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helen-with-an-a · 2 days ago

Note

Heyy, i hope you're doing well! I wanted to ask if you would be down to write a fic based on the song "drown" by bring me the horizon. I absolutely love this song and it has a place in my heart because this band and also this song carried me through some dark times ( I cried so hard when i heard that song live for the first time 2 months ago xD) . Maybe it could be a barca x reader fic that also deals with $elf h@rm if that is a topic you're comfortable writing about, because reading books and fan fics about this topic has been helping me immensely with my own recovery. So if this is an idea that interests you I would love to read that fic, but if it's a topic you're just not comfortable with feel free to just ignore this ask. (But seriously listen to drown it's such a beautiful song)

Hiiiiii - I hope I did this request and song justice. Please know if you are struggling, you are loved. You are so, so loved and people want to help you. I know asking for help is really hard, but I promise it is worth it. You are worth it.

Drowning

Barça femeni x reader

Description: R feels like she is drowning and the team comes to help her

Word Count: 5.4k

TW: Undescribed Self Harm; Brief mentions of cutting; Bad mental health

Kelly Clarkson once sang that whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, that it turns you into a fighter, and helps you stand a little taller. Those words are meant to inspire resilience, to remind you that adversity is supposed to build character and fortify your spirit. But as much as you wanted to believe that, as much as you tried to let those lyrics resonate in your heart, the truth is, you weren’t sure if they were true. You wished with every fibre of your being that they were, but deep down, you felt the weight of life’s challenges pressing down on you. Instead of feeling stronger, you often felt worn down, as if the struggles you faced had chipped away at your resolve rather than bolstered it.

You wanted to feel like a fighter, to stand taller in the face of hardship, but more often than not, you found yourself struggling just to stay on your feet. It was as if each obstacle left a scar that made it harder to move forward, rather than easier. The hope that you’d emerge stronger sometimes felt like a distant dream, and you wondered if that strength Kelly sang about was something you’d ever truly feel.

Half the time, it felt like you were floating – weightless, as if you were drifting through life without a solid anchor. There was a strange sensation of being unmoored, detached from the world around you, almost as if you were existing in a bubble that separated you from everything real and tangible. In those moments, you felt neither grounded nor fully present, as if the weight of your worries and responsibilities had somehow lifted, but so had your sense of purpose and direction. You were there, but not really there – drifting in a kind of limbo where everything seemed just out of reach.

The other half of the time, it felt like you were drowning – barely able to keep your head above the water as the weight of everything threatened to pull you under. The world seemed to close in around you, the pressures and responsibilities of life crashing over you like relentless waves. Each day felt like a struggle just to stay afloat, as if you were constantly treading water in an ocean of overwhelming emotions, fears, and uncertainties.

Your mind was a whirlpool, dragging you down into dark, turbulent depths where it was hard to breathe, hard to think, and hard to see any way out. Every little thing seemed like an anchor, dragging you further beneath the surface, making it harder and harder to find the strength to push back up. The sensation of drowning was terrifying – your heart raced, your breath quickened, and panic took hold as you fought desperately to survive the relentless tide.

In these moments, it felt like you were being suffocated by the weight of your own thoughts and emotions, as if they were water filling your lungs, making it impossible to take a full breath. You tried to fight against it, to keep yourself above the water, but the effort was exhausting, leaving you drained and gasping for air. The more you struggled, the deeper you seemed to sink, and the idea of finding solid ground again felt increasingly out of reach.

There was one thing that brought you a small measure of comfort, a fleeting moment of relief that made you feel a little better. It was like a lifeline thrown to you in the middle of the chaos. Just for that brief instant, your feet were on solid ground again, and you felt a sense of stability that had been missing for so long. In that split second, you weren’t drowning in the suffocating depths of your anxieties, nor were you floating aimlessly through the fog of disconnection.

Instead, you felt anchored, grounded in a reality that was steady and secure. It was as if the storm inside you had paused, and the world had stopped spinning just long enough for you to catch your breath. In that moment, you were fully present, aware of yourself and your surroundings in a way that made everything else fade into the background. The weight that usually pressed so heavily on your chest lifted, and for that brief period, you were able to stand tall and feel the earth beneath you, firm and unwavering.

It didn’t last long – those moments of clarity and peace never did. They slipped away as quickly as they came, like sand through your fingers, leaving you once again adrift in the chaos of your thoughts. The sense of calm and stability that you craved was always fleeting, a temporary reprieve that left you yearning for more. But in the aftermath, when the world once again became overwhelming and your mind descended back into the chaos there was one thing that lingered: the small, neat red lines.

These lines were the only reminder of that brief lucidity, etched into your skin like a secret code that only you could understand. They were delicate but precise, almost methodical in their appearance, as if each one was a calculated attempt to bring some order to the chaos within.

The red lines were your way of marking time, of grounding yourself in a reality that often felt too slippery to hold onto. In those moments when clarity slipped away, when you were once again floating or drowning, they were there to remind you that, for just a moment, you had found your footing. The pain they brought was real, sharp, and immediate – something that could cut through the numbness and confusion, anchoring you back to the present.

It hadn’t always been like this. There was a time when life was simpler, when the world seemed brighter and full of possibilities. Your dad used to tell you stories of when you were just a baby, how you were the very picture of happiness – all gummy smiles and infectious giggles that could light up a room. He would describe how your laughter was so pure, so full of joy, that it could make even the grumpiest person smile. In his eyes, you were a little bundle of sunshine, radiating warmth and love wherever you went.

You often wondered what happened to that little girl, the one who seemed to find joy so easily in everything around her. Where did she go? What changed between those carefree days and now, when the world feels so heavy and your heart so burdened? You tried to remember the last time you felt that kind of unrestrained happiness, but the memories were hazy, like trying to recall a dream that had long since faded.

You couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when things started to shift, when the lightness began to slip away, replaced by something much darker. Maybe it was a gradual process, so slow and subtle that you didn’t notice it happening until one day you woke up and realised that the little girl who used to laugh so easily was gone. Or maybe it was something more abrupt, a single event that changed everything, though you couldn’t quite remember what it might have been.

There were times when you’d catch a glimpse of her, that little girl, in the mirror – perhaps in a fleeting smile or a brief moment of joy – but she was always just out of reach, like a shadow that vanished as soon as you tried to hold onto it. The happiness that once came so naturally now felt like a distant memory, something that belonged to a different time, a different version of yourself.

You couldn’t help but feel a sense of loss, a mourning for the person you used to be, for the life you used to live. What had happened to that carefree spirit, the one who saw the world as a place of wonder and possibility? Where did all those smiles and giggles go, replaced by the weight of anxiety and the burden of unspoken sadness?

You wished you could find your way back to her, to that little girl who knew how to be happy without even trying. But the path seemed unclear, the way forward uncertain, and all you were left with were the memories of who you used to be and the quiet hope that maybe, someday, you might rediscover that lost joy.

Ingrid had sensed that something was off the very first time she met you. It was as if she could see right through the façade you were trying so hard to maintain. You were just 17 at the time, still so young, yet there was something about the way you carried yourself that spoke of a weariness far beyond your years. Most teenagers were full of restless energy, eager to explore the world and discover who they were, but you – there was a heaviness in your eyes, a kind of fatigue that no child should ever have to bear.

When you stood before her, Ingrid could see that the weight of the world was already pressing down on your shoulders. It was in the way you held yourself, as if every movement took a conscious effort, every step a deliberate act to keep from being overwhelmed by the burden you carried. You tried to smile, to present yourself as just another teenager navigating the usual challenges of adolescence, but even your smile seemed strained, like it was something you had to force rather than something that came naturally.

Ingrid noticed how you seemed to shrink into yourself, as if trying to make yourself smaller, less noticeable, perhaps in the hope that the world might go easier on you if you took up less space. But it was impossible to ignore the sadness that lingered behind your eyes, a sadness that seemed to have settled there long before its time. It was as if you had lived through experiences that had aged you in ways that others your age couldn’t begin to understand.

There was an unspoken tension in the way you interacted with others, a hesitation that suggested you had learned to guard yourself carefully. Ingrid could tell that you were wary of letting anyone get too close, as if you were afraid that if someone saw too much, they might unravel the carefully constructed image you were trying so desperately to hold together. It was a kind of self-protection, a shield you had built to keep the world at arm’s length, but Ingrid could see through it.

She saw the exhaustion etched into your posture, the way your shoulders slumped ever so slightly, as if the weight you carried was too much to bear alone. And though you were still just a teenager, still supposed to be discovering the joys and freedoms of youth, there was an undeniable gravity about you, a maturity born out of hardship that no one your age should have had to endure.

She had gone straight to Mapí, her heart heavy with worry and a sense of urgency she couldn’t ignore. Mapí had always been her anchor, the one person she could turn to when everything else seemed to be spiralling out of control. There was a comfort in Mapí’s presence, a kind of steady reassurance that made the world feel a little less chaotic. And in that moment, when she felt like she was drowning in her own thoughts, there was no one else she could think of who could help her make sense of it all.

As she approached Mapí, she could see the girl was already watching her, those perceptive eyes filled with a quiet understanding. Mapí had always been like that – intuitive, almost as if she could sense when something was wrong without a single word being spoken. It was as if she could read the unspoken emotions, the things that others overlooked or dismissed, and she knew just how to respond without being told.

“I’m worried about her,” Ingrid said quietly to Mapí, her voice tinged with concern as she gestured with her head in your direction. There was a seriousness in her tone that caught Mapí’s attention immediately. Ingrid wasn’t one to express worry lightly; if she was concerned, it meant something was truly wrong.

“Who?” Mapí asked, her brow furrowing slightly as she tried to follow Ingrid’s line of sight. She turned to see who Ingrid was referring to, her eyes scanning the room until they landed on you.

“Den lille,” Ingrid replied softly. It was a name that fit you perfectly, even though you were no longer a small child. To Ingrid, you would always be den lille, the one who needed looking after, the one she couldn’t help but worry about.

Mapí’s gaze lingered on you, taking in the way you sat off to the side, your shoulders hunched slightly as if you were trying to make yourself invisible. She saw the way your fingers absentmindedly traced the edges of your shorts, a nervous habit she had noticed before but never truly understood until now. There was something about your posture, the way you seemed so withdrawn, that tugged at her heart. You looked like you were carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders, and it didn’t sit right with Mapí.

“She’s been different lately,” Ingrid continued, her voice barely above a whisper, as if saying the words out loud would somehow make them more real. “I’m scared, María.”

Mapí’s heart ached at Ingrid’s words. The concern in Ingrid’s voice was palpable, a stark contrast to the usual composed and confident demeanour she typically displayed. The way Ingrid had hesitated before speaking, the trembling edge to her voice, suggested that this was more than just a fleeting worry – it was a deep, gnawing fear that had taken root in her heart.

Mapí turned her full attention to you, her eyes softening. There was an undeniable shift in your demeanour that had been building over time, and it was clear now that Ingrid’s fears were not unfounded. The way you sat, so isolated and withdrawn, seemed like a cry for help that was too quiet to be heard. Mapí could feel the gravity of the situation pressing down on her, the realisation that something needed to be done before it was too late.

“Ale will know what to do,” Mapí said with false bravado, trying to mask the tremor in her voice behind a veneer of confidence. Her words were meant to reassure Ingrid, to offer a glimmer of hope amidst the growing uncertainty, but inside, she felt a pang of doubt.

Mapí had always relied on Alexia’s wisdom and experience, believing her to be someone who could handle even the most complex of situations with ease. She had a way of approaching problems with calm assurance and a strategic mindset that often brought clarity and solutions where there seemed to be none. Mapí hoped that, with Alexia’s involvement, they could find a way to help you navigate the turmoil you were experiencing.

She knew, however, that this situation was different. The weight of it felt heavier, more personal. Her usually steadfast confidence was being tested, and despite her efforts to maintain a brave front, she couldn’t completely suppress the anxiety that gnawed at her.

Ingrid glanced at Mapí, a mixture of hope and scepticism in her eyes. “You really think so?” she asked, her voice laced with both trust and apprehension.

“Absolutely,” Mapí replied, her tone firm despite the fluttering unease in her chest.

Alexia had noticed the changes in you too, though her observations were more subtle, filtered through a lens of quiet concern rather than overt worry. She had seen you through different stages of life, from the carefree moments of adolescence to the more introspective phases, but lately, something had shifted, and she couldn’t ignore the signs any longer.

It was in the way you interacted with others, or rather, how you had started to withdraw from those interactions. Alexia, who had always admired your vibrant energy and effortless charm, now saw you retreating into yourself. The once bright and engaging conversations seemed to dwindle, replaced by a more subdued presence that she struggled to reconcile with the person she once knew.

She noticed how you would often linger on the periphery of group activities, participating only half-heartedly, if at all. Your laughter, which used to come so easily, had become rare and forced, a stark contrast to the genuine joy that used to light up your face. Even your physical appearance had changed; where there was once a confident posture, there was now a noticeable slouch, a sign of the weight you seemed to be carrying.

Alexia also observed the small, telling habits that had shifted. The way you fidgeted with your clothes or avoided eye contact during conversations spoke volumes about your internal struggle. It was as if you were trying to make yourself as inconspicuous as possible, a stark departure from the once lively and assertive person she had known.

“Ale, we need to talk,” Mapí said firmly, cornering Alexia in the changing rooms after training one afternoon. Her voice was low and serious, carrying an undertone of urgency that instantly drew Alexia’s full attention. The usual post-training chatter and the clamor of lockers being shut were fading into the background as the gravity of Mapí’s tone cut through the noise.

“Is everything okay?” Alexia asked, her voice betraying a hint of concern as she met Mapí’s gaze. The look in Mapí’s eyes was one Alexia hadn’t seen very often – an earnestness and resolve that spoke of something deeper than just a casual chat. The air between them seemed to thicken with unspoken tension, the room suddenly feeling smaller, more confined as the weight of the conversation settled in.

“No, it’s not,” Ingrid replied, her tone steady but laden with emotion.

Three sets of eyes turned to look at you, the subject of their concern. You sat on a bench, somewhat apart from the group, absorbed in your own thoughts, unaware of the intensity of the discussion unfolding just a few feet away. The distance between you and the others was more than physical; it was as though a chasm had opened up, underscoring the emotional divide that had grown.

You looked so tired. It was a weariness that went beyond physical exhaustion, a heaviness that seemed to seep into your very bones. The vibrant energy that once defined you had dimmed, leaving behind a shadow of your former self.

Your eyes, which used to sparkle with curiosity and joy, were now clouded with a fatigue that spoke volumes about the battles you were fighting internally. They were deep and dark, the kind of tiredness that comes from sleepless nights and unspoken worries. The once bright and animated expression you wore had given way to a distant gaze that struggled to focus on the world around you. When you did look up, it was with a slow, measured effort, as if the simple act of meeting someone’s eyes required more energy than you had to spare. Your gaze seemed to drift in and out of focus, mirroring the exhaustion that you felt but could not escape.

Your training top seemed far too big on you now, the fabric hanging off you like a draped shroud. It was as if the clothes themselves reflected the way you had withdrawn from the world; they looked oversized and loose, emphasising the contrast between your current state and the vibrant person you used to be.

