#manifesting for next Wednesday

[aritany]

whoa, dude.

[unspuncreature]

all the snow melted here and it rained all day. i hope it snows again soon

[parkitaco]

happy wip wednesday :)

[livsindelusion]

So my current kids tv show pitch ideas are just

1. Gay werewolf/werewolf hunter thing that I came up with and was way too similar to both the marauders and Good Omens but I’ll work on it idk

Or

2. Gay barbie island princess but I change enough that I have plausible deniability that it’s barbie island princess. But also maybe it’s more an enemies to lovers thing and there were two people stranded on the island with memory loss then they get them back and there’s drama idk

But either of these premises with a target audience of like 12-15 year olds and probably animated bc fuck yeah I love animation

[magistralucis]

@love-and-pigeons!

[stupidswiftie]

i am so annoyed that the most recent taylornation pics are not wallpapers. why aren’t they wallpapers they should be wallpapers

[hide-your-bugs-away]

ANIMAL FRIENDS!! If you're curious and want to see me sob and shout and scream as I travel to London, I'll be posting about it on my Instagram, @/the_love_bugsy !!

ANIMAL TIME... ALAN TIME... AAAAAA

[writesvani]

dear me | 10

lawyer! jungkook x privatechef! reader

SUMMARY: Once upon a time, Jungkook and you were everything. Best friends who shared every moment, every secret—except one: you were in love with him. But life changed. High school ended, real life began, and slowly, you drifted apart, the distance between you growing too wide to cross.

The end. Except it isn't.

One day, after a long day at work, you open your email to find a message from 13 years ago—written by your younger self. A letter you’d forgotten, sent by a service you paid to remind you of your youth, your love for him. As the emails keep on coming and you keep reading, the flood of memories hits you, and you realize something heartbreaking: you never stopped loving him.

But now, it’s too late. Jungkook is about to marry someone else. Or is he?

estranged childhood best friends-to-friends-to-lovers?

TRIGGER WARNINGS: anxiety, emotional conflict, frustration, feelings of inadequacy, fear of failure, intense argument, self-doubt, stress, mild emotional distress

comment HERE for Dear Me taglist;

SERIES M.LIST;

— previous chapter // next chapter (pending...)

wc: 5,1k // date: 24th of May 2025

CHAPTER TEN — TETHERED THREADS happy reading my gummies...

AN: oh my god hi babies!!! dear me is back and so am i? so are we all excited or what. i don't want to spoil this chapter but it goes from 0 to 100 real quick so like. prepare yourselves. i warned you!!

now, about the note goal — plot twist — there is none. i’m currently in my ✨mystery era✨ trying to figure out a better posting system so we’re just gonna wing it for now. that does NOT mean you shouldn’t like, comment, or reblog because hello?? validation?? serotonin?? but no pressure.

if you liked the chapter and wanna scream about it, i’m here. reading. refreshing. obsessing. after all the weird energy and negativity lately, i’m really hoping we can bring back our chaotic little community — full of kindness, laughter, and just the right amount of delusion.

i love you all so much it’s actually concerning. chapter 11 will be posted on june 2nd unless the universe decides otherwise but let’s manifest consistency together, okay? okay.

The morning starts like every other.

One shot of espresso — because two makes you jittery and one feels just right — gulped down in the dim glow of your kitchen light. No breakfast, of course. You’ll eat whatever Ms. Kim requests you to make, and if it’s something boring like porridge again, well, that’s just the universe’s way of punishing you for not getting groceries. Quick shower. Music playing from your phone speaker (Today: old Arctic Monkeys. Why? Who knows, they felt like a Wednesday band). Then, one episode of Suits. Always Suits. Always one. You like the predictability, the build-up. You like the false sense of control it gives you, knowing you’ll be left on a cliffhanger but choosing to turn it off anyway.

Everything is smooth. Everything is routine. Your perfect little mental tightrope, walked with the balance of someone who’s been practicing calm like it’s a sport.

Until you sit in your car.

Crack.

Not a literal sound — no smoke, no explosion — but the kind of mental snap that jolts you right between the eyes. The one that makes your chest tighten and your hands pause on the steering wheel. You try to start the engine once. Twice. A third time, just for good measure. Nothing.

Your car is dead. Or maybe just extremely petty.

You stare at the dashboard like it just told you your childhood dog ran away. Because how did you not notice the gas light? You always notice the gas light. You’re religious about the gas light. It’s your one non-negotiable.

You bang your head lightly against the steering wheel and mutter under your breath, “I deserve this.”

Maybe it’s karma. Maybe it’s sleep deprivation. Maybe it’s the fact that you’ve been so wrapped up in pretending everything’s fine that the basics — like fuel — slipped through the cracks. But now you’re sitting in your silent car, the neighborhood too quiet and you realize something dreadful.

This day has already betrayed you.

And it’s not even 9 a.m.

Your first logical solution is Yoongi.

It always is, really. Calm, capable, cursed with a heart way too big for that grumpy exterior. His work is basically around the corner from Ms. Kim’s place anyway, so in theory, it makes perfect sense. One quick call, a dramatic but well-timed sigh, maybe even a guilt trip about “doing it for your beloved bestie” — and boom, problem solved.

Except, as always, the universe has beef with you.

Because when Yoongi picks up the phone, he doesn’t greet you. He whispers. Weakly.

“I’ve been betrayed,” he croaks.

“By who?” you ask, alarmed.

“My body,” he whispers, hoarse. “Fever. I’m dying. Tell my cat I love him.”

You pause. “You don’t have a cat.”

“Then who have I been feeding?” he mumbles, and the line cuts with the faintest of coughs.

