#how long would it have to be though? how ridiculous would that be?

[loreandletters]

Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with Chick-Fil-A

The King, L’landis Plebarin, hadn’t stopped speaking. He stands ramrod straight, a large, obnoxious sword at his hip. The land behind him unfolds like a tapestry, a beautiful window into a world of fantasy. In Peter’s home, birds would dot the sky; here, there are dragons. They’re on the balcony of this prestigious building, so the view is high up and unobstructed. There’s no skyscraper to break up the horizon, or a thick smog to block it. 

The building they’ve climbed the steps of reeks of a strange otherness, enshrouded in a beauty that Peter has only known to be in ancient cathedrals and grand eastern temples. It’s beautiful, really. He’s sure they brought him up here to tempt him with their wealth, their beauty and fantasy. What a real fucking shame this King and his servants only know how to spew filth. 

“- and crush our enemies, who threaten our world.” 

Yeah, Peter had stopped listening after ‘we will gift you with slaves to own and women to conquer.’  

A high collared servant of some sort stood smugly by the Kings side, a polite smile scrawled across his wrinkled face. His too long robe fell into a puddle onto the floor, spreading out like a puddle of piss, except it floated before it could touch the stones beneath their feet. He wore another dress underneath, covering his feet, and Peter thought if magic was used so thoughtlessly, they might not be as stupid as they sound. Damn. There goes his punch-and-run plan.

The King stood confidently, his aged face warm with invitation. What a crime, for such a conventionally attractive man to be this vile. “What do you say, hero?”

Peter smiled, because sadly, he wasn’t the one with a giant sword on his hip or magic at his fingertips. “Your enemies, the Demons, are they the only ones I have to fight?”

“I wish it were so.” A weary look overcame the King. “Our land is surrounded by enemies. To the west, lay the Lipkons, who vie after our riches. Should we defeat them, I’m sure their Queen will make a valuable concubine.”

“Queen Kelamine is a proud woman, unnatural through and through. Worry not though, pride makes for feisty bed warmers,” the servant remarked. Fury burns begins to warm his skin, and Peter thinks how satisfying it will be to smack this fucker.

“They are a Matriarchy, the fools, so naturally they will be the easiest to fell.” The King rubs his chin thoughtfully.

“Right.” Peter agrees in pure habit alone. Strangely, this feels like dealing with an old customer, one who begins spewing the most ridiculous shit completely unprompted. He employes his usual coping method: a flat smile, a nod, and a dash of a desperate hope that he’ll get through it without getting yelled at. Fuck, it’s so annoying. He’d just finished with this shit not an hour ago, getting off a stupidly long shift with a line that just wouldn’t end. Fuck this old man and fuck Chick-Fil-A. 

“And then to the east, the dirty Halflings have made a kingdom of their own.” The King laughs like its a joke.

“A rabble of bandits more like, liege,” the servant says, “they are nothing to worry about. Built out runaway slaves and illiterate bastards.”

“Yes, we have nothing to fear from them,” the King agrees, “the North is ours, thankfully. The Dukes in charge had rebelled some time ago, but we have reasserted our control. Their heir resides here with us, so hence, the Northern loyalty is secure. And of course, the South is rife with the Demon Empire. So, yes Hero, we are in desperate need of your help.”

“I understand.” Peter closes his eyes. He’s cold, only standing on this balcony in his thin, red uniform. He hadn’t even been able to walk through the door of his apartment before all this shit. Couldn’t get iskeaied into a nice place, could he? Or any of the other kingdoms? Couldn’t be the east, or the west, or even the Demons - he had to get the sexist slavers, smack dab in the middle of the continent. No chance to run, no place to go.  What the fuck is his life.  

“So, Hero, will you take this challenge?” The King sounds confident, as if there’s no world in wich Peter will say no.

Fuck you, let me go home bitch, Peter thinks viciously, resentment bubbling up because this never should have been his problem. This man doesn’t even see him as a hero, just pawn in a really fucked up game. Kinda like Kaden, the power tripping bastard that thought being a manager of a round down fast food restaurant was equal to being god. Kaden only bothered to start acting nice when an audit came about. Fuck the King, fuck Kaden, and fuck Chick-fil-A.

“You’re asking a lot of me.” Peter grits out as politely as he can. Damn it all, just let me go home.

“You are right, what we ask of you is tremendous. But, know this, you were not summoned at random,” reverence emboldens the King Plebarin’s words, and Peter has to shove down the urge to scratch his face off, big fancy sword or not. “You were brought here for your strength, inwards and outwards. You may not believe in yourself, but I believe I do. You will be the one to save us, Hero. I know it.”

Oh, I’ll do more than that. Peter nods, more to himself then the king. Resolve slowed his heart,  quieting its rabbiting pace. Save you? Ha! I’ll be a hero, alright, just not yours.

“Thank you, your Majesty,” Peter bowed, his righteous fury and determination filling his chest, “it’ll be my pleasure.”

the king has a large problem. The hero that was summoned thinks slavery is "a bad thing" and women "should have rights"

[famoussharkhairdoknight]

Meet my sister P.2-Jude Bellingham

Part.1, Part.3

plot: Federico Valverde wants to introduce his younger sister to Jude, his teammate. He hoped that something romantic would be born between them seeing that their characters were perfect together but things take a different turn

wearnings: +18,handjob

Jude returned home that evening with a strange feeling, a tension he couldn’t shake off. He had faced plenty of people in his life: opponents on the field, critics in the press, even stubborn teammates. But you? You were different. Not only had you dared to challenge him openly, but you had gotten under his skin in a way he couldn’t explain.

He let himself fall onto his couch, phone in hand. He tried to distract himself by scrolling through notifications and messages, but your face kept popping into his mind: the way your eyes sparkled with sarcasm, the provocative smile that seemed to say, "You’ll never have the upper hand with me.”

“Ridiculous,” he muttered to himself, but he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

With a resigned sigh, he opened Instagram and typed your name into the search bar. It didn’t take long to find you; your profile was verified and had millions of followers. Jude scrolled slowly, studying one photo after another.

There were pictures of you on red carpets, flawless in high-fashion gowns. Shots from ad campaigns, where your intense gaze and bold poses grabbed attention. Then, more personal images: you on a beach, the sun lighting up your skin; you in a recording studio with a satisfied smile; you laughing with a disarming naturalness.

His eyes stopped on one picture in particular: you were seated on a couch, wearing a red dress that hugged your curves perfectly. Your hair fell over your shoulders, and your smile was both sweet and mischievous.

Jude smirked, an arrogant grin reflecting his thoughts. “Sexy, no doubt about it,” he muttered to himself, leaning back into the couch. But then his smirk turned into a grimace. “But insufferable. Thinks she knows everything, always has to have the last word.”

Despite the irritation you caused him, he couldn’t look away. He kept scrolling, discovering more aspects of you that trapped him in a mix of attraction and annoyance.

“How does Federico put up with you?” he wondered, though a part of him knew that your personality was exactly what drew him in. You weren’t like the other women he knew. You didn’t try to please him or impress him. If anything, you did everything you could to challenge him.

“I don’t like you. You’re just a challenge,” he said out loud, almost as if trying to convince himself. But he knew there was something more. Maybe it was the way you never backed down, or maybe it was how your laughter managed to irritate and intrigue him at the same time.

Before he realized it, he had spent over half an hour on your profile. He abruptly shut his phone, almost annoyed at himself. “Ridiculous,” he muttered again, standing up and running a hand through his hair.

But as he headed to his bedroom, your face kept resurfacing in his mind. Jude didn’t want to admit it, but he already knew this wouldn’t be the last time he searched your name on Instagram. And that realization irritated him more than anything else.

He had just laid on the bed, his hands behind his head, trying to shake off the annoyance. But that annoyance had a very specific name: yours. He was convinced that it was enough to ignore you to stop thinking about you, but it did not work. The more he tried to drive you out of his mind, the more your sarcastic smile and intense eyes came to haunt him.

After a few minutes, he snorted frustrated, grabbed his phone and almost without thinking, went back to your Instagram profile. It was an impulsive gesture, one he knew he should not have done, but it was too late.

While scrolling through your photos once more, he found one that struck him more than the others. You were sitting on a balcony, with a breathtaking view behind you, but he didn’t notice anything around you. All his attention was on you. You wore a black dress with a dizzying slit that let your smooth skin glimpse. Your legs were crossed with natural grace, and your gaze, directed into the room, seemed to challenge anyone not to yield to your charm.

Jude stared at the picture for a few seconds, feeling his breath getting heavier. He felt his cock harden. Your body was amazing, she had already noticed that, but there was something more. Your attitude, that combination of sensuality and pride, was an open challenge. It seemed you were saying, "I know you want me, but you won’t have me easily."

«Damn...» he muttered to himself, feeling a wave of heat passing through him. He ran his hand through his hair, trying to regain control, but it was useless. His mind was filled with dirty thoughts about you, and that character which irritated him and fascinated him at the same time.

