#i was made to believe it would be a week or two before they would start phasing me out

[lqveharrington]

hii, i would love for you to do ‘the prophecy’ with fred weasley and ravenclaw reader!! thank you so much 💓

The Prophecy | F.W.

summary: fred’s starting to feel insecure in your relationship, and trelawney’s reading doesn’t make it any better.

pairing: fred weasley x ravenclaw!reader

includes: use of Y/N, insecure fred, a lot of overthinking, angst, fluff at the end

a/n: for some reason, this prompt stumped me so bad. so sorry if it’s not up to the usual standards 😭

One, two. One, two, three, four.

You impatiently counted how many times the alarm on Trelawney’s stupid clock would go off until she realized it wasn’t a crystal ball predicting a Hufflepuff's future. All you wanted was class to be over and be in the arms of your loving boyfriend, but they changed the house pairings for electives. Instead of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, it was Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Luckily, you still had all your core classes with Gryffindor.

As you lazily blew on the small braid you gave yourself in your boredom, a crack of lightning struck right outside, causing Trelawney to jerk in surprise with horror etched into her face. It looked like she had just seen the grim itself.

She whipped her head around and looked directly at you, taking your hands in her shaky ones. She read your palm like the lines had magically changed since last class, muttering quietly to herself until cleared your throat in confusion.

“My dear, you will receive ill-advised news by the end of the week.” She whispered and pulled your hand closer to her buggy eyes, furrowing her brows when she saw your life line. “Expect your spirit to be broken and rebuilt by the one you trust the most.”

Your lips kissed you teeth in an unsettling manner. Was this your punishment for not listening to her and sometimes making fun of her? Did she want to make you feel bad about your life choices? Sure you bored out of your mind in class but that didn't mean you wanted a horrid reading.

Your eyes flickered toward the dark sky outside again, watching as the lightening struck louder than the last. Trelawney sighed and patted your hand shut, dismissing everyone with a quiet wave. Everyone looked at her in bewilderment before slowly leaving the tower, murmuring amongst themselves.

Furrowing your brows and flexing your hand, you took your things and hastily made your way down the ladder, narrowly avoiding your face splattering on the stone floor. You always believed in everything factual — Ravenclaw, through and through — and you weren't actually sure why you chose Divination as your elective. The crystal balls and tea leaf readings never seemed credible, always predicting the same things over and over again.

However, the Weasley Twins loved Divination. They often made up their readings and passed with Outstandings. George believed he had a natural aptitude for the class whilst Fred said he had unlocked his inner eye. But what they both heavily believed in was Trelawney's words — which you thought was utter rubbish.

When you had Divination with them in sixth year, she told them that they would encounter a horrible noise, sending someone they love plummeting. That same week, Harry retreived his golden egg from the first task and revealed it to be screeching merpeople in the common room, causing the twins to drop him from their shoulders to cover their ears. From that day onward, they clung onto her every word like it was the sacred truth.

Which it wasn't.

Shaking all thoughts of Divination out of your mind, you made your down to the Great Hall. It was your potions study hall with the rest of the sixth years, and you needed time to decompress after whatever stupid prophecy Trelawney read off you.

You scanned the hall and smiled when you saw the twins, Lee, Alicia, and Angelina already working on their forty-inch essay for potions. Well, the girls were working on their essays. The twins and Lee were playing Exploding Snap — although they weren't very subtle with it.

The look on your face meant nothing but trouble. You shook your head and messed with them, putting your hands on the twins' shoulders and holding back a laugh when you saw them jump and pretend to work on their essays. Lee looked up at you and shook his head in amusement, nudging the two Weasleys to look behind them.

George was the first to turn and rolled his eyes when he saw you, scooting over so you could sit in between him and Fred. He took your bag and put it beside his on the ground, still grumbling under his breath.

"Blimey, Y/N. I thought Snape was going to take points off and give us detention again." George nudged your side with his elbow, ruffling your hair in the process.

"Again? What did you lot do in the few minutes it took for me to get here?" You tease and tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear, grabbing your own parchment out with only ten-inches left for your essay.

You quietly worked on your essay while ensuring the mischievous trio stayed on task, every so often glancing up to make sure they were doing anything stupid. As you wrapped up your essay, you looked up to your right and met Fred's eyes. You gave him a soft smile but only earned a half-hearted, tight-lipped nod back.

Parchment crinkled under your hold before you released a breath. You pursed your lips and went back to your essay, forcing back the tears of frustration from spilling out. For the past two weeks, Fred began to grow more and more distant from you. You weren't sure what exactly prompted him to do so, but he wouldn't give you an answer and the rest of your friends... Well, they didn't know if you wanted to know from them.

You felt like you were slowly sinking further away from him and you couldn't do anything. Biting your tongue to stop anymore thoughts, you turned in your essay to Snape and swiftly left the Great Hall with no spare glances toward the Gryffindors.

The states of pity from your friends only made you feel like you were crumbling into forever broken pieces.

You sat with your back against a great oak, throwing another stone into the Black Lake. The ripples echoed and repeated until they settled, the small bubbles diminished.

The rays of the sun hit your eyes, causing you to wince softly. You turned to the side and fully expected Fred to be sitting next to you, a small frown etching its way to your lips when you saw nothing but the Hogwarts castle.

Fred usually came with you whenever you needed to relax, but thinking about the past few weeks only hurt your heart.

As the whispers from the Forbidden forest grew stronger and the sun slowly descended behind the trees, you shut your eyes and leaned your head against the tree. You wished you didn’t have to leave your spot; you were only just beginning to clear your mind.

Frustratedly, you rub your closed eyes with the palms of your hands, freezing when someone spoke from behind you. That someone having an all too familiar voice.

"Love, you're going to irritate your eyes."

Your head whipped around to stare at the boy you fell deeply in love with last year at the Yule Ball. The glare you threw at him could’ve petrified him. "You have no right to call me love after ignoring me for two — almost three — weeks.”

Fred swallowed thickly and sat on a boulder beside you. He knew he was in the wrong for avoiding you for so long without telling you the truth. He believed that it was better for you not to know, but what good was it in the long run?

"I know, I'm sorry." He mumbled and bit his lip, looking down at his tattered shoes rather than meeting your eyes. "It's okay if you never want to see me ever again or choose to hate me, but I avoided you because — " He paused and squeezed his eyes shut. Godric, he was going to sound like such a stupid prick. "Because of a prophecy Trelawney gave me."

Your mouth parted ever so slightly before you threw a small rocks at his legs. Your voice rang out clear and loud, reminding him of his own mother. "Are you kidding me? Frederick Gideon Weasley! You've been avoiding me because of a stupid reading?”

"I'm sorry! But what she said about me made it seem like you needed someone better!" He let your rocks hit him and huffed, frustration bubbling within himself. He took in a breath before looking back over at you. "She told me that the something I love will succeed but only if a great weight of unstableness no longer burdened it."

You crease your brows in confusion and drop the rest of your rocks onto the ground, shaking your head as he clenched and unclenched his fist. "What are you talking about?"

"Love, you're bloody brilliant." Fred met your eyes for the first time in days. All he wanted to do was have you in his arms again and press kisses everywhere he could, but he still owed an explanation to you. "You've passed all your OWLs with flying colors and you've studied so hard for you NEWTs." He buried his face in his hands and sighed. "I'm the burden that will hold you back if you choose to stay with me."

Your initial annoyance and anger melted away at his words, eyes softening at the sight of his dejected state. "Freddie, you're not a burden to me or anyone — “

He let out a laugh that sounded more like a scoff. "I have no money. When you need support, you wouldn't get any from me. I'm not good enough for you."

Five seconds of utter silence took over. The fluttering of the owls delivering mail overhead and the sounds of the curfew bell were the only things that were heard.

Before Fred could even register what was happening, you flung yourself into his arms and rested your head on his. He froze before wrapping his arms around your midsection, burying himself into your chest. He breathed in your scent, body releasing all the tension he had stored inside.

This wasn’t the first time Fred has ever felt insecure about your relationship. There had been other times where he felt like he wasn’t good enough for you, but you were always there to reassure him whenever he voiced them to you. It was horrible to see him act like someone other than his usual self. You loved who he was and you wouldn’t change it for the world.

“Freddie…” You rub his back gently and feel him melt into you. “I don't need any money. Your words are enough support for me.”

He only nodded in response, missing your touch after days of avoidance. Fred felt your move around so you were sitting beside him, your hands moving to turn his head toward you.

You smiled at him and thumbed his cheeks. "And didn't I tell you not to believe everything Trelawney says? I doubt she was taking about our relationship." You pressed a light kiss to his lips before pulling him into another hug, "I love you, Freddie. Don't ever forget that."

When he didn’t say anything, you pulled away and looked over his features, brows furrowing as you saw his teary eyes.

"Fred —?”

"I love you so much, woman." He murmured before capturing your lips in a mind-searing manner, feeling you smile into the kiss. Fred pulled away for a breath before placing another tender kiss to your lips, thumbing the bottom lip when you pulled away in a daze. "You're my soulmate."

You grin shyly and lean your head on his shoulder, looking up at him. "No more overthinking, okay?" You watched as he nodded at you, his face flushing a deep shade of red when you began to pepper kisses on his neck. Each kiss meaning the same thing.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Fred took your hand in his and kissed your knuckles, chuckling when you got flustered over a simply gesture. "You might make me fall even deeper in love with you."

You hummed and pressed one last kiss to his lips, both of you grinning like idiots in love. "Have I changed the prophecy yet?"

"Hm, you'll have to let me check again." He said softly and gave you one final breathtaking kiss, squeezing your hip. "I think so."

"I love you, Fred Weasley." You sigh happily and kiss his cheek. “Don’t you ever forget that.”

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[becauseimswagman1]

Temporary

Roman Reigns x reader

Warnings: THAT NASTY 18+ SO MDNI, spanking, usage of "good girl". dirty talk, mild masturbation, daddy kink, unprotected sex (WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT!), cum swallowing, pussy eating

----------------------------

“Listen, that woman at the gym doesn’t mean anything! She’s just a trainer.” he pleaded with you as you tried to escape his arms.

“Joe, we’re done!”, you pushed out of his hold and walked towards the bedroom you two shared. Every time you put clothes in your suitcase, he took them right back out. He doesn’t want you to leave.

The woman at the gym really is just a trainer, she just overstepped her boundaries even after he told her he had a girlfriend. You’re one of the best things that ever happened to him ever since he got seriously hurt two years ago. 

“How can we be done? You’re not even hearing me out!” he grabbed you by your hands and kissed both of them, “I love you, and only you. You’re the woman I want to marry and the woman I want to be the mother of my children. Baby, please. Don’t leave. We can work this out.”

“Joe…” You wanted to believe his words so badly and you did, but there was something in the back of your mind that wouldn’t let you lean into it fully, “I need a break. You let that bitch into your space, close enough to put her lips on you.”

Joe couldn’t hold back the scowl on his face as he dropped your hands, “A break.” he scoffed, “Okay. Take your break, take all the time you need actually. Just promise me that this isn’t the end of us.” Cupping your face in his large hands and staring into your eyes, “Promise me.”

You made the mistake of letting a tear fall, he wiped it away just as quickly though. He was always there to wipe your tears, but this time you needed to dry them on your own. 

“This isn’t the end. I can’t tell you when I’ll be back, but I will.” you finished packing some of your things, and then you left. 

This was something you two could work through. You saw the entire thing with miss girl at the gym, pushing up on your man. You weren’t gonna break things off with him. The problem was with the reaction Joe had. You don’t know if he was in shock and couldn’t believe she did it or what, but him not immediately pushing her off and giving her the cursing of a lifetime pissed you off. He didn’t kiss her back, but seeing with your own eyes that he just let it happen made you wanna fight something. She had been lucky you were feeling classy. So, you needed space. Just enough to figure yourself out. 

----------TWO WEEKS LATER -------

The break had gone on longer than either of you expected. Thankfully the media hadn’t caught onto the way the two of you were never seen together. 

The first week of the break was full of Joe texting you nonstop, ensuring you were safe. The second week, you started worrying as you got a call from Josh telling you that he had started to miss sessions at the gym and snap at him and the other wrestlers for trying to talk to him. You knew Joe wouldn’t miss a session and even snap at them out of actual anger, so you decided to check in on him. 

When you got to the house you shared, Joe’s car wasn’t there so you let yourself in. There were empty bottles thrown everywhere and the picture frame of y’all’s first anniversary was broken. You felt that he would be sad, but not like this. And you knew this sadness would turn into anger soon enough because you knew he felt like he couldn’t talk to you or anyone about this.

You had thought over the situation and it truly wasn’t enough to ruin an amazing relationship. You were ready to come back and really talk things out and get back to how things were and be better. 

As you were attempting to pick up the bottles while avoiding the small amounts of glass, you got an alert on your phone. It was one of Joe’s friends posting about how “The Tribal Chief” would be in the club tonight. If that’s how he wanted to play then you’d do it too, but of course, better. 

Later that night, you called up your girls and told them what happened. They agreed with your plan to show up at the club and get your man back. It was nine-thirty when you showed up and nine-thirty-one when he noticed you in one of his favorite dresses. The short strapless one that practically left nothing to imagination if you leaned over slightly. It looked like you weren’t checking for him, but you clocked him, and the bitches he had flocking on him like some birds. 

You and your friends got a booth and ordered bottles. The night was honestly going great, you kept your eyes on Joe and vice versa. You were getting ready to walk over to him so you two could leave together until one of them chickenheads started dancing on him and he wasn’t trying to push her away. 

“Two could play that game, Joe.” you thought as you went over to a group of guys and asked the cutest one to dance. Short-haired guys weren’t your type, but it’s not like you were trying to take him home.

Joe saw y’all but he wasn’t worried. You know where home is and so does he, but he’s petty so he was letting the girls dance on him. He knew you were putting on a facade when dancing on this random dude. He also knew once the guy overstepped your boundaries, you’d go off on him. He learned that the hard way, sometimes his jaw still hurt with how hard you punched him the first night y’all met. 

The song that played was coming to an end, he knew you never danced to more than one song at a time. Something about you always wearing heels that looked cute but not cute enough to wear for a prolonged period of time. He saw you turn away from the guy and bid him goodbye, but the guy held your arm. The guy wasn’t getting the hint. Joe wasn’t going to step in, he knew you could handle yourself so he let it play out a little. 

This guy wasn’t letting up, he was gripping your arm and pulling you close to him despite your protest. You were getting upset and ready to put him on his ass until he pulled you so close that he kissed your neck. Joe was over there in an instant.

“Yo, let go of my woman!” he quickly got between you and him, standing up straight to make himself appear bigger, “I know she asked you to let her go, so why didn’t you? Thinking you was gone dance your way into not just some pussy but her pussy. Bruh, back up. That shit belongs to me.”

The guy sucked his teeth, “She ain’t even worth it. Just some random bitch to me. And her pussy belong to you? Seems like it belongs to everybody that wants some. Look at how she dressed. How you let your “woman” walk out the house dressed like a h-” the guy was cut off by Joe knocking his ass out. 

“Let’s go.” was all he spoke before walking towards the exit. You quickly followed behind him after grabbing your purse from the table where your friends watched everything go down.

The car ride home was silent. This was the anger you knew was coming after the sadness. You just didn’t know it would’ve been brought on like this. Joe wasn’t the violent type outside the ring, so to see him put his hands on someone really shocked you. As soon as you two entered the house, you were pushed against the door and kissed like somebody’s life depended on it. To Joe, it was his. 