You exhale through your nose, long and tired. Of course Yoongi can’t come. He’s sick. Sick-sick. Not hungover-sick, not "I stayed up binge-watching anime and now I’m emotionally unstable" sick — actual sick. You text him a get-well-soon and a half-serious promise to bring soup and put your phone down with a sigh that echoes in your dead car.

Uber? Taxi?

You wince just thinking about it. It’s not the cost, or the inconvenience, or even the question of how many strangers' asses have occupied those seats before yours. It’s just… uncomfortable. The whole idea of being stuck in a confined space while some overly chatty middle-aged man named Bob tells you about his second divorce and favorite Coldplay album?

No thanks.

You’re not a snob. You just prefer your social anxiety from a safe distance.

So your next logical option — and by logical, you mean potentially dangerous to your mental well-being — is Jungkook.

Yeah. Jungkook.

You already feel your eye twitch at the thought.

Because asking your hot, soon-to-be-married best friend to rescue you from your own stupidity has never ended in emotional stability. Still, you unlock your phone, thumb hovering over his contact.

What’s the worst that could happen?

(You know exactly what could happen. You just choose to ignore it.)

“Hey,” Jungkook says as you practically haul yourself into the passenger seat of his car, the sharp scent of his cologne greeting you before his voice even fully lands.

“Hey, Kook,” you say, breathless, fumbling with the seatbelt. “Thank you for coming so quick. You literally saved my life. Or my job. Or both.”

He gives you a small smile, fingers still on the steering wheel. “Don’t worry about it. It’s on the way for me anyway.”

You hum, settling into the leather seat, trying not to notice how put together he looks this morning. Hair styled to perfection, parted just right, not a single strand out of place. His charcoal gray suit is pressed, not a wrinkle in sight, with the cuffs of his white shirt peeking just slightly from under his blazer sleeves. There’s a navy tie around his neck, loosened just a bit — enough to make him look a little less intimidating, a little more like your Jungkook.

And it’s… a lot. It’s too much, honestly.

Because you haven’t really talked since that Sunday.

Since the night he stepped on stage and left his soul in every note of that song. Since he cradled your face with both hands and pressed his forehead to yours like he couldn’t breathe unless you were that close.

Since you felt something shift.

But after that? A few texts. A meme exchange. Some "dude, that show was crazy" type messages. Nothing heavy. Nothing about the way your chest physically ached when the music stopped and you realized how close you’d been to crossing a line neither of you were meant to approach.

And maybe it was just adrenaline.

Maybe it was a high from the performance. A beautiful, fleeting moment of blurred feelings and too much noise.

But you’re an overthinker. And even now, as he drives through the streets in his sleek black car, his hand calmly resting on the gearshift, eyes focused on the road — you wonder.

Did he feel it too?

You glance sideways at him, and it’s honestly infuriating how effortlessly attractive he looks at 8:43 in the morning. You’re here with a wrinkled hoodie and barely brushed hair, and he looks like he walked out of a Vogue editorial titled "Litigation and Lust."

Your thoughts spiral. You hate it.

Because he’s your best friend.

And he’s engaged.

And you’re supposed to be so, so far from this kind of thinking.

But your heart still clenches in your chest when you think about that Sunday. His hands on your face. His breath on your skin. That look in his eyes, like maybe he was fighting something too.

So you swallow the thoughts. Tuck them behind your ribs. You look back out the window and say nothing.

Because saying something might ruin everything.

You’re both quiet for a beat too long — not awkward, not exactly — just suspended in that weird, stretched silence that sits heavy between two people who almost talked about something important but didn’t.

Then Jungkook pulls out his phone and sets it in your lap without a word.

You glance down, confused. “What’s this?”

“Play whatever you want,” he says, eyes still on the road. “I know you hate car rides without music.”

You snort softly. “Obviously. I’m not a psychopath.”

He raises an eyebrow. “So I am one now?”

“Well…” you smirk. “For someone who lives and breathes music, it’s a little criminal that you drive around in complete silence.”

He chuckles under his breath, and it’s the first sound that feels a little like the old Jungkook. “Music distracts me when I drive.”

Your fingers freeze for a moment over his Spotify. “What is it with you and music being a distraction…”

It’s innocent — said without much thought. But the second the words leave your mouth, the memory flashes sharp in your brain.

Shit.

You remember now. The moment he told you—how Nina said that playing drums made him lose focus. How it’s an unnecessary distraction.

You swallow hard, wishing you could drag those words back down your throat.

Jungkook doesn’t respond. But his fingers tighten slightly on the steering wheel, just enough that you notice.

You tap at the screen, trying to play it off. Your thumb hovers over House of Balloons, because of course that would be his last played. Typical. It’s not morning music by any stretch, but you tap play anyway.

The slow, pulsing rhythm of the song fills the car like smoke — sultry, haunting, too much for the morning.

You stare ahead at the road, heart rattling a little too loud in your chest.

God, you hate how much you remember. And worse — how much you want to.

You close your eyes, pretend you didn’t see the way he clenched his jaw. Pretend you’re not hearing lyrics that have nothing to do with you, but still feel like they’re scraping something raw open inside you.

Because yeah.

This is definitely too much.

And somehow still not enough.

“Well, it is distracting,” he hisses, sharper than he means to be.

He exhales through his nose and lets his voice soften. “I just don’t like to multitask like that. Plus… I wasn’t talking about that night.”

You glance at him. “I never mentioned the night you played.”

“No, but you were thinking about it.”

Your brows lift. “How do you know that, Jungkook?”

“Because I know you.”

“And I know you too,” you shoot back, “which is exactly why I can tell you’re itching to explain yourself. Because you know I’m right.”

He rolls his eyes. “Right about what, exactly?”

“You being scared to play again.”