He dropped backwards on the bed, phone still in hand. With his right hand he threw his cock out of his boxer shorts and began to saw himself while his gaze returned to your picture, while a grimace was drawn on his face. «You think you are untamable, don’t you?» he said in a low voice, almost as if you were there to hear it.

The image of you gave him a shiver down his spine. He felt tense, stiff, as if the thought of you had taken over his body. He was used to having control over everything: in the field, in his personal life, with women. But you were another story.

He started to stroke his cock faster as he thought you were bent like a slut in front of him while you took his dick.

«I would tame you in a second,» he muttered, almost with anger.

But he knew that the real problem was not to tame you physically, but to tame your character. Because even though he thought you were incredibly hot, your strong temper and sarcasm drove him crazy. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to challenge you or win you over.

Jobe kept looking at your picture and continued to cut himself quickly, then came with a moan.

He closed his eyes for a moment trying to catch his breath

When he opened his eyes again, Jude closed the click phone and threw it on the bedside table. But your smile kept tormenting him. He couldn’t get you out of his head, and that irritated him more than anything. Because, deep down, he knew you’d find a way to sneak into his thoughts once again.

«I hate her»

---

The next morning, Jude arrived at the training ground still irritated with himself. He hadn’t slept well, tormented by thoughts of you. Every time he closed his eyes, your face resurfaced, along with the memory of that photo. He tried to shake off the tension, but it wasn’t easy, especially knowing that Vinicius and Kylian would be eager to ask how it went.

As he tied his cleats in the locker room, Vinicius walked in with his usual sly grin. Kylian followed closely behind, just as curious. They exchanged a knowing glance before approaching Jude.

"So, Bellingham," Vinicius started, slapping him on the back. "Federico told us you met his sister yesterday."

Jude let out a sigh, pretending indifference. "Yeah, so what?"

Kylian chuckled, leaning against the locker next to him. "So, tell us. How was it? Federico seemed so excited about the introduction."

Jude stood up, adjusting his training shirt. "Not much to say. She’s... irritating."

Vinicius raised an eyebrow, amused. "Irritating? Really? So, you didn’t like her?"

"It’s not about liking her," Jude replied, annoyed. "It’s that she has an unbearable personality. Always ready with a comeback, always provoking. She thinks she’s funny, but really..."

"But really, she made you lose your mind, huh?" Vinicius interrupted, a sly grin forming on his face.

"Stop it," Jude warned, shooting him a cold look. "She didn’t make me lose anything. She’s just another girl with a huge ego."

Kylian burst into laughter. "Yeah, sure. That’s why you’re talking about her, right? You know, Jude, when someone doesn’t really bother us, we don’t mention them at all."

Jude clenched his jaw, trying to keep his cool. "I’m not talking about her. You’re the ones who keep bringing it up."

Vinicius sat down next to him, watching him with an amused expression. "You know, Jude, I’ve seen his sister a couple of times. And I gotta say, Federico’s right: she’s a bombshell. Beautiful, talented... and with a character that doesn’t go unnoticed. Maybe that’s what bothers you."

Jude turned to him, narrowing his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I mean maybe you’re not used to a girl who doesn’t fall at your feet," Vinicius replied with a smirk. "Admit it, she stood her ground, and that pisses you off."

Kylian nodded, adding, "And let’s be real, someone like her isn’t exactly easy to ignore."

Jude sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You’re making a mountain out of nothing. I’m not interested."

"Right, sure," Vinicius countered, laughing. "We’ll see how long it takes for you to come up with an excuse to see her again."

Jude stood up, heading towards the field with a neutral expression. "It’s not going to happen."

But as he walked, their laughter and words continued to echo in his mind. No matter how much he wanted to deny it, he knew there was something about you that intrigued him. And that irritated him more than any provocation.

---

The night at the club had just begun, and the atmosphere was electric. Federico, Jude, Kylian, and other teammates had gathered there to unwind after an intense week. The dance floor was crowded, colorful lights flashed in every corner, and the music vibrated in the air, making everyone's heart beat to the rhythm. As always, Jude was the center of attention, surrounded by girls trying to catch his eye, but he seemed distant, as if something was distracting him. Maybe it was the thought of you, or maybe it was the irritation he still felt toward you, but he couldn't focus on anything else.

Vinicius and Kylian were more relaxed, chatting and laughing, while Federico was enjoying himself with some friends. But the atmosphere changed abruptly when the door to the club opened, revealing a figure walking in with confidence, turning everyone’s head. It was you, of course. Your entrance was theatrical, your radiant smile, and the energy you exuded from your presence seemed to be the only thing capturing everyone’s attention.

Vinicius and Kylian's eyes lit up. "Look who's here," Kylian said, impressed by your entrance. "You can't miss her."

Vinicius nodded, watching you with admiration. "It's impossible not to stare. Beautiful, confident... and that personality that makes her even more intriguing."

Meanwhile, Jude, who had been trying to ignore you until that moment, let out a visible sigh, feeling that annoying pang of irritation grow inside him. You were moving on the dance floor with natural sensuality, effortlessly, as if the music was a part of you. Every step, every movement, drew attention, and the girls around Jude seemed to forget about him, all focused on you. Jude, however, couldn't stop watching you, despite his irritation.

"Do you like her?" Vinicius asked with a smile, noticing Jude’s fixed gaze on you.

Jude shrugged, trying to seem indifferent. "No," he replied curtly. "It annoys me how she stands out like that."

"Though you can’t take your eyes off her, right?" Kylian teased, with his usual knowing grin. "Are you sure you don’t like her?"

"I don’t like her," Jude repeated, but his voice betrayed a slight uncertainty.

Meanwhile, you continued to dance, unaware of their comments. Your energy was contagious to everyone, but it seemed like it wasn’t sitting well with Jude. Every movement you made made him more tense, and every glance he threw at you made him feel strangely uneasy. He couldn’t understand what it was, but there was something about you that irritated him and at the same time attracted him, a contrast he couldn’t settle.

Vinicius and Kylian kept making appreciative comments, laughing between themselves, while Jude distanced himself from the conversation, trying to deflect the attention. But the truth was, he couldn’t stop thinking about you, and the fact that he was so irritated by you made him even more annoyed.

[hiraethwa]

one summer day

18 hiraeth. where everything has changed.

<< 17 light. | >> 19 (coming soon)

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x reader word count: 3.6k warnings: alcohol, forced interaction

"the love was there. it didn't change anything. it didn't save anyone. there were just too many forces against it. but it still matters that the love was there." (source)

the ocean calls to you, whispering of the bittersweet past as you and semi barreled towards your old apartment complex on the train shortly after arriving at haneda airport. 

you close your eyes, centering yourself, trying your damned hardest to not be swayed by the ocean, this train line, the carriage itself, the familiar scenery flying past you, everything.

the ocean sings of a song long forgotten—a song of a flightless bird taking flight on man made wings. of the song you had desperately tried to forget, its score long since burned to ashes. 

she calls to you to visit her lonely shores, to lay your eyes on the treasures she keeps in her depths, gleaming in the dark, waiting for their master to claim them again. 

stop. you tell her, there is a reason you built your home atop a cliff, never laying a foot on her sandy beaches again. semi tugs at your sleeve as a female voice announces your stop. 

the ocean has a mind of her own, and she is determined for you to sink your toes into her warm waters again. i have always been here.

now is not the time. you turn your attention away from her to focus on the male before you, your arm tightly laced through semi’s, as reality settles in. 

ushijima wakatoshi stands before you, the expression on his hauntingly handsome face a familiar sight. one that you wish to never lay your eyes upon for the rest of your life after semi confirmed what you were told. 

don’t ever mention him again, you had told semi after that conversation five years ago.

and now, the source of your heartache stands before you, a faint smile on his lips, as though nothing has changed in the years that you were gone. everything has changed. 

you curse at her internally for distracting you.

it has been five years. five years since you left without a word. you thought you are long over him, that all he is now is someone from your past, but there he is, just as beautiful as you remembered. traitorous mind. 

there he is, looking as fine as the day he cleaved your heart apart. how could he? 

the ocean quiets.  

something in your chest pangs in remembrance, like an old injury aching just before the storm rolls through, recognising the person who your heart used to call home. you dig your nails into your palms to resist clutching at your chest. 

five years. all the pain and the healing, the breaking and the mending. it will not come undone at the mere sight of ushijima, you remind your heart. 

five year is enough. more than. 

it has to be. 

but then he opens his mouth, a mere hello, the sweet curve of his lips that was seared into the fiber of your being, even if he was only yours for one night, and the precarious image of control you had shatters into a million pieces. 

your anger bursts into life, hot flames shrouding you in its defensive embrace. 

it is all you could do to mutter one back, chest heaving with strained breathing, turning to stare a hole into the side of semi’s head, opting to stand in awkward silence rather than speak any further. 

perhaps you should have taken your chance on the streets, or at a cheap motel. you should never have agreed to this, or let semi convince you that it would be alright to stay with ushijima at your old apartment—the rented two bedroom apartment that he still lived in. 