He pulled away and said words you weren’t expecting, “I’m sorry.” 

You were expecting him to completely fix this with sex since that’s how you two fixed problems in the past, but this was a different type of problem.

You put a hand on his cheek, “It’s okay baby.” It was okay, you had sort of moved on. Sure, you still wished he had reacted differently but he was your baby. You missed him. 

“No, I’m sorry. I should’ve pushed her off. I was surprised that she got the idea that she could do that, especially after I told her about you. That doesn’t excuse what happened, though. If it makes you feel any better, the guy that owns the place fired that girl for unprofessionalism.”

That did make you feel better and you tried to hold it in, but damn did it feel good, “Oh hell yeah! I know that’s right.”

Joe moved his hands from your face down to your waist, “Now hold on, I’m the one that asked him to fire her.”

“Yeahhh,” you put your hands around his neck and leaned up to his face, “but he took action when you should’ve.”

“So that’s how you’re gonna play it?”, he picked you up and put you over his shoulder, “Now I’m gonna fuck you up for two things.”

“Wha– Joe? What the hell?!” 

“Fucking you up for letting that guy at the club get that close to you. You put me on my ass upon first meet so why was it so hard to do that with him? And I’m fucking you up for discrediting me on getting that girl fired.”

Was the second one petty? Hell yeah, but this is Joe you’re dealing with. The petty king.

He carries you to the bedroom, smacking your ass whenever you pinched his, and tossed you on the bed. 

“Get in position.” 

You knew what that meant, so you quickly got on your hands and knees. He pulled your dress up and saw the thong you had on. He bit his lip, “Damn baby, you must’ve known you was gonna get some tonight huh?”

“No, it’s just the only panties I could wear with this dress.”

He smirked, “Liar. Now count like the good girl I know you are.”

A loud smack echoed in the room, “One.” you had whispered it and that wasn’t good enough for him. 

“Louder or I fuck you until I get off and I leave you here begging.”

“One!” 

“That’s better. Now keep that up. Ten more should do just fine right?”

“Yes.”

He slaps your ass again, coming down on your right cheek, harder than the first.

‘Two!” 

Only two smacks in and he could see a wet spot form on the small fabric covering your pussy, “My baby getting wet already? From two smacks at that. I’ve seen and felt you get wetter for less so this isn’t that much of a shock.”

Nine painfully arousing smacks later, your ass was deep red and you were soaking through your panties. He ripped your panties off and rubbed through your wetness, “So wet for me.”

You nodded your head and arched your back just as you knew he liked it. 

“Play with it. Get it creamy for me.”

You did as told, truly playing with yourself. Slapping your clit, dipping your fingers inside your hole then sucking the juices off, really giving him a show. He let you do what you wished until he saw the signs that you were going to come. 

He slapped your ass once more to stop you, “Take your fingers out.” Once you did, he sucked the juices off. “Mm, you taste so good, baby.”

“Are you gonna fuck me now?”

“In a bit. Be patient.” He bent down to taste you right from the source, drowning himself in how wet you were. Flicking your clit with his tongue, drawing the lewdest sounds from you. He started to fuck you with his tongue while rubbing your clit with his thumb, “Come for me, baby. Be a good girl and come. Daddy wants to taste you even more.”

Your thighs started shaking and it was getting tougher to hold yourself up, “Ooh fuck! Joe! I’m coming!” and just like the feeling was gone, he had edged you because of a careless mistake. 

“What’s my name? Say it again for me?” he said while rubbing your clit with a little more pressure. 

“D-Daddy!” 

“Mhm, that’s right.” He pinched your clit a little and went back to rubbing it, applying the same pressure he was before. “Baby girl wants to be good right? Be good and let it all out.”

You started to grind against his fingers like it almost wasn’t enough. Joe knew what you needed, you just needed to come first so he could give it to you how you deserved. 

“Fuckkkk,” you dragged out your words, “Don’t stop. Pleaseee, don’t stop.” 

He rubbed you a little faster and you came with “Daddy” never ceasing from your lips. 

“That’s a good girl,” he rubbed you softly until your thighs stopped shaking, “You ready for daddy now?”

“Mhm.” 

He sat up behind you and undressed, then pulled you back to the edge of the bed still on your hands and knees so you wouldn’t have anywhere to run.

Rubbing a hand in between your legs and rubbing the wetness he collected from your against his dick. “So fucking wet baby.” he pushed his tip in and you were already running from it. “Nah baby, I ain’t even all the way in yet. Stop all that running.”

He gripped your hips and pushed himself in fully. “Damn, you tight. I love this pussy baby. Don’t ever second guess that.” 

He started to move, slowly at first, but soon enough he was pounding into you. Showing you that you belonged to him and only him. 

“Oh, fuckkkk yes. Right there, Daddy!”

“Right there?” he started angling his hips to hit that spot, “I’m hitting that spot huh?”

“Mhmmm, yes. Harder please.”

He listened to you and went harder, but you reached back and tried to push him away. His strokes almost became too much. 

“Nah, baby don’t run from it. Take it like I know you can.” he rubbed the middle of your back, “Put that arch back. Take this dick.”

You started clenching around him, feeling your orgasm approach you suddenly, “Daddy... fuckk I’m gonna come!”

“Daddy’s right behind you. Come for me, baby.”

He didn’t stop fucking into you when you came, he just slowed down enough to give it to you deep.

“Fuck, keep squeezing me like that,” he pulled out and stroked himself at a fast pace, “come catch your prize.” He helped you flip over and he stood up on the bed to come on your face.

“Shit, open that mouth, wide baby.” He kept stroking until he came, most of it landing in your mouth. When you swallowed, you licked the remaining substance off his dick. 

He pulled you off by your hair, “Lemme see.”

You opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue, showing him that you swallowed and there was nothing left. 

“That’s a good girl,” he leaned down to kiss you, tongue and all, “Now let’s get cleaned up.” 

A relaxing bath later, you and Joe were lying in towels on the bed. You were ready to fall asleep, worn out after what felt like the fuck of your life. Joe had so much energy left. 

Sleepily, you moved into his arms, “How are you not dead tired right now?”

“It’ll pass. Just need to calm down a little. Still keyed up after tonight.”

“Okay. Well, I’m tired.” you yawned right after the words left your mouth. 

Joe chuckled, “I can tell. Go to sleep, I’ll be in dreamland with you shortly.”

All you could do was a little “mhm” before you fell asleep, surely going to dream about all the dirty things that’s gonna happen in the morning. Whenever Joe has this much energy when he falls asleep it’s gonna lead to a very good morning. 

“I love you, baby,” he whispered into your hair then kissed your forehead, “And I know you love me too.” 

He cuddled up to you and fell asleep.

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[jxwl4k]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ her .𖥔 ݁ ˖

☘︎ . . . genre. fluff

☘︎ . . . pairings. bakugou x fem!reader

⤿ Bakugou Katsuki never believed in sappy romance, until he fell for you.

Bakugou Katsuki didn’t believe in “love at first sight.” It was stupid, unrealistic, and just another distraction. But the first time he saw you—quiet, calm, and completely immersed in a book under the shade of a tree—his world shifted. He didn’t understand it at first, chalking it up to curiosity. But as days turned into weeks, and his glances turned into stolen moments of admiration, he realized he was absolutely gone.

His friends noticed immediately.

“Bro, you’re staring again,” Kaminari teased, smirking.

“Shut up,” Bakugou growled, his ears turning red.

“Just talk to her already!” Kirishima encouraged.

“She’s way out of his league,” Mina chimed in with a playful grin.

He didn’t need their commentary. Bakugou Katsuki was explosive, fearless, and confident in every aspect of his life—except when it came to you.

When he finally gathered the courage to approach you, he was awkward and gruff, masking his nervousness with his usual bravado. “Oi, you dropped this,” he muttered, holding out your pen that you hadn’t even noticed fell.

Your soft “Thank you” and the smile that followed made his heart skip a beat. From then on, he made it his mission to be near you—walking you to class, sitting with you during lunch, and eventually asking you out in the most Bakugou way possible.

“You’re mine now, got it?” he declared one day, his cheeks bright red.

You laughed, nodding. “Got it.”

Years had passed since high school, and Bakugou’s love for you only grew stronger. You were his anchor, his peace in a world full of chaos. He didn’t know how to do romance like the movies, but he showed his love in the little things—making sure you ate, walking on the side of the street closer to the cars, and remembering all the small details about you.

When he proposed, it wasn’t extravagant. It was just the two of you, sitting on the balcony of your shared apartment, watching the sunset.

“Marry me,” he said suddenly, sliding a simple, elegant ring onto your finger before you could even process what was happening.

You looked at him, wide-eyed, before laughing. “You didn’t even let me say yes.”

“Like you’d say no,” he shot back, smirking.

And you didn’t.

Now, standing at the altar, Bakugou was the picture of confidence. His tailored suit fit him perfectly, and his usual scowl was replaced by a nervous determination. He had told himself he wouldn’t cry.

What kind of man cries at his wedding? he had thought, rolling his eyes at the idea.

But then, the doors opened, and you stepped in.

The world seemed to stop.

Your dress was perfect, accentuating everything he loved about you. The way you smiled at him, your eyes glistening with tears, made his heart ache in the best way.

Suddenly, he felt warmth on his cheek.

A tear.

Bakugou blinked, confused for a moment. He never cried. Not when he won his first big fight, not when he graduated, not ever. But now, standing here, looking at you—his future, his everything—he couldn’t stop the tears from falling.

“Bakugou’s crying,” Kirishima whispered from his spot as a groomsman, his eyes widening.

“Oh my God, I knew this would happen,” Mina gasped, quickly pulling out her phone. “Take a picture, Denki! We’ll frame it!”

“Shut up!” Bakugou snapped, his voice low but venomous, though it didn’t stop the blush creeping up his neck. His glare was nowhere near as sharp as usual, the overwhelming emotion softening even his most dangerous expression.

“Don’t worry, man. This is for the memories,” Kaminari whispered back, grinning as he snapped a picture anyway.

As you reached him, your soft laughter bubbled up when you noticed the commotion. “Are they messing with you?” you asked quietly, taking his hands.

“They’re idiots,” he muttered, squeezing your hands tightly. His crimson eyes locked onto yours, and his voice softened, thick with emotion. “But I don’t care. You look… perfect.”

“I love you, Katsuki,” you whispered, your own eyes glistening.

“I love you more,” he said, his voice steady despite the tears threatening to spill again.

The ceremony continued, filled with laughter and love. As Kaminari quietly showed Mina the photo he had taken, they both shared a grin.

“Man, he’s so whipped,” Kaminari whispered.

“And it’s the cutest thing ever,” Mina replied with a smile.

And Bakugou? He didn’t care about the teasing, the jokes, or the photos. His entire world was standing right in front of him, and in that moment, nothing else mattered.

You were his everything.

[slurmpinheimer]

from @cyber-harpie !! spit that shit homie!! I thought this deserved to be seen because it brings up a lot interesting points—and I do agree with this, though it got me thinking again. I would like to add a few things to my initial statement because analysis and talking about Kim is fun;

(WARNING: MAJOR KIM-RELATED YAPPAGE BELOW)

I’ve watched several play throughs where (especially at the beginning of the game/if they have low psyche) people aren’t sure of Kim, or even go so far as to call him annoying, a buzzkill, or an asshole. At first I found myself getting really defensive about this. Obviously not to the point that I made any hate comments or anything, that would be silly— But just in my head, automatically dismissing it because I love him and didn’t want to hear it. I couldn’t imagine anyone disliking him, instead of thinking deeper and considering *why* people might come to these conclusions.

I believe the bits we get from Esprit and Empathy support my initial point that Harry is the perfect narrative device to meet Kim through. If I remember correctly, Kim was written specifically to find Harry funny, and Harry’s skills let us see that. and that’s IF you succeed the checks, or if you’re dedicated enough to save scum to see other possibilities/go through Fayde to see what other options might have held.

Like, before I learned about the end of the Homosexual Underground thought line, I certainly had my suspicions. I definitely thought Kim was at least queer-coded and headcanoned him as gay, but that thought trail is behind a legendary Composure check that I spent like 10 full minutes save-scumming. I had low motorics on my first run, and I only tried so hard because I had been spoiled and knew that it gave a thought called “Homosexual Underground” and needed to see where that led with my own eyes.

That’s just one example too—There’s several times that Kim Lore is behind hard checks (Ace’s High/Low, that tidbit about him smoking weed lol) or things he just refuses to elaborate on without specific circumstances. Plus there’s all the stuff that you can learn when you play a different quest line. I’ve had several people tell me that going through a fascist ends up with Kim actually being pretty open about things you don’t learn about in other questlines. I don’t even know all the details of that yet because I’ve been so busy doing the other quests and achievements that I haven’t finished a fascist run yet.

My thought process with all this is that without seeing Kim through the lens Harry, who works with him almost constantly for a week straight in a situation where deep and meaningful conversation is not just encouraged but *needed* to build a repertoire and ultimately solve the case—Not to mention the patience and care Kim treats Harry’s situation with—I can see how someone would look at Kim from the outside and find him to be… (anguish at typing out this word) …mid.

So yeah. On the surface level; Kim is a cop. He can be condescending and uptight, sometimes leading into lecturing people (something he himself admits). He plays his cards close to his chest, with both his moralist beliefs and even more so his sympathies for the rebellion—Which can make him look a bit like a fence sitter. He can be emotionally unavailable towards himself and others, making him hard to read and sometimes appear cold.

But past that, he is a beautifully crafted, deep character, and the perfect foil to the chaos that is Harry. He is the man that reaches out to shake your hand even though you ghosted him two days prior. He will pat you and give you a handkerchief when you throw up. He can be the man that sticks up for you time and time again, not just because he needs to in order to solve the case, but because if you really try, he believes you’re a good detective at heart. Past suicidal rants and nervous breakdowns, he encourages you to keep going.

He has been beaten down, ground and polished to a smooth finish by mutiple facets of oppression—from his glasses, to his race, his sexuality, all fundamental parts of himself that he cannot change. From years of working in a high-pressure, volatile work environment with low pay and little benefits other than the small satisfaction of completing a case, only to dive headfirst into the next one.

He pushed aside his lofty dreams of the skies to be down with the rest of us in the dirt and mud, trudging, struggling through life until we all inevitably burn away the fuel reserves and are nothing but smoke, a memory in the mind of fire.

Beyond that carefully constructed exterior, past his wall of professionalism (and habit of using his notebook as a shield) hides a goofy nerd, a lover of crosswords and cars, of silly radio stations, and a deep appreciation for beautifully bearded muscular men. He is an expert user of sarcasm and master of cryptic jokes, some even philosophical or political in nature. At his core, he wants to make things better for the people around him. He wants to believe he can make a difference, no matter how long it takes or how small the change is. Even if working for the RCM destroys him before he can see it come to fruition.

He is wonderful. He is amazing. He’s probably my favorite character all of fiction, and I don’t think there will ever be a day in my life that I stop loving him. That’s pookie you’re talking about. I’ll always have space in my heart for him.

He will live on as long as we do, as real as The Man From Hjemdall is to Roy because Disco Elysium *made* him real, handcrafting him, giving him life between margins and pixels. And that is worth everything.