Every small movement you made seemed laboured, as though even the simplest actions required a tremendous amount of effort. Your shoulders slouched slightly, as if weighed down by an invisible burden that made every step feel heavier. The casual confidence that once characterised your movements had been replaced by a tentative, almost cautious mannerism, as though you were trying to conserve every ounce of energy you had.

Your breathing was steady but shallow, and every now and then, you let out a sigh that seemed to escape from somewhere deep inside you – a sigh that spoke of exhaustion and resignation. The small, subtle gestures you made, like tucking your hands into your sleeves or curling your legs up on the bench, were instinctive attempts to find some semblance of comfort or protection in a moment where you felt particularly vulnerable.

“Oh, cariño,” Alexia whispered, her heart breaking at the sight of you. The term of endearment slipped from her lips like a soft breath of sorrow, laden with a depth of feeling that words alone could not fully convey. It was a tender utterance meant to bridge the emotional chasm that seemed to separate you from everyone around you.

As Alexia watched you, her eyes were filled with a deep sadness that mirrored the gravity of the moment. The sight of you, sitting apart from the group, lost in your own thoughts, was more than Alexia could bear. Her heart ached as she took in the full extent of your weariness. It was clear that this was not just a fleeting moment of fatigue but a profound, ongoing struggle that had seeped into your very being. The vibrant spirit she once knew seemed overshadowed by a deep, unspoken sorrow that had taken hold.

You weren’t sure why you phoned Ona, out of all people. It wasn’t like you were particularly close with her; in fact, your interactions with her had always been somewhat limited and casual. You knew her mostly through mutual friends and shared activities, exchanging pleasantries and brief conversations but never delving deeply into each other's lives. Yes, you considered her a friend, but your one-on-one time had been minimal, mostly restricted to group settings or casual encounters. She wasn’t someone you confided in regularly, nor did you have a history of sharing personal struggles or intimate details.

Yet, in the midst of your crisis, when everything felt out of control and the world seemed to have narrowed to the confines of your bathroom floor, Ona’s name was the first to come to mind. You sat there, the cold tiles pressing against your legs, a razor gripped tightly in one hand, its cold edge a stark reminder of the darkness you were grappling with. Your thoughts were a swirling mix of desperation and confusion, and in that chaotic mental fog, Ona’s name emerged almost instinctively.

It was an odd choice, and you struggled to understand it yourself. Perhaps it was the nature of your relationship with her – though not deeply personal, it was still a connection that felt solid enough to offer some semblance of support. Sometimes, the familiarity of a person, even if not deeply entrenched, can provide a sense of comfort in moments of profound vulnerability. Ona had always been approachable and kind, traits that, despite the limited interaction, might have seemed reassuring in your current state.

There was also something to be said for the randomness of human emotion and instinct. In moments of deep distress, the mind often grasps at whatever feels familiar, even if it’s not the most logical choice. Ona, being someone who had always been friendly and supportive, perhaps embodied a sense of stability and kindness that was desperately needed in that moment.

“Hola?” Her voice came through the phone, laden with sleep, thick with the grogginess of having been abruptly roused from slumber. There was a softness to her tone, a slow, drowsy lilt that spoke of the deep relaxation she had been in just moments before. The initial, half-hearted curiosity in her voice quickly sharpened into something more alert as she processed the unusual hour and the unexpected call.

“I …” You began, but the words caught in your throat, tangled with the overwhelming emotions that had gripped you. Your voice trembled, barely more than a whisper, laden with a mixture of vulnerability and desperation. It was as if the sheer effort of making the call had drained you, leaving only a fragile thread of sound that barely carried your intent.

“Pequeña?” Ona’s voice was suddenly more awake, filled with concern. The fragility in your voice, so unlike the casual exchanges you had shared before, pierced through her initial drowsiness. The realisation that something was seriously wrong caused her to sit upright in bed, the sense of alarm and urgency pushing away the remnants of sleep.

“Help me,” you managed to utter, the words escaping in a pained whisper

You woke up in hospital. The room cold and sterile. The first thing you noticed was the biting chill that seemed to seep into your very bones, despite the layers of blankets draped over you. The air felt thin and clinical – you had never known such an impersonal space existed. The walls were a clinical shade of white, interrupted only by the occasional piece of medical equipment or the sparse, functional décor meant to provide minimal distraction. The lighting was bright and unyielding, casting a harsh glare that made the room feel even colder and more impersonal. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed softly, their steady hum creating a rhythm that seemed oddly out of place.

Your bed, positioned at the centre of the room, was surrounded by a fortress of medical paraphernalia. An IV drip hung beside you, its clear fluids slowly trickling down a tube that was taped to your arm. The beeping of a heart monitor provided a steady, monotonous cadence, a reminder of the life support systems that were now a part of your immediate environment. The rhythmic sound was oddly comforting and unnerving all at once, a constant reminder of your current state and the care being provided.

The air was filled with a faint, antiseptic scent – a mix of cleaning agents and medicinal odours that seemed to hang in the atmosphere like an unwelcome guest. It was a smell that clung to everything, from the freshly laundered hospital sheets to the disposable gowns and sterile gloves that the medical staff wore.

There was a warm weight in your right hand. It took you a moment to realise what it was. A hand. A hand connected to an arm, that led to a shoulder, that was attached to a whole person. The fingers resting gently in your grasp were familiar and comforting, their gentle pressure offering a steady reassurance. You turned your head slightly, and through the haze of your groggy state, you saw the face of the person whose hand you were holding.

“Hi,” Ona smiled softly, her expression a blend of warmth and reassurance.

“Hi,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. It was a weak echo of her greeting, laden with the exhaustion and vulnerability you felt. Your gaze drifted to the hand still resting in yours. She followed your stare, squeezing gently when she realised what you were looking at.

“The others have got to get food,” Ona continued, her voice gentle but firm. “It’s just us, if you want to talk.”

“What’s there to talk about?” you countered, the words a defense mechanism. If you denied it, it would all go away.

“Do not play dumb, pequeña.” Ona’s voice carried a note of gentle reproach. Her tone was soft but resolute.

“I …” you began, but the words seemed to falter before they could take shape. The enormity of your emotions was difficult to articulate, and the effort to speak felt almost insurmountable. You struggled to find the right words, your thoughts jumbled and disjointed.

But how could she truly understand? What little you knew about her life seemed almost painfully perfect by comparison. From the outside, Ona’s existence appeared to be a seamless tapestry of success and happiness. Her football career was thriving, each game a testament to her skill and dedication. She was admired and celebrated by teammates and fans alike, her talent on the field a source of pride and achievement.

Her relationship was also the stuff of dreams. Ona had Lucy, someone who seemed to bring out the best in her, their interactions marked by genuine affection and mutual support. They were often seen together, sharing moments of joy and laughter that spoke of a deep and abiding connection. Their bond was one of those rare partnerships that seemed to transcend the everyday challenges, offering a glimpse into a love that was both passionate and enduring.

Her circle of friends appeared to be equally ideal. They were supportive and loyal, always there for one another through thick and thin. The camaraderie and warmth of their friendship were evident in the way they interacted, their shared moments of happiness and mutual encouragement. It was a friendship that seemed to offer a solid foundation, a network of support that was both comforting and reliable.

And then there was her family – an image of stability and happiness. They were often seen together, their interactions filled with laughter and love. The family dynamic seemed to be one of mutual respect and genuine affection, a supportive backdrop to Ona’s life that added to the picture of her seemingly perfect existence.

In contrast, your own life felt chaotic and fraught with difficulties. The weight of your struggles seemed all the more daunting when juxtaposed against Ona’s polished image. It was easy to feel that her understanding of your pain was limited, that the perfection you saw in her life might somehow preclude her from fully grasping the depth of your own challenges. You wondered if her empathy was genuine or if it was simply a reflection of her innate kindness, an attempt to reach across the chasm of your differences and offer comfort despite the apparent disparity between your lives.

“If you don’t want to talk yet, that’s fine. But let me show you something.” She pushed up her sleeve.

C O N T ; N U E

“You’re not alone in this, pequeña. No one is ever alone.” Ona’s voice was steady, a soft but firm anchor amidst the storm. She shifted slightly, her fingers gently tracing over a tattoo on her arm. “I got this just after I moved to England,” she began, her tone becoming more reflective. “I felt so alone. I didn’t speak the language very well, I had no friends, and we were in lockdown. Everything was different.” Her gaze softened as she looked at the tattoo, her fingers moving lightly over its surface, as if the act itself was a form of remembering and honouring a past struggle.

The room seemed to grow quieter, the beeping of the monitors and the distant murmur of the hospital blending into a background hum as Ona continued. “I almost did it, y’know. I was really, really close – had the bottle and everything.” Her voice wavered slightly, a rare crack in the veneer of her composed exterior. “I haven’t even told Lucy this.” She laughed humourlessly.

“Why didn’t you?” you asked, the question hanging in the air.

Ona took a deep breath, her eyes meeting yours as she smiled gently. “Alessia knocked on my door. She noticed I looked a little down and came to check on me. I don’t know if she saw the pills or not, but she stayed with me all day.” The warmth in her eyes deepened as she spoke. “She asked me to teach her some Spanish, she taught me how to make pasta from scratch. She didn’t let me leave her side for three days. Even then, as soon as she left Tooney appeared.”

“Wh-why are you telling me this?” Your voice quivered, the words struggling to get out over the lump in your throat.

Ona’s eyes softened with a blend of compassion and determination. “So that you know you’re not alone,” she began, her voice steady and full of quiet resolve. “I don’t know the ins and outs of what you’re going through, but just know that I’m here, we all are. We aren’t going anywhere.” She promised.

She paused, allowing her words to settle, as if to let the depth of her meaning fully resonate. You blinked, trying to hold back the flood of emotions that were threatening to overwhelm you. Tears began to well up in your eyes. The tears were a mixture of relief and sadness.

“You are loved, pequeña. So, so loved. And we will be here for you, no matter what, no matter how long it takes.”

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hedgehog-moss · 8 hours ago

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Pls give recommendations for Odd books 🙏

Here we go, a list of literary oddity :) This post contains majestic spheres, alien taxonomies, cruel subway polytheism, a fourth-dimensional cat, disturbing earthworms, infinite space football, existential mussel terror, a Parisian absurdist time loop, and a picture of a telegraph-pole-man-cheetah. I'm not exactly recommending these books, in the sense that I won't take any complaints if you find them more odd than good, and some of them transcend the concepts of good and bad anyway.

• The Other City, Michal Ajvaz. It's all like this:

• Contes du demi-sommeil, Marcel Béalu ('Half-asleep tales') —is the book that prompted my post about stories that have no ambition or justification beyond being odd. I'm sad that it hasn't been translated :( One of the tales is about a strange opaline sphere that rolls on the road. It doesn't accelerate when the road becomes a steep slope but continues rolling majestically. At one point it floats away towards the sky. Someone wonders if it was the moon. Someone else says authoritatively "It was an angel's egg." Everyone is reassured by this explanation. The whole thing feels exactly like remembering a dream you had. There is also a man who reads too much and whose body atrophies so only his head is left and his wife puts it in an egg cup for better stability.

• Leonora Carrington— The Skeleton's Holiday, or maybe the Hearing Trumpet. I've read them so long ago but I think the latter is the one with the old ladies and nuns? There's also a guy who was murdered in his bath by a still-life painter because he said there was a carrot in one of his paintings, but it might not have been a carrot? It's hard to remember details from this book without feeling like I might be making them up. Bonus Leonora Carrington painting which kind of feels like a short story:

• The Codex Seraphinianus, of course. I wish there were more bizarre encyclopaedias out there.

Also I love this review:

• Sleep Has His House, Anna Kavan —I really liked the way this book used language; making life feel like a fever dream even more than in Samanta Schweblin's Fever Dream (which I really liked too.)

The eye is checking a record of silence, space; a nightmare, every horror of this world in its frigid and blank neutrality. The actual scope of its orbit depends on the individual concept of desolation, but approximate symbols are suggested in long roving perspectives of ocean, black swelled, in slow undulation, each whaleback swell plated in armour-hard brilliance with the moonlight clanking along it . . .

• The second half of Michael Ende's Neverending Story, where things get stranger! I remember the hand-shaped castle with eyes and the city of amnesiac former emperors and the miserable ugly worms who cry all the time out of shame then create beautiful architecture with their tears...

• The Gray House, Mariam Petrosyan. This is the one I had in mind when I talked about a 'museum of the strange, but one you wouldn't want to be trapped in after closing time'. Another book that made me feel uncomfortable in a similar (good) way was Edward Carey's Observatory Mansions, the protagonist of which is a man who curates an odd private museum and can't stand the sight of his own hands.

• Oh, speaking of uncomfortable, and hands—He Digs A Hole, by Danger Slater. To me this book was in the more-odd-than-good category but I liked its refusal to have a coherent philosophical meaning. It's about a man who can't sleep so he goes to his garden shed and saws off his hands and replaces them with gardening tools. Then he starts digging a hole. And then it gets weird. (Read at your own discretion if you have a worm phobia; there's some body horror featuring sexually aggressive earthworms. And then it gets disturbing.)

• 17776 — Someone sent me an ask a few years back to recommend this online multimedia narrative to me and I really enjoyed it! Here's the summary, borrowed from the wiki page: Set in the distant future in which all humans have become immortal and infertile, the series follows three sapient space probes that watch humanity play an evolved form of American football in which games can be played for millennia over distances of thousands of miles. The work explores themes of consciousness, hope, despair, and why humans play sports.

• Saint-Glinglin, Raymond Queneau —the author admitted that this book presents some "internal discontinuities." I didn't like it much but I respect the talent it takes to write a novel where everything feels like a random digression, including the key suspenseful scene that matters to the plot. The one digression I loved had to do with the way the narrator is existentially horrified by various sea creatures. It's like he dreads them so much he can't help but think about them when he should be telling a story.

The oyster... This gob of phlegm, this brutal way of refusing the outside world, this absolute isolation, and this disease: the pearl... If I conceptualise them even a little, my terror starts anew. The mussel is even more significant than the oyster and even more immediately admissible in the domain of terror. Let us indeed consider that this little sticky mass whose collective stupidity haunts our piers, consider that it is alive in the same way as a cow. Because there are no degrees in life. There is no more or less. The whole of life is present in every animal. To think that the mussel, that the mussel has, not a conscience, but a certain way of transcending itself: here I am once again plunged into abysses of anxiety and insecurity.

Near the beginning he philosophises about what would happen if a man and a lobster were the only two survivors of the apocalypse. The lobster would break the man's toe and the man would say, "We are the only beings that remain on this devastated Earth, lobster! The only living beings in the universe, struggling alone against the universal disaster, don't you want to be allies?" But the lobster would disdainfully walk away towards the ocean, and "the sight of the inflexible and imperturbable lobster pierces the sky of humanity with its unintelligible claws." (I can't overstate how little this has to do with the rest of the book.)

• Autumn in Beijing, Boris Vian —needless to say the story does not take place in autumn nor in Beijing.* To the extent that it can be said to be "about" something, it's about people trying to build a train station in a desert with tracks that lead nowhere. (I just went on goodreads to check the title, and it's actually called Autumn in Peking in English. I also discovered that it was featured in a list of Books I Regret Reading. I liked this book, but I understand.)