you had not known what to do with the information when semi sprung it on you, and so he got his way with this ridiculous closure project of his. foolish, this whole thing. it has been five years, what is there left to move on from?

semi takes charge moving your suitcase into your old bedroom, still untouched from the way you left it, not a speck of dust. you shove that piece of observation deep behind some forgotten memory, shushing the ocean that tries to protest.

you opt to walk behind them on the way to dinner, where tendo will be joining you, your high school group all conveniently in tokyo at the same time. the two of them chatted back and forth, so unlike your memories where semi or tendo used to carry the conversation when it comes to ushijima who usually has little to say. 

had, you correct yourself. the man strolling in front of you is holding his own, no longer the boy you knew. your brain notes the broadness in his shoulders, the extra inches he grew, his well defined muscles straining against the turtleneck he has on. 

you almost wish for him to be angry at you for leaving without a goodbye. because then it would mean that you were in the wrong. that you got it all wrong. 

it is wishful thinking—dangerous territory. the ocean croons at you. 

at least semi is kind enough to let you choose your seat in the crowded katsu restaurant—next to ushijima or tendo, which is an easy choice. 

dinner passes uneventfully with tendo recounting his wild adventures in paris, especially the ones that involved you at a time when you lived life a little too recklessly. 

you try not to stare at ushijima’s empty ring finger, or semi’s answer a few weeks earlier when you remembered to ask after his wife to get out of his stupid plan of staying with ushijima. don’t worry about it, he had said. 

you didn’t know what to make of it then. you still don’t know what to make of it now.

when the classic ‘leave them alone so they can talk’ happens, you see it coming from a mile away. 

semi leaves first to get the check, instantaneously followed by tendo excusing himself to the bathroom. you send a hard glare at semi as he gets up to leave, which he responds to with a look in ushijima’s direction—you said you are over him, right?

right. you deflate in your seat as your friends make their escape. 

you worry your lip, eyes darting behind ushijima towards the counter, to the waiter walking by your table, giving them a nervous smile, to the textured ceiling and back to the counter where semi is—where did he go?

your feet tap on the ground at a high tempo, fast enough to keep your mind occupied and away from things you should not think about as you scan the restaurant, eyes coming to a stop at a booth with two very familiar figures and two other people chatting and laughing. tendo and semi—and kai.

traitors. did they plan this?

you whip your head back towards ushijima for a short second, before forcing your gaze to fall to the table. 

“you haven’t spoken a word to me since you said hello—”

“don’t, ushijima. don’t pretend like everything is alright.” you clench your fist under the table, desperately trying to salvage the nonchalance you mustered.

“can i explain—” 

“no.” you inhale sharply. this is all a very, very bad idea. 

“please give me a chance to explain my side of—”

“that’s enough.” you say quietly, meeting his eyes for the first time. “you never gave us a chance. 

“i only wanted to protect you.” he looks pained, as if you are twisting the dagger piercing his chest. 

“it seems that you are the one i needed protecting from,” the words come out in your voice, so detached and void of emotion that you barely recognise it. his presence drags a sharp-tipped blade over the scars on your heart, picking at the fraying thin threads holding it together with every word. 

“i’m sorry.” he drops his eyes, falling silent. 

you look away as well, tracking your friends who are coming back your way, knowing them well enough that they would drag you both to dessert. 

you glance back at him, the organ in your chest bleeding red with liquid that it's supposed to pump away from itself through your body, standing up quickly and turning to leave, your chair shrieking against the tiles, and you lie.

”i don’t care.” 

—-------------

the wind is cold against your face, harsh enough to whip your hair around and make you shiver, but not enough for you to feel numb—the way you feel inside now that you distanced yourself from the situation. 

you had plundered his fridge, choosing a good bottle of sake, surprised to even find alcohol in the apartment since he does not drink, before planting yourself on the balcony, sitting with your knees to your chest on the freezing tiles. 

home. the word had slipped out of you accidentally while referring to this apartment.

“i am going home,” you had responded in your haze of fury when ushijima asked where you were going, realizing your mistake twenty minutes too late, the understanding settling in as you stepped foot on the westbound train. 

his eyes had snapped to yours with that look, as he shoved the keys into your hand and closed your fingers around them before backtracking to the restaurant, letting you go as you wished. 

it was because you called this place home. 

your mistake has played on loop in your mind since then, and sleep feels as far away as the safe havens of paris tonight. 

tonight, you have two choices—stay up all night staring at the stupid glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling in your bedroom while being tortured by your memories or drink yourself into oblivion. the latter feels like a less painful choice. 

you keep forgetting that it also makes your mind painfully clear and your inhibitions non-existent—that was how you got tendo to do all the dubious shit you got into together in paris.

it seems that ushijima also realizes that, knowing that this is his one chance to talk to you without you walking out on him. he is absolutely right. 

he slides the balcony door closed behind him, standing next to you silently, waiting for something. 

you speak first this time, annoyed and emboldened by the alcohol coursing through your system. “here to plead your case again?”

you raise your head to peer at his tall figure in the dim light, an eyebrow arched, your guard thrown to the winds rushing between you. 

he shakes his head, “not if you don’t want to hear it.”

“and you’re not going to try to make me for the rest of the time that semi stuck me here for?”

“i didn’t know.”

“didn’t know?” you parrot after him, “didn’t know what?”

“i was under the impression that you wanted to stay here. i didn’t know that he was forcing you to do it. if i had known, i would not have agreed to it.”

semi tricked the both of you? the bastard.

“you would not have agreed to it?”

he nods, brows furrowed, hesitating on his next words. “i– i booked a room under your name at a hotel in shinjuku, a few blocks away from tokyo opera city, if you wish to stay there for the duration you are here instead.”

you falter, setting down the half empty bottle of sake and the cup in your hand, caught surprised by his words. “you didn’t have to.”

“i know.” silence falls over you both. “you should go, while it’s not too late. i can call a cab for you.”

you sigh through your nose, throwing your head back against the glass doors, looking up at the dark skies for some sign on what you should do next—if your change of heart to hear him out is a bad idea for your own wellbeing. 

is this what semi wanted? for him to be so him and for you to soften at his gestures? no… tendo. 

you drop your head onto your arms, squeezing your eyes shut, uncertain whether you should follow your instincts. 

“sit down.” you mumble into your skin a few moments later.

ushijima looks at you in surprise, unsure if he heard wrong but then you say it again, head raised, your eyes meeting his. he obeys, careful not to intrude on your space. 

you swallow, blood thrumming through your veins at the unexpected change in the course of your actions. “i can’t sleep anyway, so,” you shrug your shoulders, pouring sake into the small cup and lifting it to your lips, sipping. 

you really hope you don’t regret your next words. “what did you want to tell me?”

you look away from the visible perk in the tilt of his eyes, the corner of his lips, the tightness coiled in his shoulders loosening just slightly. 

he still reads like an open book to you—you wonder if you are the same. 

if after all this time that passed, you still remember the language between you. 

“my mother told you about the– the arrangement. how much do you know?”

you don't need to dig into your memories, you hear them frequently enough. “the week i left. that was also the week you went back to miyagi for your family gathering. she said it was for your engagement ceremony.” you lied to me.

hearing your own voice say that out loud, separated by distance and time from the rawness of your heartbreak, it sounds ridiculous. you left, not a single confirmation from ushijima on the supposed ceremony that you heard from his mother, who is practically a stranger to you. 

you left based on nothing but words of a stranger. 

what does that say about you? you blink at the empty cup in your numb fingers. 

“yes, that is right, but i did not know that the yuino was happening then until i went back.” i did not lie to you about it being a family gathering.

you pour more sake into the cup. 

“my mother hated how much volleyball reminded her of my father, so i made a promise to her at the end of junior high. in exchange for focusing on volleyball through high school and pursuing it professionally after, i agreed to having an arranged marriage. she wanted me to have a stable marriage unlike her own, and at the time, i haven’t met you yet. i didn’t care for love, and i thought she knew best.”

is that what all this is about? always too late. to grow old with the boy you fell in love with.

to save your sister. 

“i wanted to call it off. i tried to, but she threatened me with you, with your future. and i could not gamble with that. i thought it was best for you that i keep my distance, protect you from her, but that night, on my birthday—” he chokes on the memory. 

it brings up a well of emotions within you as well. you are no stranger to it—every touch, every kiss seared into your skin, every image of him burned into the back of your eyelids—the deep pools of warmth within his eyes, the softness of his cheeks beneath your thumb, the strength of his arms wrapped around you. 

you had wanted to drown in him forever.

but that was five years ago, and everything has changed since then. 

“i should not have done it. i gave in to my impulses and i ended up hurting us both far more because of it.” he stares at his tightly clasped hands in his lap, knuckles white with force, shaking almost imperceptibly. 

“do you regret it?” a quiet question. 

“no, i don’t. i am the worst, am i not? i keep taking from you, and i can’t find it in myself to regret it. i only regret that it was the only time we shared together without trying to hide our feelings. if that was always the end, i should have asked you out from the start, then we would have had at least a year together. more.” he looks over at you. “i regret not having more time with you.”