Kim Kitsuragi is a fascinating character because there's not that much fun or interesting or compelling about him. And yet somehow over the course of playing Disco Elysium the game rewires your fucking brain around him. He's the middest man you've ever seen in both appearance and personality but at some point he says something kind to you or something critical of you and you feel like you just got hit by a truck and you need his approval like you need oxygen and like how tf did this happen. what are you

[tenasz]

Evermore (Satoru x Reader)

By Taylor Swift

I replay my footsteps on each stepping stone

Trying to find the one where I went wrong

[…]

Can't remember what I used to fight for

I rewind the tape, but all it does is pause

On the very moment all was lost

[…]

And I couldn't be sure, I had a feeling so peculiar

That this pain would be for evermore

When love is tested by neglect and pain, even the strongest bonds can break. After taking his marriage for granted, Satoru is forced to confront the devastating reality of losing you, the woman who remains the center of his world. Caught between regret and the fight for a second chance, he learns that true love demands more than words—it demands choices.

paring: Satoru x Reader

Genre: angst / comfort

Warning: mention of faint

Words: 6,3k

a/n: this is the first fic I’m doing based on Taylor’s songs. it’s a project, so more are to come. Hope you enjoy this one!

You felt that something was coming. It wasn’t an abrupt surprise, but that calm unease that precedes a storm. The kind of stillness that makes the air heavy and the sky seem ready to collapse. It was as if the foundations you both had built together, with so much care and over so much time, were about to crumble under an invisible, relentless force.

Satoru was… distant. It wasn’t just a fleeting distraction or a shadow of exhaustion. It was a growing chasm, something you had never seen before, not in all the days of laughter, promises, and glances that once felt eternal. He was there, but he wasn’t. And that subtle absence was like an invisible knife piercing your chest.

The first thought that consumed your mind, so full of labyrinths and traps that he used to laugh at and lovingly call "worms," was an idea that burned like poison: he was cheating on you. A new love, a fresh passion, someone who had sparked in him a fascination greater than you ever could. The image was so vivid it hurt—him smiling at someone else with that same sparkle in his eyes that was once only yours.

You knew it might just be your mind playing tricks, distorting reality based on your deepest insecurities. But what if it wasn’t? That doubt was an internal earthquake, toppling the walls of what you believed to be unshakable.

The breaking point—the critical moment that caused the glass already filled to the brim to overflow and flood everything around you—came on your wedding anniversary. Not that things had been easy before. The distance between you two had been growing like an inescapable shadow, but you kept trying, stitching the invisible threads that still connected you. Fragile threads, almost frayed, but ones you refused to let break.

That day, you decided to fight against the crushing weight of the circumstances. You left Jujutsu school early that day. You didn’t run into Satoru, but that didn’t faze you because you knew he was away on a mission with his students. He had promised he’d be back in time for dinner. At home, every second was spent striving for perfection: the dress chosen with care, the hours spent making your hair flawless, the makeup that concealed the dark circles from sleepless nights. Everything had to be perfect. You wanted him to notice. Not just the effort, but you—as if, for a moment, you could erase all the indifference that had accumulated between you two.

The plans had been set for over a week. The restaurant was reserved, and you were excited to share a sweet moment with your husband. Everything was planned to create a night that would be just yours, a chance to rekindle what had seemed clouded. Every detail was carefully thought out. You rehearsed the words, the gestures, even the small smiles you’d give during the dinner you had dreamed about for days. You allowed yourself to believe that maybe this was the chance to start over.

That morning, before Satoru left, you made sure to confirm the plans. Your heart pounded heavily in your chest as the words cautiously left your lips, almost fearing the response. It was a timid attempt to remind him—without sounding desperate—that the day was special. He mumbled something vague as he adjusted his uniform. You saw his gaze pass over you, like a cold breeze, without truly landing. That was the first blow, but you smiled. Pretended not to notice the emptiness in the gesture. And when he opened the door to leave, there wasn’t even a kiss, a touch, a warm glance, or a “happy anniversary.” Just a hurried wave, as if you were a static presence in the backdrop of his routine. The silence that lingered after was deafening.

Even so, you tried not to crumble. “He’s just in a rush,” you thought, clinging to hope with trembling fingers. “He wouldn’t forget, right? He couldn’t forget.” But deep down, doubt had already planted its roots. You took a deep breath, trying to calm your body and mind. Later, you called Satoru to ask if everything went well on the mission, if anyone got hurt, if he was already on his way back. But your calls went unanswered. Every attempt went straight to voicemail. Messages were sent in hopes of a response, and when it finally came, the weight of worry lifted from your shoulders. He said he couldn’t answer earlier, but everything was fine, and he’d be home soon. A smile of relief escaped you. He called you “darling.” Such a small thing for people who’ve been together for so long, but in your situation, it was a sip of water in the scorching desert.

When you were finally ready, checking the last details in the mirror, a shy smile appeared on your lips. You looked beautiful. No, stunning. The dress, chosen so carefully, hugged your silhouette perfectly, and the subtle shimmer of your makeup enhanced the hopeful look you could barely hide. Nervously smoothing the fabric with your hands, as if you could dispel the growing anxiety, you grabbed your purse and left the house.

Everything had been planned with love. You chose his favorite restaurant—the very place where he had proposed to you. A special place, full of happy memories, where every corner seemed to whisper stories you had shared. Tonight would be different. It would be a chance to rescue everything that felt faded in recent times.

In the car, soft music played, but you barely noticed it. Your hands sweated on the steering wheel, gripping it tightly, while your eyes kept darting to your phone on the passenger seat. The screen remained dark, with no notifications, no calls. No message from him. With every mile, the silence on his end amplified your unease.

When you arrived at the restaurant, you were greeted with warm smiles. The waitstaff recognized you immediately, welcoming you enthusiastically. They had always been part of those happy moments, witnesses to laughter, toasts, and declarations. They led you to the table you had reserved—the same one where he had knelt, years ago, his eyes shining with love. Seeing the setting, your heart warmed.

It was perfect. Delicately arranged candles illuminated the space with a soft, comforting glow. Flowers adorned the table, exuding a sweet and inviting fragrance. Among the plates and perfectly aligned utensils, there were Polaroids of the two of you, capturing moments of joy that now felt so distant. You picked one up, smiling at the memory of how he used to insist on capturing even the most mundane moments, always saying, “Every second with you is worth keeping.”

Taking a deep breath, you sat down. Your chest was full of hope despite the anxiety, and a small, nervous smile lingered on your face. You waited, sitting there, until he arrived. You waited. And waited. And waited. But he never came.

As the hours passed, the warmth that had once filled the space gave way to an unbearable emptiness. Your phone remained silent. You tried calling him countless times, but the calls went unanswered. Your heart began to pound erratically, not from anticipation, but from worry. Had something happened? He was Satoru Gojo, after all. He had many enemies, though he always claimed none could measure up to him. This was the only plausible explanation in your mind.

The waitstaff’s gazes began to weigh on you. Their smiles had turned sad now, filled with a pity you despised. The ice in your glass had long melted, and the candles were nearly burned out. Your dress, once so comfortable, now felt suffocating, and your jewelry burned against your skin like a cruel reminder of your vulnerability.

And then, just as you finally stood up, ready to end the public humiliation and go home, your phone rang.

It was him.

With trembling hands, you answered. “Satoru? Where are you? Are you okay?” Your voice was shaky but full of hope.

“I’m fine. I got home a while ago, but my phone was on silent. Where are you?”

Those words shattered what was left of your heart, a sad, painful tightness echoing in your chest. He had forgotten. All the hope you had clung to with so much effort dissolved into tears that began to fall uncontrollably. You pulled the phone away, trying to muffle the sound of your sobs, but he heard them.

“S/N? What happened? Are you okay? Where are you?” His voice was filled with concern, but to you, it felt like an ironic blow.

"Now you seem to care, don’t you?"

The words escaped before you could hold them back, your voice laced with disappointment, sadness, and even anger. On the other end of the line, the silence was deafening. He tried to respond, but you cut him off, your pain bursting like a dam that could no longer hold the flood.

"You forgot, you idiot! You forgot what day it is, forgot our plans, and left me here, alone, like a fool!" You practically yelled into the phone, right there in the middle of the restaurant. You could feel the mascara running down your cheeks, mingling with the salty, bitter tears.

His silence was suffocating, but you knew he was still there. Perhaps he was processing your words or trying to come up with an excuse for the inexcusable. You waited for something—anything—that might ease the weight crushing your chest. But for a long moment, all you heard was the muffled sound of your own breathing, broken by sobs.

“S/N…” he began, but the hesitation in his voice felt like a knife twisting in the wound. “I... I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize...”

“Didn’t realize?” you interrupted, your voice firmer now, emboldened by the mixture of sorrow and indignation. “You didn’t realize today was our anniversary? That today was the day I was trying to save... this?” Your hand gestured toward the photos of the two of you, which now felt like daggers to your eyes, as though he could see all the effort you had poured into tonight.

On the other end, he sighed. A heavy sound, as if carrying a burden, but the weight you felt was yours, not his. "S/N, I know I’ve been absent. I know I haven’t been what you deserve. But—"

"But nothing, Satoru!" you shouted, your voice echoing through the empty dining hall. The waitstaff, who had been discreet earlier, now peeked from a distance, trying to appear busy. You felt exposed, like an open wound laid bare for the world to see. “You always have excuses, always have explanations. But what you don’t have is time. Time for us, time for me!”

The line went silent again. In the background, you heard the familiar sound of a door closing. He was moving, perhaps trying to reach you. Perhaps trying to fix things.

“I’m coming there,” he said, his voice steadier now, as if he could resolve everything by simply showing up.

“No.” Your response came quick and sharp, cutting through any possibility. “Don’t come, Satoru. I don’t want your pity. I don’t want you to come because you feel guilty. I wanted you to come because you wanted to be here. But I guess that was asking too much.”

He tried to protest, but you ended the call before he could say more. You stood there, frozen, the phone still in your hand, as silent tears streamed down your face.

You left as quickly as you could, not looking back or speaking to the staff. You were too humiliated to face them. The night wind brushed against your skin, a cruel reminder of the loneliness you now carried. This was the end—not because he had forgotten your anniversary, but because he had forgotten you.

You got into your car, driving aimlessly for a while, until you finally stopped in a place where memories of him couldn’t reach you. For the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to think about what came next. Tears streamed down your face, smudging the makeup you had so carefully applied earlier. The ache in your chest tightened around your heart, leaving you breathless with sorrow. You thought that this pain would be for evermore, an endless weight on your chest.

Parking your car in a random spot on the street, you rested your forehead against the steering wheel. Millions of thoughts raced through your mind now. What would you do next? How would you move on with your life?

Miles away, Satoru rushed into his car, his fingers trembling as he turned the key in the ignition. Between harsh whispers, he cursed himself, the weight of guilt crushing his chest. How could he have been so blind? So careless? The brutal truth that tore at him was simple: he loved you deeply, more than he could ever love anyone else. And yet, he kept hurting you, as if the love he felt wasn’t enough to make him the husband you deserved.

Rain began to patter against the windshield, each drop intensifying the storm within him. Satoru gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white, as the lump in his throat felt impossible to swallow. He thought of the smile you used to wear so easily, the sparkle in your eyes that now seemed dimmed. He knew it was his fault. He had extinguished that light with his absence, with the words he never said, with the promises he broke.

“I’m a disaster,” he muttered, his voice hoarse with frustration. The words felt insignificant compared to the enormity of what he felt. He wanted to turn back time, to return to the day everything started falling apart and do it all differently. Maybe then you wouldn’t have to carry the weight of a marriage he had let slip through his fingers. The truth that tormented him was this: he was losing you. And for the first time, the fear of losing you felt more real than ever.

When he finally arrived at the restaurant, he stumbled out of the car, ignoring the heavy rain soaking his clothes and streaming down his face. He burst through the front door like a whirlwind, only to be greeted by a desolate sight: the staff dismantling the decorations with methodical movements, erasing the traces of what should have been a special night. Each deflated balloon, each removed flower, was a blow that tightened the knot in his chest.

His eyes were drawn to the photos of the two of you—memories of happier times when he was still the man you deserved. With trembling fingers, he picked up one of the Polaroids, almost forgotten. It was a picture of the two of you smiling, your eyes shining in harmony. Now, it felt like an image of something unreachable, an echo of everything he had destroyed.

Melancholy turned to desperation, and the guilt that gnawed at his chest erupted in a moment of impotent rage. The sharp sound of his fist hitting the table echoed through the empty hall, making the few staff members present exchange uneasy glances. They had seen you wait; they had witnessed your disappointment, your humiliation.

Satoru met their gazes, and the weight of shame hit him like a tidal wave. The thought of you sitting there, alone, believing he would come, waiting for a gesture that never arrived… It was unbearable. He hated himself. Hated the man he had become, the man who had put you through all of this.

His shoulders slumped, as if the rain outside was now falling inside him, flooding his heart. He wanted to fix it. He wanted redemption, he needed it.

Back to your fragile and shaken figure, you drove the car to the house you once called home. But, at that moment, this house no longer felt like yours. It wouldn't be yours anymore, because you had already decided: you were ready to leave.

As you got out of the car, the heavy rain kept falling, mixing with the tears that seemed endless. Every step you took toward the building was another nail in the coffin of the love you once believed would last forever. You entered the shared apartment, silently hoping he wasn’t there. And, for the first time in a long while, the universe seemed to grant your plea: he really wasn’t. You walked, wet and trembling, to the room that once held so many happy moments. But now, it was just a shadow of what it had been. You began to pack a suitcase in haste, awkwardly, only putting the essentials. There was no space to think about everything. You planned to return another day, maybe when he wasn't there, to grab the rest. The only thing that mattered at that moment was leaving. You couldn't bear the weight of a home so devoid of love, so cold. It was time to move on, even if it meant destroying what little was left of you.

Your body felt heavy, your mind clouded. Your vision was blurred, distorted by the tears that wouldn't stop falling. Your ears only caught a distant hum, as if a sad melody played in the back of your mind, preventing any connection with the world around you. The rain soaking your clothes made you shiver, but the external cold was nothing compared to the ice in your chest.

You were so absorbed in the task of filling the suitcase that you didn’t even notice the sound of the apartment door opening and closing. It was as if your body had shut down, operating on autopilot. It wasn’t until the door to the bedroom, which had been slightly ajar, slammed open that you realized you weren’t alone anymore.

And there he was. Satoru. Your husband, your love. He looked as devastated as you, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. His eyes were wide, locked on you as if he had found something he feared he had lost forever. There was relief in them, but also something deeper: pain, regret, and despair. He was there, but did it still mean anything?

Satoru stood still for a moment, as if his body didn’t know how to move forward. His chest rose and fell with shallow, irregular breaths, and the weight of what was happening seemed to crush his shoulders. The knot in his throat was so tight that it made it hard to breathe. He wanted to speak, but the words seemed trapped, suffocated by the whirlwind of emotions tearing him apart inside.

When he finally found the strength, he took a step forward, the sight of the half-open suitcase burning in his mind like a sign of everything he was about to lose.

“Are you… leaving?” he managed to murmur, his voice soft but trembling. There was fear in every syllable, a fear he rarely admitted to feeling, but now it overflowed.

You didn’t answer, just kept your hands busy, as if he weren’t there. But the silence was louder than any word. It was the silence of someone who had already given up. He ran a hand through his hair, wet from the rain, and closed his eyes for a brief moment. The weight of guilt pressed on his chest like physical pain, something deep and unrelenting. He felt as though he were drowning, unable to escape the ocean of regret that surrounded him.