He blinks. “What is it with you this morning? You never even said that to me before, and now suddenly you’re Freud in the passenger seat.”

“I never said it. But you know it’s true.” You turn slightly in your seat. “Come on, Kook. We both know you weren’t scared you’d suck.”

He doesn’t answer. His jaw ticks.

“So why were you scared?” you ask gently. “Hm?”

He’s quiet.

“You were scared you’d love it. And you did.”

He scoffs under his breath, but it’s weak. “Well, not all of us get to do what we love.”

You snort. “That’s literally just an illusion toxic society and late-stage capitalism shoved down our throats.”

He throws you a look. “Okay, great. Now you’re being philosophical for no reason.”

“Am I?” you challenge. “I mean, if people did what they loved, the world would be a lot less miserable.”

“Maybe,” he shrugs. “But that’s impossible.”

“How and why?”

“Because we’d be living in a world full of artists, musicians, basketball players, and TikTok therapists—who the hell would do the boring, dangerous, miserable jobs?”

“This might come as a shock,” you grin, “but there are people who dream of doing those jobs.”

“That’s just… incorrect. And I could elaborate.”

“Then elaborate.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re pissing me off.”

You laugh, incredulous. “For saying you should maybe do something you love again? Even just as a hobby?”

“For acting like it’s that easy,” he snaps. “Like it’s not a fucking luxury to even consider that.”

“A luxury, huh?” you scoff. “Are you insinuating something, Jungkook?”

“Come on,” he mutters, eyes on the road. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“No, seriously. I’d really like to know—why do you think like that?”

“I said it generally. I wasn’t talking about you.”

“Not directly,” you fire back. “But you meant it. So just spit it out.”

His jaw clenches. You watch him, waiting.

“I’m not accusing you of anything,” he says tightly, “but it’s easy for you to sit up on your high horse, acting like you can’t understand why people don’t chase their dreams—when you had a net. You had support. You had parents who would catch you if you fell.”

Your stomach twists.

“And now,” he continues, bitter, “you have the audacity to judge the rest of us. To judge me—for choosing something stable. Something that won’t fall apart.”

“I have never judged you, Jungkook,” you say, voice firm now. “Not for a single second. All I’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy. But you’re too deep in your own bitterness and insecurity to see that.”

“Insecurity?” he snaps.

“No,” you tilt your head. “Jealousy.”

He laughs, harsh and humorless. “Jealous? Of what?”

“Of the people who went for it. Who chased what they wanted. Who lived their fantasy, even if it was just for a little while.”

“Oh, so now I’m jealous of you?”

“I didn’t say that,” you say quietly. “But since you did…”

“Please,” he scoffs, shaking his head. “You’re literally screwing yourself over.”

“What does that mean?”

“I mean, you’re not living your dream. You lived it that one summer in high school—when you were traveling and learning and cooking and being free. Now? You’re working a glorified 9-to-5 cooking vegan meals for a neurotic rich divorcee. That wasn’t your dream.”

You blink, heart thudding. That one stung.

“Maybe not,” you say after a beat. “But by that logic? I still lived my dream. Even for a moment. Something real came from it. You never even gave yours a chance.”

His voice drops low, almost a whisper. “Because I’m not meant to.”

Your chest aches. “Then why are you so pissed?”

“Because I’m trying to reason with you!” he bursts, his voice cracking around the edges.

“And I’m trying to reason with you!”

“No, you’re not!” he snaps. “You’re trying to fix me.”

You go still.

“God, Jungkook, are you delusional or something?” you snap, voice low and tight. “I’m literally just trying to open your eyes.”

“To what, exactly?” he shoots back. “You’re talking without even trying to see it from my side. Like you always do.”

“I never act like I know everything.”

He huffs a bitter laugh. “Yeah? That’s kind of your thing, though.”

“My thing?”

“You always act like you know what’s best—for everyone. Like your opinion is the only valid one, and if people don’t see it your way, then they’re just wrong.”

“That’s not true,” you bite, anger laced with hurt. “I want what’s best for you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“I know that, Y/n. But maybe what you think is ‘best’ for me isn’t the same as what I want. Maybe I don’t have everything I ever dreamed of—but I’m content. I’m satisfied. I’m… happy.”

“Okay,” you say quietly. “Sure. You’re happy. But I still wish you had everything. Everything you wanted.”

He exhales sharply. “That’s impossible.”

“Why? Why, Kook?”

His eyes stay locked on the road, jaw tense. “Because if that were possible… we wouldn’t be sitting here having this argument.”

You blink. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I—” he pauses. “Nothing. Just forget it. I’ve got a hearing in an hour, and I can’t walk into that courtroom like this. Let’s drop it.”

You shake your head slowly. “Right. Of course. Now you want to drop it. That’s your real ‘thing,’ Jungkook—running. From arguments. From real conversations. From me.”

“I’m not running,” he says quietly. “I’m protecting my peace. Maybe you should try that sometime.”

“Protecting your peace doesn’t mean shutting people out the second they say something you don’t like,” you snap, heart hammering in your chest. “That’s not peace, Jungkook. That’s fear.”

“I’m not afraid,” he fires back, “I’m tired.”

“No, you’re afraid. Of feeling things too deeply. Of doing something reckless. Of being disappointed. So you built this perfect little life with a perfect little job and a perfect little routine, and you convince yourself it’s enough.”

He laughs bitterly. “And what, you want me to be like you? Burning out in someone else’s kitchen just so I can feel something?”

“At least I’m feeling something! At least I’m not numbing myself with depositions and court dates pretending I don’t miss the version of you that used to dream out loud.”

“That version of me doesn’t exist anymore!”

“Well, maybe I miss him anyway,” you say, voice quieter now. “Maybe I miss who you were before you decided being safe was more important than being happy.”