(* French writers love doing this—like when Alphonse Allais said about his 1893 book The Squadron's Umbrella "I chose this title because there aren't any umbrellas of any sort in this volume, and the important notion of the squadron, as a unit of the armed forces, is never brought up at all; in these conditions, hesitating would have been pure madness.")

• The Library at Mount Char, Scott Hawkins—I fear this one makes a little too much sense for this list, but you can't say it isn't weird; and I loved it and recommend it any chance I get.

• The Eleven Million Mile High Dancer, Carol Hill —this book was so wacky and made me laugh. I've not yet managed to successfully recommend it to someone; its brand of odd didn't resonate with the people I know who've read it but that's okay. You could say it's about a woman astronaut whose weird cat disappears into the fourth dimension (or the quantum realm?) and she goes to space to save him—but that makes the book sound more straightforward and less messy than it is. Her cat leaves her a note before he disappears:

• The Bald Soprano, Ionesco —fun fact, there's a tiny theatre in the Latin Quarter in Paris where this absurdist play has been staged every night for nearly 70 years, with the exact same set design and costumes and everything, like the actors are stuck in a time loop. They celebrated the 20,000th performance this year! There's an actress who has been playing her character for 40 years and said joining this theatre was like joining a religion. I've been going to see this play as a New Year tradition with my best friend since we were 14, so I love it madly, though I wouldn't say it's good, necessarily—the author said it was about "absolutely nothing, but a superior nothing."

• Statuary Gardens; or Les Mers perdues (apparently not translated) by Jacques Abeille. This man is obsessed with weird statues. Unfortunately I find his writing style rather dull—I feel like he takes strange ideas and makes them feel mundane in a bad way...! But his books still have a nice, quiet, oneiric atmosphere, and images that stayed with me, like a solitary gardener trying to grow stone statues in the depleted soil of a walled garden. Here are some illustrations from the second one:

I'll look into some of the books recommended on my previous post! (and I agree with the people who brought up Cortázar, Borges, and Junji Ito. <3) Some potentially-odd books I have on my to-read list: Clive Barker's Abarat, Goran Petrović's An Atlas Traced by the Sky, Salvador Plascencia's The People of Paper, Jean Ray's Malpertuis; Jan Weiss's The House of a Thousand Floors; Brice Tarvel's Pierre-Fendre.

#ask #book recs #i know i've made some of these sound barely readable but it would be risky to oversell them #it's funny how indignant i felt when i first thought that saint-glinglin didn't exist in english translation even though objectively it #wouldn't have been a huge loss and i don't think english speakers are clamouring for more crustacean existentialism after sartre's lobsters #but they should get to choose not to read this book!

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hanniebaeee · 2 days ago

Text

Code Love

Hyunjin x fem!reader

Warnings: nothing!!

Genre: colleagues to lovers, flufffff

Summary: Hyunjin is a brilliant post doc at the lab where you're perusing your PhD. He is such a sweet and sexy genius, and you are completely in love.

a/n : For all my science/research girlies 🤭

It was another late night at the lab. You were squinting at the test tubes in front of you trying to make sense of the results. But you were struggling to concentrate with the way your heart was pounding.

He was just sitting there, at his workstation, effortlessly spinning a pipette between his long, elegant fingers. Nothing for your dramatic heart to pound like that.

“Did you hear me, Y/N?” Hyunjin’s soft voice cut through your thoughts.

“Huh?” you blinked, attempting to act like you hadn’t just been imagining how those fingers would feel on your - never mind.

“I said,” Hyunjin grinned, “you’re incubating that reaction too long.”

“Oh, um, I knew that” you fumbled with the timer, cheeks heating up. “Totally knew that. Thanks, Hyunjin.”

“Sure, no problem,” he said, eyes sparkling like he enjoyed watching you unravel.

God, why was he like this?

That face? Those lips? And that brain? This was unfair. He had to have some flaw - how can a man be this perfect?

“Are you staying late tonight?” he asked casually, leaning back in his chair.

“I have to,” you mumbled. “This experiment is dragging on, and I have to submit the report by the end of the week.”

Hyunjin hummed, and said, “Oh good, I'll have some company then.”

You could literally see him doodling flowers into his book - he had nothing to do here. But yet every time you had to stay in late, he'd be hanging around too. Just the two of you.

Your brain immediately betrayed you, fueling your wild fantasy where he wasn’t staying late for work but because he secretly wanted to spend time alone with you. You were fighting so hard to maintain a shred of professionalism, but it was so hard when he was looking at you like that.

Hyunjin hummed softly under his breath as he continued to doodle, the sound sending tingles down your spine. Of course he was a good singer too. You just didn't understand what the universe even wanted from you anymore.

---

“I swear to God, Ji, if he twirls that pipette one more time, I’m going to launch myself across the lab bench, and just -” You were sprawled on the sofa in Jisung's apartment, sighing dramatically.

Jisung was your work bestie, working in the lab next door to yours. And he was the only one in the world who knew about your extreme devotion to Hyunjin.

Jisung burst out laughing, as he said, “This is bad, babe,”

“Bad? Jisung, I seriously can't even think when he's around.” you said. “Oh my God!!”

“Have you considered just telling him you like him?” Jisung smirked.

“Right, and ruin the perfectly good thing we have going where I pine silently while he ruins me with his brilliance? No, thank you.”

“You’re hopeless.”

---

The next late-night session happened way too soon, where Hyunjin wandered over to your bench, peering at your data from over your shoulder. He leaned in close, the scent of cologne (or whatever pheromones that he's sending your way) invading your senses - it's simply intoxicating.

“Want me to take a look at that?” he asked, “You've been spending way too much time on it.”

“Yeah,” you muttered, trying not to stutter. “It’s just...a lot of noise in the data.”

“Let me see,” he said, pulling a stool next to you. He reached for the keyboard, and your heart fluttered as his fingers brushed yours.

You wanted to cry. Please don't be so sweet and sexy at the same time, you begged internally. You cursed your body for betraying you with every glance while he explained what he was doing. You could feel the tension in your shoulders as you tried to focus on what he was saying.

Get a grip, Y/N, you reminded yourself. This is professional. Stop fantasizing about this ridiculously hot man who’s inexplicably obsessed with helping you.

When he finally looked up, you realized you’d been staring at him the whole time.

“What?” he asked, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“Nothing... thanks. You’re really good at this,” you stammered.

He tilted his head, studying you for a moment.

“You’re good at this too, Y/N. We all have our bad days. Don’t sell yourself short.” he said, patting your shoulder gently before standing up.

You felt your heart squeeze at the sincerity in his tone, and you watched as he went back to his own seat.

Stop it. He’s being nice. Don’t read into it. Just focus on the work.

But it was so hard not to read into it. The way he leaned closer when he spoke, the way his fingersa brushed against yours when he passed you something, and the way he was always so soft with you.

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.

“Y/N, I’m begging you. BEGGING. Tell him. I'm sure he's dying to hear it.” Jisung said, smiling at the girl who handed over our coffees at the cafe.

“You don’t get it! I can't risk it, if he's just being nice, then -”

“Babe,” Jisung drawled, “what world do you live in?!”

“Don’t give me hope, Ji.” you sighed as you walked towards your lab, the early morning breeze cool against your skin.

“Hope? The man stays late every time you do, flirts with you nonstop, and compliments you after he does your work for you. At this point, I’m falling for him,” Jisung said, throwing his hands up. “Seriously, babe, if you don’t jump him soon, I might.”

---

The cold room was your least favorite part of the lab. You hated everything about it - the freezing temperature, its claustrophobic size and the damn protein extraction procedure that drained the life out of you.

But here you were, miserably clutching your samples and praying for the nightmare to end soon.

“Y/N?” Hyunjin’s voice echoed through the door as it opened, and you turned to see him stepping in.

Great. Now you were cold and flustered.

“How's the extraction going?” he asked, his tone light as he slipped on his gloves.

“Going wonderfully,” you muttered, shivering despite your layers.

He grinned, coming closer and watching you work.

“Do you want me to take over?” He asked, making you sigh.

“And miss out on the joy of freezing to death? Never,” you joked weakly, and Hyunjin laughed. “You're too nice, Hyunjin. But I've got this.”

“Nice?” he repeated, leaning back slightly but still watching you intently. “You sure about that?”

You froze, suddenly way too aware of how close he was standing. Was he teasing you? Was this flirting?

“I- I mean, yeah,” you stammered, breaking eye contact. “You’re always helping me...”

“Maybe I have my reasons.” Hyunjin tilted his head, his smile softening.

Your heart leapt into your throat as you asked, “Reasons?”

Before he could answer, the door swung open.

“How's your favorite experiment going?” Jisung's loud voice floated in. “Oh, hi Hyunjin!”

You didn't know if you wanted to strangle Jisung for ruining the moment or hug him for saving you from it.

Hyunjin, ever the sweetheart, just laughed and said, “Hi Jisung, I think she's doing just fine,”

“Of course she is,” Jisung said, moving aside for Hyunjin to step out.

“What was that?” He asked as soon as Hyunjin left.

“What are you doing here?!” you hissed. “We were getting somewhere, but also, if you hadn't come I would've fainted. Like I feel so dizzy, my gloves are all wet from sweating-”

“Y/N,” Jisung said, gripping your shoulders and shaking you lightly. “You like him. He obviously likes you. The universe is literally freezing you together in this cold room to force you to act. Next time, please -”

It was barely 5 am, and you groaned as you shuffled into the lab, your hair in a messy bun and sleep still stinging your eyes. But the bacterial cultures didn’t care about your sleep schedule - or lack thereof.

Throwing on your lab coat and gloves with the grace of a zombie, you started checking the growth plates with bleary eyes.

You’d barely managed to finish when Jisung strolled in, carrying two steaming cups of coffee.

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he teased, setting a cup in front of you.

“I love you, Ji,” you muttered, taking the first sip and feeling a spark of life return to your body. “I don't know why I wanted to be a scientist.”

Jisung plopped down next to you, snickering, and started scrolling through his phone while you leaned your head against his shoulder. And he rested his head against yours, before placing a quick peck on your temple.

You were starting to fall asleep, when the lab door creaked open.

You both glanced up to see Hyunjin walk in. His cheeks were pink from the cold and he stopped at the door for a second, his eyes fixed on you.

“Morning,” he greeted, and you gave him a small wave, still too sleepy to form words. Jisung returned the greeting, and then left quickly.

You noticed Hyunjin’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. That's new. He moved to his workstation, setting down his bag and pulling out his laptop.

You sat up straighter, something about Hyunjin’s silence gnawing at you. He didn’t even glance your way, which was unusual.

Hyunjin, meanwhile, was battling a whirlwind of emotions. He knew you and Jisung were close friends - you’d mentioned it so many times. But seeing the way your head rested against his shoulder and Jisung had kissed your temple - it just looked way too intimate. Too cosy.

He hated feeling this way, especially when you weren’t his to begin with. Still, the disappointment twisted in his chest and he didn't know what to do about it. So he focused on his work.

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop his gaze from drifting back to you.

---

You let it go on till about noon. But it was killing you - you weren't used to this kind of behavior from Hyunjin and it was starting to stress you out. So summoning your courage, you walked over to Hyunjin and said, “Hey,”

He glanced up, his expression neutral as he said, “Hey.”

“You okay?” you asked, trying to keep your tone light. “You're so...quiet.”

“I’m fine. Just a lot on my mind.” Hyunjin said, giving you a small smile.

“You sure?” you pressed, feeling a strange pang of hurt.

He nodded, but his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. Don’t worry about me.”

You stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say. He was being so distant, and it left a strange, hollow ache in your chest. Finally, you gave him a small nod and walked back to your seat, feeling totally crushed by his uncharacteristic coolness.

Hyunjin’s silence stretched into the next day. And the day after that. In fact he hadn't spoken more than a couple of words to you in the past two days. And it hurt so much, considering the fact that you don't even know why he was doing this all of a sudden.

You tried to brush it off at first. Maybe he was just busy, or stressed. But the space he was putting between you felt deliberate, like he was doing this on purpose.

Hyunjin, on the other hand, was crumbling inside. He adored you. And that too for long enough that the thought of losing you was nearly unbearable.

You and Jisung were so close. And you looked so comfortable. He couldn't take it. He wasn't going to let his heart shatter like that.

So, he’d made a decision: if he couldn’t have you, he’d rather step back than risk the heartbreak of watching you fall for someone else. Even if it meant burying his feelings.

---

The next morning, you were back in the cold room. You’d been trying to salvage your protein extraction for hours, but nothing was going right. Your hands were trembling as you loaded yet another sample, and your vision blurred with tears of frustration.

“This is so stupid,” you whispered to yourself, your voice cracking. “Why can’t anything just go right for once?”

You sniffled, wiping your cheek with your sleeve, as you continued your monologue.

“I just want my Jinnie back. Why does he hate me now? What did I do wrong?” your voice wavered as you spoke through your tears.

What you didn't see was that the cold room door had opened quietly, and Hyunjin had stepped inside. He froze at the sound of your voice, his chest tightening at the sadness in your words.

Your Jinnie?

Your name slipped from his lips, soft and hesitant, “Y/N?”

You stiffened, your body freezing and your heart racing as you heard his voice.

“What?” you croaked, refusing to turn around, too mortified to meet his eyes.

“Why are you crying?” Hyunjin asked, taking a step closer.

You shook your head, refusing to face him.

“Why do you care?” You asked, and it broke his heart to see you wipe your tears.

“Please don't say that, of course I care-”

“It’s nothing. Just this stupid experiment. And... everything else.”

“Y/N,” he said again, his voice firmer now. “Please. Talk to me.”

You gripped the edge of the table, your knuckles turning white.

“I can’t do this anymore, Hyunjin,” you whispered. “I can’t keep pretending everything’s fine when it’s not. You won't even talk to me, and it’s killing me. I just... I just want my Hyunjinnie back. Just stop hurting me like this.”

The silence that followed was deafening. You felt the tears spill over again, your shoulders trembling as you waited for him to say something. Anything.

And then you felt it.

Warmth. His strong arms wrapping around you from behind, his chest pressing against your back as he pulled you into a tight embrace.

You gasped softly, frozen for a moment before leaning into him, your tears falling freely now.

“I’m sorry,” Hyunjin whispered, his voice trembling as he buried his face in your shoulder. “I’m so, so sorry.”

You turned your head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of his face.

“Why are you mad at me?” you asked. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” he said quickly, his hold on you tightening. “It wasn’t you. It was me. I was scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“Of losing you,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “I thought... I thought you and Jisung -”

“Jisung?” you repeated, blinking in confusion. “You know he’s my best friend, Hyunjin. He's like a brother to me.”

“I thought I was protecting myself,” he admitted, his lips close to your ear. “I thought I’d lose you to Jisung, and I couldn’t handle it. But I didn’t realize... I didn’t realize I was hurting you in the process.”

“I can't believe you never saw me thirsting over you, Hyunjin” you said, your voice incredulous. “What are you even saying?!”

Hyunjin let out a shaky laugh, burying his face into your neck. “God, I’m an idiot.”

“You are,” you sniffled, though your tone was softer now.

He pulled back just enough to turn you around, his hands gently cupping your cheeks.

“I love you, Y/N. I’ve loved you for so long. And I was so scared- ” he stopped short as he saw the look on your face.

“You... you love me?”

“I adore you,” he said, giving you a shy smile.