“I know… I know I was wrong.” His voice was firmer this time, but broken at the edges, as if each word was tearing him apart inside. “But please, listen to me.”

You paused for a moment, but didn’t look at him, and he continued, the urgency blending with the pain in each word.

“I… I love you. More than anything in this world. I know it doesn’t seem like it, I know I didn’t show it. But it’s true.” He swallowed hard, the knot in his throat making it even harder. “I let work consume me. I let the pressure turn me into someone you don’t recognize, and that was unforgivable.”

He took another hesitant step, fearing you would pull away even further. His fists were clenched by his sides, as if he were trying to hold himself together. His eyes were misty, but he didn’t blink, staring at you as if his life depended on it.

“But you… you mean everything to me. I know I disappointed you. I know I made you feel alone, invisible. And I hate that. I hate what I did.” He took a deep breath, but the air seemed to not fill his lungs. “I swear I can be better. I need to be better. For you. For us.”

You finally looked at him, but your gaze was filled with pain, and it hurt him even more. It was as if every second that passed made the distance between you seem even greater. Satoru fought the urge to reach out and wipe away your tears, to hold you and beg for your forgiveness, but surely, you wouldn’t want to share the same square meter with him, let alone let him touch you. That thought squeezed his chest.

— Please, don’t leave me. — His voice trembled, desperation dripping from each word. — Listen to me, I...

You interrupted him after staring at him for a long moment, your hands still in the middle of packing the bag. His words echoed in your mind, but you couldn’t break through the wall of pain you had been building for so long. Something inside you shattered, like a dam incapable of holding back the wave of repressed emotions anymore.

"Listen to you? "Your voice came out low, hoarse, but laden with latent anger. "Listen to you, Satoru? Now? After everything?"

He opened his mouth, trying to say something, but you raised a hand to stop him.

"No. You’re going to listen to me now. Because I’m done. I spent months trying to reach you, trying to find the man I loved, but you were always so… busy. Always with an excuse. Always with something more important than me." Your voice grew louder, each word coming out like a bullet, ready to kill anyone in front of it. "Do you know what it’s like to wait? To wait for someone who should be by your side? To wait for him to see you? For him to choose you?" He lowered his head, as if your words had physical weight, piercing him. His chest rose and fell more forcefully, the knot in his throat tightening with every sentence you spoke.

"I loved you, Satoru. I still love you, and that’s the worst part. Because I keep loving you while you destroy me. While you make me feel small, invisible!" Your voice trembled, and the tears you had been holding back overflowed. "I blamed myself for so long, thinking it was my fault, that I wasn’t good enough. But you know what I realized? The problem isn’t me. It’s you. It’s your inability to see beyond yourself, to realize what you’re losing while you’re so busy with... with everything but me."

Satoru felt something break inside him. Every word of yours was a direct blow to his heart, leaving him more vulnerable than he had ever been. The guilt burned like fire in his chest, and he struggled to find what to say, but nothing seemed enough. He knew you were right, and that tore him apart even more.

"You say you love me, but love isn’t this, Satoru. Love isn’t forgetting such an important date for us... Love isn’t making her feel alone in a marriage. " You swallowed hard, the tears now mixed with the rain still running down your face. "Love is being there. It’s caring. And you failed. You failed me."

He stumbled, as if your words had hit him hard. His eyes were watery, his chest tight to the point of pain. He tasted the bitter shame and helplessness as the tears finally escaped.

"I know... " He murmured, his voice barely audible. "I know I failed. But I can change. I will change. Please..."

"It’s not that simple, Satoru! " You shouted, the anger finally overflowing. "Do you think that just saying 'I’ll change' will fix everything? No, that’s not how it works. You broke me. You broke us. And I... I don’t know if I can keep fixing something you seem so willing to destroy.

He fell into silence, his hands trembling at his sides. Her words reverberated in his mind, each one heavier than the last. He wanted to speak, to beg, but the pain in his eyes kept him paralyzed. All he could do was watch, helpless, as the woman he loved poured out all the truths he feared to face.

"I deserve more than this, Satoru." Your voice was now lower, but still filled with devastating sadness. "I deserve more than waiting for you. More than being treated like an option. And I don’t know if you’re capable of giving me that."

The silence that followed was absolute, only broken by the sound of the rain outside. Satoru felt the weight of truth in her words, like a final sentence. He realized that, for the first time, she wasn’t just hurt. She was tired. And that terrified him more than anything.

Satoru opened his mouth to speak, his heart beating irregularly as he struggled to organize his thoughts. He needed to tell the truth, needed to expose what he had always hidden, even from himself. It was now or never.

"You’re the only good thing I’ve ever had," he started, his voice hoarse, but sincere, his chest tight as the words finally escaped. "I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but please, know that every time I failed, every time I hurt you, I hated myself for it.'

You looked at him with tear-filled eyes, but didn’t respond. Your breath was heavy, your shoulders tense, as if the weight of everything was too much to bear.

"I love you, " he continued, the urgency in his voice growing. " Not because I need you, but because you’re everything. You’re my home, my peace, my reason. And I was a fool for not showing you that, for not making you feel that."

He took a hesitant step toward you, as if afraid to break the fragile space between you. But before he could say anything else, something happened.

Your body, so overloaded with anger, pain, and exhaustion, showed signs it couldn’t take it anymore. Your breath became more irregular, and you felt a sudden vertigo. The world around you seemed to spin, the voices, the light in the room, everything started to fade.

" I..." You tried to speak, but the words died on your lips.

And then, you collapsed.

Satoru reacted with primal instinct, catching you before your body hit the ground.

"Hey! Hey! " He shouted, his voice overflowing with panic. His arms wrapped around your fallen body, his head lowering as he looked at your face. Your skin was cold, as cold as the rain still dripping from your clothes. "No... No! Stay with me!"

He pressed his forehead against yours, and then, with trembling fingers, checked your pulse. You were there, but so fragile, so still, it felt like you were slipping through his fingers.

"You’re cold... " He whispered, almost to himself, as panic rose. He could barely think, each thought racing ahead of the other. The guilt crushed him, the fear destroyed him. How didn’t he notice before? How did he let you get to this point?

Holding you tightly, he stood up, almost stumbling as he rushed to the door. He felt your weight so light, as if you had no strength to exist at that moment. He opened the car door with a pull, carefully adjusting you in the passenger seat. His fingers trembled as he fastened the seatbelt around your unconscious body. His eyes couldn't leave your face, so pale, so sad, and so terrifyingly empty.

On the way to the hospital, his hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. He drove fast, ignoring the red lights and the sounds of honking horns around him. His thoughts were a whirlwind of fear and guilt.

"Why didn’t I notice?" He muttered to himself, his voice broken. "How did I let you get to this point?"

He looked at you for a moment, his eyes filling with tears. Your breath was so weak, and your skin so cold… He couldn't think clearly, but the worst thought consumed him. He couldn't lose you. Not just as his wife, but as the person who gave meaning to his life.

"Please, hang in there." His voice faltered, a hoarse whisper that barely made it over the sound of the engine. Satoru's warm fingers brushed against your cold, pale ones. "I need you. Don’t leave me... Please, don’t leave me."

At the hospital, he never left your side. His hands held yours, his heart heavy as he watched the doctors tend to you. Every second felt like an eternity, each beat of his heart a punishment.

"Please," he whispered, looking at you, so still in the bed. "I would do anything for you. Anything."

He gripped your hand tighter, feeling the tears roll down his face. The lump in his throat returned, but he didn’t care anymore.

"I know I hurt you. I know I failed as your husband, as the person who promised to love you above everything else. But I won’t lose you. I can’t. I’ll be better, I promise. Not for me. Not to save this. But because you deserve it. You deserve everything."

Your breathing was more stable now, but he still felt the fear. A deep, visceral fear that, even if you woke up, it might be too late to fix everything.

He closed his eyes, his forehead resting against your hand. And for the first time, he prayed. Not to a specific god, but to any force that could hear him, begging for a second chance.

After a few hours, your body stirred, your eyes slowly opening and trying to adjust to the light of the unfamiliar surroundings. Satoru, who had been by your side, quickly lifted his head, his hand still holding yours.

"Hey, how do you feel?" Her mind barely registered his words, but you felt his warm hand gently cradle the side of your face.

"What... what happened?" you asked, dazed, your vision and hearing slowly coming back into focus. He then explained what had happened, and you understood why you were in such an unfamiliar place.

"Do you feel better?" Satoru asked again, and the question hammered in your head. You now remembered the argument before your collapse and why you were so exhausted and drained that your body couldn’t hold itself up. You just looked at him before turning your gaze away and pulling your hand from his.

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment as if gathering courage to let out everything that had been trapped in his heart. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and raspy.

"I know I don’t have the right to ask for anything, but please, listen to me just this time. I need you to know… everything I should have said before but never could."

He held her hand gently, as if afraid to hurt her, his eyes full of tears he didn’t try to hide.

"I know I hurt you. I know I failed you in every possible way. I was so wrapped up in my own world, so blind, that I didn’t see I was losing the only person who had always been by my side. You. The only one who truly saw me, who loved me despite all my flaws."

His voice trembled, a knot tightening in his throat, but his words were filled with such intense love that it seemed to fill the entire room.

"You are everything to me. And I’m not saying this in a trivial way. It’s the purest truth inside me. You are my home, my peace, my strength. But I left you alone, I made you feel like you weren’t enough, when in reality, you’re more than I ever deserved."

He tilted his head, his eyes fixed on her face, searching for any sign that she was listening. You heard his words calmly, your heart pounding in your chest.

"I’ve spent my life thinking I needed to be strong, that I needed to carry everything alone. But you... you showed me that being strong isn’t about carrying the weight by myself. It’s about trusting. It’s about sharing. And I failed at that with you."

He took a deep breath, and his voice grew even softer, almost a whisper.

"I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you. If you give me another chance, I will spend every day of the rest of my life showing you how loved you are. I will be the man you deserve, even if it takes a lifetime to prove."

A tear fell, running down his face. He lowered his forehead to rest gently on her hand, feeling her skin now warmer against his.

"Please, stay with me. Not because I need you, but because I want to be worthy of you. I want us to have the future you dreamed of, the future you deserve. And, if you decide that it's enough, I will understand. But you need to know... I will love you forever, even if that means letting you go."

He closed his eyes, allowing himself to feel the weight of the silence that followed, while the sound of the machines in the hospital filled the emptiness of the room. You stared at him for a long moment, and though your eyes were tired, they didn’t hide the pain.

"Your words are beautiful, Satoru." Your voice was low, but carried the weight of everything you felt. "But where were they when I needed them? Where were they when I felt alone, even though I was by your side?"

He lowered his head, pressing his lips together. It was a deserved pain, but still hard to bear.

"I know..." He took a deep breath, struggling against the lump in his throat. "I know I failed you. And I’d give anything to go back and do things differently. But I can’t. All I can do now is ask you for a chance to fix what I broke."

You looked away, tears silently streaming down your face.

"I loved you so much, Satoru. More than you can imagine. But loving you... it became so heavy. And I started fading in the process."

He felt the impact of your words like a knife to the chest, but he didn’t pull away. He knew he needed to hear everything, every pain, every hurt, to fully understand what you carried.

"I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness." His voice faltered, but he continued. "But please, let me try. Let me show you that I can be the man you deserve. Not with promises. With actions. With every choice I make from now on."

You closed your eyes, exhausted, but his words reached you in a way you hadn’t expected. You wanted to believe him, but you knew it wouldn’t be easy.

"I still love you, Satoru." The confession came out in a whisper, and he widened his eyes, almost in disbelief. "But I don’t know if that’s enough now."

He held your hand more firmly, his eyes locked on yours.

"It doesn’t have to be enough now. Just let me start. Just give me the chance to prove that you’ll never carry this alone again."

You looked at him, and for several minutes in silence, you pondered. You loved him so much, and had been so hurt by his neglect, but in all these years together, this was the first time you saw him so desperate. A feeling that maybe things could be different from here on out poked at your mind. There was a small spark of hope.

"If I stay, Satoru, it has to be different." Your voice finally broke the silence. "I can’t go through this again."

He nodded vigorously, the tears now freely streaming down his face.

"I know. And I will be different. You don’t have to believe me now, but I’ll show you. Every day. For the rest of my life."

You sighed, the emotional and physical exhaustion weighing heavily on your shoulders.

"You have one last chance, Satoru. Don’t make me regret it."

He lowered his head, pressing his lips reverently against your hand.

"I won’t. I swear on everything I am."

And so, even amidst the scars, a new promise was made. A promise he knew would take a lifetime to fulfill, and he did. He loved you every day, showing his affection, admiration, and tenderness every day you stayed by his side.

And you couldn’t be sure, but you had this feeling so peculiar that the pain you felt that day wouldn’t be for evermore

[asherthehimbo]

Homesick

pairing: traveling photographer! Hongjoong x local! reader

wordcount: 718

warnings: uhm, one or two suggestive sentences but like thats it, mentions of alcohol and going out drinking, ( gender of reader not specified but like involves cutesy texts so take that as you will)

notes: guys i love Mico sm and this song BEEEN stuck in my head so here you go. I AM busy working on Guardians and Bloody sunrise but this was a short little drabble I had since I've been suprisingly busy so its easier for me to write this format than full length chapters rn

Hongjoong is a traveling photographer, his habit of drifting from place to place quite literally in the job description, yet to him there's no place like home. He can never be away from home for more than a week, gets this bubbling anxiety in his stomach that twists in all the wrong ways. He likes home, he likes his own studio where he can secretly work on music without another person's judging ears, he likes his home built darkroom, refusing to develop the photos of his work, when needed physically, anywhere but there.

He's made quite the name for himself, ‘the photographer who gets bored of places easily’, while it may not be the truth, he lets people believe it because it's less embarrassing than the fact that in all honesty he just gets homesick. The title has people scrambling to employ him, thinking he's some sort of elitist artist if he deems himself better than a place after a few days, which isn't what happens, but watching his bosses for the contracts scramble to try and have him stay, to show why they're place is the best has its benefits.

Yet his favorite benefit of all has to be you, a local hired by the same company that hired him to help guide him through the town. He's spent four days with you already, his flight back home leaves tomorrow and while usually around this time he'd be missing home desperately, the thought of returning, of leaving this town, leaving you, hasn't crossed his mind once since he came here, since he met you, until you brought it up, “Wanne go out to celebrate your last night here?” your words were like a punch to the gut, a reminder that this wasn't home, that to you he was just a tourist, a man with a job, to you, he was your job.

He agreed, of course he did, anything that would have him spend more time with you. In all your drunk babelings, all your compliments and teasing flirting, never once did you ask him to stay. It was all his alcohol filled mind could think about, how the words might fall from your lips which he so desperately wanted to kiss. He wanted you to ask him to stay, to beg him to stay. He must've run though a thousand different scenarios on how you would, if it would be spur of the moment, right before he had to leave for the airport, if there would be actions or words leading up to it, if you'd ask pleadingly, or if you'd ask breathlessly between kisses- the last one was his favorite. Yet you didn't. The night dragged on, he crashed at your place, woke up the next morning to you smiling down at him who was sprawled out on your couch.

You drove him to the airport, you saw him off, not once did your smile leave your lips, not once did you show an inkling of want, of yearning, of needing him to stay the way he needed you too. He arrived home with your name still on his tongue, no- not home. Hongjoong stood in front of his house, but it did nothing to cure the homesickness, not when it only started the moment he had entered the plane gates, when you had disappeared from his sight.