“you should have told me, i would have understood.”

“and you would have fought for me like you did in high school without any care for yourself. and you would have been stuck here, and hated your life. i could not bear it, if you gave up music for me.”

you keep quiet, knowing he is right, that he knew you better than yourself. 

“i am an idiot for trusting my mother. i found out that week when i went home that she had messed with your future even though she promised me that she would leave you alone. you did get into the university of tokyo, but she used her connections to have admissions reject you.”

“to get me away from you.”

“yes. she broke our agreement, so i cancelled the ceremony, and everything else. the girl i was supposed to marry didn’t care either way, but my mother was still insistent on it, still dangling you and paris to keep me in line. i was so angry, at her, at my grandparents, mostly at myself for not fighting harder for us that i called her bluff. i wasn’t sure if her threats were empty, but i was so angry that i didn’t think it through.” he pauses, eyes scanning over you. 

“and then tendo’s phone call came that you were leaving. you were leaving without any word, any goodbye to paris on a one way ticket and i panicked. i told my mother that if she touched you again, she can forget she ever had a son, and i got on the first shinkansen back to tokyo, but i was too late. you were gone.”

“were they real? her threats?”

“i don’t know, i didn’t care as long as nothing happened to you. semi never shared any details of your life in paris, what you were up to or when you are coming back, he would only tell me if you were doing fine. i accepted your decision, that you didn’t want anything to do with me, but then you were coming back, and when semi said that you wanted to stay here temporarily…” he shrugs, “how could i say no?”

you fall silent, blinking, eyes moving over the tokyo skyline aimlessly as you turn over his words in your mind, the churning depths in the ocean within you calm for the first time in years, the rough peaks of water smoothing over, crashing onto the sand like a soft lullaby. 

this is what your friend hoped for when he forced you into the arrangement, for closure to the wounds that had scarred over on the outside, leaving the insides to fester and rot quietly. 

you had been so stubborn. 

the love was real. you hadn’t imagined that. a breath of relief shudders out of you, all the fight in your body leaving you with it, suddenly acutely aware of the chill that had settled in your bones. 

the thing between you, it was real. the knowledge unravels a knot all tangled within your chest, every breath that comes after becoming lighter with it. 

it was real, and yet it was not enough to change your fates. the universe had brought you together, but there were too many forces against it, you and him included. 

there was too much lost in the years between you. too much, but… the ocean stills, wavers for a split second before resuming its gentle lapping at the shoreline. she agrees, albeit reluctantly. 

the fingers wrapped around your arms are pale with force as though they could turn back time and undo everything that had gone wrong if you squeezed hard enough.

“if there’s anything more you want to know, anything…” he starts after a long pause, trailing off as he remembers the weight of the knowledge he just shared. 

“i know. maybe another day.” there are many questions at the tip of your tongue, but it would be wise to hold off for another time when your mind is clearer, not tired and wishing for a warm bed after a fourteen hour flight. the sake in your system has long since cleared, sleep sweeping in with welcoming arms at the lightness in your shoulders. 

“i am not asking for forgiveness or understanding,” he hesitates, unsure if his next words would push you even further away. as if his next words could push you even further away. “i only hope that when you look back at the time we shared, it is not with hate, but with fondness.”

“i know.” he also knows that there is too much between you for there to be any hope for something more. you wonder why your heart clenches at the mutual understanding when you know it is for the better—wonder whether he feels it too. “it’s getting late, i should go.”

“of course. let me call a cab for you.”

you wave him off. “i’ll be fine. how do you think i survived paris?”

“i was hoping you didn’t make a habit of getting drunk and trying to find your own way home, you used to hate alcohol.” the corners of his lips quirk, as if teasing you. 

he still reads like an open book, but you don’t know what to expect from him anymore. you wonder if you could still recognize him from touch alone, identify him from the feel of his strength under your fingertips calloused from years of playing. probably not. 

you used to. 

then again, you are not sure if you still recognize the man in front of you. there is enough between you to remind you of the lost years—of the time and experiences that have changed and shaped you, unknown to the other. 

you laugh softly, sadly, “we are no longer the same people we used to be.”

a/n: tags: @lemurzsquad @daisy-room @integers @brokenbraveakira @whosmarjj @nansfyy @illuzminate @httpshoyo @manyuyuu @hatsukeii @bakery-anon

looking for more? browse the collection

reblogs and comments are appreciated!

[nhlclover]

𝐇𝐄𝐘!

madeleine chase x will smith

madeleine sees the tweets about wills comments, her interest piquing as she learns about him (wc; 1.1k)

༉‧₊˚. ꒰ notes! ꒱ just a reminder that jayden is an oc! also a little insight into maddie and how she feels about will

au masterlist

“Hey, have you heard of a Will Smith?” Madeleine asked, leaning over to give Jayden a playful pinch on the arm.

Jayden glanced up from the pair of jeans she was stitching patches of fabric onto, her eyebrows raised in confusion. “Uh, yeah, duh. Men in Black? Fresh Prince?” She wiggled her fingers for dramatic effect like she was casting a spell or something.

Madeleine rolled her eyes, shaking her head with a soft sigh. “No, not the actor. This Will Smith plays hockey.”

Jayden’s nose scrunched as she looked like she was scanning her memories to see if it rang a bell. She glanced back at her sewing as she came up empty. “Hmmm, no clue,” she finally said, her lips curving into a playful grin. “But, I feel like hockey guys are normally hot… is he?”

Madeleine snorted, scrolling through her phone. Her screen was lit up with notifications — tweets, comments, even a few random tags — about Will Smith. A wave of excitement washed over her as she scanned the comments: ‘he’s so in love with her,’ ‘omg please let them be the taylor and travis of the nhl,’ ‘this would be the hottest couple.’ Her heart fluttered. The whole thing felt ridiculous, but there was a part of her that couldn’t stop smiling.

“I mean… yeah,” Madeleine admitted, her voice light. “Pretty attractive. Tall, athletic, you know the type.”

Jayden gave her a knowing smirk, not looking up from her stitches. “Why are you asking about him, though?”

Madeleine bit her lip, unsure of how to phrase it without sounding like she was bragging. She scrolled a little further, her thumb hesitating before she answered. “Apparently… this guy went on a podcast and said he has a crush on me. Now, a bunch of people are freaking out on Twitter about it.”

She tapped over to YouTube, pulling up the podcast that everyone was talking about. After skipping through the intro and some chatter, Madeleine found the moment: the hosts asked Will about his celebrity crush, and without missing a beat, he said her name. A grin spread across his face, and he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck like he was embarrassed. The boyish smile made her stomach flip. There was something about the way he said it, as if he was just a regular guy, not a professional hockey player with fans swooning over him.

“He's kind of… adorable,” Madeleine murmured under her breath, her heart skipping a beat. She glanced over at Jayden, who was still watching her curiously, her fingers resting lightly on the fabric in front of her.

“Adorable?” Jayden echoed with a raised brow, her lips twitching into a teasing smile.

Madeleine shook her head, trying to ignore the warmth spreading across her cheeks. She swiped off the podcast and switched to Instagram, quickly typing in Will Smith’s name. It didn’t take long to find him — there he was, his profile filled with pictures of him on the ice, hanging out with teammates, and, of course, a few casual selfies. In every photo, he looked effortlessly charming, that same confident smile lighting up his face. It made her stomach flutter more than she wanted to admit.

“Okay, he’s definitely hot,” she mumbled, more to herself than to Jayden, but her friend still caught it.

Jayden snickered, her attention drifting back to her sewing. “Told you. Hockey guys. Always.”

Madeleine kept scrolling, her fingers absentmindedly moving from one picture to the next until she landed on something that made her pause. A message. Sitting right at the top of her DMs: ‘hey :)’. She blinked, half expecting it to disappear, but there it was — simple, casual, and from Will himself.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, barely able to contain her excitement. “He DM’ed me.”

Jayden’s needle fell from her hand, her eyes wide as she dropped everything. “No way. What did he say?” Her voice dropped to a dramatic, slightly sarcastic whisper as if this was the most scandalous thing she’d ever heard.

Madeleine rolled her eyes, though her grin was impossible to hide. “Just ‘hey’ with a smiley face.” She held up her phone, showing the message to Jayden, who leaned in for a closer look.

"Wow, clever line." Jayden joked, rolling her eyes. "Y'know, straight guys are actually terrible at picking up girls."

"Okay, focus please?" Madeleine said, drawing her friends attention back to the situation at hand.

“Right... So, are you gonna answer?”

Madeleine stared at the message, her mind racing. Should she? Was this a big deal or just harmless fun?

“I don’t know,” Madeleine admitted, biting her lip. “I mean, it’s kind of surreal, right? A hockey player I’ve never met just says he has a crush on me, and now he’s sliding into my DMs.”

Jayden shrugged, a teasing smile on her lips. “Yeah, but you could at least see where it goes. He’s obviously into you, and worst-case scenario, you don’t vibe, and that’s it. Best case? You become a new athlete-popstar power couple. Just imagine that.”

