#like every time it felt like the conversation would end

[endereies]

THOUGHT YOU WERE MINE - CS

No Nut November - Day 5

NNN Masterlist...

-➤ When Chris was finally ready for a relationship with you, it was too late

Your situation with Chris was complicated to say the least. You had been running around with his for the past few months, sneaking off during parties and events. You loved the risk between getting caught with someone who was only meant to be your best friend. But it never stayed that way.

At first you sought out Chris’ attention in the midst of a drunken decision, yet as time went on, you found yourself seeking his frame in the crowd as soon as you arrived. It was stupid, you were aware of that. Chris never did commitment, that he made clear. Countless conversations spiralled around the idea if you two and what you both wanted.

You had thought you could escape the pain of falling for someone you couldn’t have. As soon as your heart clenched when he complimented you, you knew it was over. That feeling only grew and even if in the moment you felt like the only girl he’d ever look at, it was a lie. It didn’t help that when you snuck off with him, it wasn’t always for sex. Occasionally you’d find his hand tangled in yours while the concrete steps lay below you. Sounds of the party called the pair of you back. You always ignored it.

He'd steal the odd kiss from you, in front of people and never batted an eye. The two of you would be dragged into the stage by the other to your favourite songs and you never care how you looked when you were with him.

Those moments made him question how he felt about you, seeing your vibrant smile as you danced with your friends. Or the way you’d laugh without a care in the world. Little did you know he was falling too. He hated it.

Chris was open about his commitment issues to you. He wasn’t someone who was immediately happy getting into a relationship, the whole idea intimidated him. Having a label felt too immediate for him, and after being hurt in a previous relationship it was easy to see why. The fact he was falling for you was already enough to throw him off course, he just couldn’t turn away.

The way you both felt wasn’t subtle. Your friends always giggled when they noticed the smudged makeup that was lining your lips. No matter how many times you v denied the accusations of you two dating, the butterflies in your stomach became obvious.

That was until you confronted Chris about everything.

“Hey Chris...? Vulnerability filled you as soon as the words left your mouth. Quick glances around the room failed to aid you in finding anything else to converse about. His hand stilled from your hip, the touch burning your skin. “Mm? What’s up?”

You hadn’t even said anything to him, and you already felt sick in your stomach. Is this how every confession goes? “Can we talk…about us?”

“What about us Y/n?” You could tell he was getting concerned, yet not out of fear, but the fact he’d have to repeat himself again.

“I don’t want this anymore…like, I don’t know. I guess I don’t want to act like this is all casual anymore.” His touch on your hip no longer burned as it withdrew completely.

“I’ve told you, I’m not into that shit Y/n. We agreed on that, you knew. I’m not meant to be in a relationship, especially with you. That shit would hurt the both of us. We talked about this, end of.”

Tears brimmed at your eyes, and you felt so childish. He was right. You had discussed this more than once, the rules were clear. Weren’t rules meant to be broken. You couldn’t believe that you could be so stupid, the false hope from your friends fed into things that shouldn’t have been touched.

“Right…Well maybe I should go.” He didn’t protest, or even acknowledge you leave. Asking you to stay felt like too much to him, even if every cell argued with him.

The door shutting felt too real. You had actually left, this wasn’t a prank? Chris’s gaze was held on the door, praying you’d push it open and walk back through. You never did.

You quietly left through the front door and walked away from the porch, both your hands in your pockets. You were thankful for the dark sky, that way no one could see your tears. It was too quick, to reactive. It felt scripted hearing those words from him. ‘I’m not meant to be in a relationship, especially with you’

With you…

Maybe if you were someone else, he’d be more willing to hold your hand and call you his. He would always step in and call you ‘his girl’ when any other guy got a little to close to him. For once you wished it wasn’t a ploy. Chris never played you, never treated you badly, never gave you a reason to walk away. Maybe that’s why it hurt so much, he was too perfect.

Steady weeks went by with no contact from you. You never came over to his place anymore, invitations to parties remained unread. He didn’t care, he shouldn’t. What was this weird feeling in his chest.

It hurt seeing you so close and yet so far. Your contact was there, staring him in the face. Your face beaming in the profile picture wasn’t helping him. Chris felt out of place now. Without you by his side he had no one to kiss, no one to hold. He had no one to rant about his day to, no one to console when things got bad. His friends weren’t the same, he needed you. As much as he hated to admit it, all his thoughts revolved around you more than ever. Whenever he used to think about you, his heart clenched with resolute admiration towards you, now it felt sour. It was like a deep breathe wasn’t deep enough, distractions weren’t fulfilling enough.

He hated the feeling of falling for you, but the feeling of losing you was a nauseating sensation he wanted to scratch off his skin.

Not even alcohol could wipe the stain of you, nothing was working. He waited too long and fell comfortable to the casualness of your relationship. He was willing, willing to work through any fears if it meant getting you back.

Before he knew it, his front door was locked, and footsteps disappeared into the night. Stars began to light the sky above him. He found himself wondering if you were looking at them too, like you used to. The walk was only 15 minutes away but each second felt too long. he had waited too long. Now he hurt someone he cared about for his own selfishness.

When Chris turned the corner, his body stilled, and his stomach dropped to his feet. An unfamiliar car was parked outside your house, tilted against the concrete. Your hand placed gently into another’s as they pulled you from the car. You inched closer towards them, yet Chris remained frozen. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. Who was he, why was he here, with you.

The voices were too meek for Chris to make out, yet the message was clear. It was evident when the distance between you two close, his lips softly touching yours.

Only then could Chris turn his eyes away, he felt betrayed without reason. Chris wasn’t ready and when he finally was, he pushed you away enough to move on.

Yet, he loved you first.

@melliflws @yuhayeee @st7rnioioss @sturn-bugz @bueckerrss @worldlxvlys @raysmayhem-72 @patscorner @y0urm4m @bernardsbendystraws @junnniiieee07 @luverboychris @jnkvivi @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @shorthairchris @colorthecosmos444 @anabethinking @zay-sturns @anyaa2s @emilyfaith2003 @jassturn @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @sturniolosiphone @ribread03

© ENDEREIES 2024

[helen-with-an-a]

would you consider a part 2 to be the best?

maybe everyone realises reader making an effort and she starts to get closer at team bonding nights etc. then gets angry and thinks everyone will go back to hating her but happy ending

Hiiii - so I hope you enjoy this - I might make another part, I might not - I'm not quite sure

Be The Best part 3

AWFC x Reader

Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3

Description: R joins the team on a trip to the cinema

Word Count: 4.4k

Deciding what to wear – it seemed like such a simple task, yet it was the one thing consuming your thoughts. It was more than just picking an outfit; it felt like the key to unlocking your entire evening. If you could just figure out what to wear, then maybe everything else would follow. The outfit could set the tone, give you confidence, and make you feel ready to face whatever was coming your way. Or at least, that's what you kept telling yourself, over and over, as if the right choice of clothes could somehow solve all your other problems too. The pressure to get it right was overwhelming, as if choosing the perfect outfit would magically make everything else fall into place.

But it wasn’t even a special occasion – it was just the cinema. A casual, relaxed outing, nothing crazy, nothing formal. Just the cinema. You were going to watch a movie, sit in the dark for a couple of hours, and maybe grab a snack or two. No big deal. It wasn’t like you were going to a fancy dinner or an important meeting. Just the cinema.

And yet, it wasn’t just the cinema. It was the cinema with your friends, work colleagues, people you have definitely bullied at times. You knew you had to strike a delicate balance – casual, but not too casual; relaxed, but still put together. It wasn’t simply about the clothes. It was about perception, about how the others would see you and what they would think. Every choice seemed to carry a weight that extended far beyond fabric and fashion. Would they notice if you were too dressed up, standing out like you were trying too hard? Or would they judge you if you were too laid-back, as if you didn’t care at all?

For most people, it was just a routine outing, something they had done countless times. But for you, it was uncharted territory, an experience you’d only heard about or seen in movies themselves. The idea of sitting in a dark theatre, surrounded by others, watching a story unfold on a massive screen – this was completely new. You didn’t know the unspoken rules, the social cues that everyone else seemed to take for granted. How were you supposed to act? What was the right amount of enthusiasm or restraint?

And what about conversation? That was another minefield altogether. You knew the basic rule: no talking during the film. That part seemed straightforward enough. But what about before the film started, when everyone was finding their seats, shuffling in with popcorn and drinks? Was there a right way to initiate small talk in those brief moments of dimmed lights and hushed voices? Should you comment on the previews, ask about their day, or maybe even crack a light joke to ease any tension? Or would it be better to keep it simple, just a casual greeting before settling into the silence? The uncertainty gnawed at you, making it difficult to predict how you should approach those moments.

And then there was the aftermath, the part that seemed the most daunting of all. What would you talk about after the film ended? How do people usually transition from the intensity of the movie back to regular conversation? Should you start with your thoughts on the film, maybe offer an opinion or ask for theirs? But what if your opinions didn’t match? What if you missed a key detail, or your interpretation was off? Would you come across as clueless or out of touch? You didn’t want to be the one who misread the mood, who either overanalysed every scene or brushed off the film too casually.

What if they didn’t want to talk to you? That fear was the heaviest of all, lurking in the back of your mind and casting a shadow over everything else. Leah had promised that you were welcome to attend the team bonding event, insisting that it would be a good opportunity to relax and connect away from the pressures of the football field. But did they really want you there? Was her invitation genuinely extended on behalf of the entire team, or was it just a polite gesture, something she felt obligated to offer? The thought gnawed at you, making you second-guess every detail of the evening.

You had been so mean to them for so long – too long, really. Screaming had been your only form of communication, your voice always raised, always harsh, leaving no room for warmth or understanding. It was as if yelling was the only way you knew how to convey your thoughts, your frustrations, your demands.

Images of Kyra’s terrified eyes flashed across your mind, haunting you in those quiet moments when the noise of the day had finally died down. You remembered the way she would flinch whenever you called her name, her eyes wide and fearful, as if bracing herself for the inevitable onslaught. It wasn’t just once or twice – no, those moments were all too frequent, etched into the fabric of your daily routine. You could almost hear the echo of your own voice, sharp and cutting, as you berated her for the smallest mistakes, things that now seemed so insignificant in hindsight.

You had changed four times already, each outfit a different attempt to strike the right balance, to somehow capture the perfect blend of casual yet polished, approachable yet confident. Each time you thought you’d found the right look, doubt crept in, nagging at the edges of your mind until you found yourself back at the mirror, scrutinising every detail. First, it was joggers and T-shirt – too casual, you decided, too close to something you’d wear lounging around the house, not quite right for an evening where you wanted to make a better impression. Then came the one dress you owned – simple, comfortable, but suddenly it felt too much, as if you were trying too hard, the exact opposite of what you wanted.

You tried again, opting for a more relaxed outfit, a sweater and a pair of tailored pants, thinking this might strike the right chord. But as you stood there, looking at yourself, the reflection staring back seemed off, like you were wearing someone else’s clothes. You looked like you were going into a business meeting. It didn’t feel like you, or at least not the version of yourself you wanted to present tonight. So you changed again, this time into something more middle-ground, some baggy jeans and a top. But even then, you couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t quite right.

As you stood there in front of the mirror, surrounded by discarded outfits strewn across the bed, you wondered if maybe the clothes weren’t the real issue. Maybe it was the fact that no matter what you wore, you couldn’t escape the history you carried with you, the reputation you had built, and the uncertainty of whether any outfit could really make a difference in how you were perceived.

Your phone buzzed on the desk, the familiar vibration cutting through the thick fog of your thoughts. The sound startled you, pulling you out of the endless loop of doubt and second-guessing that had been consuming your mind for what felt like hours. You glanced over and saw the screen light up with your alarm, its insistent tone a stark reminder that time had finally run out. There was no more room for deliberation, no more opportunity to agonise over every detail.

It took you longer than expected to get to the cinema, your nerves slowing you down at every turn. The streets seemed unfamiliar, the route winding through a part of town that you rarely ventured into. As you navigated through the maze of side roads and intersections, you couldn't help but notice how different this area felt from your usual haunts. It was quieter, more residential, with an air of nostalgia that hung in the evening breeze. The buildings here had a certain charm, with their old-fashioned storefronts and quaint cafés, each one exuding a sense of history that made you feel like you had stepped back in time.

When you finally arrived at the cinema, it wasn’t what you had expected. You had envisioned something sleek and modern, a polished building with neon lights and a buzzing crowd. Instead, you found yourself standing in front of a place that felt like a hidden gem, tucked away from the busier parts of the city. The cinema was smaller, more intimate, and as you approached, you were struck by its unexpected charm. The exterior was unassuming, with a classic marquee that displayed the film titles in black letters against a white backdrop, the lights around it softly glowing in the dimming light.

Inside, the atmosphere was cozy and inviting, a far cry from the sterile, impersonal theatre you had walked past as a kid. It was cute – more retro than you had anticipated, with an ambiance that immediately put you at ease. The plush blue seats lined the aisles, each one a deep, rich shade that contrasted beautifully with the cream-colored walls. The seats looked like they had been carefully maintained, their upholstery soft and welcoming, as if they had been chosen for comfort rather than just practicality. The walls, with their creamy tones, added to the sense of warmth, their subtle detailing suggesting a bygone era when cinemas were more than just places to watch a film – they were places to experience something special.

"Hey, I'm glad you could make it," Kim said softly when she saw you arrive, her voice warm and welcoming. There was something genuine in her tone, a sincerity that caught you slightly off guard. It was as if she truly meant it, as if your presence was something she had been hoping for rather than just politely acknowledging. Her smile was gentle, her eyes reflecting a kindness that made you pause for a moment, unsure of how to respond.

You had been so wrapped up in your own anxieties, so convinced that your arrival would be met with indifference – or worse, thinly veiled discomfort – that her friendly greeting threw you off balance. For a split second, you hesitated, searching for the right words, something casual and appropriate to say in return. But nothing came out. Instead, you grimaced awkwardly back at her, your lips twisting into a half-hearted smile that you knew looked forced.

It was as though your body had betrayed you, refusing to cooperate in this moment of unexpected kindness. You could feel the tension in your shoulders, the way your jaw tightened as you struggled to mirror the warmth in Kim’s voice with an expression that didn’t come naturally to you. Inside, you were cringing at your own inability to respond with the same ease, the same natural friendliness that Kim seemed to embody so effortlessly.