“Hii Joong ₍ᐢ.ˬ.⑅ᐢ₎ lmk when you get home safe! I hope I made your time here enjoyable, if your ever back in town id be happy to show you around some more, get some rest much love (づ๑•ᴗ•๑)づ♡”

your text message was like a shock to his system, on one hand he had your number, you'd willingly reached out to him ever after you were done, you'd checked up on him, it made his heart race. On the other hand, it was formal, it was an invitation to use you as a guide again, not a friend, nor something more, the message was a formality, one probably sent to all your clients, that made his stomach drop.

It didn't matter, he’d make sure he was back in your hometown, he'd make sure to see you again, he'd make sure to make you his. He didn't get this good at his job by giving up.

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copyright | 2025 | @asherthehimbo

[airybcby]

hi! may i request shidou ryusei with the 🍓 and🍭 <33

ofc!

a shidou ryusei strawberry lollipop :)

જ⁀♡⊹｡° what am i to do ?

♡ a/n — for my more than a married couple event :)

♡ content — shidou ryusei x gn! reader, gn! reader, reader has strong feelings for shidou, set in high school, unrequited love :)

♡ synopsis — shidou ryusei was like a hurricane of chaos, and you weren't sure your feelings would survive the hit.

You should’ve known something was up when Shidou Ryusei's name appeared next to yours on the list of marriage simulation partners.

The universe had a cruel sense of humor, pairing you with the one person you’d spent the past few years trying not to fall for.

But it was Shidou—a human hurricane, all sharp smiles and chaotic energy. You’d been swept up in his orbit long before this simulation ever began, even though you knew better.

For someone like him, love wasn’t a slow burn. It was an explosion. And you were terrified of being caught in the aftermath.

The first day in the shared apartment was like stepping into a storm.

“Yo, partner,” Shidou drawled, leaning casually against the doorframe with a cocky grin. “You ready to play house, or what?”

You rolled your eyes, dragging your suitcase inside. “It’s only for a week, Shidou. Try not to get too comfortable.”

“Oh, I’m plenty comfortable already,” he shot back, tossing his duffel bag onto the couch. “The real question is—are you ready for this?”

He gestured vaguely between the two of you, a wicked glint in his eye.

You didn’t dignify that with a response.

Living with Shidou was...an experience.

He had no concept of personal space, always lounging too close or draping an arm around your shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Relax,” he’d say whenever you stiffened under his touch. “You act like I bite or something.”

You knew better than to entertain him with a response.

But it wasn’t just the teasing.

It was the quiet moments, too—the rare glimpses of vulnerability that he never let anyone else see.

Like when he’d stay up late after dinner, staring at the city lights through the window, lost in thought. Or when he’d talk about his dream of being the best striker in the world, his voice softer than usual.

Those moments were what made it so hard to keep your feelings in check.

One evening, the two of you were tasked with planning a mock anniversary dinner for the simulation.

Shidou, naturally, insisted on making it “interesting.”

“C’mon,” he said, dragging you into the kitchen. “Let’s cook something fancy. How hard can it be?”

As it turned out, it was very hard.

An hour later, the kitchen was a disaster zone, and Shidou was laughing so hard he could barely stand.

“Okay, okay,” he said between gasps. “So maybe cooking isn’t my thing.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, too, despite the mess.

In moments like this, it was easy to forget that this wasn’t real—that none of this meant anything to him.

As the weeks went on, you found yourself getting more and more tangled in Shidou’s web.

Every playful remark, every fleeting touch—it all felt like something more than it was.

And you hated yourself for it.

Because no matter how much you wanted to believe otherwise, you knew that Shidou wasn’t capable of the kind of love you were looking for.

The breaking point came during one of the program’s mandatory relationship check-ins.

The counselor asked the two of you to describe what you’d learned about each other during the simulation.

You hesitated, unsure of what to say.

But Shidou, as always, didn’t hold back.

“I’ve learned that you’re way too serious,” he said with a grin. “But that’s okay. Someone’s gotta keep me in check, right?”

The room erupted in laughter, and you forced a smile, playing along.

But deep down, his words felt like a slap in the face.

Because while you were falling for him, he was just playing a role.

On the final night of the simulation, the two of you sat on the couch, flipping through the stack of photos from your tasks.

“Not bad,” Shidou said, holding up a picture of the two of you from the anniversary dinner. “We almost look like a real couple.”

“Yeah,” you said quietly, your chest tightening.

He glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “Hey. What’s with the long face? You’re not actually gonna miss me, are you?”

You forced a laugh, brushing it off. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

But the truth was, you didn’t know how to let him go.

As you packed up the next morning, Shidou leaned casually against the doorway, watching you.

“Y’know,” he said, his voice unusually soft, “you’re not half bad at this whole ‘marriage’ thing.”

You looked up at him, your heart aching. “Thanks, I guess.”

For a moment, it felt like he was going to say something else—something important.

But then he smirked, breaking the tension. “Don’t miss me too much, okay? I’ll see you around.”

And just like that, he was gone, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Weeks later, you saw him on TV, scoring the winning goal for his team.

He grinned into the camera, all sharp edges and uncontainable energy, and you couldn’t help but smile, too.

Because even though he’d never been yours, a part of you would always belong to him.

And maybe—just maybe—that was enough.

he is the SILLIEST BILLY!!

i hope you liked it!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Bachelors reacting to a farmer who is a famous author with plenty of books under their belt?

Sure thing :D Thanks for your ask, dear anon!

_________________________________________

Elliott:

Elliott had recognised Farmer as soon as they first met near Willi's shop. And how could he not - a famous writer in the horror genre, whose lines skilfully present anxiety and intrigue to the reader, had come here to Stardew Valley! On top of that, it was Farmer who was the one who inspired the ginger writer not to give up on his writing path despite the comments of others. Naturally, the two will find quick common ground, exchange ideas and advice about their work (if Farmer continues to write novels in addition to their new job), or just relax over a mug of strong ale. Elliott is delighted to meet them and hopes that the Valley will become a home and a place of inspiration for Farmer, just as it has become a home for Elliott.

Sebastian:

At first, Sebastian couldn't believe his own ears when he heard Farmer's first and last name during their meeting, but then, upon asking Farmer again a little later, they confirm the local emo's speculation. The new farmer who has taken over their grandpa's old house is the author of all five volumes of Cave Saga, his favourite books! Sebby loves science fiction and sci-fi, and Farmer's works in this genre are bestsellers in the Republic and a gem in Sebastian's personal collection of his books and comics. He will be a little awkward at first to approach them due to his shyness and reluctance to show himself like an obsessive fan or something. But Farmer turned out to be a very chill and nice person, with whom Sebastian became friends pretty quickly.

Shane:

After Shane had replied to Farmer upon introduction in a not too polite manner, he wondered if somewhere he had heard their surname/name before. Not the chatter of townsfolk who were intrigued by the new resident of the Valley, much earlier. The realisation came when he started reading Jas her favourite bedtime story (which Shane also secretly loved) in the evening. "The Brave Little Sapling. Author-" !!! No way... Could it be a coincidence? But overheard conversations of others confirm that Farmer is the same author. Sigh... Though it's a children's book, it raised some pretty adult issues, and helped Shane to not give up and to appreciate what we have. He doesn't know how to address Farmer now, after a not very great first meeting, but he thinks it's worth apologising at least.

Alex:

Perhaps Alex would have reacted to the news that Farmer was a famous writer more surprised or enthusiastic. The thing is - and he's ashamed to admit it - he hasn't read very many books in his entire life. Athlete, however, wants to catch up, and has been blowing the dust off some of the books on his shelf since last week. Most of them were as boring as integrals, to be honest, but 'Jack Be Nimble, Jack Be Thick' has become his favourite. Easy to understand, lots of pictures, some puns, and very cool tips for him - no wonder it's the most popular according to reviews. "This is my first volume, I already wrote a second one." Wait... Farmer is the author of this book? Hey, there's so much great advice in there! That's awesome! Now Alex is super excited.

Sam:

Not to say that Sammy is a big fan of books, he's more of a comic book fan, but there are a couple of exceptions. One great fantasy book, based on which people created some great video games and produced a lot of comics - naturally the young guitarist, who loved the franchise, wanted to know the source material, and the book was even more interesting. When he mentioned it to Farmer, the Valley's newest resident, about it, they told him they were the author of the book. Which made Sammy's jaw drop with shock. He couldn't contain his delight and would ask questions about the fictional world, but wouldn't disturb their peace if they didn't want to. Whether they continue write or not, Sam will thank them for a great book and a cool fictional world Farmer created.

Harvey:

Hmm, funny coincidence..... The surname of the new resident of the Valley and Harvey's patient is exactly the same as the surname of the author of one of the most popular love novels, "The Apple Orchard." Yes, the doctor is a fan of this book series, he's not just into medical reference books and encyclopaedias about aeroplanes, you know. True, now he's heard that the author wanted to retire... "Well, not exactly, I wanted to take up farming and make writing a hobby again, not a full-time job." Not a coincidence, then... Harvey is pleasantly surprised that his new friend is his favourite writer, also a decent man and a calm patient during check-ups. The relationship won't change much, the doctor doesn't want to inundate Farmer with a bunch of questions about book universe. Maybe later, if they want to talk about their novels over a cup of coffee.

[burntheedges]

Pas de Deux Chapter 13

Din Djarin x f!reader | 4k | fic masterlist | main masterlist | ao3

chapter summary: it's finally the night of the Gala, and it's finally time to perform with Din.

a/n: First, if you didn't see the AMAZING art @kenobiwanx made of ballet!Din, please go look now!!!

Second, a week or so ago @iknowisoundcrazy asked me about a scene I was proud of writing, or something like that, and my answer was really this chapter. I just couldn't say that yet. I hope y'all enjoy it. I can't believe we only have one more chapter! I'm super behind on replying to your amazing comments because I just moved over the weekend, but I will catch up, I promise. Thank you @katareyoudrilling for being the best beta, as always!!

chapter tags/warnings: fluff, dancing, flirting, touching, pet names (sweetheart), hand-holding, intense feelings, kissing, I think we've already covered all of the dance moves in this chapter but I added some links used previously just in case

Chapter 13

At call time, you were feeling much more relaxed and ready for the performance. You successfully avoided the tornado that was Greef Karga backstage (where Alexa and Vince were corralling him) and found one of your usual spots in the dressing room near Adrian. He was already dressed for Jee’s piece in a full-coverage bodysuit with a skin color background and abstract shapes printed on it in blue. You knew his fellow dancers were in similar outfits with different colors, and that the shapes were somehow incorporated into the choreography. Jee was good at things like that.

You quickly put on your bodysuit and your sweats over top. It was a little chilly backstage and you had plenty of time before the show would start. 

Adrian leaned against the counter to your right and crossed his arms. “Where’s your other half?”

You pointed upwards – there were a couple of dressing rooms that were more private, and you were pretty sure that’s where Din had been getting ready. “He’ll be down in a bit. You ready?”

He nodded, smiling. “This is a fun one. Jee’s choreography is always weird, but cool.”

You laughed as you finished your stage makeup. “True,” you agreed.

Fifteen minutes later, Din popped his head into the room. He had on a loose t-shirt and sweats, but you figured he had his shorts on underneath. You noticed a few people waved at him and he nodded in response. He caught your eye in the mirror and motioned for you to join him in the hall. 

You looked at Adrian. “See you in a bit.”

He smiled and shoved your shoulder lightly. “Get out of here.”

You laughed and joined Din in the doorway. He smiled and led you to the right and around the corner, and you realized where you were going. There was a tiny dressing room with no mirror that no one ever used, except for taking naps – it had a somewhat comfortable loveseat.

As you entered, you realized no one was in there but Din’s bag was on the couch. “Is this where you’ve been getting ready?” The room was so small that the two of you basically filled it.

He nodded, a bit sheepish. “I just drop by the other room to use the mirror.”

You smiled. “If I’d known I’d have come and claimed the couch,” you teased.

He ducked his head and smiled. “You’re always welcome.”

You moved over to the couch and sat down. “So, what’s up?”

Din leaned against the folding table that ran the length of the wall by the door. “Could you help me with the body paint? I think some of it wore off in the back.”

“Sure,” you said, moving to get up, but he waved you back down.

“Not yet. We’ve got a few minutes and it’s too cold to be basically naked in here already.” 

You laughed. “True. But we want it to dry, right?”

He sighed. “Alright. Ok, come here.” His hands moved to the hem of his shirt and he tugged it gingerly over his head. You realized he was avoiding the paint. It was dry, though, and looked fine.

“Where’s the problem? The front looks fine.” Your eyes traveled over the swirls on his torso and you smiled, lightly. When you met his eyes he was smirking again.

“Should I take off my pants, too?” His eyes were almost sparkling as he teased you.

You gasped, just for show. “Din! What are you insinuating, hmm?” You stepped up next to him and took a closer look at the paint, looking for any spots that had rubbed off.

As soon as you were close enough, he grabbed your hips and pulled you forward between his open knees on the table. You flailed a bit as you looked for somewhere to rest your hands, eventually settling on his forearms. You didn’t want to mess up the paint, which was mostly on his torso and biceps. 

Once you were steady, he leaned forward, far enough that his lips were almost touching your ear. “I saw you check me out, you know. Last week.” His voice was deep, and you shivered again. He pulled back and grinned.

“Din Djarin, you tease.” 

He squeezed your hips and shook his head. “It’s not a tease, sweetheart. I checked you out, too.” He cleared his throat and looked down. “Not for the first time.”

You smiled. “Adrian said we were both watching each other in class, all the time.”

Din laughed. “I don’t know how you didn’t see me. It felt like I never looked at anything else.”

You felt your face heat. “Ok. Enough of that. We have a performance,” you poked him in the side and laughed when he tried to dodge, “get your head in the game.” He smiled and squeezed your hips again. “Now let me see your back.”

You moved back as he stood so he could turn in front of you. For a moment you simply looked – your eyes danced over his broad shoulders and then down his spine. You wanted to reach out and touch, to trace the lines of his muscles and curve of his waist with your fingertips. He was so strong. 

You shook your head. The paint. You frowned as you looked for any breaks in the paint. “Din, it looks fine. I don’t see any spots where you need a touch up.”

When he turned back to face you, his expression was suspiciously blank. “Oh? Well, maybe I was wrong, then.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Din Djarin, did you have ulterior motives when you brought me in here?”

He smirked again and shook his head. “No, you know we’re saving those for later. I just…” he sighed. “I’d rather wait with you than alone.”

You rolled your eyes at him, but smiled. “You could have just said that.”

He shrugged. “There could have been some spots to touch up. You never know.”

You laughed and tugged him over to the couch. He sat sideways so as not to actually rub off any of his paint, and you sank into the corner. “How much time do you think we have?”

“Probably about ten minutes.” The first movement was after Vince’s piece, which opened the show. You needed to be backstage when it started. Then the second movement was between Talia’s and Jee’s, and the third finished the show. 

You reached for his hand and laced your fingers together. It wasn’t out of the ordinary to get comfortable touching your pas de deux partner before a performance, but you knew this felt different, for both of you. “Want to go warm up?” He nodded. “Alright. Meet me backstage? I have to go do my pre-show thing with Adrian.”

Din raised an eyebrow, and you realized he’d never seen your “thing”, as you called it. “Or you can come and watch, if you want. We just have a silly handshake and then we hug.”