Madeleine couldn’t help but laugh, but the thought lingered in her mind as she scrolled through Will’s Instagram again. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to respond. After all, he seemed nice, genuine even, and her curiosity was definitely piqued. What harm could a simple reply do?

“What should I even say?” Madeleine asked, her fingers hovering over the keypad.

Jayden thought for a second. “Just say ‘hey’ back.” she shrugged. “It’s simple, and that way you can make him start the conversation.”

She typed, paused, and then erased her message twice before settling on something simple, mirroring his tone.

‘hi!’

With a squeal, Madeleine clicked send, tossing her phone on the table. “Okay, I sent it.”

“Look at you, making the first move!” Jayden said, squeezing her shoulder lightly.

“I mean, technically he made the first move by shooting his shot on a podcast and DM’ing me,” Madeleine commented.

Madeleine leaned back, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach. Whether it turned into something or not, it was exciting, and maybe, just maybe, it would lead to something more than just a cute DM.

[captainsophiestark]

Crib Construction

Cassian x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: ACOTAR

Summary: Cassian and his mate have been tasked with putting together Nyx's crib. Unfortunately, it's a harder task than they thought it would be.

Word Count: 1,282

Category: Fluff, Humor

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"Cass, come here. Does this look right?"

My boyfriend didn't waste a second before joining me on the floor, kneeling behind me and looking over my shoulder. Neither of us spoke for a minute, then I heard a rustling of paper as Cassian sighed.

"Yeah, it looks right. That hasn't stopped it from being wrong before, though."

"Well, let's just hope for the best."

I could feel through the mating bond just how little Cassian wanted to do that, but he knew as well as I did that we didn't have much other choice. I took a deep breath, then gently pressed the two pieces of wood before me together, trying to get them to link like they were supposed to.

Of course, it didn't work. I added slightly more pressure, but still nothing. I put my entire weight and all of my strength into it, and when the damn thing still didn't budge, I let out a scream and shoved both pieces away from me before I could really lose my temper and accidentally break something.

"This is bullshit!" I shouted, whirling around to face Cassian. He had a look of grim resignation, meeting my eyes with sympathy. Our positions had been exactly reversed about ten minutes ago. "Rhys set this up as a way to get back at you for winning the snowball fight last time, and I'm getting caught in the collateral. This sucks."

"Honestly, maybe he did," Cass said, sighing and leaning back on his hands. "Or maybe Az did something to break this one too before he got kicked off the job."

I groaned, flopping over and into Cassian's side to lay against his chest and stare at the ridiculous contraption that had been defeating us all afternoon. Rhys and Feyre had asked us to assemble Nyx's crib, and at first, we'd been honored and happy to help. But hours later, when nothing was going right and none of the pieces were fitting together the way they were supposed to, I was about ready to throw all of it out the window and into the Sidra below.

We'd been given the task in the first place because Az had shattered the same type of crib to pieces after spending a day being stumped by the puzzle. Cassian and I had inherited the task for our ability to keep each other calm, and because we were generally less destructive when continually frustrated by a puzzle. This crib was about to ruin that reputation.

"Okay, maybe we should just start over from the beginning," I said, sitting up and turning to face Cassian after our brief rest. "Like, take everything apart and lay it all out on the floor again, then start back from step one."

Cassian groaned. "Honestly, I hate that idea. But what we're already doing clearing isn't working, so..."

"So let's try it. Deep breaths, and then a total reset. A fresh start."

"...Alright. Let's do it."

With a lot of heavy sighing, Cassian and I took apart what little progress we'd made, separating the crib back into its individual parts, the way it had come. Once we got it all laid out again, I took the instruction manual from Cass and laid that out in front of us, too. With one last deep breath, we started in again at step one on page one.

I wish I could say this attempt went better. But it didn't. Cassian and I almost destroyed the whole thing Az-style in a fit of frustration three times each, one of us barely managing to pull the other back every time. We were just lucky our destructive streaks never lined up, or the pieces of the crib before us would've already become nothing more than a pile of ash.

"Alright, that's it!" Cass finally shouted, standing up abruptly from where we'd been trying to wrestle together the corners of the crib with no luck, despite using both our strength at once. "I'll be right back."

"What?" I flung my arms out to either side of me as Cassian headed for the door. "You're abandoning me? Seriously?"

"Not abandoning! Changing tactics."

Before I could ask for clarification, Cassian was out the door. I stared after him, waiting for him to reappear or say he was kidding or something, but he didn't. I huffed, then shook my head and turned back to the crib, its pieces still mostly laid out on the floor.

I sat there and stared at the pieces for a few long beats, contemplating my next move. Honestly, I'd just about decided to throw them out the window and tell Rhys the thing'd never been here when the door came swinging open again.

I turned to find Cassian striding towards me, the confidence and determination back in his step. I raised an eyebrow at him, but he just grinned.

"I've solved all our problems."

I snorted, but smiled at Cassian all the same as he came to a stop before me. The fact that he'd managed to make me laugh at all in the middle of this nonsense was exactly why we were mates, and it made me love him even more.

"Cass, you know I love you, and you know I trust you, but... I'm having a hard time seeing how that could possibly be true. Unless you convinced Mor to take over for us...?"

"No, but just as good." I raised an eyebrow, and Cassian's grin widened as he dropped down next to me. Slowly, from behind his back, he pulled out a hammer, tape, and a few other supplies.

I just stared at everything for a moment, then snorted and leanded into Cassian. I closed my eyes and shook my head.

"Babe... we can't use that stuff to put this crib together."

"Why not?"

"Because it won't be sturdy enough! We don't want it to give out while the baby's in it. We both know we can't risk that."

Cassian hummed, rocking forward just enough to get a few of the pieces of the crib into his hands. He lined them up like we'd been doing all day, then raised the hammer in his other hand.

"Maybe you're right about the tape," he said. "But all we need to fix this is a little extra power. We can't force it together with our strength alone, so we'll use a hammer."

"Cass-"

Before I could get another word out, Cassian swung the hammer. I could see him putting his full Illyrian strength into it, and sure enough, the pieces whacked together. Unfortunately for us, they also splintered into more pieces than would be fixable, even with tape.

Cassian and I just stared at the wreckage for a moment, neither of us speaking. Cassian was the one to break first.

"Shit."

I laughed, all the stress and ridiculousness of the past few hours disappearing along with our hopes of actually succeeding at our task. I leaned into Cassian, and a moment later, he joined me.

"Well, that didn't go like I was hoping," sighed Cassian. I laughed again.

"Really? That's not what you were going for?"

"Not quite."

We shared a smile, then slumped back together, Cassian's arm around my waist as I leaned into his chest. I sighed, staring at the ruins of the crib before us. Not a single part of me wanted to do something about fixing it.

"So... how about we call Mor and find a way to pass this on to her?"

I laughed, then nodded as I leaned even further into Cassian.

"Baby, I was thinking the same thing. You, me, and Az have had to tear our hair out over this thing already, I think it's her turn."

"And even better, if any of us has to call Amren in, it'll be Mor."

"Exactly."

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen @misshale21

Maasverse Taglist: @lilah-asteria

[hsnlv]

jealousy | s.jy

a/n: this is actually based on this tweet because honestly, i do see him as someone who WILL get jealous but whatever you say sim jaeyun🤭 oh and! if you read from my page often, it would be nice if you can leave some comments on what i should improve on and how!! ily have a great day ;)

(cut to story)

jake always had this self-assured air about him, claiming jealousy had no place in a relationship. “if you trust someone, there’s no reason to feel that way,” he’d say with a smug grin, like he’d figured out the secrets of love. right?

wrong.

this man is confident—too confident—but the moment he’s in love, he turns into a completely different person. sure, in theory, he thinks he can handle it. but in practice? he can’t even stand the thought of other guys existing around you, let alone looking at you like you hung the moon.

“jake, are you serious right now?” you groan, watching him sulk in the corner of your shared couch. his lips are pushed into the most dramatic pout, and while it’s usually cute enough to make your heart flutter, right now, it’s testing your patience.

“stop it, y/n,” he grumbles, refusing to meet your eyes. “he was staring at you, practically drooling like some kind of idiot.”

“okay? and how exactly is that my fault?” you cross your arms, your glare fixed on his moody figure.

“it is your fault!” he whines, finally turning to look at you with those ridiculous puppy-dog eyes that make it impossible to stay mad for long.

“how exactly?”

“you’re too pretty. what was he supposed to do? not look at you?” he stomps over to you like a sulking child, his shoulders hunched as if the weight of the world is on him.

you sigh, your annoyance slowly melting into amusement. “didn’t you used to say jealousy wasn’t a thing in a relationship? what happened to that wisdom?

“that was before!” he shoots back, throwing his hands up dramatically. “i didn’t know i’d end up dating someone like you! cut me some slack.”

before you can reply, he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close until your back is pressed against his chest. his head rests on your shoulder, and you can feel his pout shifting into a soft smile as you instinctively reach up to cup his cheek.

“you’re ridiculous,” you mumble, though your fingers move gently against his skin.