You let out a breathless laugh, the weight on your chest lifting for the first time in days.

“I love you too, Hyunjin. So damn much.”

His smile widened, and before you could say another word, he asked, “Can I... can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” you whispered, and when his lips met yours, it was the most beautiful thing in the world. He kissed you so softly (even though you just wanted to eat him up.)

You both stepped out of the cold room together, the door clicking shut behind you. Your cheeks were flushed, your lips swollen from the kiss, and as you glanced at Hyunjin, you saw he was in no better shape.

You didn't get to take another step forward as the door to your lab opened and Jisung's head popped in.

His eyes flicked between you and Hyunjin and you could hear the gears turning in his head as he tried to piece together what he was seeing. And then he smirked.

You glared at him, because you know that look on his face, and Hyunjin just stood there, his arms crossed and a smile that said “I got what I wanted".

“Congratulations,” Jisung said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m so happy for you both. But oh my god, you two idiots…”

The grin on his face was priceless. He was enjoying this way too much.

“I swear, if you don’t shut up -” You swatted him on the arm.

Jisung winced dramatically but couldn’t hide his laughter.

“What? You guys make an adorable couple... but honestly, you both are just so dumb.”

Well, you couldn't agree more.

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght

#stray kids #skz #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x y/n #hyunjin x you #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin angst #skz x reader #skz fluff #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin

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iamgonnagetyouback · 13 hours ago

Text

jealous? who, me?

theodore nott x reader where you meet his friends for the first time and daphne is definitely not in your good books

↬ word count : 931 words ˎˊ˗

↬ warnings : secondhand embarrassment (for daphne) ��.ᐟ

↬ author's note : i loved this too much (˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵)

navigation┆theodore nott masterlist┆request here 𝜗𝜚

You weren’t supposed to be feeling this way. This was Theodore’s night—his friends, his circle, his world. You’d come to the party with the intention of being supportive and charming, maybe even making a good impression.

Until Daphne Greengrass entered the picture.

She was pretty. Too pretty. Effortlessly gorgeous with her sleek blonde hair, sharp cheekbones, and a laugh that danced through the room like wind chimes. And the worst part? She knew Theodore—knew him well.

You stood beside Theodore, nursing your wine glass and trying to maintain a polite smile as Daphne monopolized the conversation. Her hand brushed his arm—again—and she tossed her hair back with an almost rehearsed air of effortlessness.

Theodore, ever the gentleman, leaned in slightly to hear her better, his lips twitching at something she said. You weren’t entirely sure what was so funny, but you were sure it wasn’t that funny.

“Oh, that’s funny,” you muttered under your breath, your voice laced with dry amusement.

Theodore’s brow quirked, but before he could speak, Daphne excused herself. “Excuse me for a second, I need to grab a drink,” she said, flashing you a quick glance, one you could only describe as calculating.

Theodore turned to you as soon as she was out of earshot, his brows knitting together in mild confusion. “What’s funny?” he asked, his voice low and smooth.

You smiled sweetly, far too sweetly. “Nothing, Tesoro. Just enjoying the show.”

One brow arched as he slid an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. “Amore mio,” he murmured, his voice carrying a teasing edge. “Should I be worried?”

You took a deliberate sip of your wine, eyes flickering toward the direction Daphne had gone. “Not at all. I think you’re the one being thoroughly entertained.”

Theodore’s lips twitched again, this time with a barely concealed laugh. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here you are,” you shot back, your smile sharp enough to cut.

His brow quirked, but before he could say something, Daphne made her way over, holding two glasses of champagne. She handed one to Theodore, completely ignoring you.

“Thought you might need a refill,” she said, her tone light and lilting. “We wouldn’t want you getting parched, would we?”

You raised your own glass slightly. “Oh, don’t worry, Daphne. I’m keeping him hydrated just fine.”

Daphne’s smile faltered for half a second before she recovered. “How thoughtful of you.”

“Isn’t it?” you replied, tilting your head with faux innocence. “I like to take care of my things.”

Theodore’s grip on your waist tightened, and you could feel the low rumble of a laugh in his chest, though he didn’t let it escape. Instead, he pressed his lips to your temple in what was meant to be a calming gesture but only fueled your sass.

“So,” Daphne began, clearly trying to redirect. “Theo was just telling me about the time we went to Monaco together. What a trip, right?”

“Monaco?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow. “How quaint. Theo and I were just talking about planning something grander. Italy, maybe. You know, somewhere with a bit more... romance.”

Daphne blinked, clearly thrown off. “Italy’s nice. I’ve been to Tuscany a few times.”

“Of course you have,” you replied, swirling your wine lazily. “So cultured of you.”

Theodore cleared his throat, his grip on your waist now firmly grounding. “Amore mio,” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear. “Play nice.”

“I am playing nice,” you whispered back, your tone dripping with faux sweetness. “She started it.”

“I heard that,” Daphne said, smiling tightly.

“Oh, good,” you said, flashing her a grin. “I’d hate for you to feel left out.”

Theodore’s shoulders shook slightly as he tried—and failed—to suppress a laugh. “Daphne, why don’t you tell me about that new project you mentioned earlier?” he asked, his voice steady despite his amusement.

“Oh, yes!” Daphne launched into an explanation about some fashion venture she was working on, her hands gesturing animatedly. You nodded along, your expression politely disinterested, until she said something you couldn’t resist.

“It’s been such a challenge finding the right balance between trendy and timeless, you know?” Daphne said.

“Oh, I wouldn’t know,” you replied airily. “I just wear whatever Theo likes to take off.”

Daphne’s cheeks turned a shade of pink that clashed horribly with her dress, and Theodore’s hand on your waist flexed as he pulled you even closer.

“Cara mia,” he said softly, his voice low and filled with warning. “Behave.”

“I’m behaving,” you said innocently, glancing up at him with wide eyes. “Aren’t I, Daphne?”

Daphne set her champagne down on a nearby table, her smile now more brittle than bright. “Well, it’s been lovely catching up, Theo,” she said, barely sparing you a glance. “I’ll see you around.”

As soon as she walked away, Theodore let out a quiet laugh, his forehead dropping to your shoulder.

“You’re impossible,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin.

“She’s impossible,” you shot back.

“She’s harmless.”

“She’s obnoxious.”

He straightened, his dark eyes gleaming as he looked at you. “You’re jealous.”

“Am not.”

“You are,” he teased, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Fine,” you admitted, crossing your arms. “Maybe I didn’t love the way she looked at you.”

“Amore mio,” he murmured, his voice softer now. “She could look at me all she wants. I’m still going home with you.”

You huffed, but the way his hand slid up your back and the warmth in his eyes softened your irritation.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you muttered.

“And you’re lucky I find you endlessly entertaining,” he replied, leaning down to kiss you.

#dividers by cafekitsune #pictures from pinterest #divider by im4yeons #theodore nott #theo nott #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #ivy's soft scribbles ೀ #theodore nott fluff #slytherin boys #theodore nott x you #theo nott x you #theodore nott x hufflepuff!reader #theodore nott imagine #theo nott fluff #theo nott imagine

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ventique18 · 3 days ago

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~ 🐉🌸♀️ Hair preferences

If she were being honest, her darling's haircut looked utterly stupid at first; as if his barber was a rookie who gave up halfway to cutting it. But it quickly grew on her as it became part of his identity. Now she enjoyed playing with it whenever they lounged in the garden during afternoon tea, or when she offered to dry it after his baths, or even when he was poring over his blueprints and she just had to tuck a stray strand behind his ear.

In other words, his long hair was a turn on.

So when one day he murmured out loud,

"It's become quite torrid recently. Mayhap 'tis the time I finally cut it short."

she immediately grasped him by the arm, catching him by befuddled surprise, and asserted in his face,

"I'll kill myself. I'll kill myself if you cut your hair short."

"Why the strong reaction? It's just hair."

"Because," she gasped out, before taking a lock of his midnight hair and twirling it between her fingers-- skillfully, elegantly, deliberately-- and bringing it to her lips. A kiss so slow, sensual. A bit suggestive. Highly inappropriate.

"I can't do this anymore if your hair was shorter."

And it worked.

"... Very well. But help me manage this mane. It's become a bit of a nuisance when I work."

"Yay! Oh I swear a low bun looks so hot on you."

And so did the future king become widely recognized not only for his strength, but for his unattainable beauty as well. Mostly thanks to his inherited face, but also partly because of the unmistakable silken darkness of his mane-- long and elegant and swished like tranquil curtains of midnight even as he held destruction in his very palm during his conquest to reclaim their lost lands. The calmness of midnight in the sea of flames and writhing beasts burned into history books as his identity.

... And perhaps it became too much of an identity, for all his children would then go on to inherit his recognizable hair-- much to the delight of his peculiar wife, and much to his despair. He always hoped that at least one would get her bright and lively hair, and not just fill his home with the sullen atmosphere of death.