Your grimace felt clumsy, a stark contrast to her welcoming demeanour. It was as if all the insecurities you had been trying to suppress suddenly bubbled up to the surface, making it impossible to relax and just be in the moment. You worried that Kim could see through your awkwardness, that she might pick up on the discomfort you were trying so hard to mask. Would she interpret it as reluctance? As a sign that you didn't really want to be there? The thought made your stomach twist, amplifying the awkwardness of the situation.

But Kim, ever gracious, didn’t let it faze her. She continued to smile, her eyes softening with understanding, as if she sensed your unease but chose not to dwell on it. Her kindness was unwavering, a quiet reassurance that perhaps, despite your own self-doubt, you were more welcome than you realised. “I think you’re the last one to arrive.”

“Sorry, it took longer than I thought to get here,” you said, your voice tinged with an apologetic edge as you finally caught up with Kim. You tried to sound casual, but the nerves were evident in the way you fumbled with your words. Your gaze flickered around the room, searching for something to latch onto to avoid the awkwardness of the moment.

“No worries,” Kim replied with a reassuring smile, her tone light and understanding. “Was there much traffic?”

“Uh, no,” you began, your voice wavering slightly. You cleared your throat, trying to steady your nerves. “I mean, there wasn’t much traffic. I just – I've, I’ve just not been here before, so …” You trailed off, the words sputtering out like a car sputtering to a halt. The sentence hung in the air, unfinished and awkward.

You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and discomfort. It wasn’t just the unfamiliarity of the location that threw you off; it was the whole social aspect of the evening that felt out of place.

“Hey, you came!” Leah shouted from across the lobby, her voice ringing out with a burst of enthusiasm that cut through the low murmur of conversation. The suddenness of her greeting was a relief, taking the spotlight off Kim and saving her from having to respond to your earlier, awkward attempt at small talk. Leah’s energy seemed to fill the space, her bright smile and warm manner making it clear that she was genuinely pleased to see you.

“Hi,” you whispered back, the word barely escaping your lips as you struggled to match her enthusiasm with your own shaky confidence. You felt a pang of awkwardness, compounded by the realisation that you were still adjusting to the surroundings

Leah, unfazed by your quiet response, continued with her upbeat tone. “Do you want to grab some snacks before you go in?”

Snacks? The word hit you like a revelation. You had always thought of the cinema as a place where people just sat in darkened rooms and watched movies, perhaps grabbing a quick drink from a vending machine if they were really desperate. But the idea of having snacks felt almost revolutionary. The concept of indulging in something edible during a film was so foreign to you that you blinked in surprise, momentarily caught off guard.

You looked around, taking in the lobby’s setup with new eyes. It was bustling with people moving toward a counter where a variety of snacks were displayed. The counter was an array of tempting options: large tubs of buttery popcorn and colourful sweets. The whole scene seemed like an elaborate concession to comfort, something you had never considered part of the cinema experience before.

Alessia, who had joined Leah in welcoming you, turned to you with a warm smile. “What’s your go-to?” she asked, her tone inviting and friendly. Her curiosity seemed genuine, and it made you feel a bit more at ease.

You hesitated, glancing at the array of snacks before you, feeling a bit overwhelmed. “I don’t know,” you admitted, your uncertainty evident. The variety of choices seemed almost overwhelming, and you weren’t sure where to start.

Alessia laughed lightly, a sound that was both comforting and disarming. “Ah, a ‘see how you feel’ kind of person,” she said, nodding knowingly as if she understood your approach. Her laughter and casual attitude made it clear that she wasn’t judging you, but rather finding your indecision endearing.

“Um, no,” you replied, feeling a bit embarrassed as you tried to explain. “I’ve not been to the cinema before.” The admission felt awkward, and you braced yourself for whatever reaction might follow.

Alessia stared at you, her eyes widening in shock. “What do you mean?” she asked, disbelief evident in her voice. “Surely you went growing up? I know we don’t have much time now, but still.”

You shifted uncomfortably, the weight of your admission feeling heavier under Alessia’s surprised gaze. “Uh, no. My, uh, my dad said it was a waste of time,” you said, your voice trailing off. The memory of your father’s dismissive attitude made you feel vulnerable, as if you were exposing a part of your past that was uncomfortable to revisit.

Alessia’s surprise was palpable, her mouth forming a small “O” as she processed what you had just revealed. Her eyes widened, clearly taken aback by the information. It was as if the notion of someone never having been to the cinema before was a concept so foreign that it took her a moment to fully grasp it. Her reaction was a blend of shock and genuine curiosity, making you feel even more self-conscious.

You could feel your face flush with embarrassment as you watched her reaction unfold. The realisation that you had just divulged a personal detail about your upbringing – a detail that seemed to have left such an impact on Alessia – made you mentally kick yourself. Why couldn’t you have just gone along with her question, given a generic answer, and avoided this awkward revelation altogether?

As Alessia’s initial shock gave way to a more empathetic expression, you mentally berated yourself for not just playing along. She could almost hear the internal dialogue in your head: “Why did I have to be so honest? Why couldn’t I just say I like popcorn or candy and leave it at that?” You bit your lip, hard, gasping slightly at the familiar pain.

But as you watched Alessia’s expression soften into one of understanding, you also noticed the subtle shift in her stance. She seemed genuinely concerned and determined to make sure you felt comfortable. Her initial shock had transformed into a compassionate response, as if she was now more committed than ever to ensuring that your first cinema experience was enjoyable and welcoming.

“Well, usually I go for some popcorn,” Alessia said with a casual shrug, her tone easy and conversational. “But I decided on Pick ‘n’ Mix today.” She paused, as if considering the options and her own choice. Her eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief and excitement, reflecting a genuine enthusiasm for the variety of treats on offer. “If you get some popcorn, we could share?” she suggested, her offer smooth and natural, as though it were the most effortless thing in the world.

“Y-you want to share?” you asked quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. The shock in your tone was palpable, your words tinged with disbelief. The notion that Alessia, someone who had been so kind and welcoming, would offer to share something as simple as popcorn with you felt almost surreal. The gesture seemed magnified by your own insecurities and the weight of your past interactions with her

.

You stood there, momentarily taken aback, struggling to reconcile Alessia’s warmth with the harshness you remembered from your own behaviour. It was as if her kindness had momentarily suspended reality, making you question whether you deserved such a generous offer. You had been so accustomed to keeping others at a distance, to reacting defensively or with hostility, that the idea of someone reaching out to you with genuine friendliness felt foreign and unexpected.

“Of course, come on, let’s get some popcorn,” Alessia said, her smile broadening into a welcoming expression that seemed to dispel any lingering awkwardness. Her enthusiasm was infectious, a burst of positive energy that made you feel more at ease despite your earlier reservations.

Without missing a beat, she reached out and gently grabbed your elbow, her touch both firm and reassuring.

The film wasn’t necessarily your choice, but as it played out on the screen, you found yourself increasingly engrossed. You never really had time for films – growing up, your father had made you watch old matches and now, as an adult, you did the same. There was something about the action, the romance, the unexpected twist at the end that drew you in and kept you close.

Sitting wedged in between Alessia and Leah wasn’t too bad either. In fact, it turned out to be one of the more pleasant surprises of the evening. Alessia, seated to your right, had a laugh that was genuinely infectious. Each time something amusing or surprising happened on the screen, her laughter would bubble up – a warm, genuine sound that was impossible not to be affected by. It was the kind of laugh that seemed to fill the room with a sense of shared joy, creating a subtle but tangible bond between you and the rest of the audience. Her enthusiasm was both comforting and uplifting, making the film experience feel even more enjoyable.

Leah, on your left, contributed to the cozy atmosphere with her own unique presence. She kept up a quiet commentary throughout the film, her murmurs barely audible but filled with insightful observations and humorous remarks. Her comments were like little nuggets of insight, offering a fresh perspective on the film's twists and turns. You had expected that her talking might become distracting or irritating, but instead, it had the opposite effect. Leah’s commentary felt like a private conversation that added another layer to your viewing experience, one that was both engaging and endearing.

Rather than finding Leah's remarks bothersome, you found yourself appreciating them. Her thoughtful, almost reverent musings about the film’s plot and characters added depth to your own viewing experience. It was as though she was sharing a part of her own enthusiasm and understanding with you, making the film feel more interactive and immersive. Each comment was delivered with a subtlety that ensured it didn't disrupt your enjoyment, but rather complemented it, adding an extra dimension to your engagement with the story.

The combination of Alessia’s lively, infectious laughter and Leah’s quiet, reflective commentary created a perfect balance that made sitting between them a surprisingly enjoyable experience. It turned out to be a blend of energy and insight that enhanced the film’s appeal, making the whole experience feel more communal and enjoyable.

“Oh, my god. That was so good!” Stina cheered as you all left the theater, her excitement practically radiating from her. Her blonde ponytail whipped from side to side with each enthusiastic hop down the steps, creating a lively and contagious energy that seemed to spread through the group. Stina’s reaction was a burst of pure, unfiltered enthusiasm, her voice ringing with genuine excitement about the film you had just seen.

Conversations about favourite scenes and surprising plot twists began to bubble up, each person eager to share their thoughts and opinions on the film. It was as if Stina’s initial reaction had unlocked a wave of shared enthusiasm that everyone was eager to join in on.

“Yeah, that twist at the end was incredible!” Steph chimed in, her voice laced with amazement. “I didn’t see that coming at all.” The sentiment was echoed by several others, their faces animated with excitement as they recounted their favourite moments. The film had clearly struck a chord with the group, and the sense of collective satisfaction was palpable. Had this been what you were missing out on every time you declined an invite?

Before you could get too far into your head, Kim came up behind you, her shoulder gently nudging yours in a friendly, almost reassuring manner. The touch was light but deliberate, a small gesture that drew you back from your swirling thoughts and into the present moment. Her presence was warm and grounding, a reminder that you were part of a group, and her approachable demeanor made it easier to transition from the excitement of the film to the next part of the evening.

“So, what did you think?” Kim asked, her voice filled with genuine interest. There was a subtle anticipation in her tone, an expectation that your opinion would contribute to the collective conversation.

“I liked the film. It was very good,” you responded, your voice steady but still tinged with the residual excitement from the movie. You were still processing the film’s impact and the lively discussion that had followed, and Kim’s question provided a moment to articulate your enjoyment. It felt good to share your positive reaction, to be part of the enthusiastic response that had characterised the group’s reactions.

Kim’s eyes brightened at your response, and she smiled with a hint of mischief. “Good enough to come to dinner with us?” she asked, her tone light and inviting.

You froze for a moment, a sudden wave of uncertainty washing over you. Did Kim really want you to join them for dinner? The question seemed to echo in your mind, stirring up a flurry of anxious thoughts. The idea of continuing the evening with the group was both inviting and intimidating, and you couldn’t help but question whether you truly belonged in this social setting.

A twinge of apprehension gnawed at you as you considered the possibility of making a mistake. What if you inadvertently did something wrong or said something out of turn? The fear of misstepping or failing to live up to the group’s expectations loomed large. You imagined potential scenarios where your actions might not align with the group’s dynamics, leading to awkwardness or discomfort.

And what if you got angry with them again? What if you ruined the night? What if you did something wrong and they kicked you off the team? A tight knot of anxiety bubbled up in your chest, making it difficult to fully embrace the invitation. The prospect of making a good impression and avoiding past mistakes felt like a significant challenge. Taking a deep breath, you reminded yourself that Kim’s invitation was a gesture of goodwill, a sign that your presence was valued and welcomed.

“Umm, yeah, yeah, I think so,” you said, your voice gaining confidence as you spoke. “If that’s ok with you?” The question was as much about seeking reassurance as it was about confirming your participation. It was a polite gesture, ensuring that your presence was welcome and that you weren’t imposing on the group’s plans.

Kim’s smile widened, and she gave you a reassuring nod. “Absolutely, it’s totally okay,” she said warmly. “We’d love to have you join us. It’s just a casual dinner, nothing too formal. We’re all going to this great place nearby – should be a lot of fun!”

[planetpedri]

idk if you’re hispanic/latino buttttt i NEED a pedri fic based off the song la santa by bad bunny (if you don’t know spanish you can just translate it and it’ll work jst fine) tyyyy i loveee ur work 🫶🫶

La santa — Pedri Gonzalez.

Pairing: Pedri Gonzalez x Fem!Reader

Summary: You weren’t supposed to fall in love with Pedri, but it happened nonetheless. You knew what you were getting into when it all started and you both knew despite nothing ever going further than casual, you would always come running back.

Word count: 710

Disclaimer/s: Slightly Suggestive (?) , angst

A/N: OOOOH this song is lowk girl i���m nodding my head thank yew. i also really had no clue how to go about this .. i actually hate it so much sorry this was so bummy

Pedri was dressing quickly. Too quickly. You knew you shouldn’t have even proposed the idea of taking the relationship or… whatever you could call it, further. He always got jumpy when you’d ask for him to stay even a few extra minutes.

You leaned back against the headboard, a frown planted tightly against your lips as you watched him zip up his jeans. “Jesus christ, Pedri. It was a simple suggestion! You’re acting like I told you I was pregnant.”

The mans eyes widen as they shoot in your direction, “you aren’t.. pregnant. Right?” That elicited a loud groan from your lips.

“Oh lord.” You rub your temples before looking back to him. He still wore the same expression, nearly making you laugh as you shake your head. “No! I am not.”

“Thank God.” He huffs, reaching for his t-shirt.

You chew on your bottom lip, suddenly annoyed. “You know what? This has to stop. For good.” He continued dressing like you weren’t even speaking, so you add, “I’m serious.”

Pedri sighs, tugging the shirt over his head. “You said that last week, last month, and matter of fact, two days ago. You know damn well it’s not stopping.” His lip twitches at the corners, a smug grin forming ever so slowly.

That just furthered your annoyance because, unfortunately, it was the truth. It also pissed you off because if he’d just take you seriously and stayed away, you wouldn’t crawl back to him every time.

You’d tried to stop sending him that text or responding to his, but you were weak. Your resistance only lasted about five minutes before you caved. You simply couldn’t stay away from Pedri.

“It’s different this time, and you know it! I can’t wait around for you to feel—“

“Woah!” His hands shoot up, stopping you mid sentence. “Don’t finish that sentence.”

Your lips clamp shut and your arms cross over your chest. “Well—“

“Cariño, you know it’ll never be reciprocated. You knew this the second we started the whole thing! Cut the lovey dovey act, I don’t need you doing that because I don’t know how to reciprocate it.” He finishes his rant, running a hand over his face as if the whole conversation was one big inconvenience.

Pedri leaned against the wall a few feet from your bedroom door, antsy for an escape yet also not wanting to leave you pissed off at him.