Silence fills the car, thick and heavy. The tension crackles between you like static. You want to reach for him, want to pull the words back, but it’s too late.

Jungkook exhales slowly, finally turning to look at you at the red light. His voice is low. “And maybe I miss the version of you who didn’t make me feel like shit for choosing differently.”

Your heart sinks.

“Maybe,” he says again, voice softer now, almost tender. “We just don’t know each other like we used to.”

You swallow around the lump forming in your throat. “Maybe we know each other too well. And that’s the problem.”

He doesn’t answer.

The light turns green.

He drives in silence.

And this time, you don’t reach for the music.

The silence becomes a living thing—thick, suffocating, curling around your chest like a fist. Jungkook’s grip on the wheel tightens, knuckles white, but he doesn’t say a word. You turn your face toward the window, watching the city blur past, every billboard and traffic light glowing against the tension burning behind your eyes.

You finally speak, voice quieter this time. “Why does it always have to be like this with us?”

“Because we’re both stubborn. Because we know everything about each other,” he says, his voice quiet—like the anger’s burned out and all that’s left is ash and honesty.

You hum, not in disagreement but more like a sound of recognition. You shift in your seat, knees angled slightly toward him, your spine pressing into the cool edge of the door. The city lights bleed into the car, flashing across his jawline. He looks good like this—annoyingly good—hair perfectly styled, suit neat despite the hour, but his expression? It’s all cracked open.

“I’m sorry,” he says, cutting into the silence like it’s something he has to slice through before it swallows you both whole. “I went too far with all of this. I didn’t want us to argue.”

“No, Kook… I started it,” you say, voice soft but heavy. “I’m sorry too.”

He lets out a small breath, almost a laugh. “I hate fighting with you.”

“Same,” you murmur. “It sucks.”

“You know I didn’t mean most of what I said, right?” His eyes flick toward you, searching your face. “Most of the shit… it was just—heat of the moment stuff.”

You nod, hand reaching over to rest gently on his shoulder. “I know, Kook. Me neither.”

The car stills for a beat. There’s no music playing now, just the muted sound of tires on wet asphalt and the whisper of things you can’t say aloud. You let the silence linger too long, and it hangs there, taut and unspoken.

Because the truth is… some of the words you said? You did mean them. Not all. But some.

And you wonder—did he?

Did he mean it when he said you were delusional? Did he mean it when he implied you had it easier? Or was that just his bruised ego talking, scared of how deeply you still saw him?

You pull your hand back and press it to your lap, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve.

“I meant some of it,” you admit, voice barely louder than a whisper.

He blinks. “Which parts?”

You hesitate. “The part about you being scared to play again… and how it’s easier for you to pretend you’re content than to admit you still want more.”

He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he shifts his hand off the wheel and runs it through his hair—slowly, like he’s buying himself time.

“You really think I’m just pretending?” he asks finally, almost offended. But not quite.

You shrug, eyes glued to the dashboard. “I think you tell yourself you’re fine so you don’t have to want something you think you’ll never get.”

He exhales sharply. “You make it sound so fucking tragic.”

“Isn’t it?” you glance at him. “I mean, maybe not in a dramatic way. But quietly, in the way that gnaws at you slowly. You don’t realize it until it’s too late.”

He’s gripping the wheel again, jaw tight. “And what about you, huh? Are you living your big dream life?”

You pause, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “I thought I was. I tell myself I am. But some nights I lie awake wondering if I’ve just built a pretty version of settling.”

He looks at you again, this time more carefully. “So we’re both full of shit.”

“Maybe that’s why we get each other so well.”

Jungkook lets out a breath, something between a laugh and a sigh. “God, we’re a mess.”

“A beautiful one,” you tease softly.

He smiles faintly. “Speak for yourself.”

You nudge his arm. “Don’t deflect.”

“I’m not deflecting,” he mutters. “I’m deflecting with charm. There’s a difference.”

You laugh, finally, and the sound breaks the tension like a crack in glass letting in fresh air. But underneath it, something lingers. A feeling. A thought. One neither of you has dared to voice yet.

You turn to him again, serious now. “You don’t have to go back to being a musician full-time, Jungkook. But you could play again. For yourself. Just… because you want to.”

He’s quiet for a moment, eyes on the road ahead.

“And what if I do? What if I play again, and it lights something up inside me I can’t ignore?”

You reach over and squeeze his hand, firm and gentle all at once.

“Then we deal with that fire together.”

He looks at you, and this time, you don’t look away. Not when his eyes soften, not when his lips twitch up just a little. Not when the weight of years and unsaid things hangs between you.

Maybe this is how it’s always been between you two. Messy. Complicated. Raw.

But it’s real.

And for now, maybe that’s enough.

He doesn't let go of your hand.

Doesn’t flinch or pull away like he usually does when things get too real, too close to the bone. His thumb brushes over your knuckles absentmindedly, and it’s terrifying how natural it feels. How long you’ve both pretended this wasn’t still buried somewhere between you, under layers of arguments and half-truths and detours in life.

“I’m scared,” Jungkook says, and it’s so quiet, you almost miss it. His voice cracks on the word scared, and you’ve known him long enough to understand how rare that kind of honesty is coming from him.

You don’t say anything. You just wait.

“I’m scared that if I play again… if I really try… and I still fail…” He swallows. “Then it’s not just about life being unfair. Then it’s me. Then I’m the reason it didn’t work.”

You lean in a little, turning your body more toward him. “That’s not how it works, Kook.”

“But that’s how it feels,” he says, finally looking at you, eyes wide. “Like if I never try again, then I get to keep the dream. It stays perfect. Untouched. Still possible.”

“Untouched things don’t grow,” you whisper.