... No matter. He could always try again. They had all the time in the world together, after all. He would try until the stars blinked out of existence, if he had to.

~~~

Aka my disappointment in love interests cutting their hair for their girl, turned into a one-shot for some reason. I'll stop playing this game if they cut Malleus' or Leona's hair somehow god damn it.

#twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #ventique rambles #malleus x reader #malleyuu

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magicalgirloffduty · 3 days ago

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how do I want the world to see me, and does it match how I see myself?

I want to be hardworking, and although I feel that on the inside I don't feel it shows outwardly, which is something I'm working on...but I think that comes with patience with myself.

how do I show up for others, and how do they show up for me?

I show up for others when I can, at my best I do it emotionally, but at my worst it is physically. I think others show up for me in the same capacity because I hate to ask others for what I cannot return, so in a sense...they show up best in the ways I don't ask?? Haha.

what about my life feels like love and what doesn't?

Love in my life feels like being known and heard. It's the little things. Gifts from conversations just on the edge of recent memory... and understanding even when there is no agreement. Respect... that is a given and not just coming from comparison.

where does my time go, and where do I wish it would go?

My time goes to my writing and my art where I love, whether in my notebook or my laptop. I like it less on my phone, but at emotional lows you can find me there. I wish it would go more to my sense of adventure outside, during the winter I lose that a lot lol!

who do I admire most, and what about them speaks to my soul?

Sometimes? My past self. Who I am during the spring, where I roam around town and take myself on little adventures and dates. Who I am when I'm happy and my mind is a reinforcement of my childhood whimsy and the strength I called upon to defend me. Often, it's my friends who are intelligent, well-spoken people who are well-educated and incredibly kind. Keen to others. I wish I had a better discerning eye, a better sense for lies or malicious intent.

is the way I live aligned with the life I dream of, or am I just coasting?

I think, I am twenty-five percent there and that is the closest I can be for now...so I'm happy with it. If I'm in the same place next year, then I would be sad.

what qualities in others feel the most magnetic to me? Do I reflect those?

Money, power and respect! Along with the emotional intelligence (and the morals to use it wisely.).

I think that I'm working toward it well enough, to earn a place in that space. I hope that by following my own morals and being true to what I believe earns respect. I hope that my education will give me the power to earn money to sustain myself and support myself, so that when I use my power I can do it without risking the people I love or betraying myself.

what’s inside my bag, and what does it say about me? (be honest, even the gum wrappers count.)

My iPad and my keyboard because I'd rather die than not have the chance to write or sketch. My notebook because putting pen to paper is s much better than the Apple Pencil (although typing is faster and easier for my poor hands.). Bandaids for my clumsy ass. Lotion because I'm black <3. A book usually for art studying, japanese... or writing inspo.

if I could script my perfect morning, how would it begin?

I start by taking a big gulp of cold water until I feel like a person again, and then follow it up with a BIG stretch. I don't check my phone and get sucked into texting for an unholy amount of time... and hopefully then I slip out of bed to sit in front of my desk and check my tasks for the day preparing to get some work done with hopefully a plan to eat something light for breakfast....even if eating kind of sucks sometimes.

what passions have I ignored that I would like to reclaim?

Wig styling, lol. I can live with it, but sometimes I think of all the better I'd be if I just... did a liiiiiitttle more. Playing with my kitties more, they deserve some fun.

What’s one small, powerful shift I could make today to move toward my dream life?

Go to bed at a nice time don't force myself to stay up for more entertainment. I wish it was easier to fall asleep on time, clear my head and have nothing I felt I missed out on before I was bed locked. Post this, make use of the blog I'm so excited to use but keep saving for 'the right time.'

write a tender letter to the future version of yourself. What do you hope they’ve become, and what do you want them to remember about now?

Hello future me,

I care about you, I hope you know that. I know you do somewhere in there. I'm doing my best not to fall back on my Vulcan habits and just answer the prompt, looking to please the judges in my mind <3. I hope you've met your academic goals and have some sort of proof to yourself that you've really changed, because that is what that means to you, isn't it? We get a sense of catharsis from this shift in ourselves, even if I worry about when there is less change... I hope we are still confident. Even if things don't go toward our best case, we know who we are (pretty dang resilient, cycle breakers.).

I hope you've finally got past that part in the fanfic that we're super exciting to write, and we have something new and exciting to look forward too, perhaps even a surprise favorite we didn't expect. Most importantly, I hope we get a break from those zombie dreams, I'm not sure how many more outbreaks we can survive!

Oh my gosh? I hope we've made more friends in our area, we don't have to just take ourselves out on fun little adventures, but we have some people to do karaoke with and study with at cute little cafés and update on our art accounts and make fun videos with. I hope we have more to add to our essay, finally post to our YouTube and make something we can watch and be proud of. Look! We found a place to put those dreams and ideas without telling on our selves to people we've learned...don't always root for us... Most importantly, I hope we feel sane. I hope we feel like we can be that person who gets asked out on dates we don't want to go on, approached by strangers because they want to be our friend. That we can drive! Spider-Man finally falls in love with us once he remembers how in love we are (lol.). We remember to use some semicolons instead of commas; like we did just now. That we have a little space to look back on just how far we've come <3.

I want you to remember that today, you got a gift from your friend that was so personal to you, it couldn't have been meant for anyone else, that they thought of you and valued you...and expected nothing in return genuinely. Like you would- and that made you feel like you wanted to do something in return, no matter how late it was. No stress, no pressure for the first time. In the midst of the fact that right now you're not sure if it'll work out, that some things didn't go to plan, and we still made it this far. That we spent all of our free time preparing for this and looking forward to this until eventually school felt less like a place where we felt shame and more like a place to escape when we wanted to do something for ourselves. Before this? When was the last time we felt proud of ourselves? Genuinely, with no voices in our head downplaying it or minimizing it. I hope you can think of one, and it's so recently it's a clear picture in your mind.

Last thing, I look over at our corkboard right now and it's quite barren. Some stuff taken down... sure, like our schedule that we really should be remaking for us or... that tuition dispute we handled like a boss! Mainly, though, because we're once again waiting to add things to it. I hope we didn't push off the 'right time' we're masters of procrastination delegation. Buy that Polaroid camera, get that makeup job! Pin up those goals, and make those conspiracy theories (WE ARE GETTING THAT MOVIE!). Finish that Fic!! and make the next book! DO everything you want! You can, congrats you made it past 18, and now you're 23, happy to be here. That took time. You did it. I hope you know that! I think you just realized that! Go have fun!!!! Right now, I feel proud. If anything, you'll remember this.

Painfully sincerely, Present me-Past you.

Journaling prompts to reinvent yourself ౨ৎ

how do I want the world to see me, and does it match how I see myself?

how do I show up for others, and how do they show up for me?

what about my life feels like love and what doesn't?

where does my time go, and where do I wish it would go?

who do I admire most, and what about them speaks to my soul?

is the way I live aligned with the life I dream of, or a I just coasting?

what qualities in others feel the most magnetic to me? Do I reflect those?

what’s inside my bag, and what does it say about me? (be honest, even the gum wrappers count.)

if I could script my perfect morning, how would it begin?

what passions have I ignored that I would like to reclaim?

what’s one small, powerful shift I could make today to move toward my dream life?

write a tender letter to the future version of yourself. What do you hope they’ve become, and what do you want them to remember about now?

As always, please feel free to share your own prompts and check out my insta for more of me! <3

✩‧₊*:・love ya ･:*₊‧✩

#letter to myself 2024 #offdutymagicalgirl #the city needs saving....#need a speaking tag #crime speaks

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orcasoul · 1 day ago

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The Plus One

Summery: You and Pedro have been in a relationship for a while but for some reason he'd stopped inviting you to social events. Has he grown tired of you...?

Warnings: swearing, angst (because I liiive for it!), mental health issues, low self esteem from reader, caring Pedro, fluff, use of Y/N.

This is inspired by the video of Pedro dancing his arse off at Sarah Paulsons 50th birthday party. God bless this man for randomly inspiring us when he's not even trying to lol.

Word Count: 3,516

It's a quiet evening at home. The living room fireplace is softy blazing, the crackling red and orange flames along with the Christmas tree lights and low lamp light bathes the room in a reposeful ambience. You're snuggled up on the settee in your favourite fluffy Oodie, sipping a hot chocolate as you finish reading a Christmas rom com by one of your favourite authors. And while this is something that usually helps you to unwind at the end of the day, you can't seem to shift that gutting feeling deep down in your stomach. You should have been with Pedro tonight at Sarah's party instead of here alone. With the book finished you're about to check Kindle for your next read but before opening the app, you'd decided to check your notifications on facebook.

Now you wish you hadn't. Of course the first thing to pop up would be a video of Pedro having the time of his life at the party. Not that that is the real issue here. You're not the controlling or possessive type who wants to keep their partner all for yourself and deny them any kind of social life; quite the opposit, in fact. The thing that really hurts, that makes your heart physically ache is that you're never included in Pedro's social events anymore. You would have loved to have been his date to Sarah's party and make memories with him like normal couples do. You've met Sarah on several occasions and the two of you had always got along really well, so why would he rather go alone than bring you?

You've been together for six months now, so it's not like you're in the early stages where you're both yet to meet the others' family and friends. It just doesn't make sense. You had attended a few ceremonies and promotional events for Pedro's movies with him before now and even though they had been quite intense environments to be in, you were just thrilled to be there with him, to support him and show the world how proud you are of him. And you'd like to think that you were adept at hiding the effects that your social anxiety had on you during these occasions. You'd smile, engage in chit chat and if it became too overwhelming you'd always secretly resort to your special coping technique to calm your nerves; stroking slow circles on the palm of your hand.

But it had been months since you'd last attended any events with him and as time goes on it just hurts more and more. You'd hoped time would have made it easier to accept, but truthfully it makes you feel abandoned, insignificant, like you don't belong in his world. Is that it? Is he embarrassed by you? It's true you're both from very different worlds, having met through friends of friends and not through working together in the film industry. Sometimes you still can't understand why he'd chose to be with a nobody like you when he could literally have any woman he wanted. As your mind continues to spiral, taking you to dark places, tears begin to roll down your cheeks.

To love him so much, only to feel it's not enough for him to want you around is... soul crushing. You'd been trying for so long to ignore that niggling little voice in the back of your mind; the one telling you that you aren't good enough for him and there has been times when you'd been able to mute it, especially when you're together and he looks at you with pure adoration in his eyes, or the times he would come home to LA between filming, even if it was just for a couple of days to see you or if he couldn't make it he'd fly you out to the set. No matter what he always made time for your relationship, but only out of the public eye. Pedro has always been a private person, especially when it comes to romantic involvements, but it feels like he's trying to hide you.

And now, this latest video has turned that niggling little voice into a full on megaphone, screaming an endless barrage of ugly truths at you; you're not enough for him. He's bored of you. You're an embarrassment, a stone around his neck. It was only a matter of time. You clutch at your chest as your heart shatters into a thousand pieces, sobs wracking your body. It's over! How could you have not seen it sooner?! He doesn't need you in his life. He's bloody Pedro Pascal for heavens' sake.

You were a delusional fool to ever believe you had anything to offer him. Maybe this is his way of subtly telling you it wasn't working for him anymore. Maybe he'd hoped showing you the stark differences between you both would have made you realise it couldn't continue, and being the kind and gentle man he is, he didn't want to outright dump you and hurt you, so this was the best strategy.

Now your sorrow is tinged with anger. If he wanted to end it all this time he damn well should have had the balls to tell you instead of dragging it out. So, it's down to you now; if he won't do it, you'll have to. Your tablet screen is now shining with your tears. You wipe it dry with your sleeve and throw it down beside you, Knidle well and truly forgotton. Fluffing up a cushion, you curl up on the settee while your broken heart mourns and weeps.

As the party came to an end Pedro couldn't help but feel a little relieved. He'd had a great time and wouldn't have missed one of his best friends' milestone birthdays for the world, but he missed you like hell tonight. He especially felt the sting of your absence when he would see couples dancing or sitting together, hand in hand or snuggling up. He feels selfish, but he wishes you could have been here tonight. And not just tonight, but to all his recent public appearances like the premiers for The Wild Robot and Gladiator 2, but he won't put you through that again.

The guilt still eats away at him when he casts his mind back to the last couple of times you'd attended high profile events with him, even low key and private ones where there isn't a constant blinding flash of cameras. He knows of your struggles with your mental health, in particular with social anxiety (something he can absolutely relate to) and even through your obvious facade he could see what the pressure was doing to you, often feeling a slight tremble in your hand while laced with his. He could see the difference between your forced smile and your genuine smile; the one that would make your eyes sparkle and he could lose himself in them completely.

But the worst thing was when you start rubbing the palm of your hand over and over when you'd thought he wasn't watching. He knew then it was all becoming too much for you and that's when he'd decided that he won't be selfish anymore, that he had to prioritise your well being and comfort before his own and if that meant attending ceremonies and large gatherings alone, so be it. Of course, he always felt incomplete without you at his side, but your needs far outweigh his own as far as he's concerned. Knowing he can shield you from even a fraction of discomfort makes the sacrifice worth it.

After slipping into his jacket, Pedro found Sarah at the front door of her house, waving some guests off. Wrapping her in a big hug, he said, "Happy birthday again, sweetie and thanks for inviting me." Sarah returned the hug. "I'm so glad you came, but I missed seeing Y/N tonight. How is she?" Pedro couldn't hold back the grin that broke out across his face at the mention of your name. "She's great. I wanted to bring her tonight, but I think the crowd would have been too much for her." Sarah smiled endearingly at her friend. "You really do love her, don't you?" Pedro chuckled. "What makes you say that?"

"Oh no reason..." she smirked. " Only that I've never seen you so smitten and protective over any other woman in all the years I've known you. You've got it bad." Pedro rolled his eyes, playfully. "Yeah, I guess I do." "So, what are you waiting for?" Sarah crossed her arms over her chest. "What are you talking about?" Pedro asked, knowing exactly what she meant. "You've been carrying that ring around with you for weeks now and still haven't asked her. What's holding you back?" Pedro shifted uncomfortably, putting his hands in his pockets.

"Just worried about her, that's all. The moment word gets out of an engagement, paparazzi will be circling like vultures. I don't just want her overwhelmed." "I think you underestimate her," Sarah began, "I don't think she'd ever let her anxiety get in the way of being with you. It's obvious how much she loves you. In fact when I'm around you two for too long, the sweetness gives me temporary diabetes." Pedro let out a deep belly laugh at that, drawing one from Sarah in return.

"Just do it..." she urged, gently. "You know she'll say yes." Pedro smiled and nodded, "I know." "Well..." Sarah yawned, "Get out of here. I'm fifty now and need my beauty sleep." She gave Pedro another hug. "So, I'll see you and Y/N for lunch next week?" "Sure," Pedro replied, "Goodnight, sweetie." He waved as he walked to his car. "Night," Sarah called out before closing the door.

Settling in his car, Pedro connected his phone to the car speaker and rang your phone. He promised he'd call after the party to say goodnight and couldn't wait to hear your voice. But as soon as you answered, he knew something was wrong. "Hey baby, everything okay?" he asked, worridly. His worry only increased when you cleared your throat, trying to hide the tremble in your voice. "Yeah um... I'm fine." You most definitely aren't fine! "You're a shit liar, you know that?" Pedro says, lightheartedly to help put you at ease. Now his tone turns more serious. "Tell me what's wrong." Silence... "Y/N? You're starting to scare me now." "I told you I'm fine. I'm just... tired." You tried to sound convincing but failed, spectacularly.

"I'm coming over -" "No!" Your abrupt outburst silenced Pedro. You've never turned him away in all the months you've been together. "It's... uh... it's late. You should just get home safe." Pedro sighed. "I know something's wrong and if you won't tell me on the phone I'm coming over." At that, you burst into tears. A pang shot straight through Pedro's heart at the sound of you crying. "Hey, baby, talk to me!" he pled. "What happened?" In between the the sniffling your voice became strained. "I didn't want to do this over the phone." Pedro suddenly had a sinking feeling in his gut, not liking the tone of this conversation. "Do what?" he asked, hesitantly. "Its..." sniffle, "It's over."

