just on top of my bedside table. Theodore follows in after it, staying a few feet away from my bed. "Wait, who let you in? Through the barrels and stuff?"

"No one in particular." He says. "They left the entrance open."

That was the hufflepuff way of doing things.

"Well thank you." My palm lays flat on my bed, pushing all of my body weight to a seating position. "For this. I know you'd rather spend the night doing something more fun than doing Mark a favour."

Theodore frowns, coming over to my side. "Mark didn't ask me to do this," he tells me; his hand carefully reaching for my arm, the other pressing against the small of my back to help me sit up properly. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

My attempt to resist teasing him was futile, even sick and on the verge of dying, I still think that Theodore's reaction to things —if there was one that is— was adorable. "Awh, did you miss me?"

Theodore didn't bother to say no. He didn't have to, it was clear by the hesitant look on his face that he did miss me. Even if I'd only just seen him yesterday.

"You should eat," he says instead, the glimpse of his tinging red ears not missed by me when he handed me a glass of water. "Drink this, eat, then take your medications."

A roll of my eyes paired with an 'I know' has him standing straight. And somehow, I get the feeling that he thinks he might've overstepped my boundaries. Not knowing what to say —or do for that matter, I settled on telling him: "thank you, again. I really appreciate it, Theo."

Theodore hums and we could both sense that our conversation was ending, but, strangely enough, despite never knowing what to say in front of him, I can't seem to just let him slip away tonight.

A glance at the tray Theo brought, then another back at him, had me asking a question I might be regretting minutes later. "Have you eaten, Theo?"

His eyes fell down onto my hand, the floor, anything but my face. The corner of his lips twists, a small dent in his cheek barely hiding his attempt to bite back a smile. He knew where I was going with this. "No."

A shift to the side, a pat on the empty seat besides me. "Good." I say first. "We can share."

The string tied to our pinkie glows, and this time, unlike the first, the sparks meets in the middle, igniting brighter than it has ever done before.

Being sick gave me a lot of time to reflect. And even more time for me to realise that me saying 'I don't know' complicates things. Everyone seems to be walking around eggshells when the topic of Theodore and I came up and quite frankly I'm fucking tired of it.

Theodore likes me. We're soulmates. This should be easy. I know how I feel, I can make things work.

Like feels childish. Love feels too strong. Infatuated is what I'm not when it comes to Theodore. I care for him the same way he cares for me. That should say something shouldn't it?

What I recently learned about Theodore is that he takes up an entire table at the library. Just him alone, and the whole table that would usually host four students all because he works in a mess.

"Uhm—" he looks up at me. "—can I sit here?"

He nods and turns back to his book. Not moving a single thing to the side. I sigh, organising his mess to one side and making a mental note to tell him off about it later. But for now, I ought to get my feelings sorted out.

"I wanted to talk to you," I say first. Theo hums, signalling that he was listening to me. "Can you look at me, please?"

He looks up from his page and shoved his book to the side, giving me his full undivided attention.

"I thought about it and I don't want to be platonic soulmates anymore," I tell him.

He looks in thought. "So you came here to say that you want to sever the soulmates connection?"

"No!" I say quickly, eyes wide. "No, not that. At all."

He seems to know what was going to come next, the corner of his lips turning upwards but he stops himself, not wanting to get too excited. "What is it then?"

"I care for you," I tell him. "And if you still care for me, I want to give this soulmate thing a shot."

His eyes soften. "Of course, I still care for you." He replies. "And I'm assuming by care you mean love?"

I pursed my lips, going over what I wanted to say and being careful with how I choose to phrase it. Finally, I decided on: "Not love per se," I say first. "Just us taking a step towards it."

" 'course not," he replies. "Baby steps, right?"

"Right," I say, feeling awkward under his gaze. "Baby steps." And then, I added. "Now if we're going to make this soulmate thing work out we need to actually go out."

He nods. "I'll take you to dinner on Friday then."

"Sure." A smile creeps onto my face. "It's a date." The tip of his ears reddens at my words, cute as ever. "I can't wait to see your cute little butt then."

Theodore fixes me a look between amused and judging, he breaks after a bit, shaking his head with a small chuckle. Incredulously he says, "I can't believe I'm in love with you."

"Woah there dude, you're moving a little fast," I said with a small smile. "Slow it down a bit, will you?"

"Too late, my love." And if I had a small liking towards the guy, my feelings were definitely amplified by his stupidly dumb sense of humour. "I've already gotten your name tattooed on my buttocks."

— from bee: i havent wrote in so long, this was so fun!! i always love writing theo so this was just a blast hehe

notes/reblog/feedbacks are greatly appreciated!!