It turned out that he did want to watch, and he followed you back to your dressing room after stripping off his sweatpants. You allowed yourself to ogle his legs briefly before leading him out of the room. “Do you have any show rituals?”

Din shrugged. “Not really. I usually do the same stretches and warm up.” He thought about it for a moment. “Grogu says I have a lucky shirt. It’s in my bag.”

You laughed. You realized, as you grabbed Adrian and started your ritual handshake, that you felt more at ease, more comfortable than you usually did before a performance.

It must be because of Din, you figured. It was hard to be nervous when you knew he’d be there with you for every step. Adrian hugged you, and you squeezed him until he made an “oof” sound.

“Ok, ok, let me go. Don’t squeeze me to death.” You laughed at his grumbling as Adrian pulled back to check his costume in the mirror. “Go do your thing, I’ll see you backstage later.”

You pulled off your sweats and left them at your spot. You grabbed your pointe shoes and turned to face Din, who was looking at you. Well, he was looking at your legs. You grinned. 

“Come on,” you said, grabbing his arm. As you passed him, you murmured, “who’s checking who out now, hmm?” 

Din followed you out, and once in the hall, he said, smirking, “I already confessed.”

You made your way backstage together and found a spot where you could warm up in the large area behind the wings. You put on your shoes and began to help each other stretch.

Kuiil found you there a few minutes later, and he smiled down at you both. “Are you ready?”

You both nodded, but Din said, “we are.” His voice was firm and warm and it made you smile.

Kuiil nodded. “Yes, you are. Excellent. I will be in the audience. I wish to see it as I meant others to see it. I will see you soon.” He reached down and rested a hand on each of your shoulders. “Remember. Be in the moment, and be there for each other.”

WIth that, he turned and made his way down the hall and, you presumed, out to the audience. You felt warmed from his clear pride and belief in the two of you together. 

As you finished stretching, you heard the audience settle down, and you figured the house lights had just gone down. Your guess was confirmed when you heard Karga’s voice welcoming everyone to the gala.

“Good evening,” he began, and you could picture the wide smile on his face. “Thank you for celebrating our 5th anniversary with us. We are so pleased to have you here.” The crowd applauded, and Karga chuckled. “Yes, thank you. We have a wonderful program planned for you tonight, with pieces that feature the best of what our amazing dancers can do. All of our choreographers – Vince, Talia, Jee, and our visiting choreographer in residence, Kuiil – have prepared new, never before seen pieces for you just for this gala.” The audience applauded again. “We are so grateful for your patronage, and we hope you enjoyed this season. Please, sit back and enjoy the visual feast we have prepared – and don’t forget about the free refreshments during intermission!" That got a light chuckle from the audience. “Thank you.”

The crowd applauded once more, and you assumed Karga was walking off stage. You heard the curtains open and nudged Din. You tilted your head towards the wings, silently asking if he wanted to go watch the quartet. He shook his head and motioned for you to stand with him. He leaned in and murmured, “I’d rather warm up a bit more with you.”

You’d seen the quartet in dress rehearsal, and it really was beautiful. It was funny to think that it had been your original role in this program. You nodded and joined him in some light jumps and lunges, and then spent a few minutes warming up your ankles.

You heard the quartet’s music begin to build towards its crescendo. Before you could turn to head backstage, Din grabbed your arm and reeled you in. He placed his hands at your waist and you let yours rest lightly on his forearms again. He leaned in and rested his forehead lightly against yours. 

“You’re going to blow them away,” he murmured, and you felt that familiar feeling that he inspired start to well up in you. “Ready?”

You nodded. “You too, Din. Show them who you are.”

He pulled back and smiled at you. As you turned, you slid your hand down his arm and tangled your hands together. You walked backstage hand-in-hand.

The quartet was just finishing up when you found a place to stand together, out of the way of their exit. You caught Phil’s eye where he stood with his headset on by the tiny backstage lamp, and he nodded at you. You tugged on Din’s hand. “Here we go.”

He nodded at you and released your hand. You would go out first on your own, and then Din, and then you would be on stage together. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. Just before you stepped forward, you heard Din murmur, “beautiful.”

You stepped into the wings with a smile playing around your mouth. And then the music started, and all you thought about was the dance.

…

You’d never felt like this before. You’d never danced like this before. 

From the moment you stepped onto the stage, you could feel it – you were going to nail it. And you did.

You whirled through your solo, and leapt off the stage just in time for Din to enter after you. You watched him and you could see it – he felt it, too. You grinned, and then forced it off your face. He was a stranger, and you were meeting for the first time.

You spun back onto the stage at your cue and you felt his eyes trace across your shoulders like a caress. The two of you danced past each other, circled each other, glanced off of each other, just barely not touching. The connection between you pulled taut and you swore you could see where he was on stage even when you weren’t looking at him.

It would have stolen your breath away, if you had let it – you’d never felt so in sync with another dancer before. 

The first movement ended with the two of you touching, briefly, and then dancing away from each other. As you were about to exit into the wings, you looked back, and caught him already looking at you. You both froze, and then darted off stage.

The audience burst into applause. You grinned at the dancers waiting backstage for Talia’s ballet, and they met you with silent cheers and pats on the shoulder as you passed. 

You headed straight for the door to the backstage area, looking for Din.

He must have had the same idea, because as you turned into the hall that ran behind the stage, you found him almost jogging towards you, smiling wider than you’d ever seen him.

“You and me,” he said, breathlessly, and you nodded.

…

You had to wait through two longer pieces for the second movement, which would be between Talia and Vince’s collaboration piece and Jee’s. Wary of getting too cold, you returned to Din’s small dressing room, grabbing your sweats on the way. You didn’t want to break the bubble you could feel forming around the two of you.

Din pulled you into the room behind him and then into a loose hug. “I want to hold you tighter,” he murmured, “but this paint.” 

You laughed. “It’s probably for the best.” He hummed. “Ok. We can rest for a minute, and then we need to get ready for the second. And go stay warm.” He nodded. 

“You were beautiful.” His voice sounded deeper than normal and you shivered in his arms. 

“So were you, Din.”

…

There was a barre set up backstage for warming up, and the two of you stayed there as you waited. You watched as the dancers heading backstage moved around you for Talia’s piece and then Talia and Vince’s collaboration, but you and Din stayed in your own little world. That wasn’t unusual, for a piece like yours. You practiced a couple of lifts just to have something to do.

You were ready.

With only a few minutes to go, Din leaned into you again. “Ready?” 

You nodded. He grabbed your hand, this time, and led you backstage.

The piece Talia and Vince had collaborated on was almost over – it had three couples, a mix of principals and soloists, and you let yourself watch them for a few moments. When it was almost time, Din tugged you in again, foreheads together. 

“Let’s blow them away,” you said, stealing his words from earlier. He smiled.

For the second movement, you started on stage, so you stepped away from Din to go take your place when the lights went down. Alone on stage, in the dark, you took a deep breath. As the music started, you stretched into position, and sank into your character. 

You felt Din’s presence when he leapt on stage, and from there, the chase was on. 

In the second movement, you circled each other, sometimes coming closer, sometimes moving farther away. Glancing touches brought you together and then hesitation drove you apart. You wanted to know each other, to understand each other, but you had to find a way to communicate. To make yourselves understood.

You began to mirror each other’s movements, to adopt each other’s styles. You found common ground between you to build on and with the first lift so firmly grounded, it felt like you flew into the air. Din held you aloft and then flipped you downwards, catching you in another hold. You spun away and felt him follow you, and the connection between you strengthened.

Just like the first movement, you could barely think, could only feel – and it felt amazing. You knew, distantly, that you and Din were performing at a level neither of you had managed alone. You had created something new, something that could only exist because you made it together.

The second ended with you and Din briefly together, and then your character shied away – you ran from him, twirling off stage without looking back. He reached for you just before the lights went down.

The audience erupted. You were grinning so wide your cheeks hurt. Adrian was backstage, ready for Jee’s piece, and he looked like he wanted to run over and hug you. But just then Din came through the wings behind you and you felt his arms circle your waist. 

He didn’t pull you too close (the paint) but he leaned forward to breathe into your ear, “so fucking beautiful.”

You shivered, and Adrian winked at you. You laughed and tugged Din behind you into the hall.

You didn’t have as long of a break this time, only the length of Jee’s piece, which was only about 25 minutes. You knew you didn’t really have time to go far.

As you entered the hall, Din grabbed your hand, and made a sharp right. Just around the corner out of sight he backed you against the wall. 

He leaned on the wall with his forearm by your head. For a moment neither of you said anything – you were both breathing hard, chests almost touching every time you took a breath. His eyes caught yours and you couldn’t look away.

“I’ve never…” he trailed off, and you nodded. You understood. 

“Me neither,” you breathed, and his eyes darted down to look at your lips. The feeling that had built inside of you during the performance turned into fire.

“Din–” you started, but he cut you off by pressing his lips to yours in a searing kiss. He pulled away almost as quickly.

“I know,” he said, “I know.” He leaned back, and looked at you again. “I never dreamed it could be like this. I think I was meant to dance with you.”

You were glad you were already leaning against the wall, because your knees threatened to give out at his words. “Me too,” you said. His hand came up to cup your cheek lightly, careful of your makeup. 

“Come on,” he said, “let’s get ready for the third.”

You nodded and let him lead you back down the hall.

…

You thought you’d be nervous, as you stood in the wings before the third movement. You’d gone backstage a little bit earlier than before to watch Adrian, but it wasn’t distracting you. 

But that might have had something to do with Din’s presence at your back and his hand tangled with yours.

You breathed together as you watched and sank back into your characters. In the third, you were almost always touching – almost always chasing or being chased, grabbing or holding on. The movements revolved around your need to be together and create something new together.

As Jee’s piece came to a close, you felt Din step closer. He kept hold of your hand but wrapped his other arm around your shoulders from the back. “One more,” he murmured in your ear. “Let’s show them who we are.” You smiled and nodded. He squeezed your hand.

In the third, you started off stage. In the wings you both took a deep breath, and then the music started. You darted on quickly with Din at your heels, and from there you were off.

He chased you across the stage, and you let him catch you on the other side. You twirled around each other, leaping together, pulling each other along. He supported you through turns and lifts and jumps and you let yourself sink into the music. You internally marveled at how you seemed to be two dancers with one brain – you would reach for him, and he would be there, every time.

When you reached the pique turn, a smile played around your mouth. Din tugged you backwards by your ankle, capturing you and lifting you into a spin. Your body moved through the familiar steps, and when it came time to launch yourself through the air so he could catch you, you fought a grin off your face.

He lifted you over his shoulder, and let yourself appreciate, just for a moment, the strength of the muscles in his back.

Din tilted you back up and let you slide down against his chest. You sank into it with ease, and the two of you let the moment linger. You met his gaze and saw the smile dancing behind his eyes.

From there the choreography built to a crescendo that had you breathing hard, coordinating your movements perfectly to stay in contact – your hand on his leg, his arm around his waist, your arm around his neck, his shoulders supporting you. It pushed you upward and forward until, suddenly, you stopped, facing each other. You breathed as the last note held, staring into each other’s eyes, and then slowly folded into an embrace that took you both to your knees. 

The lights went out, and for a moment you couldn’t make sense of the sound that washed over you. You looked up at Din, and then out to the audience. It seemed like everyone in the theater had taken to their feet, cheering and applauding.

The rest of the company was backstage cheering, too.

Din leaned backwards and stood, offering his hand to pull you up, too. You took it, and he tugged you forward so that you had to lean into him just a bit. He looked like he wanted to say something, but then the lights came up.

You both turned to the audience, bodies moving into the familiar stance, ready to take your bows. But you were both taken aback when somehow the applause got louder.

You glanced at Din, but he swept you forward, and before you could stop him, presented you to the audience. 

You smiled, and when it was his turn, did the same for him.

As soon as you were done, the rest of the company poured out of the wings to join you on stage, and the standing ovation seemed to go on forever. Adrian popped out of the crowd at your side and wrapped you both up in a hug, which startled Din and made you laugh. “That was fucking amazing!” he shouted in your ear, and you laughed. Din started to smile, too, and you squeezed his hand, still tangled with yours between you.

You looked at him as the company moved to take a final bow together, and for a moment, you couldn’t hear the noise around you at all.

You could only see Din, smiling at you, so widely his eyes crinkled. 

Beautiful.

...

prev | next

a/n: they did it!! I'm so proud of them!!! next week... what happens after the gala? 😏 we finally earn those smut tags, lol. I don't really have any notes this week, but let me know if you have any questions! 🧡 and don't forget to check out the art!!

[olliewrites-stuff]

Beautiful Things.

“You came back!” she whispered disbelievingly.

Floronia had been convinced that the wizard currently huffing out of breath in front of her had left her for the final time.

Gone in the night, leaving only a scrap of aged parchment with a hastily scribbled message resting on the pillow where their head should have remained. The druid had awoken the following morning to the rays of dawn gently stroking her face. She’d rolled over, expecting to meet the warm mass of her bedfellow, and felt only the crinkling of the note on her cheek and empty air.

Zaire stared determinedly at the mountains behind Floronia. Not making eye contact. Never making eye contact. "For some reason, I'm attracted to you,” the wizard grunted.

A month ago, this statement would have caused the druid’s stomach to stir excitedly. As it stood, after three weeks of tears, reflection, and grief, these words only sickened Floronia.

Unbidden, the words from that note on the pillow flew through her mind:

Floronia,

I’ve left. Don’t try to find me; I do not wish to be found. We both knew this wasn’t going to last. I’ve just taken the initiative to end this before either of us gets hurt.

My family have accepted me back into their society.

I’m moving to my next adventure. You should too.

Regards,

Zaire

It was far too late for the druid to be unharmed. Every re-read of the message had shattered part of herself even further. The words were clinical, formal, reflecting nothing of the love Floronia had been convinced bloomed between the two. This hurt more than the act of physically leaving. It hurt more than if Zaire had simply left with no note.

No, they’d taken the time to write a letter. They had evidently respected Floronia enough - in some twisted version of respect in their mind - to leave a note. The removal of emotion in the note proved, to the druid at least, that they had never loved her.

She’d only started adventuring to impress the wizard.

She’d only dared to believe she had a chance with them because of the attention the usually aloof, disgraced noble had blessed her with.

What a fool she’d been.

Presently, Zaire cleared their throat. Their dark, furrowed eyebrows hung like thunderclouds over piercing grey eyes.

“Well?” they asked.

Floronia closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Tapping into the wells of hurt that lay ready within her chest, she allowed them to leach the emotion from her tone.

“Thank you for letting me know,” she droned.

Zaire scoffed, furious eyes finally meeting the druid’s own.

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?” they hissed.

The druid shrugged.

Zaire’s features stretched into an incredulous frown.

“I come back to see you, tell you I’m attracted to you, and all you have to say is ‘thank you?’ Where have your emotions gone?”

The druid barely squashed a desire to scoff. Bold for the wizard to ask about feelings. They’d made Floronia feel like an over-emotional idiot all throughout their… well, it barely counted as a relationship, but she supposed that was the word that fit best.

“You’ve never cared about my emotions before,” she stated icily. “You certainly don’t deserve them now.”

Zaire dragged a hand desperately through their cropped blonde hair. They seemed… upset?

“Gods, Flo, I’m sorry!” they all but shouted in frustration. “Alright? I’m sorry! What else do I need to say?” Those icy eyes met hers again. This time, a hint of desperation lurked in the irises.

The druid frowned, unswayed.

“What if I said I’ve moved on to my next adventure?” she asked calmly.