If Pedro hadn't already been sitting in the car his legs would have given out on him! "W- what?!" he stuttered in disbelief. "What do you mean it's over?!" His hands gripped the steering wheel for support. Where the fuck did this come from all of a sudden?! "Please..." you whispered, sounding mentally drained. "Don't pretend you didn't know this was coming. If you don't want me anymore you should have said something sooner." Pdero jerked his head back, blinking in shock. "What the hell are you talking about, Y/N?" You are full on sobbing now, your words just an unintelligible jumble. "I'm coming over, right now!" "No, please-" "I'm coming over!" he cut you off bluntly and hung up the phone.

His hands shook as he started up the engine and it took all of his willpower to not floor it to your house. Getting pulled over for speeding is the last thing he needs right now. The whole way over, his mind was a frantic mess. What could have happened between the last time he saw you (which was only yesterday) and now? Did he say something? Do something? When he got to your house, he practically flew from the car, his fist pounding on your front door almost as hard as his heart was pounding behind his ribs. "Baby open up, please. I'm not leaving until you talk to me." A few moments later the door cracked open and there you stood, puffy eyed and blotchy faced. Your lips had swollen and your nose shone red from crying.

Pedro could have cried himself from the state you're in. Without a second thought he pushed his way through the door and swept you into his arms, cupping the back of your head to his chest. To his relief, instead of pushing him away, you encircled your arms around his waist, holding him tight. He reached back to close the door behind him, then guided you to the setee, sitting beside you. "Now, what's all this about, hmm? I know this isn't what you really want." You shook your head, a small humourless laugh escaping you. "Of course it's not, but deep down I think it's what you want."

Pedro's forefinger gently tipped your chin up so you were looking into his eyes; big puppy dog eyes filled hurt, confusion and fear. "What I want?" His bottom lip twitched as if he was lost for words. You nod, wiping your cheeks. "W- why would you ever think something like that, sweetheart?" Pedro's shocked expression now has you doubting yourself. Were you wrong? But how could you be? For a while, you've been trying to ignore the feeling that he was slipping away but looking at him now... It's like he'd never even entertained the idea of leaving you. All this uncertainty is giving you whiplash and you can't hold it in anymore. You need to get everything off your chest.

"I..." you trail off as you feel more tears gathering, ready to pour out along with all your insecurities. "...I feel like you don't want me around anymore..." you begin, chest shuddering with nerves and hiccups. "You never invite me to anything, whether it's to do with your public life or even your social life. I'm never included like a partner should be. I need you to be honest... Are you ashamed of me? Because sometimes I feel like you don't want to be seen with me and that you've been pulling away..." You're rambling now, but you just can't stop. "I know I'm not on the same level as you and there are so many beautiful women out there throwing themselves at your feet. Maybe I don't belong in your world. Maybe I'm not enough for you-" Pedro's hands on either side of your face stops your self deprecating tirade.

"Baby, don't you ever put yourself down like that again, you hear me?" You're shocked to see Pedro's cheeks are now wet too. "I'm sorry. Fucking hell! I'm so sorry I made you feel that way. I thought I was protecting you this whole time." "Protecting me?" you ask in bewilderment. Pedro gave you a sad smile. "I Know from years of experience that being in the spotlight is tough. It can be draining and I could see how hard it was for you." Pedro took one of your hands and turned it over, rubbing slow circles into your palm. When you realised what he meant by that action, he nodded and kissed your forehead.

"I know you tried to hide it from me, but I noticed every time." "I'm sorry," you mumbled, shame burning your cheeks. "No." Pedro squeezed your hand. "You never apologise for that. I'm the one who's sorry. I was afraid if I mentioned it, you deny it for my sake, so I stopped asking you to come with me thinking it was the best thing for you." Pedro exhaled and your heart ached for him, seeing the guilt and remorse crushing him. "I didn't think it would have looked like I never want you around, 'cause the truth is I miss you, EVERY GODDAMN TIME I have to attend these things without you. I want you with me, now and forever. I'll tell you what..." he looked to be carefully considering his next words. "if you feel up for it, come with me to the next event and if you feel overwhelmed at any point, you tell me and we'll take some time out or even leave."

More tears fall, but this time from sheer relief. You hadn't realised you'd dropped your head again until Pedro, once again, lifted your chin. He looked into your eyes with a fierce and passionate determination. "Now, I'll say this only once; I'm not ashamed of you, we are on the same level, you are more than enough for me and you ARE my world. I love you, so much!" You couldn't fight the beaming smile that practically split your face and you grabbed Pedro by the collar of his jacket, crashing your lips against his.

A surprised "Oomph!" came from his throat and you felt him smile against your mouth. His hands slid to your waist and he pulled you flush to his upper body. His tongue licked your lips and you opened them, allowing him to deepen then kiss; a kiss filled with love, reassurance and a promise of forever. Pedro then broke the kiss, pulling you into a hug. "I love you too," you whispered into his ear. "And I'm sorry, I should have told you how I was feeling instead of keeping it from you." Pedro cupped your cheek, wiping away a tear. "I'm sorry too, for making that decision for you instead of talking to you."

You let out a lighthearted chuckle, Pedro's frown softening at the sound. "I guess it was just bad communication on both our parts." "Yeah..." he agreed. "Let's make a promise to each other, right now; that we'll always be open and honest with each other and not keep things bottled up." "I promise," you smile and kiss the tip of his nose. "And I promise, too," he returned the kiss. With all the tension drained from your body, you suddenly feel exhausted and can't stop the big yawn taking over you. Pedro smiled at you, adoringly. "I think we should get you to bed, sweetheart." He stood up, picking you up off the setee and made his way to your bedroom.

"Will you stay tonight?" You whisper as you snuggle into his neck, inhaling the scent you love so much. "Of course I will." He kissed the crown of your head. While you used the bathroom, pedro changed into a pair of PJ bottoms and an old T-shirt he'd left here for when he'd stay over. He used the bathroom after you, rushing through brushing his teeth just so he could return to you sooner. Walking into the bedroom, he laughed to himself when all could see was your eyes peeking at him from the edge of the quilt, which was pulled up to cover your nose. God, you look adorable. Your eyes creased in the corners as you laughed under the cover, then pulled it away for him to settle in next to you.

Pedro laid on his back, lifting his arm for you to snuggle into him. Sighing happily, you lay your head on his broad chest and lace a leg over his hips, the steady thump of his heartbeat and the warmth of his body soothing you instantly. "I love you." You tipped your head up to kiss him softly on his lips. "I love you too," he purred, tightening his arms around you. It didn't take you more than ten minutes to drop off, judging by your slow breaths. Pedro, on the other hand, stayed awake long after you'd dropped off, just relishing the feeling of holding you in his arms. He feels sick to his stomach when he thinks about how close he came to losing you tonight, and all because of a misunderstanding.

He thinks of the ring he's been carrying around, how he almost lost the opportunity to give it to you. Well, he won't wait any longer. If tonight has taught him anything, it's that nothing is guaranteed in life and, even though he never once doubted you'd say yes, just your devastated reaction to believing you'd lost him proves that you love and need him as much as he does you. Tomorrow he'll ask you; He'll wine and dine you at your favourite restaurant, take you on a stroll along the beach and then, he'll get down on one knee and invite you to share the rest of your life with him.

@greenwitchfromthewoods @picketniffler @liciafonseca @misscornelia13 @missadangel @southernbe

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal fanfic #pedrohub #pedrito #pedro pascal fic

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harringtonsbnbg · 1 day ago

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Juno • S.H

♡ a/n: oh hi! my first steve oneshot ever! I'm a little bit nervous but drunk enough to not care! hope however read this, likes it!

♡ pairing: boyfriend!steve x girlfriend!reader

♡ summary: While waiting for Steve’s pie to get ready, you and him spend some time together, talking about (and experiencing) making babies together.

♡ warnings: inspired by the song Juno by Sabrina Carpenter, established relationship, kissing, no use of y/n, SMUT, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), breeding kink, pillow talk, breef talk of pregnancy. This onesehot is +18, therefore MDNI!

♡ word count: 1700k

♡ dividers by: @cafekitsune

“I can feel you staring, you know?”

You couldn't help it, not when Steve was bending over the balcony of his kitchen, carefully cutting out the pie dough to make some kind of pie art that he insisted to keep as a surprise from you.

“Oh I do, but you know, your butt looks really amazing on those pants”

“Oh my god, you're making me feel so objectified right now.” He scoffed.

You let out a laugh as you let your head fall back, and waited patiently for Steve to finish his handmade art. You got back to your book, quickly remembered since you couldn't stare at your boyfriend for too long.

As the minutes passed by you got immersed in the story, not hearing Steve closing the oven, or even his steps to your direction, surprising you as he laid between your legs on the couch. You raised the book to the height of your forehead, making a little book cabin, and Steve got even closer as he passed under it.

“Hi” He said as your noses touched.

“Hi, pretty” You smiled.

He kissed you softly, not a worry in the world as he was in the arms of his favorite person, with a delicious pie ready in about 30 minutes.

You closed the book and put it away on the coffee table, running a hand through his hair and the other on his soft cheek.

You let out a sigh followed by a whine when he squeezed your waist, deepening the kiss and let his tongue roll over your mouth.

God, you love him so much, that sometimes feels like words weren't enough, you needed to show him physically, you wished he could mark you forever, and you him. As delusional as it sounds, you wished you could impregnate him, but were also happy with the idea of him impregnating you.

As Steve leads a trace of hot, open mouth kisses through your jaw and neck, you let your mind wonder, already drunk in love and lust.

“I love when you do that” You said, feeling Steve work harder on a spot to leave it a mark.

He hummed and then asked “Why is that?”

“Because you always leave a mark. I love it, it feels like you are marking me forever.”

Your doe passionate eyes made his stomach flip, and Steve wondered if he could possibly be more in love with you.

Kissing him again, this time hungrier and if it's possible, more love, you let your hands travel down his shirt, going under it to gently scratch the skin on his ribs, making him shiver.

“I wish I could mark you forever.” Steve said in a brief moment when his mouth wasn't glued to your body.

Taking off his shirt and helping you with yours, Steve came down to your chest, feeling the hot skin and your hard nipples against him. With the urge to feel him closer, you started to push his sweater pants and boxers down, signaling to him to do the same with your pants.

Retracting your hands from his waistband, Steve only took off your clothes, with patience and a grin on his face.

“Calm down baby, we're in no rush.”

You whine and was about to protest when he went down at your nipples, nibbling and sucking with such desire, taking his time with each one of them, then leaving a track of kisses and bites all over your stomach and inner thighs, getting closer to your core and making you shiver and squirm under his touch.

Wasting no time, Steve got between your legs in a heartbeat, working his lips and tongue, as you were sighing and finding his hair to pull.

With one hand looking for yours to interlace your fingers, his other was at your entrance, circling around, threatening to get in just to see your frustrating face when he didn't.

“Steve…” You tried to sound like a threat, but it came out as a desperate moan.

As he sucked your clit harder, his fingers finally founded their way in, making you gasp and pull at his hair with satisfaction, letting the most filthy sounds escape your open mouth.

You clenched around his fingers and buckled up your hips in his direction, in a urge to find even more pleasure, feeling Steve curving his fingers inside you.

“Yeah…” You sighed. “You’re always making me feel so good.”

“I know baby, it’s because I love you so much.”

Changing the pace of his tongue and the angle of his fingers, Steve was making you feel overwhelmed, rolling your eyes and letting out the pathetic moans and whines that he loved so much to hear. Steve moved your intertwined hands to your lower belly, applying pressure and making you get to the final stroke, moving your hips in his direction as you let out a high pitched moan and let your eyes roll to the back of your head, feeling overwhelmed when he didn't stop stimulating you.

Your hands find his cheeks to push him up, smiling as you see his face half covered in your shining juices. As you open your mouth to speak, Steve attacks your lips in a hurry, passionate and deliciously wet kiss, making you gasp and melt again on his arms.

You could feel his hard dick every time he would stroke his hips into yours, and as you push your hips up as well, Steve fought hard for not to come in his pants.

Breaking up the kiss, he swiftly let go of his sweatpants and underwear, leaving his more than ready member free, gasping as it made contact with your warm tight. Your right hand grab his dick, slowly stroking it’s already wet tip, spreading his pre cum along his lenght. Steve let out a moan whenever your tumb come by his tip, and you just love hearing him beg for you to do something about his painful boner.

Feeling satisfied with his misery, you led his dick to you entrace, sighing when Steve start pushing into you and making you feel full. When he was fully inside, you pushed him into a hearty kiss that turn into a mess of moans and sighs as he start moving ina delicious and slow pace.

“Have you ever imagined-” You interrupted yourself with a high pungent moan when Steve touched a specific spot inside you. “Have you ever imagined what our kids would look like?”

“Don’t say that.” Steve whined as he melted and hide his face in the conjecture of your neck and shoulder.

“I’m serious, imagine two of me to make you go crazy. You would die!” You smiled trhough your panting breath.

“Oh, I would die with a smile.” Steve kissed your cheek. “I think about it every time baby, you have no idea how much I dream about it.”

You got lost in your line of though when your boyfriend change the pace, fast and mercly hitting your favorite spot, making you leave half moon marks on his back, showing the amount of pleasure he was giving to you.

“Would you let me but some babies inside you, my love?” He asked, the front of his face glued to the side of yours, following the movements of your body.

“Yes, please! I’m dying for you to give me more than butterflies!” You got your eyes rolling just thinking about it.

“Oh God, I’m going to fill you up every night, until you’re full with our babies” You feel yourself clenching around him at his words, and his strokes started to come in a erratic rhythm.

“Stevie!” You whined when Steve found your weak spot righ under your ear, and combined with his tumb over your clit was making you close to reach your second orgasm.

With Steve hitting you so deeply while his hand worked hard on your clit and his mouth on your neck, you couldn’t take for too long until you started combusting in a hot mess of moans and whines with him, feeling his cum going deep inside you when he kept stroking, making sure every last drop wouldn’t got to waste.

You search for his face that was hiding in your neck, longing for a kiss wicht he gave to you without a second though, melting into it with and let his body relax on top of yours.

“I meant it” You say as your both breaths got serene. “I’ve been imagining what they would look like, and I’m getting lovesick over perfect little versions of us who doesn't even exist yet!”

“I meant it too, babe.” Steve got out of the crook of your neck to look into your eyes. “I dream about having kids with you basically since the day we’ve met.”

“Well I guess we’ll just to try every single freaky position out there, just to make sure, right?”

“Yeah right, couldn’t loose the chance!” Steve attack your face with kisses as you let out a laugh, pulling his hair.

The timer of the oven going off got you out of your little buble, forcing Steve to detlange himself from you as he rushed to get his pie before it burns.

“No! Stay for like, five more minutes!” You pout.

“I know this trap already babe,” He laughed. “Come with me, I made it just for you!”

He pulled his sweatpants back on and you grabbed his shirt and underwear, rushing after him to the kitchen, patiently waiting for him to reveal the secret adornments he had made on the top of the pie. When Steve pulled the pie out of the oven, you just wanted to jump on him out of cuteness and love, God he knew how to be adorable.

The dough that sat on the top of the pie was full of heart shaped pieces, adorning even the edges that started to turn into a darker shade, and you cold see the cherry filling through some blank spaces.

“Oh Steve, this is so adorably beautiful, I love it!” You could cry out of his sweetness with you. “I love you. So much.”

You kissed him passionately, wishing you could transfer all your love through it.

“I think I love you more, I mean look at this pie, you think you can compete with that?”

thank you for reading! if you enjoy it, likes and reblogs are always appreciated! see you soon!

#steve harrington x reader #fanfic #steve harrington smut #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #oneshot #juno #smut

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yaniluvs · 3 days ago

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𝒾𝒾 ┆ ⋆.˚ ⚾️ 승민 : AS WE ARE “ 𝑏𝘰𝘰𝑘𝑠, 𝑝𝑢𝑝𝑝𝑖𝑒𝑠, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝑢𝑛𝑠𝑒𝘵𝑠 𝑏𝑢𝘵 𝘵ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑝𝑒𝘰𝑝𝑙𝑒. ” ── baseball guy bumps into you twice in the same day, first the library and then the pathway outside a convenience store, but maybe you get to know him better?

prev. | index | next ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

𓍯 baseballcapt!seungmin ʚଓ fem!reader ：（ 𝒾 ）4.1k ── ༯ SERIES (?) uni au, slow paced & slow burn, curiosity, fluff, strangers to friends to ???, small town, slight angst, language, skz ensemble, very long, y/n is a foreigner/has mixed ethnicity. ⸝⸝𓂃 LiBRARY . /ᐠ.ꞈ.ᐟ\ྀིྀི

yani's note ˖˙ ᰋ as we are mv, i love you. i want it tattooed in my head. my heart too. had fun writing this chapter, sorry for the delay!! here you go <3 also, i just crossed 300 followers? really? if you know, i did just pass 200 like two days ago. thank you so much. this really motivates me TT. comments, likes, req/asks and reblogs are always appreciated ! send in a reply or an ask if you want to be in my mastertag, or my individual series' taglists. happy reading <3