“This was only meant to be a fun thing.” He adds once the silence became deafening.

Pulling your knees to your chest, you frown. “Why though? Why is it such a terrible concept? You care about a lot of things, a lot of people, why would it be so different?”

His eyes dart to the door, he really needed to get out of here. “You know why. Just.. let’s keep this going and you’ll get over it, no? Why are you trying to mess with something thats fine just as it is?”

You were desperately trying to ignore the way your stomach churned at his words. The more he talked, the more you felt your heart sink. You knew damn well there was no changing Pedri and you most definitely knew better than to even have a sliver of hope.

“You’re right.” You finally force out, “no, yeah. I’m sorry I even thought about it.”

The hurt in your voice was unmistakable. Pedri heard it loud and clear and he almost felt guilty. Almost. But at the end of the day, he’d told you how he felt about relationships at the beginning of it all. He knew and you knew, exactly where he stood.

“I’ll see you when I get back from Sevilla, okay?” Pedri sighs, pushing himself off the wall.

Not daring to look at him, you stay quiet for a moment. A weak attempt at pushing him away, but you were just that. Weak.

“Yeah.” You huff, “make sure you lock the door on the way out.”

Pedri lifts one hand as a parting gesture, but you don’t return it and he leaves anyways. He leaves you feeling like an absolute idiot because you know when you get the text that he’s back in town, you’ll be waiting right where he left you.

likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in any of my fics, specific or all.

DTS , @halfwayhearted , @spidybaby , @gadriezmannsgirl !

[half-oz-eddie]

I didn’t know I wanted you (Until I couldn’t have you)

Part 3/5

For the next 3 weeks, it had become nearly impossible for Buck and Tommy to have much free time to see each other.

And see each other, in Buck’s mind, is having one on one time with Tommy, without Eddie. Sure “hanging out with the boys” was fun and all, but there was a lighter element in the air when Buck was alone with Tommy. He couldn’t quite describe it, but sometimes, he preferred it, craved it, even. He could be sitting right next to Tommy during a beer and movie night with Eddie and still feel so far away from him.

The most interesting surprise for Buck was Tommy texting him during one of their movie nights.

They shared a glance, smiling at one another.

That’s really weird. I can’t say that!

Buck tucked his lips in, trying to contain himself. Tommy was sitting close by and he didn’t want him to see a big, stupid smile on his face.

When he briefly glanced up at Tommy, he was already looking his way. Buck shot him a half-smirk and a nod, and Tommy nodded back.

His heart was racing again.

Tommy’s really cool.

The next day, Buck and Tommy met for dinner and beers. They joked, they laughed, they had a great time.

“How’ve you been doing? I know you told me plenty about how Gerrard’s been treating you. You okay?”

“As okay as I’ll ever be. I miss Bobby. The energy of the 118 is…different now. I just hate it. I love my job. But I-I hate this feeling.”

Tommy nodded in understanding. “Sometimes change can be good, but sometimes change can ruin your day-to-day life. Especially when it’s a person single-handedly trying to make your life a living hell.”

“Exactly. That’s all he’s been doing for weeks.”

Tommy looked at Buck with soft, sympathetic eyes. His gaze felt like a comforting hug, and Buck couldn’t look away. He couldn’t resist the urge to just fall in.

“Evan…I know it’s not easy.” Tommy smiled. “But you’re doing great. You’re one of the strongest people I know.”

Buck broke eye contact, sheepishly looking away. “I-I just feel a little defeated sometimes.”

“I’m sure Bobby will get his job back sooner or later. It’s just the natural order of things. The 118 belongs together, right?”

Buck nodded in agreement. “Right!”

“Ready to get outta here and head to the theater?”

“Uh—yeah. Let’s go.”

After seeing a double feature of two amazing films Buck had never even heard of, Tommy rode with him in an Uber back to his place and Buck offered him a cup of coffee.

“Hey, so, Wednesday, you’re coming with us for drinks, right?”

Tommy sadly sighed. “Sorry, I can’t. I have a date.”

“A-a date?” Buck forced a smile. Why did this bother him so much? “Who’s the lucky person?”

“Just…someone I met during my run.” Tommy answered dismissively. “But maybe we can do something next weekend?”

Buck nodded. “Y—ah—yeah—yeah. Next weekend sounds great.”

“Great!” Tommy looked down at his phone. “My Uber should be here in 5, I’m gonna head down. Text you when I get home.”

“Okay uh…see you later.”

Buck held his breath until the door shut behind Tommy and he let out an exasperated sigh, shoulders drooping with disappointment.

He wasn’t sure what was bothering him, until he remembered what Tommy said at dinner.

Sometimes change can be good, but sometimes change can ruin your day-to-day life. Especially when it’s a person single-handedly trying to make your life a living hell.

Not that whoever Tommy was dating would intend to make his life hell in some way, but just the thought of spending less time with Tommy made him feel a loneliness he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Buck felt strangely about the way their conversation ended. He only had himself to blame for being so dismissive. He couldn’t fight the nagging thought that he had to fix it somehow.

Buck didn’t want the conversation to end. It was late, and surely they were both exhausted, but every second that passed, he felt like Tommy was slowly slipping away from him.

He hated this stupid thought. Tommy didn’t belong to him. Tommy was his friend. He was Eddie’s friend. He was everyone at the 118’s friend.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that they shared a special friendship. One unlike the friendship he shared with everyone else. Buck was the only one Tommy wanted to take on weekly hiking trips. Buck was the one Tommy texted late at night to just talk and distract him from what stressed him out. In a way, Buck felt like Tommy was his.

And he was going to lose him.

[2amriize]

˚⟡˖ things they do that makes you second think about your friendship - RIIZE

ᡣ𐭩 masterlist // genre fluff // pairing riize x reader

ᯓ★ shotaro . . . playful teasing It was strange to see how Shotaro acted playfully only with you, teasing you in ways he didn't with your other friends. He would always sneak up behind you to tickle you, leaving his hands on your waist for a few seconds after. The smile he’d flash afterward always made you melt, and you found yourself wondering if you saw him as more than just a friend.

ᯓ★ eunseok . . . frequent eye contact The way you sometimes (well, often) caught Eunseok looking at you and holding eye contact for a few seconds made you feel things for him. Although you were only friends, you couldn’t stop thinking about the way you looked at each other, always glancing away when you felt your cheeks starting to turn red.

ᯓ★ sungchan . . . jealousy Why did he act like that when you were supposed to be just friends? Sometimes Sungchan seemed like he didn’t want you spending time with other guys, as if he wanted you all to himself. Whenever you were with your group of friends, he’d always try to stay close to you, or if he saw you talking with someone else, he’d find a way to join the conversation or call you away to be with him.

ᯓ★ wonbin . . . prioritizing you over others When you heard that Wonbin had canceled a dinner with his lifelong friends to pick you up from somewhere, you began to wonder if you really were just friends. He started prioritizing you over other people, whether to ask for advice or to spend time together.

ᯓ★ seunghan . . . frequent compliments Seunghan was friendly to everyone, and he always spoke well of others. But with you, it felt different, and sometimes you weren’t sure if you were more than just friends. Every time he saw you, he’d tell you how beautiful you looked, along with so many other compliments that made your heart race, leaving you questioning what Seunghan really felt for you—and what you felt for him.

ᯓ★ sohee . . . thoughtful gestures People who had known Sohee longer had told you he didn’t usually behave the way he did with you. He rarely bought snacks and drinks for others without a reason, pulled out their chair to help them sit, and certainly never offered his jacket if it was cold (especially since he hated being cold himself). These gestures he did for you but not for others confused you, leaving you to misinterpret your friendship.

ᯓ★ anton . . . frequent texting + nervousness When you hung out with Anton and your friends, he didn’t use his phone much—he barely touched it, in fact. That’s why it felt strange that he always replied to your messages quickly, and you’d often end up talking for hours at night. The odd thing was that even though you talked so much over the phone, he always seemed nervous talking to you in person, making you wonder if he saw you as just a friend.

ᡣ𐭩 masterlist

taglist: @regularsuh @gacktsa @totheseok @kkumistars @taroddori

@enhacolor @ladylilith @electric-hearts @astrobymarwa @layluv123

@sunflowers1610 @nctrawberries @synkjellies

[inkyquince]

I'm going to make fun of so many peoole who don't like veilguard. Because....

Veilguard is the spiritual successor to Dragon Age 2

Inquisition is more like Origins, and I would call it the spiritual successor if it wasn't sufficiently lacking in other areas

Now there are dumb fucks out there who only like origins or only like inquisition. It's their entire personality when it comes to dissecting the dragon age games.

I like dragon age a lot because each game is a different genre. Origins is depression melodrama. 2 is a comedy that loves to stop and punch you in the gut every now and then, and shows the prime time when your friends are more your family than blood is. Inquisition is... A political thriller that happens to have magic (and the ugliest graphics. Bruh why is everyone but like three people so deep in the uncanny valley. Why is combat boring). Veilguard is getting to see what it feels like to inherit a situation outside of your control, it's more like an underdog story.

"it has cringy dialogue" and you don't remember origins? You think bioware doesn't dish out cringy dialogue for each game?

"the art style-" is STYLISED. Origins is good looking for graphics that feel outdated for 2009. But it's not realistic looking. 2 had it's budget slashed viciously so it does look wonky especially with their cameo characters. Inquisition, as I've said, feels deeply ugly because there is nothing stylised about it. They went for realistic and now everyones inquisitor is kinda ugly, sorry. People enter the uncanny valley, they always look better in concept art. The three prettiest people we have is Dorian, Cassandra and Josephine. Everyone else enters the uncanny valley of WEIRD looking. It's busted and I'm sorry. Veilguard? Fuckin stellar stylisation. The art, the environments, the magic, is so goddamn pretty.

"you cant control your compa-" yes you can. You can make them attack. Why are you sad about missing out on inquisitions boring combat where you press R. Wow. Amazing.

People have rose tinted glasses for these games. Play them from the first to the last game and I'd say veilguard is FULLY one of the best. I saw some loser on tiktok scream about the iron bull's signature being EXPLAINED in text and not shown?? Saying 10 years and for what?

10 years for a play through, start to finish, took me 55 hours doing ALL of the quests and exploring. From the amazing character creator and the hair physics that inquisition, 2 and origins could never make work. From the beauty of the backgrounds, how each location feels deeply lived in, compared to inquisition where new environments felt plastic and not real. For a finale that had me crying for 20 minutes at the choices I made and knew would make again. For the reveals, for the conversations, for the natural ending for Solas. I only cried in origins after my warden died. I teared up at Hawkes mother dying. Inquisition got no tears from me.

I'm sorry that you're hung up on small details. I have complaints too. Maybe a better fantasy term for trans and non-binary, but honestly the conversations that we're able to have about them? Deeply lovely. I personally wish that one day we can go back to the origins start, where we spend around 20 minutes IN our origin and then go frolicking. I'd kill to see that with the mourn watcher and crow origin so we can be excited when we see them again when we revisit the important NPCS. Personally do want the Lucanis romance to kick off earlier in the game, but he is one of the hardest ones to romance for good reason and it made sense for the character. I miss importing decisions but to be fair, the choices I made in origins wouldn't have shown up that much in veilguard, except maybe Kieran being in the background of some scenes at a stretch, but mostly for inquisition and Hawke. Varric obviously sees a lot of Hawke in Rook (just look at the dialogue wheel) and I wish we got to hear Isabella talk about them.

But these are so little. I have way more complaints about inquisition but I will still play it. I can acknowledge the flaws but if you hold it, or origins on a pedestal, that's just embarrassing for you, that you're stuck on a game, instead of being stuck on the series, in an excellent fantasy setting that keeps being expanded on.

Veilguard let's us say goodbye to Solas in the best way. There was NEVER going to be a happy end for him. Stop deluding yourself that the inquisitor and Solas would have rode off into the sunset. It's frankly embarrassing that themes from inquisition and veilguard flew over your head if you beloved that.

I've seen this same anguish over a sequel and it was for 2, after origins. Now 2 isn't the perfect game. It doesn't even have a proper title. But 2, a decade later, is well loved. It's full of jank, it's got strange coding, but the story has a lot of love. But it wasn't origins, so fans wailed and pissed. But it's a fan favourite these days and Hawke is deeply beloved and remembered fondly to the point that the possibility of their death in inquisition made an impact.

So, basically, get over yourself. None of these games are perfect and yes it took 10 years but I love it. I get to play as a crow for the first time, a faction I've loved since Zevran was able to rizz himself out of being killed. You can play as a Warden again, for the first time since Origins. Griffins are back and they're adorable. Their quest is heart breaking and anxiety inducing. You can play as new factions, ones we didn't fuck around with before, the shadow dragons, the mourn watchers, the veil jumpers. We get several amazing romances, that feel in character. Everyone is bisexual again but have clear preferences. Bellara has a preference for women, Emmerich has a preference for men, Lucanis has Never being in relationship. Taash and Harding might get together, Lucanis and Neve might get together. We get a companion that's trans, we GET to be trans for the first time. In inquisition we have krem but the developers never thought we would want to be trans, so I will happily take what we can get. Could it be better? Always. But I'm not stuck in 2014.

Take off your rose tinted glasses and go fuck that old man and maybe you'll lighten up.

[squoxle]

[9] • WHY DO YOU HATE ME? - H. KAI

skater!bully!huening kai x loner!junkie!reader

plot: working alongside your ex-best friend, who's also a full-time asshole, turns hot after a heated conversation... | wc: 3.9k | cw: angst, mentions of death and suicide, drug and alcohol abuse, other sensitive topics, smut

From your point of view, life continued for three reasons;

1. For your family…the only friends you had.

2. Another episode of you current obsession, and

3. The next cigarette...or cancer stick as your next door neighbor liked to call it.

Sometime your third reason helped you the most. One puff relived the stress and every one after that made life a little easier. Oftentimes, smoking was like an escape for you. A way to cope with the shitty hand the universe had dealt you.

You lived in a cheap apartment. And all of the money you made was split between you and your parents. There was a shared belief in your family that the children should take care of their parents when they move out. Assisting in whatever way they could.

This belief is what compelled you to send money to your family. It wasn’t a burden. You knew that if you ever needed a place to stay that you were always welcome back home. The only problem being that you couldn’t shake your smoking habit. And that was the reason you had to go in the first place.

You seen all the stupid YouTube videos about what happens to your lungs when you smoke and how much money you could save if you weren’t buying packs of cigarettes weekly, but none of that mattered to you. After the death of your only friend near the end of senior year, life seemed almost impossible.