This seemed to confuse the wizard. “What?”

“‘I’m moving to my next adventure. You should too,’” Floronia quoted. “Your message was pretty clear. What if I’ve moved to my next adventure?”

A flurry of emotions overtook Zaire’s face in quick succession, surprise, disbelief, anger, and mourning, settling finally on bereavement. Floronia had never seen this many emotions on her ex-lover’s face. It was bittersweet to see it now.

The wizard’s shoulders slumped. They ran a shaking hand over their face as they exhaled loudly.

Finally, their eyes ghosted across each of Floronia’s features. An expression of miserable acceptance settled itself on their face.

“W-Who?” Zaire croaked.

When the Floronia remained silent, the wizard squeezed their eyes shut as if preparing for a blow.

“Just - just tell me,” they grunted. “Who?”

Floronia’s frown deepened even though she knew the other wasn’t looking at her.

‘What makes you think you have any right to know about the people I’ve been with since you?”

The effect was immediate. Zaire stumbled backwards as if they’d been struck.

“P-People?” they whispered. Their chest heaved with emotions. When their gaze met Floronia’s once again, the druid startled with surprise at the stricken, teary expression on their face.

“I - I don’t have the right, I suppose,” they gasped wetly. “I just - Floronia, I -”

The wizard wiped their nose with a sniff.

“I fucked up,” they stated. “I never should have… You have every right to… I -”

Gods, Floronia had often wished for more displays of emotion from her ex, but this barrage of despair and floundering was unnerving. She almost wanted the old Zaire back.

“Are they people I know?” the wizard whispered.

The druid looked away, not wishing to see the other’s reaction. What she didn’t expect were Zaire’s next words,

“I - that makes sense, I guess. Any of them would give you the life you deserve.”

At this, Floronia whipped back around to face her ex-lover. Where was this coming from?

“What is that supposed to mean?” she hissed.

Zaire startled. Evidently, they hadn’t meant their words negatively. The druid failed to see the alternative to their meaning, though. Zaire hailed from a long line of nobles. They’d been raised in high society. Their path should never have crossed with Floronia’s own.

Years ago,they’d had an affair with the daughter of another noble family, leading to their disgrace and eventual escape to study wizardry. After this fall from grace, Zaire had surrounded themself with miscreants, taking on jobs no matter how deceitful or unlawful.

These people were their peers. These are the people Zaire had implied, in Floronia’s mind, would provide a life she deserved.

These people were no longer their peers, the druid supposed. The note was the first time she’d heard about Zaire’s family accepting them again. She supposed this made sense for their hurried exit from their shared life together. Floronia may have been acceptable company when they were a disowned lowlife, but she had no business in the world of nobility.

Deep inside herself, Floronia knew she didn’t belong in such society, but Zaire cementing this belief had cut her the deepest.

“Flo?” Zaire called.

Evidently, the druid had lost herself deep in thought. This didn’t sound like it was the first time the wizard had called her name.

Fighting back tears, her ice wall crumbling, the druid spat, “Don’t! You don’t get to call me that! You don’t get to nickname me, like I ever mattered to you, like you ever loved - hell, even tolerated me!”

Zaire frowned, “That’s not -”

“Don’t!” Floronia yelled. “I get it, okay, Zaire? I get it. I was never good enough for you. Not even before. I’m especially not good enough for you now that you get to go back to your cushy old life. You never loved me. I was a fool to think that you did. I’m sure you’ve had a great laugh at my expense with your new, posh, friends and lovers, okay? I get it, I’m a fucking joke from your past. A great story to tell at parties, I’m sure!”

Zaire’s frown deepened, “But, Flo, I -”

“Stop it, Zaire!” Floronia screamed. Tears flowed freely down her face. All the words she’d whispered to herself late at night in the last three weeks bubbled to the surface and out of her mouth. “You left me! You don’t get to pretend to act hurt for pity points! You left me, in the middle of the night, with only a fucking note, to return to your old life. Your beautiful life, with beautiful people, and beautiful places! You’ll find some beautiful woman to call your wife, make beautiful friends, and find other beautiful women to cheat on your fucking wife with!”

She inhaled deeply, “I was a fool to think I could ever stand in for these beautiful things. What, you’re attracted to me? Big fucking whoop! You’ll find someone else. Someone worthy to you. Someone you respect enough to maybe actually talk to instead of abandoning in the middle of the night!”

Floronia stepped towards Zaire. Something deep within her smirked at the way the other cowered beneath her intimidating stance. Serves them right.

“You have no fucking right to ask about what or who I’ve done in your absence to fill the gaping hole in my soul and life that you left. This ‘attraction’ will end. You never loved me. You don’t love me. So, go back to your beautiful life and leave me alone to continue picking up my own broken pieces!”

Out of breath, Floronia’s chest was now the one heaving. She didn’t expect a cool hand to gently card through her hair and over horns. Glancing down at Zaire’s face, the druid was surprised to see an equally gentle expression below the tears.

“I’m sorry,” they whispered. “I shouldn’t have left. I was - it was a really weird situation to be in, with my parents. If I’m honest, I used it as an excuse to leave because I was terrified of my feelings for you.”

Floronia huffed in disbelief and ripped herself from Zaire’s embrace. How dare they? She turned to leave.

“I LOVE YOU,” Zaire shouted.

The words halted the druid in her tracks, but she refused to turn around.

“I’m - I’m really shit at expressing it, obviously. I’m sorry. I don’t just find you attractive, I guess I just said that to protect myself, but now I’m worried you’re really going to leave without me telling you, so… It’s time for me to be self-sacrificing.”

Floronia remained frozen.

“I’ve never loved anyone like you,” Zaire stated, then winced. The druid could practically hear the wince. “Not like that! I mean, I’ve never felt this strongly about anyone, and that scared me. You’re so honest and loving, and I’m just a mess. I thought that if I left, you’d find someone who could love you like you deserve, and I could find someone to fill my time…”

When they next spoke, the wizard’s voice was soft, “Flo, I was wrong. I’ll never find anyone that can hold a candle to you. I can’t say the same for you. I’m sure you have many people eager to fill the place I once, foolishly and selfishly took for granted. A place where they can experience your love and trust so intensely…”

Their voice cracked with the words that followed, “I love you, Floronia. I know that now. I can admit it. I know you don’t need my approval, but - but I don’t care how many people have come before or after me. I can’t say I don’t care if you don’t believe me or take me back, but I can say that it’ll never change my opinion of you. I love you. I’ll love you until the end of time, I know it.”

Floronia’s shoulders shuddered with silent tears. Zaire’s words flowed over her like a soothing balm, but the pain refused to subside. She heard them take a step closer.

“I went back to my parents. It’s a world I don’t belong in, but I’ve tried to make space for myself and someone else. I had something to ask them, and something to grab from them… Floronia…”

The druid heard a rustling behind her. Overwhelmed by curiosity, she whirled around to see Zaire on one knee, holding an ancient and intricate ring between their shaking fingers.

“Floronia,” they whispered. “Will you marry me?”

The druid’s eyes widened, and her mouth opened and closed silently.

“Are you - are you fucking kidding me?” she cried, confused tears welling in her eyes.

Zaire was an asshole, but they’d never been cruel like this.

“This isn’t funny, Zaire,” she gasped, lips trembling.

The corners of the wizard’s mouth turned downwards in concern.

“Flo, I know I’ve done some shitty things, but I would never do something like this insincerely,” they stated calmly, maintaining eye contact with Floronia.

“I love you,” they repeated. “I - I want to give you everything. I want to make up for all my mistakes, and then more. I want to make a life with you. I want you in my life.”

They startled at Floronia’s following burst of tears.

“Take as much time as you need,” they soothed. “Say no if you genuinely don’t want to. But, please, Flo, don’t say no just because you think this is some elaborate prank - which I would never do. I mean this with all sincerity. Let me prove just how much I love you, every day, for the rest of my life.”

Floronia shook her head, tears still pouring down her cheeks, “I’m someone who doesn’t belong in beautiful places,” she whispered.

The wizard stood, pocketing the ring and pulling the druid into a tight embrace. They kissed the top of her head softly,

“You make places beautiful by simply existing in them. You are the most beautiful place,” they murmured into her ear.

When the druid shook her head again, Zaire held her out at arms length.

“Floronia, please,” they begged. “Say yes. Let me prove to you every day how you make my life beautiful, and how much I love you.”

Swallowing around the lump in her throat, the druid finally replied, “No.”

Zaire allowed their arms to fall. They swallowed loudly and darted their eyes away. Floronia managed to catch the grief in them.

“Oh, okay,” the wizard stated desolately. “I, um, I respect your choice. I’ll just - I’ll just leave you alone, then.”

They slumped miserably and turned to leave. Floronia darted a hand out to catch theirs before they could slink away, miserable and gone from her life forever.

“Zaire,” she called calmly.

The other turned a hesitant face towards hers, making no effort to hide their misery.

Floronia pulled the arm towards her. Zaire’s body followed sullenly.

“I - This is a lot,” she explained. “It’s a bit much to rush into an engagement and marriage with so much still not sorted out between us. It would be ludicrous for me to say yes today after everything we’ve been through.”

Zaire looked at the ground and tried to tug their arm away. Floronia held on tighter, pulled them closer, and tilted their head up towards hers with her free hand.

“I’m not saying no forever,” she whispered. The wizard’s eyes lit up with hope.

“Why don’t we start with just trying again? No secrets this time. Take me to your beautiful places. Prove to me that you actually love me. That you’re willing to accept my love. And one day, when the hurt is gone, when our lives are already intertwined, when we have shared visions for our future, then I’ll say yes.”

The grey eyes she adored shone with joy. The pair leaned close together, reuniting their lips with the salty taste of beautiful things to come.

© O.M.A

Prompt #290

“I’m someone who doesn’t belong in beautiful places.”

[sikyulioness]

I don't know if you can make head canons but can you make one for Jinwoo as a yandere 🥲

✨Hope you like it✨

_______. ._______

Bound by Shadows

Jinwoo wasn’t the type to believe in fate. Destiny was just an excuse for weak men to justify their failures. He had spent years clawing his way to the top, turning his own death sentence into power, and he refused to let anything or anyone distract him from that.

And yet, the first time he saw you, something shifted.

It was supposed to be an ordinary evening. He had just finished eliminating a gate’s remaining threats, his shadows slithering back into place as he stepped into the quiet city streets. The weight of his responsibilities loomed over him, as always, yet for the first time in a long while, his mind went utterly blank.

Because there you were.

You weren’t extraordinary. There was no overwhelming presence, no aura that demanded attention. If anything, you were unassuming, lost in your own world as you walked past. But that was what made Jinwoo stop.

The world was a cruel, dangerous place, and yet you moved through it like you had never known fear. How? How had you managed to exist so quietly, so untouched by the darkness he had come to know so well?

His shadows stirred beneath him, curious, waiting.

He told himself he would forget you by the time he turned the corner.

But he didn’t.

—

At first, it was nothing. Just coincidence. He convinced himself that running into you again was a matter of probability, nothing more. Seoul wasn’t small, but it wasn’t impossible for two people to frequent the same places.

Still, he couldn’t ignore the way his eyes always found you in a crowd. The way his feet seemed to move on their own, trailing a little too close when he should have been walking the other way.

The shadows made it worse. They were drawn to you, following at a distance even when Jinwoo willed them not to. It was unnatural, the way they curled in anticipation whenever you were near, the way they whispered in his ear that you were something important.

It wasn’t until he noticed the changes that he realized just how far he had already fallen.

The obstacles in your life began disappearing before you even noticed them. A late-night stalker who had been watching you for weeks? Gone before he could take a step too close. That café you always visited, where the barista had been a little too friendly for Jinwoo’s liking? Suddenly under new management. The landlord who was thinking of raising your rent? Changed his mind overnight.

Jinwoo made sure your world remained untouched. Unbothered. Safe.

He was careful, always careful, never letting you see the way he stood just out of your line of sight. The way he listened to your voice from the shadows, memorizing your habits, your routines, the way your lips curled when you were deep in thought.

He thought it would be enough.

It wasn’t.

—

The gifts started appearing before he could stop himself.

A necklace in your favorite color, left on your doorstep with no note. A coat just thick enough to keep you warm when winter rolled in, arriving at your door as if it had been a mistaken delivery. Things you never mentioned wanting, yet somehow needed.

And when he saw you wear them—saw the way you smiled as you ran your fingers over the delicate chain, saw the way you pulled the coat tighter around yourself on cold mornings—something in him settled.

As if this was always how it was supposed to be.

—

Jinwoo never meant to frighten you.

He never thought you would notice, never thought you would realize the way the world bent around you in ways it never did before.

But then you tried to leave.

He heard it in your voice before you even made the decision, the way your words wavered as you told a friend you were thinking of moving. A fresh start, you said. A new beginning.

The shadows lashed violently beneath his feet.

No.

You didn’t need a new beginning. You didn’t need to run from something that had never been a threat.

You were his.

And nothing—not distance, not fear, not even your own resistance—would ever change that.

So when you opened your eyes one morning and found yourself somewhere unfamiliar, wrapped in warmth that was not your own, Jinwoo was already there.

Waiting. Watching.

Smiling.

"Good morning," he murmured, his voice smooth, affectionate. Final.

Because now, finally, he didn’t have to watch from afar anymore.

---

The End

[stvrnzcherries]

Could you please write more of Nick because i don’t see enough Nick story’s ( it could be. Fluff, smut, etc anything you want)

› NICK COMFORTS YOU AFTER AN ARGUMENT

a blurb where bf!Nick comforts you after you two had a fight.

“If you want to fucking break up with me, just tell me right now so I can stop being such a burden to you!” The last words you said before you slam your bedroom door, disappearing from the living room, leaving Nick completely alone lost in thought after the big fight you got into with him. The palm of his hands rubbed against his face out of frustration, his elbows rested on his knees.

He grunted, looking back to check the door and back to see the floor, his mind racing with draining thoughts of the argument, you guys fought about how poorly Nick’s been distributing his time with you, you’ve been noticing a lot of changes in his mood when it comes to you and it made you physically sick to the point that your overthinking made you believe that he would break up with you anytime by now.

But the story is completely different, Nick has been dying to spend some quality time with you but the tons of meetings for Space Camp, merch, tours, photo shoots, and pre-recording Friday’s videos have been draining the energy and time out of him for weeks.

Nick chimes in your room after a few minutes, he sees your figure lying on the bed, your face covered with your pillow, the pillow muffling your sobs. He gets closer to the bed, sitting down on the corner, his hip grazing your feet, he carefully places a hand on your calf, his thumb tracing circles around the fabric of your jeans. “Baby, I’m sorry…” He spoke slowly and gently, his voice soothing to his touch, “I didn’t mean to come over to fight…I want to spend time with you…I miss you…” He said as he watched you remove the pillow from your face, your eyes puffy and the tears stained on your rosy cheeks.

You looked at him, wiping the tears away with the back of your hand, “I’m sorry too…” You replied with a faint voice, his eyes glistening with softness and empathy now.

His hand moved to cup your cheek before he moved beside you on the bed; your head now resting against his chest, his fingers tangled with your hair locks, tears breamed on your face as Nick kept comforting you. “I could never break up with you…” He murmured as you fell asleep in his arms.

The last thing you heard before your ears completely shut down to drift into your sleep was his voice, “I would never even think of breaking up with you…I love you too much to even think about it…” His voice coos you into your dreams.

a/n: more blurbs while I attempt to finish my Chris fic (I struggle sm with procrastination).