the library was quiet, the kind of quiet that felt like it was carved out of the world itself. sunlight streamed in through the large windows, casting soft patterns on the wooden floors. it wasn’t a large library—small, cozy, and tucked away at the edge of the town, mostly frequented by students and a few older residents who enjoyed its peaceful atmosphere.

seungmin pushed open the door, a soft chime ringing as he stepped inside. he didn’t particularly enjoy coming here—it wasn’t exactly his scene—but he had a book to return, one his friend had borrowed under his name. as usual, he wore his baseball cap low, the brim shading his face, as he approached the front desk.

a blonde was sitting behind the counter, his deep voice calm as he hummed a tune to himself while stamping books. seungmin placed the book on the counter, nodding slightly.

“returning this,”

felix looked up briefly, gave a small nod, and reached for the book without much thought. “got it.”

the guy turned away without another word, heading toward the shelves by the windows. it had been a while since he’d been here, and he didn’t remember much about the layout, but he found a stool near an aisle and sank down onto it. pulling a small notebook from his jacket pocket, he uncapped his pen and began writing.

he always wrote when things felt too noisy inside his head. the notebook held snippets of his thoughts, observations, and, lately, small moments he hadn’t been able to forget—like her.

behind the counter, felix finished sorting the returned books before glancing at the time. it was quiet enough that he decided to assign someone the task of checking on the lone customer.

“y/n,” he called, his voice low so as not to disturb the silence.

she turned from the bookshelf she was organizing, brushing her hands on her skirt. “yeah?”

“there’s someone by the windows. go check if they need anything,” felix said, gesturing lazily toward the back of the library. “seems like he’s settled in, but we’re supposed to, you know, do our job.”

the girl rolled her eyes with a small smile. “fine. anything else, your majesty?”

felix smirked. “just be your usual charming self.”

she shook her head, adjusting the loose cardigan over her blouse as she walked toward the windows. the aisle was bathed in golden light, and at first, she only saw the figure sitting on the stool, hunched slightly over something in his hands. it wasn’t until she got closer that she froze.

seungmin?

he didn’t notice her at first, too focused on whatever he was writing. his profile was sharper in the soft light, the cap hiding most of his messy brown hair. she hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to speak, but curiosity got the better of her.

“so you come to libraries now too?”

her voice was soft but laced with a playful edge, and seungmin startled slightly, his head snapping up. his dark eyes widened for a fraction of a second before narrowing in faint recognition.

“you,” he said flatly, closing his notebook as if on instinct. “what are you doing here?”

y/n tilted her head, her grin widening. “i work here.”

he blinked, clearly caught off guard. “work here?”

“yup,” she said, crossing her arms. “not that you’d know, considering you don’t seem to come here much.”

“i don’t,” he admitted, leaning back slightly on the stool. “this isn’t really my thing.”

“i can see.. then what brings you here today?”

“returning a book,” he said simply, tapping the closed notebook against his knee.

she raised an eyebrow, taking a step closer. “you don’t strike me as the type to rent books, either.”

“well, it wasn’t mine,” he clarified. “a friend borrowed it under my name.”

“ah,” she said, nodding. “makes sense. still, didn’t think i’d see you here.”

“same,” he replied, his tone neutral but his gaze steady on her. “i didn’t know you worked here.”

“well, it is a new job,” she said, shrugging lightly. “started about a week ago. felix and i both work part time, after uni.”

“felix?”

“the guy at the front desk,” she explained. “my best friend. he’s nice—well, mostly,” she added with a small laugh.

seungmin didn’t comment on that, his eyes flickering toward the front desk briefly before settling back on her.

“alright, mr. mysterious,” she said, tilting her head playfully, “if you’re not here to rent books or socialize, what’s the notebook for? don’t think i didn’t notice you scribbling something down.”

seungmin’s fingers tightened slightly around the notebook resting on his knee, and for a moment, it seemed like he wasn’t going to answer. finally, he shrugged, his voice low. “just… thoughts. random things.”

“random, huh?” she echoed, leaning forward just enough to tease without invading his space. “like what? are you secretly writing the next great novel?”

he huffed, the faintest hint of a smirk ghosting across his lips. “no.”

“then poetry?” she guessed, her eyes sparkling. “or are you jotting down world domination plans? oh, wait! is it—”

“it’s none of those,” he interrupted, his tone firm but not unkind.

“you’re no fun.”

“you talk too much,”

“i’ve been told that before,” she replied, unfazed. “but come on, i’m curious! what could possibly be so secretive that you can’t share with your friendly neighborhood library worker?”

he gave her a long, measured look, as if debating whether or not to humor her. “it’s just a journal,” he admitted finally, his voice barely above a murmur. “nothing special.”

her expression softened at that, and she straightened slightly. “a journal?”

“yeah,” he said, his eyes dropping to the notebook. “helps me think.”

“that’s actually… really cool,” she said, her voice sincere. “i’ve tried keeping journals before, but i always end up doodling in the margins or writing nonsense.”

seungmin glanced at her, his brow raising slightly. “why?”

“i guess i’m too impatient,” she said with a small laugh. “my thoughts move faster than my pen can keep up.”

he didn’t respond, but there was something in his gaze that made her feel like he understood.

they fell into a comfortable silence again, the soft rustling of pages and distant hum of felix’s humming at the front desk filling the space. y/n leaned back against the shelf, her arms crossed loosely, and studied him for a moment.

“you’re a quiet one, huh?” she said finally, her tone light.

“we're in a library.”

“oh my bad. no! but still, in the field-”

“is that a problem?”

“not at all,” she said quickly, smiling. “it’s just… different. most people i know are always trying to fill the silence, you know? but you’re just okay with it.”

seungmin shrugged, his gaze shifting to the window. “silence is easier.”

“easier than what?”

“than talking.”

she blinked at the honesty in his reply, her teasing smile softening into something more thoughtful. “i guess i can see that,” she said quietly. “but talking isn’t so bad, you know. especially when the person you’re talking to isn’t half bad.”

he looked at her then, his dark eyes steady and unreadable. “you think so?”

“obviously,” she said with a grin, trying to lighten the mood. “i mean, you’re tolerating me, and that’s saying something.”

seungmin’s lips twitched, the closest thing to a smile she’d seen from him. “you’re persistent, i’ll give you that.”

“thank you,” she said, pretending to curtsy dramatically. “i’ll take that as a compliment.”

they stayed like that for a while, the silence between them growing less like a void and more like a bridge. y/n found herself wondering what he was thinking, what stories were tucked away in that notebook of his.

“so,” she said eventually, her voice soft, “if you don’t come here often, where do you usually go?”

he hesitated, his fingers idly tapping the edge of the notebook. “the field. or home.”

“not much of an explorer, huh?”

“not really.”

“well,” she said, her tone brightening, “i'm no dora but if you ever feel like venturing out, i know a all the good spots. i mean, i do live here since i was three, and i do work here now, so you’ll know where to find me.”

seungmin looked at her, his gaze lingering for a moment before he nodded slightly. “okay, but don't take my word for it.”

“already ahead of 'ya!” she beamed.

“y/n!” she heard her friend's voice calling her, it immediately widening her eyes.

“well,” she said, pushing off the shelf and clasping her hands behind her back, quickly “excuse um.. felix.” she clears her throat awkwardly. “i should probably get back to work before felix yells at me, again.”

“you should.”

“i should..”

seungmin huffed softly, shaking his head.

“see you around, car girl,” he corrected quietly, almost to himself.

she froze, turning back to face him. “what did you just call me?”

he looked up, his expression unreadable but his tone steady. “car girl. suits you.”

y/n blinked, her cheeks warming slightly. “i—well—okay. i guess i’ll take it.”

“see you around, mysterious baseball guy,” she said, flashing him a playful grin as she started to walk away. “what? you get what you give.”

he raised an eyebrow. “mysterious baseball guy, really?”

she grinned. “well, you called me ‘car girl,’ didn’t you? it’s only fair.”

he shook his head, but there was the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips as he replied, “sure. see you, car girl.”

and for the first time, as she walked back to the front desk, she felt like something between them had shifted—softly, subtly, but undeniably.

she turned again, her heart fluttering inexplicably as she walked back to the front desk. felix raised an eyebrow as she returned, but she waved him off, not ready to explain the strange, quiet boy sitting by the window.

seungmin stayed where he was, his pen hovering over the open page of his notebook. slowly, deliberately, he wrote,

car girl.

the air outside the convenience store carried a faint chill, the kind that hinted at winter’s slow approach. y/n stepped out, balancing the plastic bag of groceries on her hip while holding her phone in her other hand. the sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky a gradient of pale blue and deep indigo, and the streetlights had just started flickering on.

she didn’t notice it at first, not until she heard a faint whimper. a stray puppy. it was small, shivering by the edge of the pavement, its thin brown fur offering little protection against the cool evening air.

“oh, you poor baby,” she murmured, immediately setting down her bags and crouching to its level. the pup looked up at her with wary eyes, its ears pinned back, but it didn’t run.

“hey, it’s okay,” she said softly, reaching out a hand. “i won’t hurt you.”

the puppy sniffed cautiously before stepping closer, its small tail wagging hesitantly. she smiled, her heart melting as she stroked its head gently.

“you must be starving,” she said, trying to converse with the dog, glancing at the convenience store behind her. you can call her idiotic, but hey, she's a sunshine! “wait here, okay? i’ll get you something.”

she straightened, leaving the groceries by the curb as she darted back inside. when she returned a few minutes later, she had a packet of wet dog food and a disposable bowl. she opened the packet, her fingers fumbling slightly in her hurry, and poured the food into the bowl.

“there you go,” she said, setting it down.

the puppy sniffed the bowl before diving in, eating with the kind of desperation that made her chest ache.

“slow down, buddy,” she said gently, laughing softly. “it’s not going anywhere.”

as she watched the puppy eat, she pulled out one of the ice creams that she'd got from the cvs, peeling the lid off and taking a small bite. the cold sweetness melted on her tongue, and for a moment, she let herself enjoy the simple pleasure of the moment.

“y/n?”

the familiar voice startled her, and she turned quickly, her eyes widening as she spotted seungmin standing a few feet away. he had his hands in the pockets of his jacket, his baseball cap pulled low, and his expression was unreadable as always.

“seungmin?” she said, blinking. “what are you doing here?”

“could ask you the same thing,” he replied, stepping closer, crouching down beside her. his eyes flicked to the puppy, which was still happily eating. “who's this?”

“well, a stray,” she said, brushing her hands on her skirt as she still stood crouched. “i found it shivering out here. couldn’t just leave it.”

he crouched down, studying the puppy with quiet interest. “you have a thing for strays, don’t you?”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“first a stray guy, now a stray pup,” he said, glancing up at her with a faint smirk.

“are you calling yourself a stray? am i hearing you right? also- you're not.. stray, you’re just selectively social.” y/n blinked before laughing, her cheeks warming slightly.

“is that what you’re calling it?” he muttered, but his tone was light.

“well, maybe, i just have a thing for dog-like people.”

“are you calling me a dog?”

“yes. i mean- no, but yeah! i mean, look at you. your side profile looks like one of an adorable dog's.”

“so first you call me a dog, and second, you're calling me cute?”

“did i stutter?”

“bold.”

“no, just truthful.”

the puppy finished eating and looked up at seungmin, its tail wagging tentatively. he reached out a hand, letting it sniff him before scratching behind its ears.

“cute,” he said simply, glancing over to her then back at the puppy, his voice soft.

y/n smiled, watching the scene unfold. there was something about the way he moved, so careful and deliberate, that made her heart feel strange.

“do you a dog of your own at home?”

“what makes you say that?”

“you're petting it well, like a true owner.” she grinned, shrugging. “or is it just your dog-like instincts, after all you are interacting with your kind.”

“if you don't stop-”

then came a tiny bark, from the puppy, looking at the two as they turned their heads.

“what? don't tell me you want more?”

woof.

one cvs pet-cup later.

“i got ice cream,” she said after a moment, holding up the second ice cream cup. “want some?”

he glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. “ice cream? in this weather?”

“it’s never the wrong time for ice cream,” she said firmly. “besides, i got chocolate. don’t tell me you don’t like chocolate.”

“i don’t dislike it,” he said, standing and taking the cup from her. “thanks.”

they stood side by side, leaning against the railing by the curb as they ate. the dog lay down at their feet, looking content for the first time that evening.

“so,” y/n said, breaking the comfortable silence. “what brings you out here?”

“groceries,” he said, nodding toward a small bag he’d set down earlier.

“for your family?”

“my dorm-mate and i,” he said simply, taking a small bite of the ice cream.

“oh, i see, you're a good friend and dorm-mate then, huh?” she teased, nudging him lightly with her elbow.

he shrugged, his expression unreadable. “i can't cook without burning the kitchen down and i owe the guy for cooking everytime.”

“you baseball types are all the same.”

“excuse me?”

“my grandpa used to be on a big player back in the day, and surprise surprise, he can't cook for a living either.”

“hey, it's called a skill. you can't balance two at once, can you?”

“i cook the best stews, well after my grandma. and i'm a commerce student.”

“it differs each person.”

“whatever you say, baseball guy.”

they fell into silence again, the kind that felt less like an absence of words and more like an understanding. y/n finished her ice cream and bent down to pick up the empty dog bowl, her cardigan slipping off one shoulder in the process.

seungmin’s gaze flickered to her then, lingering for a moment longer than it should have. the way her hair fell loosely around her face, the way her eyes softened as she looked at the pup—it was a kind of beauty that felt unassuming, effortless.

when she straightened and caught him staring, he looked away quickly, his ears turning slightly pink beneath his cap.

“you’re quiet again,” she said, tilting her head. “what’s on your mind?”

“nothing,” he said quickly, his voice a little too sharp.

she didn’t press, though she smiled knowingly. “you’re hard to figure out, you know that?”

“good,” he muttered, finishing the last of his ice cream.

she laughed, the sound light and musical. “well, i think i’m getting there. slowly but surely.”

the puppy yawned, curling up at their feet, and y/n crouched down again, running a hand over its back. “you think it has a home?” she asked softly.

“doesn’t look like it,” seungmin said, his tone quieter now.

“i wish i could take it in,” she said, her voice tinged with sadness. “but my grandparents… i know they’d be thrilled about a puppy in the house, but they're already busy to take care of it. and i have uni.”

he didn’t respond immediately, his gaze fixed on the dog. “it’s lucky you found it,” he said after a moment. “not everyone would stop.”

she looked up at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. “i guess i just can’t help it,” she said with a small smile. “things like this make me… happy, you know? helping.”

he met her gaze then, his dark eyes steady. “yeah. i can see that.”

for a moment, neither of them spoke, the world around them fading into the background. it was just the two of them, the quiet, and the warmth of something unspoken but undeniable.

“well,” y/n said eventually, breaking the spell, “i should probably get this little guy to a shelter or something.”

“i’ll come with you,” seungmin said, his voice firm.

she blinked. “are you seriously offering to hang out with me?”

“i want to help the puppy. you're just a.. plus one deal.” he said, cutting her off.

“yeah, right.” her cheeks warmed again, but she nodded, her smile soft. “okay. let’s go.”

as they walked down the quiet street, the dog trotting happily between them, y/n found herself stealing glances at seungmin. for all his gruffness and quiet ways, there was something about him that made her want to know more.

and though he didn’t say much, the way his gaze softened when he looked at her made her think he felt the same.

the streetlights cast a warm glow as y/n and seungmin walked side by side, the stray dog happily trotting between them. the soft hum of the town at night—distant cars, the faint buzz of streetlights—filled the silence. it wasn’t uncomfortable, though; it felt like the kind of quiet you could sink into, where words weren’t necessary but still welcome.

she pulled her phone out of her pocket, glancing at the time. “i should call my grandparents. let them know i’ll be a bit late.”

seungmin looked at her briefly, his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets. “you don’t have to explain to me.”

she smirked at his dry tone. “well, i wasn’t asking for permission, mr. quiet.”

he huffed softly, his version of a laugh, and she pressed the call button.

the phone barely rang before a warm, slightly teasing voice came through. “y/n, where are you? you said you’d be back by now.”

“sorry, grandpa! i got caught up with something. i’ll explain when i get back.”

her grandfather’s voice softened. “caught up, huh? does this ‘something’ involve a certain baseball boy?”

her face burned instantly, and she shot seungmin a quick glance. thankfully, he seemed entirely focused on the dog. “gramps!” she hissed into the phone, her voice barely above a whisper.

“what?” her grandfather replied, feigning innocence. “i’m just asking.”

“you're impossible,” she muttered, her cheeks still warm. “and no, this has nothing to do with him. i just—uh—found a puppy. a stray. i’m taking it to a shelter.”

“a stray puppy? and you’re walking around this late?”

“i’m fine, grandpa,” she reassured him quickly. “i’m not alone.”

the pause on the other end of the line was telling. then, her grandmother's voice came instead, even more excited. “so, it is the baseball boy! isn’t it?”

“i'll see you later, gramma!” she said quickly, her voice rising slightly in embarrassment.

“hey! be safe. and bring the puppy if the shelter doesn’t take it.”

she hung up, letting out a deep sigh and pinching the bridge of her nose.

“trouble?” seungmin asked, his tone casual but curious.

“not really,” she said, slipping her phone back into her pocket. “my grandparents just… like to tease me.”

“about what?”

she hesitated, biting her lip. “nothing important.”

his gaze flicked to her, one brow raised, but he didn’t press further.

instead, she changed the subject. “so, are you always this grumpy, or is it just for me?”