Meaningless and empty without Eve by your side.

You held onto those three reasons because everything in you wished for one more day with your friend. Just one more day to tell her how much you loved her. And at this point, the sweet taste of death was the only thing separating you from her.

You grew up as an only child for most of your life. By the time your mom had your little brother, you were already 14 years old. Around that time you met Eve.

You had just started high school and up until freshman year, you were known to be a loner.

You walked into your first class of the day, sitting in the chair furthest to the back of the classroom and that’s when you met her for the first time.

“I’m Eve,” she smiled, extending her hand to you. The two of you were like complete opposites. She was warm, cheery, and full of life. You on the other hand felt like the world had been against you since birth.

One more detail about Eve is that she was a huge chatterbox. Since the two of you rode the bus together, you never felt alone. The darkness that was your life felt a little brighter with her around. Even your mom noticed the positive change in your behavior.

“You sure look happy,” your mom raised her brow as you looked at your phone.

“Yeah, I met this really cool girl at school today. Her name is Eve,” you smiled.

“Well maybe you should invite her over sometime. Anyone that can make you smile like that must be really special.”

And she was…Eve was really special to you.

You could talk to her about anything. She wasn’t just an expert at talking, she was also a great listener. Sometimes her advice wasn’t the best, but you were both kids at the time.

You just wish that she would’ve talked to you the day before…she killed herself. You always blamed yourself for her death. There had to have been a sign that she was hurting, but maybe you were too selfish to see it.

You had both started senior year together and all you ever talked about were how the two of you would move out together and graduate from the same college. You saw a life with her…and all of that was over in one night.

You think about it every day. What makes it even worse is that your co-worker is the biggest asshole you’d ever known.

You were never brave enough to stand up to him. Maybe because you felt like the fight just wasn’t worth it. But he knew Eve too. The three of you were friends before her death. Your past friendship is probably another reason why you wouldn’t speak up.

When you really think about it…a lot changed after she died. You started smoking and Kai seemed to hate you for no reason.

You never knew why…

“You’re locking up tonight,” he said as he slammed the cash register.

“What?!”

“You heard me,” he spat, turning to you. “You’re locking up tonight because I’m heading out early.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I have a life too y’know.”

“Do I look like I care?” You stared at him blankly before he continued, “Exactly, just do what the fuck I told you,” he swatted his hand before walking to the back to grab his things.

“You can’t expect me to do all of this by myself,” the gas station you worked at was extremely understaffed and you two were often the only ones at work.

“You can handle it,” he leaned down, picking up his skateboard before heading toward the front door.

“This is so fucked up,” you slammed you hand against the counter. “You’re such a fucking dick,” you mumbled, rolling your eyes.

“You know what’d be really fucked up?” He asked softly walking back over to the register. “If you had a little accident at work,” he tilted his head to the side. “It’d be pretty hard to come to work if you slipped and hurt yourself. Wouldn’t it?”

You lowered your gaze, afraid to say something stupid and not in the mood to hear anymore of his threats. You knew better than to push him…he’d done a number of things to torture you.

You thought back to the one time he took your phone and locked you in the storage closet over night because you wouldn’t stay after hours and wax the floors.

You watched as he walked out with his skateboard tucked under his arm. You sighed deeply, striking your lighter as you lit your cigarette.

You parted your lips, letting the clouds of grey smoke fill the air as you took out the trash before turning off all the lights and locking up for the night.

Without Eve your life felt like Groundhog Day. A continuous, endless, hell-like loop of waking up, clocking in, and clocking out to do it all over again. The most diversity you had in your life was a new assignment.

Oh and to make life even better, Kai went to the same school as you. A cheap community college where you could earn your associates before taking out student loans to get your bachelors.

Sometimes you wondered if life ever got any better from here…

A few days later, you were working the cash register with Kai when he decided to take his break in the middle of the 12 o’clock rush. “Perfect,” you sighed sarcastically. “Just fucking perfect,” you rolled your eyes as you prepared yourself to deal with the line of customers that had wrapped around one of the aisles.

“You should smile more often,” a man smiled. He looked to be about 40 or 50.

“Excuse me?” You asked, wondering why he would even say something like that.

“I’m just saying,” he shrugged pulling out a $20. “Life is beautiful. There’s a lot to smile about.”

“Right,” you scoffed.

“You should try it sometime,” he smiled as you handed him the receipt.

“M’kay,” you shook you head, wanting nothing more than for him to just take his shit and leave.

“Thank you so much sir for pointing that out,” Kai came out grinning ear to ear like the fucking Cheshire Cat.

“You’re welcome. I just know how much a smile can change the working environment for everyone.”

“Exactly,” Kai nodded. “____, I don’t wanna have to write you up for this because I know how much you need this job. But you’re gonna have to change your attitude.”

You sighed as you rubbed the spot between your eyebrows. Another detail that you hated to remember and often forgot was that Kai was your manager…and the reason you got this job in the first place.

Ironically you started working here during your last year of high school. You planned to earn some money for college to give you a bit of a head start, which only somewhat worked out in your favor.

To be honest, the pay here was pretty good and better than any other option. You assumed this had a lot to do with the low staff.

Anyways, you were hoping that Kai was only joking about writing you up until you were called into the office for a staff meeting on Friday.

“Look, ____. We’re already very low on staff as I’m sure you know. And it’s hard to keep customers coming back if you’re out there looking like you want a bullet in your head,” the owner said, folding his hands.

“That’s probably because I do,” you mumbled to yourself.

“All I’m saying is, try to look at least somewhat pleasant. You don’t have to go overboard, just be natural, okay?”

“Yeah, okay," you shook your head as Kai sat next to you.

"Thanks again, Kai. I really appreciate you for bringing this to my attention. I've been noticing a decline in customer reviews and now I know why."

"No problem," he smiled giving you a look that made you wanna knock his teeth out.

Kai closed the door to the main office as the two of you walked down the hallway.

“I can’t believe you actually fucking ratted me out,” you spat.

“I’m only doing what’s best for the—“

“Drop the fucking act,” you sneered. “We both know you don’t really give a damn. Because if you did I wouldn’t be locking up at night by myself. You’d be there helping me out and not somewhere just jerking off. Y’know what? Maybe I should go tell the boss about what you’re doing since we’re in the bitching business,” you turned around, but just as you tried walking away Kai grabbed your arm, pulling you back and throwing you to the ground.

“Don’t be such a stupid fucking bitch,” he spat.

“You did the same thing to me,” you brushed yourself off as you stood to your feet only to be pushed back down to the ground.

“If I were you I’d quit while I was ahead,” he knelt down.

“I’m tired of you treating me like shit, Kai. I don’t know what your fucking problem is, but I didn’t do anything to deserve this.”

“If you really believe that you’re even dumber than I thought you were.”

“Fuck you,” you spat, looking him dead in the eye. You don’t know what came over you, but you had never been brave enough to stand up for yourself.

“I’d watch my tongue if I were you,” he pressed his forearm against your neck. “Karma can be a real bitch y’know,” your eyes watered as he held you against the wall. You felt weak and powerless against him and you hated it, but there really was nothing you could do about it. Or at least that’s how you felt.

Your bottom lip quivered as he slowly let you go. You sucked in your breath, catching a tear with your sleeve before running off to the bathroom. You cried in there, more than you had in a really long time.

And that evening, after closing early, you smoked through a whole pack. You were on the last one as Kai was walking back to the store. You assumed he’d forgotten something inside as he unlocked the door.

Catching the sight of you, smoking behind the register, he walked up and slapped the cigarette out of your mouth, casting ashes across the floor. “What the fuck?” You spat, picking up the bud before sticking it back between your lips.

“You know that shit could kill you right?”

“I already feel dead,” you hummed, pulling out your lighter. “This is the only thing that makes me feel alive,” you continued, striking the lighter.

“Well you can die on your own time,” he snatched the cigarette out of your pursed lips. “I don’t wanna be the one cleaning up after your corpse when your lungs collapse.”

He looked in the small trash can underneath the register where he saw more than 15 burnt buds and an empty packet. “Did you smoke this whole pack?”

“Obviously,” you rolled your eyes.

“Are you trying to kill yourself?”

“You wouldn’t care anyway. You obviously hate me.”

“Don’t let me catch you smoking again,” he spat.

“You’re not my fucking dad. You can’t tell me what to do,” you reached to try and get your last cigarette back as he shoved you into the counter, putting the bud out on the countertop beside you.

“Next time it’ll be your hand,” he sneered. “Now, clean this shit up and get this disgusting fucking smell out of here,” you forcefully wiped the tear from your eye as he walked away. Grabbing whatever he needed before walking out again.

Sometimes you wondered if this was why Kai always messed with you, because he got a kick out of seeing you cry.

As sadistic as it sounded, it couldn’t be any closer to the truth which you learned later that week one night when Kai told you to close by yourself again. The only difference was that he was somewhat tipsy at this point.

He had been drinking a lot more after the altercation you had in the hallway. You wondered if it was because he felt guilty, finally seeing the error of his ways.

“Can you at least take out the fucking trash before you go?” You spat as he walked to the back putting his stuff away. “Please,” you threw your hand up.

“If I do it will you shut your big fucking mouth?”

“Yes,” you rolled your eyes. He was in an even pissier mood when he drank, but surprisingly he was more useful. He’d do almost anything you asked him to do as long as you bitched about it enough.

“Thank you,” you smiled as he mumbled to himself throwing two bags over his shoulder, and dragging another two out the back door with him.

You heard bottles clanking outside as you shut down the register. Another loud crashing sound shook you up as you called out Kai’s name. You were feeling a bit annoyed at this point. “I don’t even make that amount of noise when I take out the trash,” you sighed.

More noises and no reply from Kai led you to go outside and check on him yourself, leaving your phone in the counter. “What the hell are you doing out here?” You spat as you saw him throwing glass bottles against the wall with bloody hands.

“Kai! Stop it!” You shouted as he shielded his ear with his shoulder.

“Can you stop fucking yelling at me and just go back inside,” he rolled eyes, launching another bottle at the wall.

“No because after you’re done fucking around like a jackass I’m gonna have to come out here and clean this shit up.”

“No you’re not,” he hummed.

“Yes I am.”

“No you’re not,” his words slurred together at this point.

“Yes. I am.”

“No you’r—“ you ripped the bottle out of his bloody grasp.

“You’re way too fucking drunk right now. Just get the hell out of here and go home already.”

“Where are you going,” he asked sounding slightly frustrated.

You started to walk back inside, “I’m gonna go get a broom to clean this shit up,” you sighed. “Someone has too,” you reached your hand out to open the door only to jump, quickly turning around after hearing rapid footsteps approach you.

Kai had pinned you against the door, slamming it shut as he held another bottle in his hand. He broke it beside you head and held it to your neck. “If you scream I’ll cut your throat open right here,” he slurred.

“Get off of me you drunk bastard!” You yelled, squirming in an attempt to free yourself from his grasp. He slapped you in the face with his bloody hand before clenching your jaw.

Tears filled your eyes as you stamped your feet against the ground. You beat against his chest as your arms were stuck in one position. “Kai!” You cried. “Stop it! Please,”

“Why should I? You’re not my mom,” he pressed against you harder, crushing your hands beneath his weight.

“Why do you hate me?” You choked on tears as you couldn’t hold them back anymore.

“Shh!” He put a bloody finger against your lips.

“No, I want you to tell me why you hate me so much. It doesn’t make sense. We used to be friends before…before Eve killed herself,” it was silent for a moment as Kai lowered his head, he body started to tremble as a tear dropped from his face.

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” He shouted repeatedly slamming your body against the metal door, dropping the broken bottle.

“You’re hurting me, Kai! Stop it!” You yelled as you felt a pain tugging at your bones. “Please,” your voice shook.

He rested his hands on your shoulders before falling to your knees. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “God, I’m so fucking sorry,” he cried.

You knelt down and lifted his teary face. “It’s okay, Kai. I miss her too,” you sniffled before wrapping your arms around him.

He pulled away gently, looking up at you with teary eyes. “I’m really sorry, _____,” he apologized. “I’ve been such a dick…”

“And I don’t even understand why…”

“D’you remember the day before Eve died?”

“Of course I do…I think about it almost everyday.”

“What if I told you it’s my fault she’s dead…”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“She called me…”

“She did?! Why didn’t you ever tell me? What did she say?”

“I didn’t know how to tell you…but she told me to be happy…”

“I don’t understand. Why did she say that?”

“Did you ever notice how she was around you? Like the way she behaved. Did she ever seem like she liked you as more than just a friend?”

“I-uhh…I never paid attention to it.”

“Yeah well she really liked you, but when she found out I liked you too, she started to back off some. Things really took a turn for the worse when her parents heard us arguing one night—“

“What were you arguing about?”

“She had started hurting herself…”

“Like cutting?”

“Yeah…and I guess it didn’t get any better…I should’ve told someone,” he said softly as tears trickled down his cheeks.

“You can’t blame yourself for that.”

“But if I would’ve told someone she might still be here…”

“We don’t know that for sure.”

“It could’ve helped her…she also called me a few nights before she died and told me that her parents found out about her crush on you…I don’t really know how…but they did and she was really upset about that. Do you think her parents are the reason she killed herself?”

“We can’t know for sure…she didn’t really leave us any way of knowing why. But I think you should listen to her and be happy. Just look at the way we’ve separated…”

Kai looked down at his bloody hands, “____…”

“Yes?”

Kai cradled your face in his hands before kissing you on the lips. One kiss turned to three and the next thing you knew his lips were all over your neck as he groped your tit in his hand.

Not a single word was spoken as breathless moans took the place of speech. You grabbed his hair in your hand, untying the small bun he wore as you tousled his hair. He slipped his tongue into your mouth as he pulled you closer.

You pulled his head away as his lips fell to your chest. “What?”

“Don’t you think this is kinda fast?”

“We can think about that in the morning,” he hummed, kissing your neck again.

You held Kai’s hand as he took you inside. He picked you up, placing you on the metal cabinet as he kissed you, unbuttoning his pants.

“What about a condom?”

“Do I look like the type of guy to just have a condom in his wallet?”

“I…uh…”

“Exactly. Don’t worry…I’ll pull out,” he shrugged as you pulled your pants down. You watched as his dick sprang out of his boxers.

You climbed back onto the cabinet, spreading your legs as he stepped between them, lining his tip up with your entrance. “Ngh!” You moaned as he pushed through.

“Mmm,” he hummed feeling your walls contract around him. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, holding onto him as he pumped into you. He nuzzled his face into yours, bringing your lips back to his as he pushed his tongue into your mouth.