[antiquepearlss]

Southern Headcanons

Old Corona lowkey gives off southern small town vibes so here’s some southern Varian + Quirin headcanons because I’m not projecting at all.

Starting off strong with a classic- Varian loves sweet tea. He makes it homemade and it’s 90% sugar and it’s most of what he drinks. Quirin isn’t a big fan, but he’ll drink it occasionally when Varian makes it. Same with Lemonade; Varian loves it, Quirin is neutral.

If Quirin isn’t working, he’s relaxing in a rocking chair on his front porch.

Varian is the type of person to watch tornadoes instead of seeking shelter. Quirin has to physically pick him up and drag him to the basement.

There’s a creek in Old Corona that the children all frequent. 

Most of Quirin’s diet is biscuits and gravy. It’s the southern old man meal. And southern fried steak. And fried potatoes with gravy. Also coleslaw, and fried green tomatoes, because again, old man.

Varian likes fried chicken and waffles, peach cobbler, pulled pork, chicken and dumplings, and cornbread. He ate coleslaw once and died a little inside.

Neither of them are big fans of catfish or shrimp, they’re just not big on seafood. Ulla was a fan, however.

Neither of them have thick accents, but with certain words it shines through. It also shines through if they talk fast, or for Varian, if he gets really excited. Or it comes out at random moments. Eugene and the girls make fun of him for it, Rapunzel thinks it’s cute, Lance thinks it sounds cool

Quirin has Bible verse decor in his house. He’s not even religious. Those just kind of materialize on your walls the first time you say y’all.

Quirin and Ulla had an apple themed kitchen.

Quirin absolutely has said “bless your heart”

Ulla wore gingham, a lot.

Varian has mason jars. Everywhere. And also reuses those butter containers. He managed to get them to contain acid.

Old Corona has a lot of potholes.

Varian’s favorite place to go as a kid was with his father to Rural King. He loved looking at the machinery and the baby chickens.

Varian knows how to use a riding mower and is quite skilled at it. He tried to teach Eugene (his city kid cousin) and he crashed into a tree.

There is little to nothing to do in Old Corona except for the occasional festival.

Oktoberfest goes hard there.

Quirin isn’t the most social but he does have the southern hospitality down. He’ll invite you in for lemonade or tea. He’ll just, barely talk. (He strikes me as the type to be quiet and awkward in small/intimate settings.) He also brings new neighbors homemade food.

Neither Quirin nor Varian care about sports, but they watch football to feel included. Sometimes they’ll root for opposing teams just for the fun of a playful rivalry with eachother, even though they have no idea what they’re talking about.

Quirin likes old country music. Varian claims to dislike country music, but listens to it sometimes. He never heard the end of it from the girls when they found out he loves Cary Underwood. Ulla had a collection of Dolly Parton vinyl that was passed down to Eugene for….some reason.

Quirin also likes some bluegrass and very much enjoys the blues.

Again, Quirin is not religious, but church on Easter used to be a must. Mostly because it was the only time he and Ulla could get Varian to wear a suit, and he looked adorable in one. (Now all Quirin has to do is ask Rapunzel to make Varian nice clothes and he’ll wear them gladly.)

Ulla planted a lot of magnolias in their garden. And hydrangeas.

Old Corona has a lot of block parties and just, spontaneous potlucks. 

If Varian wasn’t with his parents he was probably with the resident Old Person in Old Corona. He didn’t have many friends growing up, but older people loved him.

Quirin watches Andy Griffith.

Old Corona has one gas station and it has the best slushies. Whenever Rapunzel visits they go there.

Eugene kinda hates Old Corona. He’s a city boy. Rapunzel likes the open-ness.

Old Corona is the prettiest in the Fall.

Varian conveniently spills acid on nearby confederate flags.

[bberetd]

Mario and Daisy Headcanons

Currently on the road to go on vacation for the next week (and then go back to uni two days later 🫠) so I decided to take some time to write up some headcanons for Mario and Daisy! They’re a lot fun to draw, and just as much to write ☺️ I was originally going to pair it with the short ‘prologue’ story I had for them, but it got too long, so I’m gonna have it separate.

@vulpixfairy1985 @kelbreyworshipper @peaches2217 @itsavee4117 @supergay-64 @megamagimugi @pinkcreamypeach @wahooitsamee @silenzahra (when you’re ready <3) @mikibaby94 and @akiiame-blog I think you guys will like these 🤭

==

Meeting Each Other

• In their first few months of knowing each other, Daisy absolutely THRIVED on getting a rise out of Mario. “It’s funny seeing tiny people mad,” her reasoning was. It was always a good day for her, but it was a GREAT day when a vein was popping out of his forehead.

◦ Of course because everything is a game to Miss Daisy 😗

• The two had a rocky start… well, more on Mario’s end; Daisy was just there for a good time. For the most part, he remained civil towards her because she was Peach’s best friend and Luigi seemed to really like her (somehow).