“maybe,” he says, his voice quieter now. “but you’re mine, my love. i don’t care what i said before. i don’t want to share even the air around you with anyone else.”

your heart softens at his words, and you turn in his arms to face him fully. his face lights up when your hands move to cradle his cheeks, his smile brighter than the sun.

“you’re not gonna lose me, okay?” you whisper, your thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “i’m not going anywhere. i love you too much.”

he grins, leaning into your touch with that boyish charm that always makes your chest ache in the best way.

“promise?”

“promise.”

before you can say anything else, he dips his head to press a kiss to your forehead, then your nose, and finally your lips—so sweet and soft that it makes your toes curl.

“you better,” he mumbles against your mouth, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. “because if anyone else even thinks about stealing you away, they’re in for a fight.”

you laugh, the sound light and airy, and his smile grows wider at the sound.

“fine,” you say, pressing your forehead to his. “but only if you stop pouting every time someone breathes near me.”

“deal,” he says, though the mischievous glint in his eyes tells you it’s a promise he probably won’t keep.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Hello!!! Would it be possible to write for hatori sohma from fruit basket childhood friend to lover with a some angst and fruff at the end of

Thank you😊

aww okay we NEED to do this 🥹

Hatori Sohma realizing you're more than a friend to him

Pairing: Hitori x reader

Word Count: 3,5k

Synopsis: You were around since he can remember. You, the only sunshine in his life, that woman he never gets tired of looking at. It takes Hitori too long to finally confess his feelings to himself. And then he's about to ruin everything...

Warnings: hurt to comfort, friends to lovers, this is sooo fluffy hehe

Hatori Sohma is not a man who easily surrenders to the urges of emotion. The weight of his family’s curse, the pain of his own heartache, and the gravity of his responsibilities have forged him into a man who exists with quiet detachment in the shadows since that one fateful day. And yet, as you sit across from him at Shigure’s dinner table, laughing softly at one of Shigure’s ridiculous remarks, Hatori finds himself lost in thoughts he was never prepared to face.

You’ve been his friend for years - a steady presence in his life, like the moon hanging quietly in the night sky whenever he needs it. While others come and go, bringing chaos and change, you’ve always been there, offering your unwavering kindness and support. A warmth he has leaned on more times than he’d care to admit.

Still, he didn’t even dare to think about you as someone other than a friend. He’s always been careful to sort his feelings when it came to you, forcefully avoiding that little skip of his heart whenever he saw you.

Especially after Kana. Loving her, only to have the curse of the Sohma family destroy what both could have been, left scars he’s not sure will ever fully heal. He buried those wounds deep, vowing not to allow himself the vulnerability of love again. Not when it always means agony. Not when he’ll never live a normal life like all those other men walking around the world.

But lately, his heart has been betraying him, and today, watching Shigure lean a little too close to you while you laugh, it stings in a way he doesn’t know how to rationalize.

Earlier in the day, it was Ayame who started to chip away at the walls Hatori keeps so carefully constructed.

“I must say, Haa-san,” Ayame had declared, lounging dramatically on one of Shigure’s couches, “it’s almost tragic how blind you are to your own emotions.”

Hatori sighed, pushing up his glasses. He had little patience for Ayame’s theatrics at the best of times, and today was no exception. Why again this talk?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Ah, denial,” Ayame said with a flourish, “the first stage of awakening!”

Shigure, who had been scribbling something in a notebook, looked up with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“What Ayame means, Haa-san, is that you’re rather obvious when it comes to a certain someone.”

Hatori froze in place. Shigure and Ayame exchanged a knowing glance that made his stomach twist. Were they talking about…you?  

“If you’re going to make a point, do it quickly,” he remarked, his tone colder than he intended.

Ayame smirked, unbothered by the sudden change of tone. Even though he’s so convinced no one knows, everyone saw the way Hatori looked at you earlier with that slight smile forming on his lips. Every one knows about that picture of you he keeps well hidden in his purse.

“The point, dear Haa-san, is that your little friend has managed to do something extraordinary.”

“And what’s that?” Hatori inquired, already regretting engaging in the conversation.

“She’s gotten under your skin. (y/n), I mean”, Shigure interjected smoothly.

“In a good way, of course. You’re different around her - softer, more… alive.”

Hatori frowned, hating the way his heart skips a beat how it always does when someone talks about you.

“That’s absurd.”

“Is it?”

Shigure leaned back in his chair, a sly grin tugging at his lips that usually means nothing but trouble.

“You’re a careful man. But I think even you can’t deny that she means something more to you. The question is, are you going to do anything about it?”

Before Hatori could respond, Ayame clapped his hands together.

“Oh, this is so romantic! The brooding doctor and his steadfast friend, bound by years of quiet affection, only to realize the depth of their feelings amidst life’s trials! It’s like something out of a novel!”

Hatori pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You’re both insufferable.”

Now, hours later, Hatori finds himself replaying their words. As much as he wants to dismiss their observations, there’s a nagging truth to them that he can’t ignore. He does feel different around you. You have a way of making the world seem a little less heavy, of making him feel seen in a way no one else does. Even though you know about his curse, despite the fact that you’ve seen him and other Sohma’s turn into animals countless times by now, you never changed your soft attitude towards him.

Just the thought of losing you, even to something as harmless as Shigure’s playful flirting, fills him with an ache he doesn’t fully understand.

“Earth to Hatori,” Shigure teases, waving a hand in front of his face.

“You’ve been staring at your plate for the past five minutes. Is something on your mind?”, you add with your brows furrowed in that way that glues his eyes onto yours in an instant.

Hatori shakes his head, brushing off the question. But when he glances up, he sees you watching him with a quiet concern that makes his chest tighten.

“Are you feeling okay?” you ask softly, your voice laced with genuine care.

“I’m fine,” he replies, his tone measured. But the truth is, he feels anything but fine.

The evening continues, with Shigure and Ayame carrying most of the conversation. You join in here and there, your laughter like a melody that Hatori finds himself clinging to. He stays mostly silent, his thoughts too tangled to untangle.

It’s only after dinner, when Shigure retreats to his study and Ayame bids an overly dramatic farewell, that you and Hatori are left alone in the living room. The atmosphere shifts, quieter, more intimate. You’re seated on the couch, your legs tucked beneath you, while he stands near the window, his gaze fixed on the garden outside.

“Hatori,” you say gently, breaking the silence. “What’s on your mind? You’ve been quiet tonight.”

He hesitates, the weight of your question pressing against him. How can he possibly put his feelings into words when he’s still struggling to make sense of them himself?

“It’s nothing,” he says finally, though the words feel hollow.

You frown, clearly unconvinced. “You know you don’t have to keep everything to yourself, right? I’m here if you need someone to talk to.”

Your words are a lifeline, and for a moment, he considers taking it. But vulnerability doesn’t come easily to him. Instead, he deflects. “Shigure was particularly annoying tonight.”

You laugh softly. “He’s always annoying. That’s part of his charm.”

Hatori’s lips twitch in the faintest hint of a smile, but it doesn’t last. The conversation lulls, and the silence that follows is heavy with unspoken words.

After a moment, you rise from the couch and cross the room to stand beside him. The proximity is both comforting and disarming. You don’t press him further, but your presence alone feels like an invitation—to let down his guard, to let you in.

“Do you ever think about the past?” he asks suddenly, surprising even himself with the question.

“Sometimes,” you reply, your tone thoughtful. “But I try not to dwell on it too much. It’s easy to get stuck in what-ifs.”

He nods, his gaze still fixed on the garden. “I envy that about you. Your ability to move forward.”

“You can, too, you know,” you say softly. “It’s not easy, but it’s possible.”

Your words settle over him like a balm, your voice so comforting that he forgets that numb feeling in his stomach for a second. He turns to look at you, really look at you. The way your eyes meet his, full of understanding and something else, something he’s afraid to name, something he’d never speculates about, makes his heart stumble.

“I’m not sure I know,” he finally admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smile, and it’s the kind of smile that feels like sunlight breaking through a storm.

What if you get hurt though?

Hatori can’t help but shake his head, breaking his gaze away from you. No, he can’t allow that to happen. He can’t come this close to you. What if he hurts you? Or what if you don’t feel the same way about him? Why would someone like you fall for him in the first place? You, known and loved by countless people, secretly admired by someone like Shigure as well. There’s no way you’d actually fall for him, right?

“You don’t have to figure it out alone.”

Gently, you place your hand on top of his. But instead of welcoming the warmth of your palm, he jerks up in his seat and leaves without saying another word.

The days following the incident were unbearable - for you and for Hatori, though he would never admit it out loud. He avoided you with a determination that bordered on cruelty. Every time you tried to reach out, he found an excuse to slip away. He didn’t answer your calls, didn’t allow you to visit him, didn’t even text you back when you begged for a single sign of life. Not even Shigure and Ayame were able to drag him out of this hole. Hatori hated himself for hurting you, for pulling away when all he wanted was to be close to you. But the fear of losing you, of ruining your life just like Kana’s, was just too much to bear.