He closes his eyes, head dropping back against the headrest. “God, why do you always say things that hit me like a truck?”

“Because you drive the metaphorical car straight into denial, and someone has to steer,” you offer with a small, teasing smile.

He laughs—really laughs—and it’s so genuine that it softens the ache in your chest.

“You know, back then… in high school,” he says after a moment, voice low, “when we all thought the world was ours… I used to think I’d marry someone who got me the way you do.”

Your heart stutters. You almost don’t breathe.

“Jungkook…”

“I don’t mean it like a confession or anything,” he adds quickly, though the way he avoids your eyes tells you it is one. “I just mean… you’ve always seen through me. Even when I didn’t want you to.”

You don’t know what to say. The space between you feels electric now—like something’s about to snap or shift or fall apart in a beautiful, devastating way.

“I wish I could be braver for you,” he admits, and there’s a rawness in it that nearly breaks you. “I wish I didn’t always pull away. Didn’t always shut down when things get too close.”

“You still can be,” you say softly. “Bravery isn’t some fixed trait. You can choose it. Every day.”

He turns to you again, and for a moment, everything else fades—the world outside the car, the ticking clock, the stupid hearing he has to be at in forty-five minutes. It’s just you. And him. And this fragile truth hanging in the space between.

You inhale slowly. “Maybe we’re not meant to live perfect dreams, Kook. Maybe we’re just supposed to chase the pieces that still make us feel alive.”

He nods, eyes searching yours. “And maybe I want to start chasing again.”

Your heart thuds. But you don’t let it show. You squeeze his hand instead and whisper, “Then I’ll be here. Right behind you.”

The silence that follows is no longer heavy.

It’s filled with possibility.

A few quiet beats pass. The tension between you has shifted—softer now, but still charged, still full of words unsaid.

You clear your throat. “I meant what I said though. About wanting you to be happy. And… not judging you. I never have.”

“I know,” he says, his voice steady. “I just forget sometimes. I get in my own head and push people away. Especially the ones who know me best. Guess that’s some kind of twisted reflex.”

You shrug. “You’re not the only one. I’ve done my fair share of self-sabotaging too.”

“Yeah, well…” He laughs under his breath. “Maybe we need an actual therapist in this car.”

You smile a little, the tension in your jaw easing. “Maybe. But then again, I think we’ve been each other’s therapists for so long, we wouldn’t know what to do with a real one.”

He glances at you. “You’re not wrong.”

Another pause. Then he adds, “I want to be clear about something. About Nina.”

Your stomach clenches a bit, but you keep your voice steady. “Okay.”

“She’s important to me. And I respect her more than I know how to say. She’s been nothing but good to me—and I’m not going to mess that up.”

You nod, relieved at how firmly he says it. “I know, Jungkook. I wasn’t trying to cross a line or anything.”

“You didn’t,” he assures quickly. “It’s just… I know how our conversations can get. How intense they can feel. And I want to make sure we both remember what they aren’t.”

You nod again, your voice soft. “They’re not a doorway back.”

“Exactly,” he says, offering you a brief glance. “They’re just… two people who know each other too damn well, still figuring shit out.”

You let out a quiet chuckle. “Some things never change.”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Still. I don’t like fighting with you.”

“Me neither.”

“And I don’t want this to be a cycle, you know? Us going from avoiding things to blowing up in each other’s faces.”

“Then maybe we should work on saying things before they pile up,” you offer, folding your arms.

He nods. “Yeah. That’s fair.”

You both fall quiet again. This time, it doesn’t feel tense—it feels reflective. Like two people recalibrating. Not leaning on each other like they used to, but still existing in the same gravity.

“I still think you should cook more for yourself, by the way,” Jungkook says after a moment. “Not for clients. Not because someone paid you. Just… for fun. For joy.”

You scoff. “Didn’t you just accuse me of being too idealistic twenty minutes ago?”

He smirks. “I did. But I’m allowed to change my mind.”

You roll your eyes but smile anyway. “I cook enough already.”

“Not like you used to,” he says, and something about the way he says it makes your chest ache a little. “Remember that summer after high school? You were obsessed with making pasta from scratch for like three weeks.”

“It was a phase,” you say with a chuckle.

“It made you happy.”

You nod, looking down at your lap. “Yeah. It did.”

“Then maybe try it again. No pressure. No performance. Just… you and the food. That’s all.”

You glance at him, your smile small but genuine. “Maybe I will.”

A beat.

“And if you ever want someone to peel carrots for you or taste test or pretend to know the difference between béchamel and hollandaise—I’m your guy.”

You laugh, the sound breaking up the last of the tension. “Noted.”

The car grows quiet again, but this time it feels okay. Comfortable. Like something has been salvaged. Not what once was. Not what could’ve been. But what is.

The ride to your job is quiet, but not uncomfortably so. A shared stillness fills the car—like neither of you want to poke at the tender spot you've both just exposed.

Outside, the city hums to life. The early sun catches on glass windows and street signs, and your reflection in the window looks tired, but lighter somehow.

When Jungkook pulls up in front of the quaint little apartment building, tucked between a florist and a gallery, he shifts the car into park but doesn’t move to open his door.

You glance at him. “You gonna walk me in like a gentleman, or do I have to carry all my things like a peasant?”

He huffs a laugh, but it’s soft, fond. “You’re the one who always says you like to make a dramatic solo entrance.”

“Only when I’m wearing heels and carrying an attitude.”

He shakes his head, grinning faintly. Then, more seriously, “Hey. Go easy today, okay?”

You nod, hand on the door handle. “You too. Good luck with your hearing.”

“Thanks,” he says, then hesitates. “And... thanks for being honest with me. Even when it’s messy.”