You moaned as you felt yourself coming close to finishing. You threw your head back as he sucked onto your neck. You squeezed your thighs around him, pulling him closer as you climaxed.

"Fuck," he swore.

"What?"

"I'm gonna cum," he bit his lip as he started to pull back.

"I don't care," you pulled him closer, kissing him again.

"But I thought you--"

"We'll think about it in the morning," you whispered as he pumped every drop of his hot load into you.

Everything from here became a blur until the two of you woke up in the backroom. You were laying between his legs as he rested his back against the metal cabinet.

"Shit," you spat as your eyes shot open. "We have to be ready to open in like 30 minutes," you said, scrambling to your feet.

"No way," Kai rubbed his eyes, looking up to see the analog clock on the wall, confirming what you just said.

The two of you scrambled to open up. He wiped off the cabinet from the two of you last night and you worked together to restock the coffee station and check the slushee maker.

"I'll take care of the mess outside," he chuckled, ruffling his hair. You handed him the hair tie that was wrapped around your wrist. It was the same one you took off of him last night. "Thanks," he smiled before kissing you on the cheek.

"Hey, for the record," you hollered. "Whatever happened last night doesn't change anything between us. I still hate you," you smirked.

"I hate you too," he smiled before heading out the back door.

What happened from this day on is hard to explain. It was like the two of you went back to being friends, but something else tugged at your heart aside from the memory of your dead friend. You were starting to like Kai and you could tell that he liked you too, but dating each other just didn't feel right.

As far as sex was concerned, it hadn't happened again since the first time you did it, which was about 3 weeks ago. Even though you did have the occasional makeout session that never seemed to last long enough.

Maybe there were 4 reasons why life continued for you...and he was definitely one of them.

a.n.: I wanted to add more detail to this one, but I didn’t want it to be too long. Sorry if it feels rushed.

𝒦𝒾𝓃𝓀𝓉𝑜𝒷𝑒𝓇 𝑀𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉

❀ Thank you all so much for reading! Make sure to check out other works on my masterlist!

@chlorinecake

@wonbinisbabygurl

@nishiimuranights

@wildflowermooon

@heeseungshim

@ramyeonzprincess

@bangchans-gf5

@wand3rlustm3

@heeseunghee7

@norihoyeon

@gacktsa

@hyunj00

@mimikittysblog (not sure how much you're into moody kai lol)

[novaursa]

Where Wolves Wonder (1/2)

- Summary: You and Jon were always close, but as the years went by and those feelings grew, your mother decided to put an end to it. 

- Paring: stark!reader/Jon Snow

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The frosted breath of Winterfell’s courtyards felt sharp on your skin, yet you and Jon were unaffected as you shared quiet moments in the early mornings, wrapped in the whispers of the waking castle. As twins, you and Robb had always shared a close bond, but something about Jon’s presence grounded you in a way that felt… different. He was a mystery, dark-haired and solemn, so much unlike the rest of your family, and yet a steady presence, as constant as the winter snow itself.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” Jon asked softly one morning, his voice barely audible as he leaned against the training yard wall. His eyes lingered on your face, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as you approached him. “Or did you come to see if I’d frozen solid?”

You gave a soft laugh, shaking your head. “If you froze, I’d think you more of a fool than I’d ever imagined, Jon Snow,” you teased, crossing your arms and mirroring his posture.

A faint chuckle escaped his lips, but there was something softer in his gaze—a look that lingered just a second too long, as if he were memorizing every detail of your face in the dim morning light. You felt a flutter, a warmth creeping into your cheeks that had nothing to do with the cold. You had seen the way he looked at you before, the way his hand sometimes brushed yours just a second longer than necessary, and yet neither of you spoke about it.

“You spend so much time with him these days,” Catelyn said one evening, catching you by surprise in one of the dimly lit hallways of Winterfell. Her tone was light, but her gaze sharp. She studied you carefully, and you forced yourself to meet her gaze, though you felt a pang of guilt.

“He’s family,” you replied, hoping that the evenness in your voice would convince her.

“Is he?” she asked, her tone a touch more pointed. “He’s your father’s son, yes, but…” Her voice trailed off, eyes narrowing, her mouth pressed into a thin line. “Just… be mindful. Some bonds are best left at friendship.” Her words lingered, heavy with something unspoken, but you nodded politely, her warning pricking at your heart.

As the weeks wore on, however, it grew harder to heed her caution. You and Jon found yourselves slipping into shared conversations, hushed whispers in the darkened corners of the halls, or quiet moments near the Godswood. One evening, after a long day, you found yourself sitting beside him on a stone bench by the weirwood tree, your shoulders almost touching.

“Y/N,” Jon said, his voice a quiet murmur, “Do you ever wonder… what it might be like, if things were different?” He didn’t meet your gaze, his eyes fixed ahead, but you could see the tension in his face, a wariness that he couldn’t quite mask.

“Different…?” you asked, though your heart already knew where he was leading.

“If… if I were truly one of you,” he said, his tone hesitant. “If there wasn’t… this distance between us.”

You placed a hand on his, feeling the warmth of his skin, the steadiness of his presence. “You are one of us, Jon. And to me, that’s all that matters,” you whispered.

The softness of your words hung in the air, your hand lingering in his, and Jon’s gaze softened, his expression vulnerable in a way you’d rarely seen.

But this moment was not yours alone.

Behind you, unbeknownst to either of you, stood your mother. Catelyn’s gaze was fixed on you both, her expression unreadable, yet her hands were clenched tightly, her knuckles white.

It wasn’t long before she confronted you, her voice tight with worry and unyielding resolve. “You will not spend any more time with Jon. You’re not to meet him in secret corners or dark hallways. Is that clear?”

You stared at her, heart pounding in your chest. “Mother, he’s my brother—”

“He is not your brother,” she said firmly. “There is a line, Y/N, one that you must not cross. He… he doesn’t belong as we do, no matter how much your father thinks otherwise.”

Your heart sank, anger flashing in your eyes. “How can you be so cold? Jon’s always been part of this family.”

Catelyn’s expression didn’t soften; instead, it seemed to harden. “I’m protecting you,” she said, voice laced with a hint of regret, though she pressed on. “One day, you’ll understand why.”

You turned on your heel, storming away, her words weighing heavily on you. But as the days passed, your mother’s warning settled into an insurmountable barrier, each glance shared with Jon feeling edged with longing and hesitation. Yet the ache in your chest never seemed to lessen.

Jon’s gaze found yours often in those fleeting moments across the halls, his silent question lingering between you both: What could have been, if only things were different?

The clank of steel and laughter echoed through the training yard of Winterfell. Robb’s hearty laugh boomed as he caught Theon’s playful shove, and even Jon managed a faint smile, though it was fleeting. Ever since Catelyn’s orders to keep you away, he had grown quieter, his gaze darker, lost in thoughts that weighed heavily on his heart.

“Gods, Jon, you look as if someone died,” Theon joked, leaning his practice sword against his shoulder. He gave Jon a once-over, his smirk widening as he took in Jon’s expression. “Or have you just realized that brooding doesn’t make you look half as mysterious as you think?”

Jon shot Theon a warning look, but the Greyjoy only laughed, unfazed. Robb, however, glanced between them, his eyes narrowing as he noticed the anxiety coming to light on Jon’s face.

“Leave him be, Theon,” Robb said, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice too. “Maybe he’s got a ghost haunting him.” He threw a look at Jon, his grin softer. “Or maybe he’s finally realized how much work it takes to keep up with me.”

Theon snorted. “More like he’s mourning the loss of a certain shadow that used to follow him around.” His tone was casual, but his words hit close to the mark. “Funny, though, I haven’t seen her lurking around you lately, Jon. Did she finally realize she’s wasting her time?”

Jon’s jaw clenched, his fists tightening as he looked down, unwilling to let Theon see the flash of pain in his eyes. Your absence weighed on him like a chain around his neck, each day feeling colder without your warm, steady presence. He missed the quiet conversations in the Godswood, the way your laughter softened the edges of Winterfell’s grey stone. But Theon would never understand that—he’d never understand how every second away from you felt like a punishment he didn’t know how to bear.

Seeing Jon’s expression, Robb’s smile faded. He placed a hand on Jon’s shoulder, squeezing it. “Come on, Jon. Ignore him. You know Theon loves to rile people up.”

Jon forced a small smile, nodding, but he couldn’t help the sigh that escaped him.

“Ah, don’t take it so seriously,” Theon added, still grinning but with a slight softness in his tone as he noticed the effect his words had on Jon. “Just a bit of jest, you know. It’s not as if she’s left Winterfell.”

Robb shot Theon a warning glare, but Jon cut him off. “She might as well have,” he muttered, his voice so low they almost missed it. There was a rawness in his tone, a crack that neither Robb nor Theon had heard before.

Theon raised an eyebrow, finally catching on to just how deep Jon’s feelings ran. He let out a low whistle. “Gods, you really do have it bad, don’t you?” He crossed his arms, studying Jon with newfound curiosity. “I always thought you were just fond of her, but this… You look as if she’s been sent off to the Wall.”

Robb shot him a warning look. “Theon, leave it,” he said, his voice firmer now.

But Jon didn’t seem to hear either of them. He took a shaky breath, finally meeting Robb’s gaze. “I… I know what it must look like, Robb. And I know she’s your sister. But… it’s like she’s the only thing that makes sense here, the only person who looks at me like… like I belong.” His voice dropped, almost a whisper. “And now… I don’t know what to do without her.”

The words spilled out before he could stop himself, and he immediately regretted them, looking down as if the ground might swallow him up. He hadn’t meant to admit it, to say aloud the longing that had been festering inside him.

Robb’s expression softened, a glimmer of understanding crossing his face. He placed a hand on Jon’s shoulder, giving it a firm, reassuring squeeze. “You’re not alone, Jon. No matter what my mother thinks. I’ll talk to her.”

Jon shook his head, a bitter smile on his lips. “She won’t listen, Robb. Your mother… she’s right, in a way. I don’t have the same claim, not like you. I’m just… just a Snow.”

Robb shook his head, undeterred. “To hell with names and claims. You’re my brother, Jon. Nothing can change that.”

Theon, watching the exchange, sighed and rolled his eyes, though there was a faint smirk on his lips. “If you two are done with your heartfelt confessions, there’s still a swordfight to finish here. And if Jon’s too busy sighing over lost loves, then I’ll gladly take the win.”

Jon’s hand went to his sword, gripping it tighter, and a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he looked up at Theon. “You’d have to earn it first, Greyjoy.”

And for a moment, the heaviness in his chest lightened as he lunged forward, a hint of his old spark returning. But even as he clashed with Theon, the ache of your absence remained, a shadow in his heart he couldn’t shake.

Arya sat beside you, fidgeting with her needle and thread, a perpetual look of boredom on her face, while Sansa, across the table, was meticulously working on her embroidery, lips pressed in a prim line of concentration. The gentle murmur of fabric against fingers and the faint pricking of needles filled the air as you all sat in an attempt at focused silence.

But your thoughts were far from the fabric in your lap. No matter how much you tried to focus on the delicate stitch pattern, your mind kept slipping back to Jon. The look in his eyes when he’d seen you last lingered in your mind, the quiet sadness that he tried so hard to hide, masked behind his usual stoicism. Every stitch you tried to sew seemed to weave his name into the fabric, and you let out a soft sigh, pulling your needle free after yet another botched attempt.

“You’re making a mess of that,” Arya muttered, noticing the snarl of threads as you tried to unknot your embroidery.

You gave her a small, exasperated smile. “You’re one to talk,” you teased, nodding toward her own uneven stitches, which were scattered across the fabric with little care for pattern or design.

Arya grinned, undeterred. “At least I don’t pretend to like it,” she said, casting a sideways glance at Sansa, who pursed her lips.

Sansa looked up from her perfect row of flowers with a slightly disapproving frown. “It’s a lady’s duty to learn needlework,” she said primly. “Besides, it’s better than… whatever it is you’re doing.”

Arya made a face, scrunching her nose. “I’d rather be sword fighting with Bran than doing this.”

Sansa’s expression softened a little as she turned to you. “You’re distracted today,” she observed, her tone less judgmental than Arya’s but still laced with curiosity. “You’ve been sighing at that fabric since we started. Is something on your mind?”

You bit your lip, hesitating. “It’s… nothing,” you said quietly, though your voice betrayed you, sounding uncertain. But both of your sisters were watching you now, their expressions expectant, and you felt compelled to offer them something. “It’s just… strange, I suppose, how things change without you even noticing.”

Arya frowned. “What things?” she asked, genuinely curious.

“Family,” you said softly, almost to yourself. “Sometimes, it feels like no matter how close we are… there’s still a wall between us.”

Arya looked puzzled, her head tilted in thought. Sansa, however, seemed to understand, her gaze growing softer. “You mean Jon,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

You stiffened slightly, glancing down at your embroidery. “Mother has asked me not to spend time with him,” you admitted, forcing yourself to keep the tremble out of your voice. “She says… that it’s best for everyone.”

Arya’s face hardened. “That’s not fair,” she said bluntly, scowling at the thought. “Jon’s as much family as the rest of us.”

You managed a sad smile. “Yes, but Mother… sees things differently. She thinks it’s better to… to keep us separate. She believes it will only lead to trouble.”

Sansa’s expression softened with sympathy. “I know she can be… strict,” she said gently, choosing her words with care. “But I think she’s only trying to protect you. It may not seem fair, but she’s thinking of what’s best, I suppose.”

Arya rolled her eyes, clearly less concerned with your mother’s intentions. “Well, it’s still stupid,” she said firmly. “You and Jon have always been close. I don’t see why that should change just because Mother has some silly ideas about what’s proper.”

A smile tugged at your lips despite the ache in your heart. Arya’s loyalty was unwavering, a constant source of warmth. “Thank you, Arya,” you murmured, appreciating her blunt honesty. “But I have to listen to her. For now, at least.”

Sansa, watching you carefully, reached across the table and took your hand, her grip gentle yet reassuring. “If it helps, you know we’re here for you,” she said softly. “Even if Jon can’t be as close… we’re still your family, and that won’t change.”

You nodded, squeezing her hand in return. “I know. I just… miss him,” you whispered. “More than I thought I would.”

Sansa’s hand slipped back to her sewing, her gaze thoughtful as she looked down at the floral patterns she’d been carefully stitching. “Maybe one day, Mother will see things differently. Perhaps she’ll understand that Jon’s part of us, too.”