It’s for the best, he told himself so often that he lost count on that little walk alone. Staying in his apartment meant getting reminded of all the times you visited him and sat on that one chair while sipping tea out of your own personal mug no one else is allowed to use. He needed to get out there, needed some fresh air to calm his mind.

Not even this warm summer day is able to comfort him, though. Not when every beautiful flower on his way reminds him of you, not when he imagines you in all those dresses displayed in the shopping windows.

Not when you’re standing just a few feet away from him with Shigure by your side.

Shigure and…you?

There you are, walking beside Shigure, holding an ice cream cone and laughing at something he said. The sound of your laughter, so free and light, hits him like a punch to the gut. Shigure, ever the charmer, leans in closer than necessary, his expression playful as he licks his own ice cream.

Hatori’s heart twists painfully, hands balling into tight fists on their own. He doesn’t have the right to feel jealous, no right to claim you when he’s done nothing but pushing you away.

But watching Shigure, so at ease with you, stirs something primal in him, feelings he tried to drown multiple times already. The thought of losing you - to anyone, but especially to Shigure – becomes unbearable.

Like in trance, he steps back, away from the scene that might make him lose his mind. No, he can’t feel like this about you, he can’t allow himself to be jealous when you’re not even his. All he did those past weeks was pushing you away. You’re not his, you’ll never be.

Hatori slams his door shut harder than necessary before gliding down the cool wood.

What is he supposed to do now?

-later-

You’re sitting in your small apartment, trying to distract yourself from the ache in your chest. The ice cream with Shigure had been nice, a kind effort of him to break you away from your train of thought,  but it doesn’t erase the sadness you feel over Hatori’s sudden distance. What went wrong? Was it something you said, something you did? Was it because you tried to cheer him up by holding his hand that one evening? You didn’t really think about it twice, just tried to cheer him up when it was clear that he’s upset…

You can’t understand what went wrong. And it hurts more than you want to admit.

A knock at your door breaks through your thoughts. Did Shigure forget something or is he here to look after you. Maybe Tohru wanted to pay you a visit-

“Hatori?” you breathe out, your voice laced with surprise.

“What are you doing here?”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything while you try to process the stinging fact that he’s really here. He simply looks at you, his eyes searching yours as if trying to find the courage he needs.

Then, in a voice thick with emotion, he mutters, “Can I come in?”

Your mind goes blank, lips not able to move. He’s really here. He didn’t forget about you. He wants to…talk?

Like in trance, you step aside, letting him enter. The air between you is heavy with tension as he stands in your living room, his tall frame seeming out of place in the cozy little space you can afford. You wait, unsure of what to say, as he struggles to find the words himself.

Finally, he turns to you, his gaze intense.

“I owe you an apology.”

“For what?” you mumble softly, though you already know the answer.

“For avoiding you. For pushing you away. For being…a coward.”

His voice is steady, but you can see the vulnerability in his eyes, the way his hands clench at his sides.

“I thought I was protecting you. From me. From my life. But I see now that I was only protecting myself.”

Your heart aches at his words. Is this really how he feels about everything? Does he really think he’s a threat, a burden for you?  

“Hatori, you don’t have to-”

“I do,” he interrupts, his tone firm.

“Because I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep pretending that I don’t…”

He trails off, taking a deep breath.

“That I don’t feel something for you. Something I’ve been too afraid to admit for a long time.”

Your breath catches in your throat. Is he trying to say that…

“Hatori…”

“I’m in love with you. I have been for longer than I care to admit. But I was so afraid. Afraid of hurting you. Afraid of losing you. Afraid that you couldn’t feel the same way”, he suddenly blurts out.

You stare at him, your heart pounding in your chest. This can’t be real, right? Did he really ignore you because he thought he’d hurt or lose you. Did he really just say that he loves you? Him, the man you’ve kept your eye on for years by now?

“You thought I didn’t feel the same?”

He hesitates, the doubt still etched into his features.

“Why would you? You could have anyone. Someone without all the…baggage I carry.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you step closer to him. Just the thought of him feeling this way, of him suppressing his feeling because of something like that…

“Hatori, you’re the one I want. You’ve always been the one”, you reply with trembling voice.

For a moment, he simply looks at you, as if he can’t quite believe what he’s hearing. Then, slowly, he reaches out, his hand brushing against yours before taking it in his own.

“You…really mean it?”

“Of course I do!”, you breathe out while clinging onto his hand for what feels like dear life.

“But I didn’t want to rush you, especially after those past weeks. I felt like you don’t see me that way. And after what happened to Kana, I wasn’t sure if you’d give me a chance…”

“I’m sorry for all the pain I caused you. I don’t want to run anymore. I want to be with you, if you’ll have me.”

You smile through your tears, wrapping your arms around his arm the way you always imagined. Even though you’re not able to hug him the way he’d deserve it, you pour your heart and soul in this little moment. That moment you’ve been imagining in your head over and over again. That moment that fell apart in your mind those past weeks.

“I’ve been waiting for you to say that.”

Hatori buries his face in your hair as the weight of his fears finally lifts. For the first time in a long time, he feels like he can breathe. And as you stand there together, he promises to himself that he will do whatever it takes to make you happy, to protect the love you’ve both found.

Because with you, he knows he can finally heal. Now he finally knows you're more than a friend.

Dividers by @saradikagrafics 🤍

[airas-story]

Stephen tries very hard to temper it but he can be rather possessive of Tony. In a moment of weakness, he snaps and lets it show, only to learn that Tony finds his possessive streak absolutely enchanting.

Okay, so I've been SO good about keeping these to the 100-300 range, but then this idea hit me and wouldn't let go. So... not a drabble.

Stephen’s gaze darted to where Pepper had just entered the room, perfect smile on her face.

Instinctively, Stephen wrapped his arm tighter around Tony’s waist, pulling Tony into his side. Tony glanced up at him, amused. Stephen leaned down, pressing a kiss against Tony’s lips, an almost painful need to claim Tony surging through him. It happened almost any time he saw Pepper, saw her and remembered the life that Tony had almost lived.

Would have lived, if Stephen hadn’t interfered.

In front of them Rhodes sighed and Stephen realized that he’d completely interrupted whatever conversation Tony and Rhodes had been having.

He didn’t have it in him to feel guilty.

Tony pulled back from the kiss eventually. “I know I’m irresistible, Stephen. But if we’re not careful Rhodey’s going to put a ban on all public displays of affection. He’s like a nun, ridiculously chaste and virtuous.”

“I’m not chaste,” Rhodes argued. “But the two of you are ridiculous.”

Tony met Stephen’s gaze and rolled his eyes fondly, but turned back to Rhodes. “You are so chaste. You never liked the stripper pole.”

Rhodes gave Tony an exasperated look, shaking his head as though Tony was being ridiculous. Which, technically, could very well be argued as accurate. “Tony, it was a stripper pole.”

“And I looked damn good on it.”

That caught Stephen’s attention. “Wait, you got on the stripper pole?”

Tony smirked at him. “I’ll have you know that I’m quite flexible and I had excellent teachers.” He leaned forward. “I’d be more than willing to show you at some point.”

“Oh, would you,“ Stephen purred, letting his hand drift down Tony’s side.

“Nope, no.” Rhodes held up his hands. “Not happening. You two are not having this conversation in front of me.”

Tony stuck his tongue out at Rhodes in what was a completely mature response. “See what I mean? Chaste.”

Rhodes rolled his eyes. “You know what, I’m leaving you two sickening love birds alone; I need a drink.”

“Chaste,” Tony sang-song after him. When he turned to Stephen, however, his face was serious. “You know Pepper and I were over long before you came around, right?” Tony said, lip quirking up in a smile that was meant to reassure. “You don’t need to feel threatened by her.”

Stephen hadn’t realized that Tony had put together Stephen’s displays of possessiveness with the presence of Pepper, but he wasn’t surprised, either. Tony was far more perceptive than he pretended to be. “I’m not threatened by her,” Stephen countered. It was true, he wasn’t. He was entirely certain about Tony and him. He brought his hand up to Tony’s face, cupping it. “You love me. I know that.”

Stephen had made sure of it. Fascination was a powerful thing, and it’d been such a little spell.

It had faded, eventually, but all Stephen had needed was an in.

“I do,” Tony agreed, easily. “So why do you act as though she’s going to steal me away every time she so much as walks through the door?”

Guilt.

Because he needed to convince himself that Tony was better off with him. Safer with him. Happier with him.

“Do you really mind that I’m a possessive bastard?” Stephen asked instead of putting any of that into words. “Does it bother you to know how much I want you?” And by the Vishanti, did he want Tony. Everything he’d done was for the want of Tony.

A wry grin crossed Tony’s face. “You know I don’t mind the possessive bits. Probably should. But don’t. In fact, I probably like it a little too much.” His eyes glittered teasingly. “Honestly, it’s a bit of a turn on, knowing you want me the way you do.” He paused. “I just worry about you, I don’t want you to feel like I might run back to an old relationship the moment your back is turned.”