You pause at the door, looking at him with something that lingers between affection and ache. “That’s the only way I know how to be with you.”

He doesn’t respond right away. Just holds your gaze, something unreadable in his eyes.

Then, “Go cook something that makes you forget the world exists.”

You smile, softer this time. “You say the most poetic shit when you’re sleep-deprived.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he says, but the corners of his mouth tug upward.

You get out, closing the door gently behind you. As you make your way to the entrance, you feel the weight of his stare on your back. You don’t turn around. You don’t need to.

The engine hums back to life just as you unlock the door and disappear inside.

And just like that, the morning swallows you both into different lives—still tethered by a thread that neither of you are ready to cut, but both are too careful to pull on.

taglist: @lovingkoalaface @santiiagopopegarcia @jadaocon1 @asyr97 @gukieater @themwordsblog @whatevevrerr @amarawayne @tititania @guwol @reallygenerouskoala @bgfdcvbnjk @kyljjk @whoa-jo @taekritimin123 @minimoninini @upo1313 @polnaraffsrack @tatzzz-25 @orphicepiphany @coletaehyung @bjoriis @epiphany-n @kimyishin @eegyo @dearmyfavoritepeople-bts @parkinglot-nights @mar-lo-pap @evrsncenewyork @jjeonjjk7 @minghaosimp @cerulean1riz @anumita-2007 @vantelover1306 @vynmin @nadzzzblog @jnghs @lachimolalajeon @joonwater @choijay-07 @notsevenwithyou @mononoaware16 @sky-23s-world

[bushwskq]

FATHER CHARLIE MAYHEW X WITCH!READER

Part 1 🕯️

cw: smut, 18+

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm back! I just want to say that I'm really happy for the likes of part 1 💜 I hope you like this one too

There you were again, smoking a cigarette outside the church. Your leather boot making noise with every stomp you made on the anxious sidewalk. It was Wednesday, as Father Charlie had said, the day of confession in which the faithful came to the house of God to confess their sins and their souls were absorbed from the fires of hell until the next week like a vicious cycle. You reached out your hand grabbing the coffee cup on the floor, making sure no one had witnessed the little display of magic. Waiting a few more minutes you entered the church as soon as the last person left. Unlike your first visit, the place was now dark with few candles lighting the space. His eyes wandered around the place before finding the confessional, this time the pentagram on his chest was completely exposed.

“I see you took my offer seriously,” Father Charlie Mayhew began in surprise as you sat in the confessional. When he made the proposal, he didn't believe you would actually accept it. You noticed him shift position on the other side by the creaking of wood. “I’m all ears, start whenever you want.” Again you felt his cologne, oh my god, how it gave you a good and restless feeling at the same time.

An exciting agony His eyes caught your movements through the small holes, imagining the contours of your body, the way your curves would press against him. His grip on the wooden cross in front of him tightened, the need to touch it overwhelming.

“You really believe in God. Father?” You asked suddenly, looking at the holes in the confessional that gave access to it. Charlie paused for a moment, composing himself before speaking “I have many reasons to believe in him, he saved me and he can save you if you let him.” he said in a low voice. You smiled awkwardly, without any effort a flame lit up on your index finger. It didn’t burn you, just a tingling on the tip that you were already used to. “There are things… things that many are not yet ready to understand, Father.” seconds later the flame disappeared as quickly as it appeared.

Father Charlie's heart raced as he watched the flame dance on his fingertip, a flicker of light in the dark confines of the confessional. Mixture of fascination and fear coursing through his veins as the fabric of his robe strained against his arousal, a physical manifestation of the turmoil within. His breath caught in his throat, and he found himself drawn to you in a way that both thrilled and disturbed him. As a man of God, he knows he should denounce her abilities, expel her from this sacred place. And yet... a part of him longs to understand, to unravel the mystery you present.

You can't react when he opens the confessional door abruptly grabbing your body with ease, his beautiful eyes darting to the pentagram like the first time. You don't react when he pulls you hard, breaking it, leaving only the cross on your chest.

"What...what are you?" he sighs, his voice rough with barely contained lust. “Some demon sent to disturb the peace, surely.” But even as he speaks, his hands are roaming your body, gliding over your curves with a hunger that belies his words.

The heat of his touch burns your skin, even through the fabric of your clothes. He leans in, his lips colliding against yours in a bruising kiss. It's a dance of passion and danger, the forbidden fruit he knows he should resist but can't. A witch and a priest, an impossible combination, and yet…

You can see the lust burning inside Charlie. It's intoxicating because you still feel his grip. His features are like a fallen angel, he was in the wrong vocation. His hands slid lower, pushing up the skirt of your black dress. The smell of your arousal mixes with his, an intoxicating scent that clouds his mind and weakens his resolve. He breaks the kiss, breathing heavily, his eyes dark with need. “Tell me,” he says harshly, “are you real, or am I losing my mind?”

He knows he should stop, he should push you away and run away from this temptation. But he can't. He is lost, drowning in a sea of forbidden desire, and he is powerless to resist. “I can be real for you tonight.” You say boldly, you had nothing to lose. It would be another night of fun.

You see the realization flash through Charlie's eyes. Slowly, he releases you, allowing you to take a step back. He looks at you, desire and fear tangled in his gaze. His hand shakes as he runs it through his hair, an attempt to regain some semblance of control. And then, as if he had made a decision, his resolve breaks. He walks towards you, closing the gap between you, and whispers huskily, “Show me… let me know the truth of your words.” The rational part of his mind screams at him to stop, to push you away and escape this temptation.

But his primal, carnal side longs to surrender, to lose himself in the forbidden pleasures you offer. He looks into your eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation or doubt.