Arya’s voice broke in, her tone defiant. “And if she doesn’t, then who cares? Jon is still here, isn’t he? He’s still family, no matter what anyone says.”

You smiled at Arya’s fierce protectiveness, her determination to see things in simple terms. For a moment, your heart felt lighter, as if the weight of your mother’s judgment could be softened by the loyalty of your sisters.

As the afternoon sunlight faded into golden hues, you knew you had to find a way to reconcile the longing in your heart with the boundaries set around you. But with Sansa and Arya by your side, you felt just a little less alone.

The castle was alive with a rare buzz, a tension that pulsed through the stone walls of Winterfell like a storm on the brink of breaking. King Robert Baratheon and his family had arrived that morning, and the atmosphere had shifted in a way you’d never experienced. Servants bustled, the smell of roasting meats hung in the air, and everywhere you looked, there were flashes of gold, crimson, and banners snapping in the cold Northern wind.

In the chaos of the royal visit, you managed to slip away from the eyes of your mother, of Sansa, and even of Arya, who had taken to hiding from the stern Septa who was assigned to “improve her manners.” You found Jon exactly where you expected: near the Godswood, watching the activity of Winterfell unfold from a distance, the cool detachment in his eyes like a protective shield.

“Jon,” you called softly, stepping forward, but he didn’t need to turn. You could tell he knew you were there from the softening of his shoulders, the way his stance shifted.

“Y/N,” he murmured in greeting, and there was a flicker of warmth in his gaze as he looked at you, a brief break in his guarded expression. Ghost, his silent white shadow, stood at his side, watching you with those intense, red eyes. Your own direwolf, Shadow, stepped up beside you, her dark coat blending into the shaded trees, her amber eyes fixed on her brother.

For a moment, it was just the two of you, standing in the pocket of silence that the Godswood offered, a calm oasis in the midst of all the chaos.

“Quite the spectacle, isn’t it?” Jon remarked, nodding in the direction of the castle, where banners and torches flared in the brisk wind.

You sighed, rolling your eyes. “It’s exhausting, is what it is. I feel like I’m in a cage. But at least here…” You glanced around, your gaze finally settling back on him. “It’s quieter.”

Jon’s expression softened, though there was a shadow in his eyes. “A cage,” he echoed. “I suppose I know that feeling too.”

It was then that you remembered the whispers you’d heard in the halls, the snatches of conversation that mentioned Jon and the future he’d chosen. The words had tugged at your heart, but you hadn’t had a moment to ask him if they were true. Now, as you stood before him, the question pressed on your tongue like a weight you could no longer hold.

“Jon,” you began, your voice low, almost hesitant. “Is it true? That you’re… planning to join the Night’s Watch?”

He looked at you, surprise flickering across his face before he glanced away, nodding slowly. “Yes,” he admitted, his tone resigned but steady. “I’ve spoken to Uncle Benjen about it. He says there’s a place for me there, and…” He paused, searching for the words. “It feels like the right choice. Like it’s where I belong.”

You swallowed, a pang of sadness tightening in your chest. “The right choice? Jon, you don’t have to do this.” You stepped closer, your hand brushing against his. “You belong here. You belong with us… with me.”

He looked down, his face unreadable, though his jaw tightened. “Here?” he echoed, his voice laced with bitterness. “What am I here, Y/N? A reminder of what shouldn’t be, a ghost that haunts your mother’s halls.” He shook his head, the muscles in his face taut. “Out there, with the Night’s Watch, I could be someone, serve a purpose. I’d have a place, even if it’s at the edge of the world.”

“But you already have a place,” you insisted, your voice thick with emotion. “With us—with me. I don’t want you to go.”

For a heartbeat, he looked at you, raw and vulnerable, his gaze filled with a pain you recognized but had never truly understood. “Y/N,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I can’t stay here, not when I’m… so close to you, yet so far.”

Just as the silence between you grew heavy, Ghost and Shadow, sensing the change, exchanged a look before darting into the woods. Startled, you glanced after them, their forms blurring into the shadows of the trees.

“Ghost!” Jon called, his voice cutting through the stillness, but his direwolf paid him no mind, disappearing deeper into the trees with Shadow following closely.

Without a second thought, you both broke into a run, slipping between the trunks and branches as you chased the wolves. The air grew cooler as you moved further from the warmth of Winterfell, the sounds of the castle fading behind you. You finally caught up to them in a small clearing, where they had stopped, sniffing at something half-buried in the grass—a fallen bird, probably knocked from a tree by the wind.

Breathless, you stood beside Jon, a faint laugh escaping your lips at the sight of the two wolves nosing at the bird as if deciding whether it was worth their time.

“They’re quite the pair, aren’t they?” you said, glancing at Jon, your smile fading as you caught the lingering sadness in his eyes. He hadn’t stopped looking at you since you’d left the Godswood, and there was something between you, thick and unspoken, that words couldn’t seem to touch.

He took a step closer, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him despite the chill of the forest. “Y/N,” he murmured, his voice low. “You’ve always been the one thing that made staying here bearable. I… I don’t want to leave you, but…” He hesitated, struggling to find the words. “But I don’t know if I can be what I’m supposed to be here.”

You placed a hand on his arm, feeling the solid warmth of him beneath the wool and leather. “And what are you supposed to be, Jon? Some… stranger sent to the Wall? You’re more than that. I see more in you than any title or duty.”

He closed his eyes, the conflict clear in the way he clenched his jaw, his fingers curling around your hand where it rested on his arm. “I wish things were different. I wish… I wish I could stay. But every time I see your mother’s eyes, I’m reminded that I don’t belong here.”

The distance you’d both run from Winterfell had made the world feel smaller, the space between you shrinking as he finally turned to you fully, his eyes holding a quiet despair mixed with longing. He was close, so close that you could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, his breaths mingling with yours in the cold air.

“Maybe one day, I’ll come back,” he said softly, his voice barely a murmur as he brushed a strand of hair from your face. “But I need to do this, for me. You understand that, don’t you?”

You swallowed, nodding, though your heart felt as if it were breaking. “I understand, Jon. But that doesn’t mean I’ll stop missing you.”

His gaze softened, a hint of a sad smile flickering on his lips. “I’ll miss you too, Y/N. More than you’ll ever know.”

For a fleeting moment, you were both suspended in the silent woods, lost in the ache of what could never be spoken aloud. You felt his hand linger on yours, the warmth of his touch grounding you in a way that made letting go feel impossible.

Then, as if sensing the silent goodbye, Ghost and Shadow returned to your sides, each wolf nudging against their human. You shared one last look, an understanding passing between you that held all the words you couldn’t say.

And then, without another word, you turned and made your way back to Winterfell, side by side but feeling worlds apart.

[iitsarss]

╰ㅤ₊ㅤ๋࣭ㅤreader x gr13f3r　 old friend　᠀

ꔛ word count: 834 or smth⠀╱⠀established friendship (?) 。

(¬_¬")⠀⠀⠀note ⠀╱⠀kms yall ive been soo unmotivated + school be kicking my ass,, plus not been on my best recently. request for anon hope u dislike it!!/J no but actually sorry this is shit,, I like making griefer a nervous mess that’s cute..anyways byee

When his dad had said, “We’re going to visit an old friend,” Griefer thought they’d end up at some elderly guy’s house, maybe some high school buddy his dad hadn’t seen in years. What he didn’t expect was to walk in and see… you.

He stood there, staring at you, frozen for a couple of seconds. And then he realized you were staring right back, which somehow made it worse. Awkward. But he couldn’t look away. Those eyes… you’d changed a lot since he’d last seen you. The quiet kid he remembered was gone, and in their place was someone he barely recognized but felt he’d known forever.

Your mom was still as sweet as ever, just like he remembered, chatting away with his dad like they’d never stopped. Even when you all sat down in the living room, they kept on, talking and laughing like they had endless stories to catch up on. Occasionally, your mom would ask Griefer a question or two, and he’d stammer out a reply, nerves on edge. And when his dad and your mom got up to make some tea, leaving the two of you alone in the room, the silence grew thick. It felt impossible to start a conversation—it was never this hard before.

Memories flooded back. You two had met when you were just six years old. He’d liked you right from the start; you were a good friend, someone he could count on to sit with at school, to meet up with after class. He remembered the way you’d climb trees together, daring each other to go higher. He remembered how you’d get quiet and a little shy whenever he brought his friends around. He remembered you almost getting expelled together on the first day of high school.

But what he remembered most was not wanting to let you go the day you left. You’d both cried, clinging to each other as you got in the car to leave town, and he could still feel the ache from that day, the hollow feeling that settled in his chest. You hadn’t told him why you were leaving, but he knew you were going to miss him just as much as he was going to miss you.

It had taken him a long time to get used to you being gone. And now here you were, right in front of him again. Taking a deep breath, he finally blurted out, “S0? H0W’VE Y0U BEEN..?”

The words tumbled out awkwardly, and he immediately cursed himself. Was that too casual? Should he have said something else? Something deeper? But his internal ranting stopped the moment you answered with a simple, “Fine.”

"Fine?" he thought. Was that a “fine!” with excitement, or just a flat “fine”? Damn, he was overthinking every little thing, and he hated it. But then the conversation found its rhythm, and soon, he was laughing with you again like no time had passed at all. He forgot how easy it was to talk to you, how natural it felt. He told you about his life—maybe not the whole Venomshank thing, and he left out the endless hours gaming—but he filled you in on enough to say he was “doing fine.” And he listened to your stories, dropping little jokes here and there just to make you laugh. God, he’d missed that laugh, the way it lifted at the edges, the way your smile always seemed to reach your eyes, making them light up.

Before he knew it, hours had passed. Time flew by with you, and he barely realized he had to leave until your mom was gently ushering everyone out the door. But, luck was on his side: she’d arranged to meet again next week.

Later, as he sat on the stairs that led to your house, you sat beside him, still smiling from the day. “IT’S B33N- UH, G00D T4LKING TO Y0U, Y’KN0W? W3 SH0ULD S33 EACH 0TH3R MOR3 0FT3N.”

You chuckled, giving him a playful look. “You missed me, huh? I missed you, too.” He felt his throat go dry at that, coughing to hide his embarrassment as he looked away.

“Y34H… 1 DID. M1SS3D MY FR13ND.”

...

When Griefer finally got back home after the long drive, he went straight to his room, kicked off his shoes, jacket, and shirt, and crashed onto his bed. He lay there, staring up at the ceiling, replaying the day in his mind. He’d had so much fun, laughed more than he had in months. He’d missed that—missed you. Maybe he’d forgotten just how much he’d liked you back then.

As his thoughts drifted into more dangerous, cheesy territory, he rolled over, burying his face in his pillow, kicking his feet a little like an embarrassed kid. The feeling was undeniable, and it made his heart beat a little faster. He missed you—he really missed you.

And he knew it, especially from the way his heart skipped a beat every time he pictured your smile.

[thewrothode-if]

Just a little scenario I made up since that recent POV reminded me just how much I adore Gungir. (I don't imagine it taking place during the actual game/story necessarily. But it would take place further down the line where both the MC and Gungir are aware of their attraction, but the MC is still not ready to let go of the hurt caused by their father's preferential treatment)

It was the soft, concerned way Gungir spoke their name that finally broke them.

The past few days had not been kind, giving them little time to rest. Every moment, they were needed for something: make this decision, mediate this grievance, help with supplies, break up a fight. Ever it went on, seemingly endless. And in the back of their mind, growing louder with each passing moment, was the criticizing voice of their father.

The imaginary voice was ceaseless with its chiding and beratement, always there to let them know how much they were failing. Even lands apart, they could not escape that man's unfair judgement. It was wearing them down, and their temper was growing even quicker to flare.

It wasn't until they threw an overly cruel remark towards Thyra that they finally pulled themselves away to be alone. They just needed a moment, one moment, alone to collect themselves. But, it seems Gungir couldn't even give them that.

The large oaf decided to follow them, for only the gods know what reason. They may have had moments with him during the journey where they put their animosty to the side and truly talked with the man. But surely, a handful of amicable conversations could not have given Gungir the confidence to believe approaching them now when they were this irate was the best decision. But here Gungir was, and they could feel the pent-up frustration and anger rising.

They watched him take a few cautious steps closer and, quietly, he said their name. Just their name. But it was filled with such concern, the kind that they were rarely ever given, and they couldn't stand it. Not in this moment, and not from him. Like a cornered animal, they lashed out.

They hurled every insult they could think of at him. They poked and prodded at any perceived failings of the man with no care for how petty they may be. Every grievance and every flaw they were forced to listen to by their imaginary father's voice, they took and threw it all onto Gungir. And through their tirade, he did not turn away or back down.

Gungir seemed to disregard it all, the worry never leaving his eyes. The large man continued his approach until he was standing right before them. By then, their anger had started to fade, but they couldn't stop. They continued to yell at him, chanting 'I hate you' over and over, their words growing weaker each time. They just wanted this miserable feeling to end and Gungir to leave.

But he didn't. Gungir slowly lifted his arms and, to their surprise, gathered them into a hug. It wasn't a strong hold, loose enough that they could easily pull away if they wanted, but they didn't. They could feel his warmth seeping into their skin, and it smothered the remaining embers of their ire, leaving them feeling hollow and quiet. Suddenly, they felt their breath hitch, and like a burst dam, they started to sob.

They clung to the front of Gungir's clothes and cried in a way they hadn't since they were a child. Later, they would undoubtedly be embarrassed about this. But for now, they let themselves forget about the complicated feelings they had for the man holding them and greedily accepted the comfort he freely gave. They felt Gungir pull them into a tighter embrace, and in that moment, they were truly glad he was there. Whether they deserved his kindness or not, they were glad.

YOOO, this shit is so GOOD. What the fuck.

Like you actually had me so excited for what was going to come next. Can you please, PLEASE write this IF for me so I enjoy your delicious writing? The dynamic between Gungir and the MC is so good in this.

I will most likely use this as a reference for what my writing should be because damn. This is FIRE. 😍

[dangerous-realms]

She would nod with his words about the planet's as she ate some more, working on her true decision for this planet they were on. In truth she could tell that the people were sour, but the planet was still healthy and thriving. With that in mind, she knew there were to many criminals and corrupt wealthy people to allow them to move to another planet, the wouldn't survive with how sour they were, something which screwed over the innocent. But, such was the business that a proper destroyer had to do.

"I agree with you on that. I even if such happens with the planet's I feel like it would be particularly rare for two planet's to basically be clones of each other. If such a thing was possible, I place my bet on a ruler of all placing some failsafe to make sure they develop differently."