• Not that Mario could never handle the truth, but to him, Daisy was ALARMINGLY blunt, ESPECIALLY around him, and had energy like he’s never seen before.

• What made him uneasy about her was how she interacted with people. She’s a physically affectionate person, so she’d do little things like shoulder punches/shakes, arm around the shoulder, hand on shoulder, playful pokes, etc. this was especially the case for Luigi, adding on spontaneous hugs, sometimes in the air.

◦ Luigi had to assure Mario over and over that he wasn’t uncomfortable, but the deep shade of red on his face around her convinced him otherwise.

◦ What made Mario snap was when she took Luigi on a solo tour around Sarasaland, but unintentionally got him badly hurt (more on this here), and immediately wanted nothing to do with her, no exceptions.

◦ Despite her questionable ways of showing affection, Daisy grew to genuinely like the bros, so she was disheartened when she heard the news. She wrote several letters to explain herself to give to Peach so she could give to Mario, but he was having none of it.

◦ A month after Luigi fully healed, Mario thought that maybe he was too harsh, but he still kept his distance.

• [insert event where Luigi is in trouble and they come together and bond over how much they care about him and learn a little more about each other in the process but NOT THERE YET… but at least Mario can stand to be around her again]

• What DOES make them closer is their love for sports and hands-on activities. Daisy is more eager to get her hands dirty unlike Peach, and unlike Luigi who would be more reluctant and stand behind Mario most of the time (of course the company is always appreciated)

◦ What starts off as a mission to annoy Mario (affectionate) turns into hours of cracking jokes, banter, life vents learning more from each other (whether it was what they were doing in the moment, from life or both).

Nicknames

• Mario’s nicknames for Daisy are Testa di spina (thornhead), D, Firecracker, Sriracha Queen, Crazy Daisy (more frequently when they were just meeting), and Petals

• Daisy’s nicknames for Mario are Red, Shortie, Short stack, SuperBoy, Fire hydrant, teletubby, Mawio, Mar-maid Man, Mustachio, Cap’n Lou (ironic right? also if you know you know), and Stimpy

Misc Headcanons

When these two work together in sports, they are a FORCE. They’re both jack of all trades on the field and on the racetrack.

When competing against each other however, it’s war. No mercy, no going easy on each other, but it brings out the best in them. Just to show respect and a sign of leaving their rivalry on the field, they do a long handshake.

Mario: *breathes*

Daisy: YOU’RE SHORT

and she’ll never go a day without letting him know it, but finds a unique way to show it each day.

They’re THE best hug givers. Mario and Daisy are incredibly warm people (Mario with his firebrand and Daisy ruling in a bright and humid environment). Mario’s stocky, so he’ll completely cover you with his love and warmth (and there’s plenty of him to hug in return), while Daisy’s hugs are tight but meaningful.

When these two hug each other, uh, let’s just hope they don’t squeeze the life out of each other 😅 they’re so competitive that they even need to compare who hugs better (creds to @teegeeteegee)

[Luigi and Peach walking and talking, then spotting Mario and Daisy either hugging or choking each other]

Peach: …What are you guys doing?

Daisy, not moving her head: We’re hugging, duh.

Peach: Why? (Not used to seeing the two showing this much affection to each other)

Mario: To see which of us hug better.

[L&P share a glance]

Luigi: Do you guys wanna, you know… unhug?

Mario and Daisy, realizing how nice the hug feels: …nah.

They’re partners in crime! They love pulling pranks on the koopas, goombas and other baddies, and maybe a harmless prank or two on the Toads and citizens over in Sarasaland.

It would take a near-death experience for either of them to ever say an emotional “I love you” to each other. At least Daisy mostly; Mario is more willing to say it. Daisy would usually say it lightheartedly (ex. “love ya!” followed by a punch to the shoulder or “you too” when Mario expresses his love out of habit). But they do show their care/love for each other through actions.

Mario knows Daisy is far from a princess who needs saving, but he still can’t help but have the need to protect her when the time comes.

Oh, and if you insult or hurt Mario, you better hope Daisy isn’t standing within a ten-mile radius with a steel chair.

Daisy loves to mess up Mario’s hair beyond recognition, while Mario loves to come up behind her and poke her sides (i imagine her making the “ah!” noise if you know, if not then this at 0:35)

When they feel playful, they talk to each other in funny accents.

==

[writingforatwistedworld]

If requests are still open (and if it is within the rules) may I request a shot for the Reader who casually refers to TWST guy as her "dream boyfriend" on a daily puzzle? For self-aware!Au and Leona/Jsmil/Riddle if possible? Thank you.