But all he sees is a mirror of his own desire, a reflection of the hunger that burns within him. Father Charlie's heart races as he unbuttons the buttons on her dress, his fingers trembling with anticipation. He pulls the fabric to the side, exposing the smooth, supple skin of your collarbone. Leaning down, he presses a searing kiss to your flesh, claiming you as his. His hands roam your body, exploring every curve and contour with desperate hunger. He can’t get enough of you, the feel of your skin under his fingertips, the taste of your flesh on his tongue.

“You’re beautiful,” he sighs, his voice rough with desire. "More than any mortal man could deserve." He reaches out, his hand gliding over the curve of your breast, tracing the delicate curve of your waist. His touch is electric, sending shivers down your spine and lighting a fire deep within your core. Father Charlie's own clothes appear tight, a reminder of the vows he made and the life he chose. With a growl of frustration, he hurriedly begins to remove the fabric, exposing his chest to your gaze.

With that, he pulls you close once more, his lips finding yours in a kiss that is both desperate and possessive. He pours all his longing, all his desire, into that one moment, and you can feel the intensity of his passion coursing through your veins. A low growl resonates in his chest, and he grabs you roughly, his hands gripping your hips with blunt force.

He pushes you against the wall, pinning you in place with his body. His mouth crashes against yours, the kiss is fierce and demanding, a clash of teeth and tongue that leaves you both breathless. His hands roam your body, groping and squeezing, leaving no inch of skin untouched.

He tears at his underwear, tearing it off with wild desperation, not caring about the damage he causes. You can feel his arousal pressing against you, strong and insistent, a physical manifestation of his desire. He grinds against you, the friction delicious and maddening at the same time.

With a final growl, Father Charlie lifts you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he positions himself at your entrance. He stops for a moment, his eyes boring into yours, a silent question in their depths.

And then, with one thrust, he enters you, filling you completely. The sensation is overwhelming, a mixture of pleasure and pain that borders on the sublime.

He sets a brutal pace, pounding into you with a ferocity that steals your breath. Each thrust is deeper, stronger than the last, bringing you both closer to the edge of oblivion. Father Charlie buries his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth sinking into your flesh as he loses himself in the rhythm of your copulation. He is a man possessed, driven by a hunger that cannot be satisfied, a need that consumes him completely.

Father Charlie's grip on your hips tightens, his thrusts become more erratic as the line between pleasure and pain blurs. You can feel the desperation in every move, the need to claim and be claimed in return. The sound of their copulation fills the air, skin against skin, the wooden structure rhythmically echoing the charged atmosphere. Father Charlie's breathing is ragged, his body shaking as he approaches the edge of release.

He grinds against you, his cock pulsing inside you, the heat of his release building. With a final, guttural groan, he spills himself inside you, the profanity of his actions washing over him like a tidal wave.

As his orgasm subsides, he collapses against you, his body slick with sweat. The air around you is thick with the scent of sex, a testament to the forbidden pleasure you've just shared.

For a moment, there is only the sound of their heavy, labored breaths as they cling to each other in the aftermath. Father Charlie's fingers run gently through his hair, a stark contrast to the ferocity of moments before. Slowly, he pulls away from you, his gaze never leaving yours. In that moment, there is a newfound vulnerability in his eyes, an admission that this transgression has changed him forever.

@mlt2000

[zonaenthusiast]

OPLA had no right to drop that special announcement on this random tuesday, I was at the grocery store bitch what the fuck.

That said, let's talk about it.

(The pictures look like shit because I had to download the video from twitter to have the subtitles, I'm sorry)

First of all, this is kind of funny because girlie was there reading in the most uncomfortable position and didn't notice Luffy until she heard him lmao.

Also, I don't know why I keep forgetting that's Nami's room, I was wondering why she is asking him that until I remembered when she said in season one something along the lines of "not wanting Zoro to die in my bed". Their rooms are so rarely shown in manga and anime that my brain is not processing that's, indeed, her room.

Second... blushing, giggling, kicking my feet, twirling my hair.

First Romance Dawn trio shot and I love Luffy's excitement and Nami's smile when Zoro enters. God I love them so much.

Third, I wish the rest would have mention the STRUGGLE when Zoro wanted to sit in the Baratie with them still in his haramaki. This fucking idiot.

And the silence before answering and Nami's big smile... I'm so glad to exist today.

And finally, it just looks so right that Zoro grabs a chair and sits right next to Luffy and Nami. I'm so happy.

But above all, it didn't escape my attention how Nami, when she realizes they are most definitely having a slumber party despite refusing at the beginning, looks at each and every one of her boys right there. She loves them, your honor.

I will be watching tudum this saturday and I'm manifesting season 2 premiere date and a teaser at least, but I'm hoping more for a trailer.

A friend of mine asked me today when I think is going to premiere and, because I think Stranger Things is going to be at the end of the summer or the very beginning of the fall (so september-ish, maybe october if they don't want to coincide with Wednesday), OPLA most like be around november/december. I don't rule out a very early 2026 premiere either, but I believe it will be in january at most.

I need the information so bad, I'm tired of not knowing !!!!!!!