Truthfully, all she could see was the hassle of trying to erase one planet if it clipped into the other through the fabric of reality, she would likely have to do both as she didn't see how shs could do know without the other getting in the way. She would much on a few more peices, the last few of the second one before she starts cutting up the third one into equal chunks. She had business to do and she also couldn't wait to try that tantalizing icy treat that was beckoning to her from the corner of her eye.

"I'll be ready half an hour before then, I find it easier to start getting ready early so the I can relax a bit before the date. I already have a dress in mind to wear for you as well~."

It was I'm truth that she was thinking of such when he told her that he would pick her up at fourteenth hour of next weeks Friday. She was happy that they were going to be going out soon, such excited her to say the least. As he spoke about how she was spoiling him and how the offer sounded too good to be true, she would work in the third peice of meat, enjoying it every bit as much as the last two. The concern that seemed to be in his voice about her giving and giving without asking for anything back and how it would likely feel like he as using her in the long run would grab her attention.

However, speaking wasn't an option as she was chering what was im her mouth and swallowing it before she spoke, but Kefla had already gotten to her. She felt her face become trapped between his fingers as her face was tilted towards him and his lips pressed against her. A kiss she would enjoy as she would reciprocate for the amount of time before it ended, a small pout on her face.

"The kiss is of good payment. But of course you can think about it, I wasn't going to force myself upon you to protect you. I know that you're a perfectly capable fighter and that you can handle yourself."

If anything, he had her number. Though she wondered if he would call if things started getting rough because of another destroyer? She would continue to eat until it was finished, but before she would grab the ice-cream she would get up.

"Excuse me for a moment, Kefla. I have to make a phone call."

With that she would walk off to the edge of the clearing she made and pull out her phone, finding the number of the one she needed to call. The father of her son and, in a sense, her husband; Coldarder. The embodiment of death is who she needed right now considering she was going to spare the planet, such ment a mass soul reap was needed.

"Oh, hello honey~."

The start of the conversation, one of a friendly tone as she was greeting someone she cared for. Her hand going up to twirl a lock of her hair as she listened to the other for a moment.

"Yeah, I need you to come to the planet I'm on right now. No, the planet's fine, it's just the people that need to go."

She was going to be quick and straight to the point, she saw no need for her to dilly dally on this. Coldarder needed to know why she called, though internally she was excited to see him as it's been a few weeks at least.

"You'll be here in about a quarter hour? I see, your just finishing up somewhere else. Got it. I love you to my dear~."

Her last words were filled with affection for her husband, he also wasn't one to beat around the bush. It happned to be long ago that they made the rule that of the planet they were on needed either of them while they were on it that they could call each other. If the planet he was on needed to be erased or the it was just the bodies, he would call her. If she needed him to mass reap some souls so she could erase them, she would call him. Though, they also called each other for other things, to talk and share.

However, now that she was done on the phone, she would return to the clearing and sit back down ik her seat.

"I'm baaack~. Hope you didn't miss me too much while I was gone~."

She teased, she was being playful with Kefla now. Obviously she wasn't gone or that far away, but she didn't see the harm as she now leaned on her hand while looking at him.

One thing was certain with the woman. She loved eating good food. It was why Beerus had decided against vaporizing Earth. To think Champa wanted the planet Earth of another universe merely to satisfy his tastebuds despite not having any need to eat and drink. Destroyer gods were strange people. That's logical if you think about it. There is no planet that is the same as another. Just like, there is no universe that is the exact copy of another. If two planets were perfectly identical, why would they exist at the same time? Then again, gods of creation were probably not any better than gods of destruction. Champa was overweight and so was the supreme kai who was his life link. Strange that the god of destruction was this powerful and the god of creation couldn't even defend themselves against the weakest of opponent. Must be a bad joke from that brat.

In that case, the Friday next week at fourteen. I'll come pick you up. Since she is eager to taste. He doesn't intend to make her wait for long. Oh, and make sure to wear something that shows your curves off. Surely, you don't expect to just drink at my house, right? With what has already happened between them. No point in beating around the bush. Even if unsaid, it is likely that the drinking session will turn into something more physical.

You spoil me quite a lot, Deaevidra. I suppose it would be idiotic of me to refuse such a proposal. So, how about you let me think about this? It sounds too good to be true if I'm honest, and you're doing plenty of things for a man you have just met. I hope you don't intend to just give and give without asking anything in return. Feeling like I'm using you is not a good feeling, frankly. Until an idea came to mind. Probably not enough to repay the kindness of the goddess, but he could not think of anything else. Chair pushed backward and steps taken to the divinity. Face held between fingers and lips pressed against the other's lips. Ravenous, steamy and full of passion, then stopped. I guess you can consider this payment unless you want more, which I can't offer right now.

[ggukkiedae]

another little personal spiel that im adding in the tags, ignore me if you're not interested~

[crunchycrystals]

had the realization that there's the possibility i'll never kiss anyone in my life and i was completely ok with that. i'm actually really happy for myself about this so i wanted to talk about it a little bit :D

[kavehater]

Gosh maybe it’s for the best that I don’t watch shows bc seeing people even if they’re fictional having such profound friendships gives me serious fomo 🙁

[screampied]

𝜗𝜚 LIKE THIS P☆SSY DESIGNED FOR YA !?

☆ sum. you’re supposed to hate him and yet here he is talking you through yet another órgasm. toji, gojo, nanami, geto, choso.

warnings. fem! reader, exes trope, hate / make up séx, possessiveness, unprotected, dirty talk, manhandling, semi-public, toji slander, bréeding, praise, fīngering, feral whipped men, squīrting, breath play, cunnīlingus, edging, overstim.

☆ SUGURU GETO.

“sit on it.”

he didn’t have to tell you twice—because you lost the battle of temptation the second you found yourself hovering over your ex’s face. his pretty face, he’s got that same smug grin that curls against his lips with a few dimples prodding near each side of his cheeks. hooded sly eyes glance at your sopping cunt that’s dripping right through your panties and he leans back against the bed.

“c’mere, you,” and you moan once his hands leisurely drag your hips down toward his spit slick lips. geto was never one to apologize—but even if he did, instead of using words, he’d let his tongue do the talking. with his teeth, he peels your panties to the side. like always, he couldn’t stay away from you as much as you couldn’t stay away from him. you hated it, you swore you hated him and yet he’d make those feelings vanish the second his tongue’s swirling around your cunt, reminding you how hungry he was.

how hungry he was for you.

it would always be like this - after every argument, the outcome would always end up with geto between your thighs.

sure, he’d say sorry. . after his tongue’s buried inside of your cunt.

“fuuuck,” he’d grunt, laid back as his hair was all sprawled out against the sheets. geto’s voice was dangerously deep and raspy. each time he spoke, his words would vibrate against your pulsating wet pussy - his favorite meal. he could eat you out for hours until his jaw tightened and locked. the literal definition of a pussy pleaser . .

“aw, she’s missed me so fuckin’ bad,” he’d whisper in a gruff tone, dipping his pointed tongue in and out of your folds. your folds were all soddened - sopping wet and dripping like a faucet. he groans, feeling your candied juices stream down from the opening part of your clit as you throbbed in his mouth. he was slurping you clean, relishing in your sweetened fervor that ruts against his slick mouth and chin. “yeah, i know. i know,” and as you whimper with pursed quivering lips, geto lolls out his tongue allllll the way, plunging it deeper inside of your convulsing cunt. with a smug grin flattening against the edges of his lips, he licks a long stripe from top to bottom, tasting all of you. your sweet slick fully paints against the lower part of his chin until it runs down the crevices of his lips, and he moans at how sweet you tasted.

he was so messy and unapologetically so—you’ve got your knees bucked toward the sides of his head whilst you’re unsteadily grinding into his mouth. “sugu, fuck,” you’d moan, letting off a following of sweet cacophonies of ‘ooh's’ and ‘ah's’ each time his tongue slithers toward your puckering hole then back towards your needy cunt. a pretty glistening fall of water dribbles down the inner sides of your thighs and he laps it straight up as thin brows of his curve into a fixated furrow. “we didn’t even finish t- the conversation.”

“later,” he purrs in a rough hoarse tone, silencing your babbles the second his teeth playfully nibble towards your clit. you whine, feeling your weak knees on the verge of collapsing before he spat on the entrance of your folds. sloshes spurt away from your soaked cunt as you’re making a mess on his face, feeling that familiar pressure arises within the lower part of your tummy. it’s like someone was pressing down on your stomach, a wave that was preparing to crash and cause havoc. it felt so good, it was impossible to miss geto’s tongue. whenever he ate you out, he’d always eat you out like a starved man—like your sweet pussy was the last meal available on earth, and he did it with no shame.

as your hips continue to thrust sloppily against his mouth, a sleazy grin goes against his lips and he holds your thighs firmly in place, whistling against your slobbering folds. “mhm, that’s it. atta girl, less talkin’ more ridin’ this face.”

as you paw a hand through his thin tangeled tresses of hair that run through your clammy fingers—you whimper once his tongue reaches a certain spot inside of your pussy that scratches a lustful itch in your brain. “fuck!” you whine out, your hip speeding accelerating quicker. you continue to ride his face, nearly suffocating him with how your thighs had him in such a secure lock - to which he loved it, and it’s up onto the point where you end up cumming hard.

you’re gnawing on your lip once you end up finally releasing, swerving your ass against his face and feeling him slurp your entire high clean. even still, geto’s got the priggish grin plastered on his lips whilst he’s laid underneath you, two big hands glued to each sides of your thighs.

“atta fuckin’ girlll,” he’d repeat in a teasing hum, his tongue creating a slimy trail from the back part of your cunt until it reaches the tender bulb part of your clit. he sucks against it, toying with your puffy hood with his tongue before he feels you spasming on his mouth. so sweet, his long lashes flutter shut and he’s holding you tight so you stay still. “good, jus’ like old times.”

and as you’re panting, he departs his slick lips before dragging a thumb down your throbbing clit. very slowly, slippery long strands of your own juices coat his fingertip before he gives your pussy a single sloppy kiss. “now, you were sayin?”

☆ TOJI FUSHIGURO.

“f- fuck you.”

“yeah girl, i’m trying,” toji snarls, using two big hands to reel you back into his sharp churlish hips.

you moan, slamming back down on his thick cock after each mouthwatering thrust. toji would be having you in doggy, spread out on all fours, arched over for him and all. it’s fat, his tip mashes through your walls and french kisses deeply against your g-spot, coating it with dozens of slick smooches. toji’s enormous girth rams through your cunt, giving it a reminder of just how much he’s missed you and it makes your toes curl every time. you could never forget that curve of his—the curve where once he dips his hips a certain way, he’s plowing his thick cock into you so deep that it makes a shiver run down your spine. he makes you feel it all, and once you grow quiet his ego gets fed a good sum.

“fuuuck, that’s it. shut that pretty mouth up ‘n take this shit,” and you whimper, feeling him claw a rough hand through your scalp. it’s a soft tug, but your head pulls back nonetheless as he’s drilling into you mercilessly.

he’s fast, toji’s got the hips of a maddened madman.

and he was always not the best whenever it came to feelings but he loved you - still.

you’re always on his mind, no matter how many rebounds—he still saw your pretty face at the end of the day. tasting you, feeling you from the inside, you had him whipped and it fucking annoyed him.

“ngh, tojiiii,” you whimper, gasping at the immense loose barrage he makes with his stocky shaft. the stretch always leaves you speechless as a plethora of inaudible babbles perish out from the back of your throat. his sack hangs loose as he fucks into you raw. a soddened slimy ring forms around his base from your wet cunt slapping back against him and he clenched his teeth, watching the fat of your ass slam back against his chiseled pelvis. “right there, right fuckin’ there toji.”

“don’t tell me how ‘ta fuck,” he gruffs, and with one mean perfunctory thrust — you let off a screaming moan, tearing your chords before a sheepish giggle follows. the dark haired man rolls his eyes, giving your ass a teasing smack. “such a nasty ‘lil bitch. forgot how much this shit turns you on.”

the bed continues to dip from the constant masses of weight slamming onto the cushions before you feel it gradually falling forward. your crossed eyes found themselves flickering back to the outer voids of your skull as you claw at the bawled up sheets. “fuck, fuck you. broke bitch.”

“girl please. let’s not even,” he pauses, smacking his lips. always so sassy. you moan once his swollen tip stills itself inside of you and you pout, not being fond of how he’d randomly stop just to mess with you. cool air sets against your skin as your back remains arched and toji swats another hand toward your ass. smack! the sting makes your body jolt in depleting rapture and you coo out a soft ‘ah’ with your lips parting.

he grunts once he ogles down at your sloppy cunt, puffed lips and aching clit. leisurely, he pulls out before bringing a fat thumb towards your entrance, maneuvering a few teasing circles. “you still let this broke bitch fuck again, so now what?”

silence was your answer — but a moan shortly follows and you eat your words, your left cheek shoved against the mattress. “f- fuck y-”

“stop talking over your pussy. have some class, baby,” and you whimper, feeling his swelling tip rub against the back of your clit. you’re drooling wet, it’s almost embarrassing and he could feel your body shaking - more, you wanted more.

toji always did this, stop fucking you in the middle just to play with you and make you squirm for him to continue. bastard. once the room shifts into utter silence, his cockhead bangs against your cunt without warning and it’s a loud sloppy ‘smack!’ that gives you whiplash from the spine down. “good girl. ‘s all i wanna hear. pretty squelches all for me, mhm.”

he continues to toy with your cunt before he leans down, spitting near the slit opening entrance whilst his scarred lips carve into a pout. “lotta talk for a pussy this fuckin’ wet,” he hears you starting to protest but your words only come out in inaudible babbles. once you try to sit up, he lightly pushes you back into the bed, having you slump forward with a soft ‘oof.’

toji grunts, feeling his heavy cock tighten up at the sight of your exposed sopping cunt seeping from the folds before he aligns his angered tip once more. “lie back, little girl. we’re far from finished,” and he spanks your cunt, sloshing soddened spurts of your own slick plopping onto his palm. “isn’t that right, gorgeous?”

and his eyes avert towards your cunt - not you. “yeah, thought so.”

☆ CHOSO KAMO.

choso can’t live without you - he’s an entire mess the second you let him fuck you for ‘one last time.’

has you in a mating press because he insists on seeing your pretty face, doesn’t care if he’s tearing up mid thrust either because he’s missed you so so bad. “you’re so pretty,” he’d moan, pumping his cock into you slowly. each thrust reminded you of the times you both spent together . . the memories, why you and him even split in the first place. choso grunts, continuously bruising your cervix with his fat tip over and over. as you’re laid on your back, your arms wrap around his broad shoulders and he flashes you a cheeky needy smile and darkened circles under his eyes. “have i told you how pretty you look right now, baby?”