he scoffed lightly, his lips twitching in what might’ve been the start of a smile. “i’m not grumpy.”

“you’re totally grumpy,” she said, grinning. “but it’s okay. i like grumpy.”

“i’m not grumpy,” he repeated, a little more defensively this time.

“sure you’re not,” she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

the puppy barked softly, as if in agreement, and she laughed. “see? even he thinks you’re grumpy.”

seungmin sighed, shaking his head. “you talk a lot, you know that?”

“yeah,” she said easily, glancing up at him. “but you don’t talk enough, so it balances out.”

he didn’t respond, but the corners of his mouth quirked up ever so slightly.

they walked a little further before she spoke again, her voice quieter now. “do you think anyone will adopt him?”

seungmin glanced down at the pup, whose tail wagged happily as it walked between them. “maybe. he’s small. cute. people like that.”

she nodded thoughtfully, a small smile playing on her lips. “i hope so. he deserves a good home.”

“why didn’t you just take him in?” he asked, his tone more curious than critical.

she shrugged, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “i told you, i have uni and my grandparents are already a bit busy and need rest, you know.”

“would you keep him if you had a sitter for the time you were unavailable?”

“in a heartbeat,” she said without hesitation. “but… i don’t know. maybe someday, when i have my own place.”

he nodded, falling silent again.

“what about you?” she asked after a moment. “would you ever get a puppy?”

“maybe,” he said, his voice thoughtful. “if i had time for one, but two of my friends already have dogs, so i guess it is enough for me.”

“you don't seem like a dog person, but i bet you are.” she teased.

“why not?”

she tilted her head, pretending to think. “i don’t know. you’re just… too serious. dogs are all about fun and chaos.”

“and you think i’m not fun?”

“i know you’re not fun,”

his smirk widened, just a fraction. “you don’t know me that well.”

“maybe not,” she admitted, her voice softening. “but i’d like to.”

he glanced at her then, his expression unreadable. the streetlights caught the gold in her eyes, and for a moment, he felt something strange in his chest—something warm and unsettling all at once.

before he could figure out what to say, the dog barked again, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“we’re almost there,” she said, pointing to the shelter just ahead.

seungmin nodded, his hands tightening slightly in his pockets.

as they reached the shelter’s entrance, she bent down to give the pup one last pat. “you’re gonna be okay, buddy,” she murmured. “they’ll take good care of you.”

seungmin watched her quietly, his gaze lingering on the way her fingers moved gently over the pup's fur, the way her smile softened even further.

and when she looked up at him, her eyes bright and full of hope, he couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, she was starting to figure him out after all.

mastertag ୨୧ @cosmicalily thank you luvie <3

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luvleyshif4 · 1 day ago

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BOUND TO YOU

Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: Even after dating for years, you realize just how much you’re still in love with Rafe and how obsessed you are with him.

Warning: fluffiest fluff, lot of physical touch, tooth rotting love, reader is a book gyal, just readers pov (there aren’t really any serious warnings)

Word count: 813 words

Authors note: Soo this is the shortest one-shot I’ve written for Rafe out of the four. It’s just a little fluff I came up with after seeing a TikTok of a girl talking about how she’s still so obsessed with her boyfriend, even after 7 years of dating. Hope you all like it! 😘😘 (also love how this makes me feel so utterly single!!!!!!!!)

The soft rustle of pages filled the air as you sat curled up on the far end of the couch, a book resting in your lap. It was one of those quiet evenings, where the world outside seemed to slow down, leaving just the two of you in your little bubble. Rafe was on the other end of the couch, his laptop open, his brows slightly furrowed as he typed away.

You had been flipping through the same page for at least five minutes now, but the words weren’t sticking. Your eyes kept wandering, drawn, as they so often were, to him. The way his lips pursed ever so slightly in concentration, the way his hair fell messily across his forehead. Even the small crease that appeared between his brows when he was focused felt endearing.

He was just sitting there, lost in whatever he was working on, but something about the scene made your chest tighten. Maybe it was the warm light of the room casting golden tones over his skin, or the quiet comfort of being together like this. Or maybe it was simply him, the effortless way he existed, the way he carried himself even in the smallest, most mundane moments.

You felt yourself staring, unable to stop. It was almost embarrassing, the way your heart fluttered like you were back at the start of your relationship. But here you were, years later, still completely captivated.

Rafe’s fingers paused on the keyboard, and he glanced up, his blue eyes meeting yours. His lips curled into a small, knowing smile. “What?” he asked, his voice soft but laced with amusement.

You froze, heat rushing to your cheeks. “Nothing,” you murmured quickly, looking down at your book, pretending to read.

But Rafe wasn’t convinced. “Uh-huh,” he said, his tone teasing now. You could feel his gaze on you, lingering, studying. “You’re staring at me, baby.”

“I’m not,” you said, a little too quickly, the warmth in your face growing.

He chuckled under his breath and set his laptop aside. Then, in one fluid motion, he lifted his arm and gestured toward you, silently inviting you to come closer. The look in his eyes was soft, teasing but warm, and you couldn’t help but feel drawn to him.

You closed your book, setting it on the coffee table, and moved toward him, sliding into his side. His arm wrapped around you almost instantly, pulling you closer, and you rested your head against his shoulder. His warmth was immediate, comforting, and you could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath you. He smelled like clean laundry and the faint cologne he always wore, a scent that had become so familiar, so him.

Rafe didn’t say anything at first, just let out a soft exhale, his hand coming up to rest gently on your waist. His thumb brushed against your side absentmindedly, and the simple gesture sent a wave of butterflies through your stomach.

You tilted your head slightly, looking up at him. His face was so close now, his features softened by the dim light. Your eyes lingered on his lips for just a moment too long, and Rafe noticed.

He didn’t tease you. Instead, he leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was slow, tender, and deliberate. It wasn’t rushed, it was the kind of kiss that felt like coming home, like an unspoken reminder of everything you shared.

His hand slid up to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he kissed you deeper. You felt yourself melt into him, your heart pounding in your chest, even though you’d kissed him a thousand times before. There was something about the way he kissed you each time that made the world feel impossibly small, as if nothing else existed but the two of you.

When he finally pulled away, your breath was unsteady, and your cheeks were warm. Rafe didn’t go far, though. He rested his forehead against yours, his eyes half-lidded and a soft smile tugging at his lips.

“You okay?” he murmured, his voice low and intimate.

You nodded, but the words you wanted to say caught in your throat. Instead, you leaned into him again, tucking your head against his shoulder. His arm wrapped around you, pulling you closer, and he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

It was in that moment, nestled against him with his hand resting protectively on your side, that it hit you.

Even after all this time, after all the years of being together, all the kisses and quiet nights and moments like this, you were still so completely, utterly in love with him. You still felt that same giddy, heart-stopping adoration that you did at the very beginning. He still made your heart race, still left you breathless, still consumed every part of you in a way no one else ever could.

You closed your eyes, letting the realization settle over you. It wasn’t just love, it was obsession, in the best way. He was your anchor, your home, the one person who could make you feel like this without even trying.

Rafe’s fingers traced absent patterns on your arm, his touch soothing. “You’re quiet,” he said softly.

You tilted your head to look up at him, a small smile playing on your lips. “Just thinking,” you replied.

“About what?”

You hesitated, your chest swelling with so much emotion it almost hurt. “You,” you said simply.

Rafe’s lips curved into a soft, genuine smile, and he leaned down to kiss your forehead again. “Good,” he murmured. “’Cause I’m always thinking about you.”

You didn’t say anything else, just tucked yourself closer to him, letting the steady beat of his heart lull you into a state of perfect contentment. Because in his arms, with his lips still lingering on your skin, you knew you were exactly where you were meant to be.

You knew you were bound to him the moment you met him. And even after all this time, you couldn’t get enough of him.

Authors note: lemme know if yall want a Rafe point of view on this!! Even if one person asks for it I’m making it.😝

#drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #obx fanfiction #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagines #drew starkey x y/n #obx #rafe x reader #rafe x y/n #rafe cameron fluff #rafe x you #rafe imagine

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murasaki-cha · 7 hours ago

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Thank you so much for the tag!!

♫Do you play an instrument?

I do not! I always wanted to learn to play the drums tho

•Favourite book characters?

I cannot simply chose one I love too many I'm the most indecisive person ever!!

•What's your star sign?

I'm a Sagittarius!

•Favourite colour schemes?

Anything that looks like a galaxy, I'm a very purple person and I love strong colours!

•Naps or long sleep?

Long sleep. Naps make me feel like I'm not part of reality

•What languages do you speak?

English and my mother tongue!

•Dreams/aspirations?

I dream of making my own webtoon! I have my character designs ready, I have a part of the plot made and I just need to invest in webtoon assests and backgrounds but for that I need cash and I am super unemployed right now

•Long hair or Short Hair?

I love long hair and had it for a long time like that all the way to my lower hip but right now I am rocking my past shoulder length hair!! I will grow it back but I wanted to have it really short rn

•Tea or coffee?

COFFEE!!!!!!!!

•Bring a book character to life or go into a fictional world?

Definitely go to a fictional world. Our reality is shit right now and I do not wish to be here anymore

I'm tagging:

@blueteller @aro-screams-into-the-void @pandastern

Wanna get to know my tumblr friends better cuz y'all are dope so have a tag game challenge if you want :)

Also, if you don't wanna answer anything you don't need to.

♫Do you play an instrument?

•Favourite book characters?

•What's your star sign?

•Favourite colour schemes?

•Naps or long sleep?

•What languages do you speak?

•Dreams/aspirations?

•Long hair or Short Hair?

•Tea or coffee?

•Bring a book character to life or go into a fictional world?

No pressure tags: @thebestieyoureinlovewith @nikolaistealcoat @grishaverse-chaos @lostinfantasyworldsbi @lilisouless @l3st1b0urn3s-707 @arany-studio @waluigicumjar

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comatosebunny09 · 17 hours ago

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— cw: adult content, cheating, shitty fiancé, self-indulgent madness, mdni — notes: i can’t sleep, and @alfredosaws got the gears turning in my head. sorry if this isn’t your jam. i was horny and needed to torture myself. — now playing: see through - amelia moore

Imagine Sylus as your real estate agent, showing you and your fiancé around a potential home.

Your fiancé doesn’t seem too interested, busy typing away on his phone or occasionally stepping out to answer phone calls. You titter nervously, explaining to Sylus with a wry smile that your fiancé is a very busy man.

Still, Sylus continues showing you the rest of the house, pointing out parts that would appeal primarily to you.

“You see here? The master bedroom contains an en-suite bathroom with enough counter space to house all your skincare products. ”

“The bathtub has jets. Perfect for when you want to unwind after a long day on your feet. You look like you shoulder the world. You deserve to take a load off with a warm, soothing bath.”

“The sunroom would be great for your plants. You look like you have quite a green thumb. You strike me as a cultivator. A nurturer. Someone who should learn to sit down from time to time.”

“The counter space in the kitchen is immaculate. Perfect for when the love of your life wants to cook breakfast or have you for dessert.”

He’s so very flattering and handsome, and you find yourself falling prey to his charms. You rein yourself in when your fiancé returns, still as detached about the house as ever. You ask him for his opinion, to which he shrugs you off and remarks that he’s happy if you’re happy. Conveniently, his phone rings again, and he walks outside to take the call.

Sylus gives you a pitying look as if he knows there’s trouble in paradise. You smile awkwardly to dispel his worries.

Sure, your fiancé isn’t always present in your relationship. And maybe you agreed to his proposal out of fear, thinking you would lose out on your white picket fence if you refused him. But, who are you kidding? You haven’t felt like yourself in years. Haven’t genuinely smiled in a very long time, and your fiancé hasn’t helped improve your self-esteem, nitpicking when you’re a little bloated or leave the house without makeup.

You’ve recently caught him entertaining other women on his socials, and he would quickly gaslight you, exclaiming that you were looking for reasons to be upset. Deep down, you know he isn’t good for you, and you deserve better, but a sick part of you believes he is your punishment for some crimes you might’ve committed in a past life.

Sylus has read you like a book, and you’ve only worked with him for two months. You feel more comfortable in his presence than the man you’re about to marry, having known him much longer.

“Come with me, sweetheart,” says Sylus, his voice a sweet, sticky dolce as he takes your hand into his larger one.

He guides you up the spiraling staircase towards the main bedroom and lures you into the massive walk-in closet. And when you’re swathed in the darkness after he shuts the door behind you, he backs you up against a wall, your breaths intermingling whilst his mouth hovers over yours.

“You poor thing,” he whispers next to your ear, the hairs scattered across your body standing on end, pleasant tingles ricocheting through your extremities. He takes your hand in his, pressing it against the cool, textured wall overhead, tenderly twining your fingers together. “That Narcissist doesn’t deserve you, now does he?” His lips graze yours, the sensation making your legs tremble like a fawn.

“I can see it in your eyes.” A weighted palm smooths over your side, a devastatingly powerful knee sliding between the fat of your thighs, pilfering the breath from your lungs. He touches you with a reverence you’ve never known. “You don’t love him, do you? Not when I can touch you like this.”

He takes possession of your jaw, breathing hot and open-mouthed against your lips, nuzzling your noses together. And you’re dizzy, the closet suddenly feeling so cramped, and the warmth of his body permeating through the layers of your clothes. “You’re so beautiful. You deserve so much more. I can give you so much more. May I kiss you, sweetling?”

Despite the voice screaming somewhere far off in your mind that this is very much wrong, you find yourself nodding sluggishly in the darkness as if he can see you slowly turning to putty in his palms. He chuckles, the vibrations of it making your tummy flutter like you’re cresting down a hill.

Wordlessly, he pans in, startling you with a gentle kiss at first. Something deft and ghostly, so soft you wouldn’t believe it happened. When you make a gentle keen of protest after he pulls way, he takes that as his cue to kiss you again, this time more firm and full-bodied, the rigid pane of his body slowly anchoring you to the wall.

Your unoccupied hand slides over his spine, concluding its excursion at the small of his back, and he’s strong here. Sturdy as if he could lift you one-handed if he so pleases. The idea makes you whimper, and he swallows the pretty little noises he invokes, his sweltering tongue pushing into your mouth to map out every ridge and crevice.

He slips a warm, weighted palm into the crook of your knee, drawing your thigh up to rest on his hip. And, with this new angle, he presses fully against you, the stitching of his slacks scraping pleasantly over the inner cut of your thigh. He releases your hand once moored to the wall to hoist you into his arms, one of your heels clattering to the floor. Ten shaky fingers bury themselves in his hair, sifting through tufts of soft white to draw him ever closer to deepen your lip-lock.

Despite the spacious closet, it’s growing uncomfortably warm. Too many clothes are in the way, so you tug his shirt from his slacks. Your fingers blindly scramble over his shirt buttons, eager to feel the smooth, supple glide of his skin beneath them. He chuckles something throaty and enrapturing, kissing you velvet-soft as his desire awakens to press against your thigh.

“So eager, aren’t you?” he husks, breaking away from your lips with a sticky click to blister your jaw and carotid with languorous kisses. “Has he ever touched you like this? Kissed you like this?”

You crane your head back, your skull lightly thudding against the wall behind you. Your lashes shutter. The feeling of his mouth dragging over your skin and his weighted body nestled between your thighs is too much and yet not enough. You cling to his back, your grip white-knuckled, mouth parted slightly with wanton pleas for more more more.

But before he can grant your request, your fiancé’s voice beckons to you through the empty, sturdy walls of the house. The spell that befell you disperses, reality careening in. You push against Sylus’ lean chest with the heel of your palm, panting and gasping, squirming to be let down. Sylus reluctantly heeds you, gently setting you onto your feet.

He helps you slide back into your discarded heel, kissing your ankle on his way back up, and you try to ignore how your body burns like an inferno at the attention. It takes all of you not to snatch him towards you once more, to kiss him and demand he take you, right then and there, with your fiancé calling for you downstairs. But, as much as it pains you, you feel remorse for how far you already let things go.

Fixing your clothes and hair to some semblance of neatness in the darkness, the pair of you exit the closet. You don a rehearsed smile, answering your fiancé that you’ll be right down. Searing, slender fingers encircle your wrist before you can descend the stairs. You acknowledge Sylus with a look over your shoulder. He fixes you with a feverish stare that burns like a flame, revealing a deep desire for you. And the realization shoots straight to your center as his mouth draws into an unflinching line.

Something in your chest pinches and pulls. And for a moment, you consider what your life would be like if you’d given yourself more credit and granted yourself a little more grace. But you brush away your thoughts, fixing Sylus with an unconvincing smile before pulling away from him to descend the stairs into the arms of your loving, soon-to-be husband.

#sylus x reader #sylus x you #tw: cheating #self indulgent #musing #ovulating #and angsty af

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