Self-aware au

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, death, murder, violence, unhealthy relationship, implied family problems, threats

Riddle Rosehearts/Leona Kingscholar/Jamil Viper-Referring to them as your “dream partner”

Ah yes, cricket. The sport that the Queen of Hears loved so dearly and was the reason why many flamingos and hedgehogs probably planned a rebellion against humans

But here he was, Riddle Rosehearts himself, fueling that fire of hatered of his supposedly feathery friends when he felt the presence of the Overseer again

What a surprise, but he was happy none the less

Playing a perfect game because if he didn’t there was no way he could be worthy of your attention

And then you said those words

Riddles flamingo was this close to going bananas as it felt his grip getting uncomfortably tight around its’ legs

Getting called your dream partner… has he ascended to heaven?

And it didn’t stop there, the next few days you continued to fo that

You better believe me when I tell you that everyone was almost screaming in fear when he was about to punish someone only for him to freeze and stare with glassy eyes onto the distance

Mhm, you said it… only that you saw him on your home screen instead of telling a student that it was “off with his head”

But what if one day you didn’t want him anymore? What if you found someone else whom you thought was better than him?

That was the moment he started to turn into his old self

Only that he didn’t act like this because of his mother but because he thought that if he followed your roles perfectly you wouldn’t divert your attention to someone else

Dark days, my friend. Dark days…

Sometimes though even he misuses them, claiming that someone did something wrong whenever he feels threatened

Never mind that one time when something inside of him snapped and Trey had to wash suspiciously red clothing

Leona isn’t someone who desperately wants to be in a relationship but if you were to ask...

So here he is, laying like most of his free time in the greenhouse, sleeping away...

And it would have been a normal day if it weren’t for you, suddenly appearing as if you had planned to give him a heart attack

They said this wasn’t a horror game… tell that to Leona who is now clutching his chest from the jumpscare of you appearing

So, the housecat extravagant over there is expecting your visit to play out like usual, make students study… making Deuce nearly break his neck during flying lessons

What he did not expect though was you suddenly going all “Awww I like him so much!”

Well… apparently he is a heck of a fresh snack since you are suddenly like “He my dream partner!”

Charming. Absolutely charming. And absolutely not making him go into cardiac arrest for a minute

Leona thought this would be a one-time tingy but no. You are persistently trying to make him loose every single one of his nine lives

You repeat it. And repeat it. And repeat it. And… can someone help Leona over there. I’m starting to think those bad jokes are slowly turning into reality

Suddenly sleepy lion who doesn’t take care of himself is high fashion. Is Vil seething? Maybe but what I can guarantee you is that he plans to turn Sunset Savannahs second prince into a scarf

Malleus over there also looks like he might implode any moment but we don’t talk about the end of the world here… at least not now

Leona is not dangerous because he is very active but because he has his way with words and if that doesn’t work then he can literally grind people to dust… all I am saying is that his magic worked on Ruggie

So whenever he sees someone getting close to him so that they can also get close to you then they better be prepared for intimidation tactics which Lilia hadn’t seen since the war and they will definitely might end up with a few healthy bones less… especially in the neck are but this is a sunny side blog! We- we don’t talk about dark stuf here!

And yes, of course, this is bad for his ego but Leona knows that him changing in any way that is a bit more egoistical will probably end up in a negative way

After all, not even he is sure what he would do would you stop to refer him as someone you consider as husbando material

Uh… Jamil… poor in the shadow standing Jamil…

Now this is someone I can definitely assure you thinks he has absolutely no chance with you

Although that changed after his overblot, with him finally getting a good session of screaming at Kalim his self-esteem was definitely in better waters

So here he is, still a servant but at least he got his problems off of his soul

Which ends up with him dreaming. Would a kind and all-knowing soul like yourself even look at him? If yes, how would it be?

One day, that one darn day, you came and did what you ususally did

Nothing special, nothing out of the ordinary, just some guidance

And then he feels your attention on him, his body going into “plank-mode” as he started to become nervous

All the years of serving someone like the Asim family was not able to prepare him for you

And then he is suddenly perfect boyfriend material

What’s even funnier is that he was puring Kalim a drink and at your words he gave the young heir an unvoluntary shower

Huh? The incense has probably gotten to his head, he thought whilst carrying food over to Kalim but then you started to squeal about him again and… I know, what a waste of good food.

When you repeat it every day his self esteem gets even better day by day, you repeating yourself on a daily basis

But what if someone were to take this away from him? What if some lowly insect were to question his position

Jamil can be frightening. Not the normal kind tough. No. Frighting frighting

SUdddenly that students’ social life is ruined because he did something horrible, even his family can’t look him into the eyes. WHat Jamil is always alone to those recently violent becoming people? Nah, that must be wrong, right?