“probably over ten times, ‘cho,” you’d sheepishly say, blissful moans sliding past your lips. your cunt’s grip against was purely enticing - it always was. he was forevermore addicted to the way you held onto him tight, squeezing down on him like a vice. you drag a few fingers down his undercut and he lets off a humming purr, leaning into your touch. “fuck, don’t stop, baby. keep goin, mhm.”

“missed you so bad,” he’d whine, burying his face into the crook of your neck. choso moans from the alluring scent of your perfume alone, almost tasting you in his mouth. so sweet, so so sweet and he wanted more. his perfectly sculptured body that rocked into yours started to get more sloppy with its movements. he’s passionate with his thrusts, and he knew like always he wasn’t gonna last long. he never did, not with you. choso’s slim body ruts into you, steadily grinding into your own before he starts to suck on your neck. “mpmh. ‘s been torture without you, you know. had such . . strange dreams.”

with a soft simper, you cup his flushed face, a thumb stroking against the right side of his cheek. “wet dreams, choso?”

“y- yeah,” he swallows thickly, growing embarrassed. wet dreams, that explained why whenever he’d wake up in a good mood after having erotic dreams about you—he felt so hard, so . . aroused. his cock’s aching for more, and his bulbous pink tip continues to rummage through your insides until it inspects through every spot. each ‘pop’ your cunt makes ring through your ears and he sucks his teeth at the realization of just how wet you are. “had a dream we heh, got back together. settled down, started a f . . family.”

your heart races at his words, and choso’s deeply staring into your eyes, getting lost in your tender gaze. gentle darkened irises of his dilate as he gawks at you and oh, he’s so in love. his heart thumps quicker in his chest as he pistons his hips. the punctuation of his hips grow more exclamatory with each slam against your cunt. he’s rough, but gentle at the same time - sloppy more than anything. “a family, huh?” and he can’t help but whine, hearing the words slide past your glossed lips with such simplicity.

he gives you a nod, kissing near the corner of your twitching mouth. “a baby or two,” he moans, his speed starting to get more relentless. he’s thick, his length resumes to curve and and meander through your walls, leaving it’s very mark and your legs wrap around his slim waist. as he speaks, he’s staring to paint the exact picture of a future he wants into your brain and his. “or maybe five. you’d look pretty with a plump swollen belly,” and he kisses your quivering bottom lip, this time leaning down to suck on your chin. “mhm, i just wanna make you a pretty wife. my pretty wife, ‘s what ‘m basically saying.”

as the two of you both moan in unision, you plant a wet chaste kiss on his lips. choso groans, slowly pumping more inches in and out of your sloppy cunt before leaning into your grasp. your hips were just as greedy as his were, if not more. “let’s do it then,” you’d whisper between kisses, glossed strands of saliva entangling with each other, creating viscid cobwebs. “make me your pretty wife, ‘cho. gimme a baby.”

choso’s eyes widen to the size of saucers before his thrusts slow - deep but deadly.

he’s very slow with his movements, making sure you feel every single inch, every single vein that prods down his fat cock. “okay,” he shakily says, his ears twitching at your sweet words. he’s still pressing his weight against you, feeling his piles of sweat glue against your own body and he leans in one more time, pressing a long wet kiss on your lips. he’s cutely shaking from your touch once your hands run down his back, pulling him closer. he’s fucking you deeply but at a much more romantic sweet pace. “ugh,” his eyes roll back in rapture, and he can feel himself preparing to give you the filling he’s been oh so desperately waiting for. choso grips your chin, smearing a thumb over your lips before whimpering against your lips.

“ ‘m gonna make you the prettiest mommy. promise.”

☆ NANAMI KENTO.

never in a million years would you have thought you’d be in a predicament like this—arched over an office desk with your husband, ex-husband directly behind you. he’s fucking sense back into you, giving you a simple reminder of how good you had it all with the thoroughly deep hits of his cock.

“s- sweetheart,” he’d groan, repeatedly tapping his swollen crown against your most sweetest spots. it leaves a bittersweet taste in your mouth, and you’re just casually being fucked into the unsigned divorced papers. your visions clouded, all your glossed eyes were met with was the scribbles of writing and multiple lines that ran across that papers. the wood creaks and groans at the pounds of pressure slamming back and forth into it. “god, i missed you,” he’d whisper, running a hand down your sensitive spine. he created a soft tapping trail with his fingers, continuing to plummet his weighty dick in and out of your pasty walls. “can never stay away from my wife.”

soft whimpers spew past the cracks of your lips as he continues to drill into you, repeatedly thrashing his leaky mushroom tip against your precious g-spot that makes you shrill louder. your moans ricochet off the walls of the spacious office and he lightly tugs on your blouse. “kento, ken—fuck,” you’d suck your teeth, feeling each hooked curve of his dick hunt through every part of your cunt. the loud clangs of his belt sing each time his halfway pulled down slacks hits against your ass. he’s missed you, you can tell by his thrusts and the way he’s running a hand down your body. “fuck me, fuck me ‘ken. please.”

“shhh,” he leans up close to you, pressing a smooth palm over your mouth. your moans grow muffled as he continues to drive his fat cock into your cunt, hearing your heels clank and tap against the slick wooden floor. “not so loud, wifey,” he purrs, and you moan once his tip reaches there. it doesn’t take long before his flushed crownhead’s smothering your cervix wholly with rich french kisses, making your legs shake. nanami feels you leaning into his touch with your ass pressed all the way into him. “as much as i love your sweet sounds, you wouldn’t want anyone else to hear them, would you?”

your answer was muffled so you give him a slow nod. nanami chuckles, a tear of sweat racing down the left side of his forehead. “no, silly. we don’t want that,” and he brings a kiss toward the nape of your neck, nibbling on your tender skin. he’s fucking you over the desk, ignoring the groans and creaks of the old wooden desk. “no one should be able to hear how—” and he pauses, slightly lifting up your leg to get a more thorough deeper angle. “… sloppy you sound, no one but me, sweetheart.”

nanami’s still buried balls deep—his swollen full base remains to smack against your ass, creating an unforgettable perspiring sting amongst skin. every time he’s inside—he falls in love right over again, he can’t help it. “ ‘m gonna cum. you’re gonna wring me dry like you always did, my love,” he grunts, his cock repeatedly kissing at that poor bullseye of a target that’s buried inside the deep depths of your cunt. tap tap tap, he’s hitting that same spongey spot to make you whimper out those desperate cries of his name. cobwebs of saliva souse all over his palm as his hand remains cupped over your mouth. the loud fax machine continues to spit out mechanic whimpers of its own in the background while you’re getting drilled into the divorce papers the two of you were ‘supposed’ to sign.

but fuck that.

“inside,” you whine, your lips moving on its own the second he pries his hand away. your pussy gripped him tightly, aching him badly. you could feel yourself salivating at the thought of him filling you up again, dumping such a hefty load that his mess would spill right down the plush crevices of your thighs. “don’t miss ‘ken, finish inside.”

“anything for the pretty wife,” he’d rasp, bringing two hands toward your rickety waist. as you’re arched over the cornered table—the moment finally comes where he finishes with three deep thrusts that vigorously punctuate against your cunt. you whimper, and within seconds he’s spraying out thickly stringy amounts. velvety ribbons of cum that pour into you sprays inside your womb deeply, oozing out your folds. nanami’s lips glue against your skin and you can hear him faintly whining into your neck. “fuck,” he whispers, and it’s rare to hear him curse, but when he does, it always made you throb - like now. his cock’s still shoved inside and he’s still giving you his anticipated fill before he pulls out, smearing his tip over your drooling cunt.

“so pretty,” he weakly says, caressing your ass with a free hand. nanami’s eyes scan toward the desk with scattered divorce papers and he sheepishly rubs his neck. the blond turns you around to face him and he cups your chin—lifting you up and making you sit on the edge of the table. “but,” and he presses a kiss near the side of your lip, a few thick fingers feeling against the sloppy mess that spills out of your pussy. “you’d look even prettier with a ring around your finger again,” and he licks your neck, hearing your breath hitch as he whispers against your skin.

“i’ve missed you, mrs. nanami,” and he lowers his head down to plant a kiss against your throbbing drenched clit. “and i’ve missed you especially.”

☆ SATORU GOJO.

satoru doesn’t even have to fuck you. his fingers always did the job more than anything. his long fingers that were so fucking long for no reason. doesn’t care what time it is at night, he’d whine to you at how much he misses your pussy - his pussy. but you’d constantly tell yourself one more time, one more time wouldn’t hurt . . right?

wrong,

because those ‘one more times’ turned into dozens of times where you’d find yourself pathetically gushing on his fingers if not his cock and tongue. “relaaax, angel,” he’d purr against your neck, having you lie flat against his back. you’re a whimpering mess, biting the inside of your cheek as you feel his slender thin fingers expand and shove all through the swollen layout of your pussy. sloshes of wet sobs ring through the insides of you and you whine, realizing just how wet you were. “i know, i know. i’d fuckin’ throb if i was this soaked too.”

“s- satoru,” you’d moan, a hand of yours tightly gripping onto his wrist. a thumb of yours brushes against a vein that runs down his arm and he kisses near your neck. breathy hot pants ghost down near your skin and your thighs violently shake, feeling his fingertips prod against a particular spongey texture. there, he’s located your g-spot and you let off that cooing ‘ooh!’ as your head collapses back into his bare chest with a loud thud.

his fingers, you’d never be able to wrap your head around on how long they were. so long, they create an unforgettable stretch that makes tears of sweat drip down the sides of your forehead. they curl and entwine their ways inside, scissoring themselves inside your cunt before thrusting in and out of you at a slow degrading pace. “fuck, ‘toru ‘m gonna cum. ‘s gonna make me cum quick.”

“such a mess,” he huffs, prying your jittery legs open more with a single hand. you moan, feeling something prick behind your back and you knew that had to be his rock hard bulge that rubbed off against his sweats. it was hard to mistaken it, you felt the outline of it press against your bare ass.

he was so hard, and it was always because of you. as satoru’s got two fingers diving in and out of your slobbering pussy, he snickers against your ear. “i bet any other guy that touches this cunt doesn’t have fingers as long as mine, huh.”

there goes his fucking ego again. .

you tried to roll your eyes but instead it ends up making you create a lewd expression. his thin fingertips reach deep, and you’re slathering down both twin digits fully with such slippery sap.

“fuckk y- you,” you hiss out, grabbing his wrist to go faster. a throaty chortle leaves from his lips before his fingers start to twist inside of your sweet cunt even faster. “toru, satoru ngh!”

once his lengthy middle finger taps against there, your mind goes completely blank. you let off a squealing sob, your head thumping back against his chest once you gush right out yet again.

it was so abrupt. . there was barely any buildup, it just happened. you’re shivering as his fingers continue to crimp themselves inside of you, hearing your own pussy squelch out such carnal moans of its own. “fuck, fuck,” you whimper in broken cries, feeling your chest sink inward. the ivory-white sheets were now soaking up with a translucent colour as you release, biting his name within each syllable on your tongue. “satoru, satoruuu.”

“still the same ‘ole sloppy girl i remember,” he says in a raspy tone, feeling himself get hard just from your own arousal. you’re violently shaking, tasting every twinge of pleasure that surges through your veins as you squirt on his fingers. satoru’s fingers slide in and out and it’s so loud, it echoes through the four walls of the bedroom you both once shared and he simpers cockily. “can’t help but soak me right with you, yeah?” and before you could even get another word out, he slides out his fingers, hearing the cute ‘pop’ that exits out of your throbbing crying folds. “poor baby,” and he waves his fingers in his face as you pant against his chest. satoru hums, popping both fingers in his mouth for a taste he’s missed for the longest.

with a grunt, his free hand squeezes your cunt and you moan, the back of your head cutely hitting against his chest in defeat. “mhm. still taste the same too,” and as you’re still shaking on his lap, he gives the right temple of your cheek a kiss. “missed my messy baby.”

[werewolfbneimitzvah]

vent post. There are two stories i was told in my teenage years that even before i had a real concept of trans issues made me uninterested in discussing the supposed sacredness and safety of separated sex-based spaces.

First, when i was like 13 or 14 my PE teacher told us about a time she went to a women's public restroom, some guy was hanging out outside the bathrooms, she didn't think anything of it, went to the bathroom, and he walked in after her and like, creeped on her over the top of the stall. She was ok, she wasn't telling us this to scare us, just telling us what to do in situations like that (and iirc she was telling the whole co-ed class this, not just girls, bc it's useful for everyone), but this taught me immediately and forever that there's nothing actually keeping these spaces separate really, that anyone can be a creep in any space, and that establishing a space like that as for women only isn't actually particularly useful for safety.

Second, when i was 16 i was at an anime convention, a friendly acquaintance of mine and i ended up in conversation outside, and he showed me his bare wrist and told me he'd been kicked out. A female friend of his had stepped in dog poop outside, and between that and the stress of the convention she'd had a bit of an emotional breakdown, so being her friend, he started comforting her and ushered her into the women's restroom so they could wash the poop off her shoe together. And because he was a man who went into the women's bathroom, he got kicked out, no matter that he was doing something that was actually beneficial to a woman. Punishing a woman's friend for supporting her was supposed to... protect her somehow? This made it clear to me that a no-exceptions rule separating the sexes like that wasn't actually inherently good for everyone.

And this isn't even getting into me as a child needing to accompany my younger sister to the restroom when we were out with just my dad because she had certain support needs past the age he felt comfortable bringing her into the men's room with him. And what if I'd been born a boy, or she'd been the first born? Who's helping her then?

And of course even putting all this aside, we should always prioritize compassion and support anyway. But i never even needed to meet a trans person to know that "keeping men out of women's bathrooms" is silly nonsense. But trans people also need to pee anyway and as humans they have that right, so leave them the fuck alone. your precious women's restroom is just a fucking room with a door, holy shit give it a fucking rest, if someone is attacking you in the bathroom that's bad and if someone is in there to pee that's good and it doesn't fucking matter what their junk is or was when they were born.

a woman could have done the exact same thing to my PE teacher and it would have also been bad no matter how "supposed" to be in the restroom she was, and no one should ever be punished for helping a crying friend wash their shoe.

Anyway i know I'm speaking to like-minded folks here, i just think about those two stories literally every time bathroom gender shit comes up and it pisses me off.