“I know you won’t,” Stephen said slowly. “I’m just not used to being able to keep good things.” He’d lost Tony once. He leaned down to kiss Tony again. “You’re one of the best things to ever happen to me.”

A faint flush crossed Tony’s face. “Well, you get to keep me,” he promised. “I’m not going anywhere.”

[thcophagy]

sully had chalked up to what had happened after the party as one big misunderstanding, something that he couldn't be mad at lana for considering the rest of the events of the night. if anything, he'd felt a wave of pity for her, assuming that she was only trying to come onto him because she thought had to thank him for defending her. if he were a worse man he might've taken advantage of her vulnerability in that moment and let her touch him as she claimed to have wanted to but he was trying not to be that man, especially at the cost of disrespecting lana. it was easy to turn her away then because she gave up so easily, however the same couldn't be said for the version of his nanny that sat in the passengers seat, seemingly desperate to grope at his cock like it was the air she needed to breathe. he was trying to be that noble man, the one who saw how inappropriate the situation was and put a stop to it but he was also too soft to properly put his foot down and say no. with each flickered glance sent in lana's direction, he was met with the sight of her big eyes glimmering with mischief as she giggled at her blatant objectification. not only was it almost too much to hear her using such language, to be the subject of her dirty talk made him hyper-aware of his body in a way he hadn't been for a long time. he opened his mouth to formulate some kind of reply but nothing came, there was nothing he could say that would make any difference to the situation, not when lana was set so in her ways. as much as he wished he was, sully wasn't immune to that sickly sweet lana put on as she cooed fake sympathies about his abstinence, that was until she began to dive head first into the absurd and sully was forced to bark out a laugh. "are you serious? lana that's- you're being ridiculous. i'm fine, i'm not- jesus christ." she was insatiable, for a brief moment he thought he'd finally managed in getting her to keep her hands to herself but like clockwork, another dainty hand reached out and gripped the heavy weight of his cock through his pants once more. parking did sound like a pretty good idea, though not for the reason that lana seemed to be rallying for. the last thing either of them needed was for sully to somehow manage to crash the car on the empty road because he was too flustered by her advances, he only had two hands and she clearly needed them both in order to be held back from groping him like he was a piece of meat there for her pleasure. unable to move her hand away without letting go of her wrist or taking one off the stirring wheel, sully let out a shaky sigh and took a sharp turn to the right, pulling onto the side of the road. the second the car screeched to a stop, he was forced to once again grab at the hand stimulating him and pull her away with a sharp yank, though his grip was harsher than before. if she wouldn't listen to him then he'd have to apply some force, physically restraining her wasn't ideal and made him feel a little crazy but it was the only thing that he thought could work. "listen to me. you need to stop this. all of it, alright? i'm going to take you home and you'll sleep this off and tomorrow we can forget this ever happened but i won't tolerate your misbehaviour any longer. understand?"

this side of lana wasn't exactly out of character, though for mr. landry, it was likely a jarring switch. she'd taken great pains to craft an alternate persona to suit the nanny gig; a more polite, carefully censored version of herself that wouldn't corrupt the kids or scandalize their parents, and she'd prided herself on her ability to seamlessly maintain that act the whole time she'd been living with the landry's. sure, the way she dressed left little to the imagination even after her attempts to tone down the sex appeal, and she had a bit of an unpolished manner of speaking, but she always remembered her manners, she hardly ever swore and, the biggest difference from her usual self, no sex talk whatsoever. by then she'd slipped up once or twice with an innuendo or two— never in front of the twins, of course— and then, most damning of all, her attempt to initiate something that night after the family's holiday party, but it was nothing that could've cost her her job, she thought. at least in that case she'd been mostly sober, and had the good sense to pull back when he challenged her. this time, her inhibitions were thrown out the window, and there was no stopping her as she felt his cock stir to life beneath her soft palm, gasping in response as her eyes widened. "oh shit!" she couldn't resist giggling uncontrollably. "i forgot you had such a big cock, mr. landry..." had she been in her right mind, lana would've at least attempted to go about things with a tad more finesse, but there was something about blatantly objectifying her much older, wildly unavailable boss that gave her a rush like no other, almost like another shot of tequila or a hastily snorted bump, and all she had to do was say and do exactly what was on her mind. now that she could feel him hardening, she was sure it wouldn't be long until he caved just as long as she kept applying pressure. "oh, but i am concerned... it's very concerning." her voice became an exaggerated coo, the front edges of her brows turning up and her eyes widening to give her a sympathetic look. for a moment after he grabbed her again, she didn't fight him, playing nice just to get his guard lowered a little. "it's not healthy for a man to be pent up like that mr. landry... you've gotta get what you need from somewhere. i mean, who knows? if you don't get that release now, you might just go buy a gun and release it all over the family in a fit of blind testosterone fueled rage! i'm just looking out for you. don't you think you deserve that?" her brief period of peace now over, lana went right back to trying to wiggle her way out of his grasp, only realizing after a bit of struggling that she had another functioning hand. she stopped fighting only to grope him with her free hand, a sly grin on her face like she'd just experienced a stroke of genius. "let's park somewhere, c'mon..."

[wereshrew-admirer]

marrow creek

[teethbomb]

mob psycho(logical horror) 100

[falling-hand-in-unlovable-hand]

my entire family goes to bed at 9:30 because i live with fucking old people (im joking. somewhat.) and from then on i have to move around the house quietly. this wouldn't be a problem except that my door is incredibly and uniquely fucked up and nigh impossible to open even remotely quietly

[shawnbetancourt]

~~*~~

Though Shawn's cheeks had already been slightly pink, it was nothing compared to the deep red color her face was turning now. She nodded awkwardly and turned toward the building trusting Julie to follow her. It was a double edged sword. Did she want to talk about Bear? Yes. It was eating her alive. She wanted to talk to someone, her best friend being the top of the list, about how ridiculous she was being. Did talking about it change anything in the end? Not even in the slightest. She still wasn't the girl that men wanted to take home to mom. She probably never would be. Too cold or too much fire or too independent or too distracted. Never just right.

At least she could have this conversation somewhere she was comfortable. She unlocked the door to the Historic Society and walked through the dated but clean front area. Interesting local artifacts and pictures were around the edges and walls. A desk where volunteers would sit occasionally sat at an angle to block people from wandering down a long hallway that had rows of doors with records and information and all of the collective knowledge that made Paxton what it was. And behind all of that was Shawn's office. The aesthetic was the same as the front room but here is where the mess was stored. Stacks of paperwork and files were on every surface. Her walls covered with old photos and advertisements for times gone by. One wall completely taken up by the oldest map of Paxton still to exist. It was her favorite. The room was dusty and hot, the air conditioner rarely worked, and the fan she flipped on was noisy...and Shawn loved everything about it.

"Ok," Shawn nearly groaned as she sat down at her desk, her face still the color of strawberries, "Am I in for an interrogation or lecture?"

"Who knows -- if that's the route we go my kids might think I'm the cooler parent for once," Julie grinned. One of them might also take interest in keeping the business, too, which Julie hoped they would. Even if they didn't keep the place as a salon, she hoped they at least made some sort of business out of it with the amount of people swarming her with business offers to sell. They didn't have means to give their kids generational wealth, even if they wanted to, but her and Caid could at least give the boys a start. It was more than either of them had.

Julie got out of the car, grinning as the wind carried Shawn's deep-bellied laugh her way. She grinned over the hood of the truck, hitching her purse over her shoulder. "I mean, I would argue that's a good possibility. Isn't there a saying about their being some truth in fiction?" Julie asked with a laugh of her own.

Suddenly, Shawn's expression turned serious. Julie shook her head and heaved a sigh. "Well, yeah, I wanna chat inside, but I'm not mad at you or anything. I was just gearing up to pull your leg about one man named after an animal is all."

[curseofpower]

"It'd be super interesting to hear these counterarguments 👀."

@goopi-e Well let's see… where should I start? The mass assumption that Ganondorf just sort of left his kingdom for dead and stayed holed up in Hyrule Castle for seven entire years, (lolwut???) no longer caring about his fellow gerudos or even letting them know what the hell was going on?

Or something else? Maybe something a little dicier? Like the existence of gibdos? Or the fact he didn't save Nabooru after his moms decided her punishment? ... That last one might be a little self explanatory, though, if you understand his mindset.

Ganondorf is a man with a very strong sense of justice and a very skewed sense of morality. I think it's actually because he cared that he'd ever punish or let his people be punished like she was. Twinrova were his mothers too, so, it's likely he trusted their judgement more than anyone else's. A lower ranking pair of gerudo might not have gotten away with dealing justice in his name like that.

But I digress. I know I have to be missing something. I'm just very tired today and have a lot on my mind. Do feel free to let me know, though, if any of that interests you or if there's another thing I forgot to address that you want me to go into.

[spill-that-anxietea]

So I finally started Peaky Blinders, and boy oh fucking boy is the brainrot settling in

[fingertipsmp3]

Had a dream last night that two of my best friends came to stay with me and also Mabel was alive 🥹