Taglist: @sturniolossss @tillies33ssss @chrisloyalgf @alorsxsturn @sturnioloslurps @cindylcuwho @3mm4yung @chrissfavwh3re @blahbel668 @lov3bug @starsturns234 @junnniiieee07 @mstarniolo @sara2233445 @teenagetrash00 @mattsturnioloisbae @mbbsgf @thecynthh @braindead4l @freshsturns @lexisecretaccx @wh0resstuff @jnkvivi @sturncakez @sweetlikesug4rvenom @sturniolo-slut @madiflipowicz @lizzymacdonald06

[prongslqvr]

lulls to sleep ~

summary: you have trouble sleeping, and he lulls you to sleep.

warnings: so cute, james with you in bed

notes: please help the writer! reblog and follow me, I do all the requests! 🦌

It was a cold winter morning, and the rain had soaked the large glass windows of the castle. James usually didn’t care about the rain—unless it interfered with Quidditch practice, then he would curse every drop—until he met you.

Just the fact that there were thunderstorms near you made your body shiver and your heart race, which is why James was always by your side. Today was another rainy day in the week, and he hated it because it disrupted Quidditch and, most importantly, you.

Nights were hard without him when it rained.

Today, he stayed by your side the whole day, making jokes or playful remarks to cheer you up. But night came quickly, and he tried to distract you from it. "Love, remember that golden snitch I caught just before time was up, huh?" — "Do you prefer Slughorn or Minnie?"

Your bath was relaxing, warm, and long. When you came out, James was already standing at the dormitory door, waiting for you to open it. When you opened it, he gave you the biggest, most loving smile. And just that sparkle in his eyes behind his round glasses made you feel loved. So very loved.

You returned the smile, letting him in. You lay on the bed first, and moments later, you felt a weight beside you. That feeling of fear melted away, leaving only the true love between you two.

That night was the best of your life, the harsh sound of the rain outside blending with the loud laughter in the air. Bedtime was approaching, and the sleepy feeling in your body too, and James noticed. "Maybe it’s time to sleep, beautiful." — "But... I want to stay with you a bit longer..." your sleepy, needy voice.

"A deal; I’ll rock you to sleep, and when you wake up, I’ll be the first thing you see, hm?" You agreed.

You snuggled into his chest, feeling sleep take over. James' voice was soft and a bit sleepy too. He started:

"Soft kitty, warm kitty, little ball of fur... happy kitty, sleepy kitty, purr, purr, purr..." At first, you laughed a little, not believing you would fall asleep to a lullaby. But even before he finished, you were already asleep.

[aesethewitch]

When I was a kid, we moved into a house that had a huge lilac tree out front. It was mostly rotten, and it needed to be taken down before it fell. It took a while, but eventually, it was gone.

Mostly. A couple years later, little lilac babies popped out of the ground in its place. My mom was determined to get rid of them, because she'd planted a beautiful flower garden there, and the lilac trees would overshadow and kill the whole garden. I insisted on saving at least a few saplings. She said fine, but I had to dig them out and put them in pots myself.

So, I did. I spent days digging little lilac bushes out of the ground and putting them into pots. Some couldn't be saved, but some could. When all was said and done, I had five brand-new lilac saplings. Seven or eight years old, and it was my absolute pride and joy.

Three died due to sun scorching, severe drought that no amount of watering could save, and perhaps just being moved from their place in the ground. But two survived, and I was awfully proud of them! I'd go out and talk to them every single day. I watered them by hand and made sure they were fertilized properly. I learned all about their favored environments, and I was determined to make sure they lived.

One of my mom's friends saw what I was doing with the lilacs. She asked if she could have one to put in her backyard, and I agreed on the condition that she take very, very good care of it.

It's now fucking enormous. I'm talking ten feet tall and bursting with beautiful purple flowers every spring. My mom still gets updates each year as they start to bloom, which she forwards to me. And all I can think is, "That's my friend! Thriving some twenty years on, there it is."

The other tree nearly died, too. It lived in a pot for far, far too long. I wanted to plant it somewhere in my parents' yard, but my mom was reluctant. Eventually, we agreed to put it in the far back garden. It grew okay for many years, despite the shade, but in all these years, it's never bloomed.

Last year, the massive tree casting massive shadows over the lilac and the garden cracked in half and fell. It tumbled into the garden, crushing part of the nearby shed and destroying a few plants beneath it.

It missed my lilac by inches.

The clean-up is long done. The rest of the tree has been cut down, and my lilac has full sunlight for the first time in fifteen years. It won't bloom this year, I know. But it's got new shoots up. It's taller than ever. I spent half an hour a few weeks ago praising it for surviving all this time, dreaming about its future and telling it how I believe it'll become the tall beauty it's always been meant to be.

I think next year, I'll see flowers.

[inbabylontheywept]

The Motherfucking Lizard King

No one at work trusts my boss. 

He's smart. He works hard. He's not trustworthy. He hasn't actually fucked anyone at work over, but he's ruined his last two marriages with affairs, and got dumped by his third fiance when he wouldn't sign a prenup. The fact that we all know this is just a hazard of working in a small town. 

Anyway: The thought process of the people in the lab is that if he screwed over his first wife, and his second wife, and was probably planning on screwing over his third wife, it would be insane for him not to screw us over. After all, what kind of idiot treats their employees better than their spouse? 

I dunno. His kind, I guess? He's had a few chances to fuck us over, and he hasn't taken them. Opposite really. When our parent company was doing furloughs, he stayed in the office almost a hundred hours, talking and talking and talking his way up the corporate ladder. And in the end, no one at our site got furloughed. 

He's pulled strings like that before. And it baffles me, right? Because it really does make zero sense. He'll move the heavens and the earth for us, but his wife and kids are afterthoughts. It feels like any moment, he's going to look into the mirror and realize how stupid that is. It feels like I'm betting on him making the same stupid mistake again, and again, and again - like it would be less cynical to believe he was, eventually, going to stab me in the back. But he hasn't yet, and as far as I can tell he's been making that mistake for close to fifteen years, and it's already cost him everything it can. If he was going to learn, he would have by now. 

So my position on him is that if he wanted to date someone I cared about, I'd warn them off. I don't trust him there. But I tentatively trust him to be my boss. Maybe one day he'll stick the knife in and twist, and everyone will say Ah, Babs, we warned you, but for now, I accept that he's doing a very predictable, very irrational thing, and I've made my peace with it. 

---

My job has glue traps. 

No one likes the glue traps, but we don't have a lot of options. Poison's banned by state law, spring traps are banned by company safety, and several non-lethal options tried in the past failed to work. The mouse problem can get pretty bad if it's ignored, and there's some real health hazards in that. Our site has never had a positive hantavirus test, thank God, but the big base about a half hour away has. That guy's gonna be on oxygen the rest of his life. 

If a mouse gets caught, we just euthanize it. But more than mice get stuck. Lizards can wander into those traps too, and the people working there have different feelings about the lizards. They don't pose nearly the same kind of risk mice do. They're chill little guys, and they keep the moths away, and they're just 

You know. They're friendly. There's something to be said about walking into a room, and hitting the light switch, and seeing two little guys on the wall start to do pushups as soon as they see you. 

People used to just euthanize the lizards too, but I had pet leopard geckos as a kid and I couldn't take that so I wound up googling how to free animals from glue traps. Now, when a lizard gets stuck in a trap - which happens once or twice a week - I get some vegetable oil from the breakroom, and a little plastic fork, and I'll spend fifteen to twenty minutes just kind of gently prying the little guys out. 

I have a team of technicians that help me operate one of the larger machines. They're real blue collar guys, ex-airforce, and they make me look like a little kid. Being an engineer means they'll look to me as a leader sometimes, which is a wild experience. And I started helping the lizards for my own conscience, but one of the crazier consequences of it has been that it seriously boosted my leadership cred. Because those guys see me, and they go: Hey. If he's willing to fight for a lizard, he's gotta be willing to fight for me. 

I cannot overstate how nice that is. Most engineers that want to make a change to a maintenance practice, or try an upgrade, they have to work their asses off to get the techs to buy in. But I can just ask. They already trust me to do good. They know I'm new, and they know I'm not the smartest engineer in the building, but they also know I'm the one who gets lizards out of the glue traps. 

And just because of that, they're willing to follow me. 

---

My boss has a meeting every month or two. It's typically basic house cleaning stuff - reminders about routines we've gotten lazy on, and updates on future projects. Maybe some warnings about problems coming from higher up in the company.

People are, in my opinion, a bit too cynical about the meetings. It stems from people not trusting our boss, which again, I understand, because it would make so much more sense if he wasn't trustworthy. It's a testament to the man's incredibly unhealthy priorities that he is. But as we made it to the end of the meeting, one of bullet points was: 

Do NOT mess with animals in the building. 

So I looked at my techs, and they looked at me, and when he got to the point, he was so scathing I actually just wanted to crawl under a rock and die. He said basically that he'd heard some reports about someone in the building handling animals that found their way in and got stuck, and that he just wanted to emphasize how insanely inappropriate that was, not to mention dangerous, and that if he needed to speak to anyone about it again, there would be severe consequences. 

I was willing to just take the shame and move on. I was. But one of my techs is old. Old enough he could've retired two years ago. And his actual literal goal is to one day get angry, yell at someone, and storm out. That's how he wants to retire. So instead of biting his tongue like everyone else, he stood up and said: I hate the glue traps. You hate the glue traps. We all hate glue traps. But we've all sat here for years, ignoring the little things that get stuck in them, watching them die, and then Bab's comes in, and he is the first person in decades to give enough of a shit to start pulling the lizards out. And I don't want him to stop. 

Get humane traps or shut up but we are not going back to the old way of just letting things starve. 

And my boss actually froze up. He got all wide eyed and stared at Marc, and then the other techs jumped in, and there was a very small but intense rebellion in the meeting and my boss kept trying to interrupt while getting absolutely bowled over by this gang of angry middle aged air force vets, and eventually he just went 

I will speak with Babylon about this afterwards! After! And then he will speak with everyone else, but I have more points to cover. 

So they went silent, and my boss rushed through the last five minutes, and we all adjounred. The techs really didn't like that I was going in alone - they thought our boss was going to try and shout me into compliance. Marc in particular was like, Look, if he tries bullying you, stand your ground, and if he threatens anything, just come get us, and we'll give him hell. 

So armed with that, I went to my boss's office. I sat in the chair across from him, and he kept his composure for maybe five seconds before just flopping back into his chair. 

I had no idea you were saving lizards, he said, but I'm glad you are. I always hated seeing them die in the glue.  

I wasn't expecting that. I was about to ask him what the comment from the meeting was about then, but he answered that before I even got the chance.

A snake got into the building last week, and - someone picked it up and chased a coworker around. Turns out that coworker was severely afraid of snakes, and now it's a shitshow. We're a small site, and now I can't ask those two to work together anymore, to say nothing about how the snake fared after all that. Being upset about that is a reasonable thing, right? 

And he gave me a look like he actually wanted an answer, so I said Yeah, totally, chasing a coworker around with a snake is a dick move. Especially if that coworker is already afraid of snakes. 

And he said Exactly! and then we sat there a few moments longer. He looked so incredibly tired that I did, actually, feel kind of bad for him. And then he somehow managed to sink even further into his chair, and said

Look, I know I'm not a good guy. But I'm not evil. I'm not some sort of crazy asshole that's going to demand that everyone watch lizards starve to death. When you go back downstairs, could you try to pass that on? That I'm not evil? 

I said Sure because it wasn't a hard request, and he looked relieved. I actually made it halfway out before I realized I had a question. 

Who grabbed the snake? I asked. 

Not supposed to talk about it, he said. But whoever comes to mind first is probably right. 

ThatGuy? I asked. And he looked me in the face, nodded his head yes, and said No. 

---

The techs seemed a little disappointed that they didn't get to storm the boss's office, but were otherwise in good spirits. They were actually a little bit embarrassed to hear about the snake story - apparently, it wasn't much of a secret. It'd just slipped their minds because it happened three weeks ago. 

We did maintenance after that, the same basic repairs we did every week. The meeting had been stressful and it was a relief to work with my hands. When the parts were reinstalled, everything cleaned and smooth and ready to go, Marc found me again. 

You know what the lesson of today is? he asked. And there were quite a few answers to that that I could have taken - from don't assume the worst of people to be careful with how you spend your trust - we all need it more than we think. 

But instead I said what? because I wanted to hear what his answer was going to be. 

That I got your back, he said. Then he clapped one very, very large hand on my shoulder, gave it a good squeeze, and walked back to dosimetry lab.

---

The next day, Marc gave me a package and told me to open it in my office. I was suspicious, but I followed the request.

Cardboard gave way to a small baggie, obviously full of fabric, which opened to reveal a t-shirt that read

"I Am the Motherfucking Lizard King."

I looked at it, I loved it, and then I got an idea. I went to my boss's office and knocked on the door. When he opened it, I asked him if he would be willing to allow something very unprofessional to happen for morale building purposes.

How unprofessional? he asked. I held the shirt up in answer. He gave the shirt a short look over and snorted.

You can wear it on weeks without customers, he said. Which just so happened to include that week.

I'll pass on that it came with your blessing, I replied, and he looked oddly relieved.

Thanks, he said. And then I went downstairs.

---

The techs were very, very happy to see the shirt. And while my boss's reputation remains in tatters, and probably will be until he moves (or dies), the next time there was a meeting, there was quite a bit less complaining about how mere presence. Which is, I guess, a start.

We'll see if he squanders it.

[cocklessboy]

The other day I told a friend of mine that I never forget to take my ADHD meds because I fucking love my ADHD meds. I'm in my late 30s, I didn't finally get a diagnosis and meds until less than two years ago, and they have changed my entire life.

And he raised his eyebrow at me. We'd been discussing addictive medications a few minutes before, like the Tramadol I finally got from the pain specialist to take once a week or so to give me a break from my chronic pain, so I reassured him that methylpenidate (Ritalin/Concerta) is not addictive (at least not in people with ADHD).

His response? To raise his eyebrow even harder and say "Well it sure SOUNDS like it's addictive!"

And I had to explain to this man - who works in a healthcare related job by the way - that just because medication makes you feel good and helps you, just because you look forward to taking it, that doesn't make it addictive or dangerous. And he wasn't convinced.

The simple fact that I was excited to take a daily pill that has literally changed my life, after decades of fighting to get that medication, made him think I shouldn't be taking it so often. That it must inherently be dangerous.

I'm not even in America, but I'm pretty sure this attitude began there and then spread over here to Europe. This Puritan idea of "if something feels good, you must beware of it. Pleasure is dangerous, it is sinful, it is addiction, it is evil."

I know too many people who subconsciously believe that pleasure = addictive = dangerous = bad. Joy is a slippery slope to hell.

So here is your reminder for today that you don't need to be afraid of feeling good. If something improves your life, use it. Even if it is addictive - learn what that addiction means, whether the addiction is inherently dangerous or not, and whether the benefits outweigh the drawbacks and risks.

My ADHD meds are, in fact, not addictive. But I will take them every day because they make my life orders of magnitude easier. I will enjoy them every time I take them.

My tramadol is addictive. I will still take it. I will keep it on a schedule to avoid becoming addicted, primarily because addiction in this case would mean reduced effectiveness. But I am not afraid of my painkillers. They are life changing.

Take your meds, everyone. Don't let anyone scare you away from doing something that improves your life.