[beiasluv]

tis the dilf season | j. button (22)

a/n: ignore the timeline cuz it’s a mess (I actually tried to do the maths) enjoyy 🤭

yourinsta

liked by fernondoalo_official, aussiegrit and 482,167 others

yourinsta and the summer break begins! thank you everybody for this amazing season, it has been an honor to work as your engineer this season and looking forward to the next!

view all 254,156 comments

jensonbutton ❤️

liked by yourinsta

aussiegrit buy jenson some sunscreen, please.

yourinsta 😭 on it

lewishamilton 👊 thank you

yourinsta back to you 🫶

username yn try not to post your man challenge, she failed.

username PLEASE

username I come back to this post religiously everyday

username what am I supposed to watch now that my favorite grid is off for their summer break 😭

username PLEASEEE I need yn and jenson radio for life 😩

username this post was like 6 years ago????

username HE WAS 37!!! SHE WAS JUST BARELY in her 20s

username they didn’t date yet 🤷‍♀️

username Maybe because he WAS planning on it. creeps me out ngl

username shut up. I love my dilf and gen z duo

yourinsta

liked by lewishamilton, jensonbutton and 386,627 others

yourinsta wdym you guys won’t play mermaids with us??? 👎

view all 96,510 comments

jensonbutton I deeply apologise. dinner, my treat.

yourinsta deal 😊🫶

username OMFG??? IT WAS NOT EVEN A QUESTION

username BRO who doesn’t play mermaids?

username duh, it’s childish asf

username blocked. bye.

username YN IS ON A HOLIDAY WITH JENSON AND MARK???

username she’s just using them to get her mclaren engineering position 🤷‍♀️

username their age gap is questionable

username EXCUSE ME?? have you seen the last 5 years of F1 championships? yeah, that’s miss girly there. stay mad, boohoo

username are we, as a SOCIETY, expecting a dilf to play mermaids?

username Yes. Stay mad

username OBVIOUSLY

yourinsta’s story

reply

jensonbutton: what is a 0.5? also, garage in 10 minutes, darling.

: it’s a secret 🤭

: okieee

jensonbutton: quickly then ♥️

f1gossips

liked by username, username and 37,101 others

f1gossips yn ln was seen entering the paddock and completing her track walk for the mclaren team grand prix this weekend. jenson button not spotted near or anywhere today.

admin, reported.

view all 5,751 comments

username miss gurl came straight back from summer break to work, grind that grind gurl.

username she’s just doing her job?

username you hatin for no reason??

username THE ENGINEER IS BACK IN DA HOUSE

username she’s everything and he’s just a ken 🤷‍♀️

username I’ll take jenson any day if she doesn’t want him 😩

username GIRL IKRR

username PLEASE TELL ME MY PARENTS ARE STILL TOGETHER

username somebody TELL ME why jenson is wearing a fireproof in yn’s story???

username exactly!! I thought he is still doing sky news

username GURL PLEASE TELL ME JENSON IS COMING BACK THIS SUNDAY

username I manifestt 😩 it’s wednesday, we can still do ittt

username NOT WITH THE OLD FIREPROOF AND EVERYTHING IN HER STORY 🗣🗣

jensonbutton

liked by mclaren, yourinsta and 696,517 others

jensonbutton it’s great to be back on the grid. (and to be working with my favourite engineer again. ♥️) yourinsta

view all 211,503 comments

yourinsta thank you, mr. button ✌️

username mrs. button when??

liked by jensonbutton

username SHUT THE FUCK UP. HE LIKED IT

username jenson returning as a driver WAS NOT ON MY 2023 BINGO CARD

username IKRRR (I manifested it, yw guys)

yourinsta

liked by aussiegrit, jensonbutton and 503,871 others

yourinsta happy birthday to my (second) favorite news reporter and some driver I guess 🤭 aussiegrit !!

thanks for taking care of my brit! have fun in the retirement gang, hope to see you soon!

view all 217,003 comments

aussiegrit cheers! 😁

yourinsta 🫶

username she can’t even post a happy birthday post without jenson 🙄

username ikr? give some respect

username tell me you’re new without tell me you’re new

username Exactlyyy. it has been the longest running joke that mark’s the third wheel. why are y’all getting mad for nothing 🤷‍♀️

jensonbutton

liked by yourinsta, sebastianvettel and 472,106 others

jensonbutton pretty sure it was her idea.. (love you ♥️)

view all 186,401 comments

yourinsta it was mark’s 😔✊

jensonbutton you’re kidding, darling

yourinsta 🤭 maybe

username couples do couples poseee

username she’s definitely pr training him for lifeee

username if they break up idk what to do

username I’ll take him any day GURLL 🤭

username I need someone to call me darling like Jenson does

yourinsta’s story

reply

yourinsta

liked by jensonbutton, danielricciardo and 452,627 others

yourinsta race dump, and you’re welcome for the surprise guest this weekend 😚

view all 216,016 comments

username EVERYONE SAY THANK YOU MISS GURL

okay…I started simping for him because of a tiktok edit 🤷‍♀️

like, reblog, COMMENTT if you liked it 😚 if not, then why not?

today’s a great day to take care of yourself!!

[elovestowrite]

stiles x witch!reader part two

( reader should be GN. I’m imagining Kathryn Hahn as the readers mother just because she’s so good as Agatha Harkness, feel free to change that however you want! )

- After your powers started to manifest, Stiles never left your side.

- Always worried you’d be overwhelmed by the voices in your mind, or whatever decided to come next.

- You both began researching like crazy, spending nights in your bedrooms surrounded by massive tombs stolen borrowed from the Argents.

- “What even is that symbol?”

- “You know what, I couldn’t tell you even if I tried.”

- You usually ended your researching sessions with takeout and lots of movies.

- “How about The Craft?”

- “Stiles..”

- “What?”

——————————————————

- Your powers keep growing even without you trying.

- You begin searching into your family’s past, trying to figure out where this magic in your veins stemmed from.

- Your mother had disappeared only a few years after Claudia’s death, so you couldn’t ask her.

- All you had was the old family tree in the attic, and some photos of a woman who looked suspiciously like your mom, though the photo came from 1946.

- Stiles had his own theories, but even his ideas seemed far-fetched.

- Some nights were harder than others.

- You sat on Stiles’ bed, one of his clean lacrosse jerseys over your body as you cried into his neck.

- “What even am I.. What if she knew and she left because-“

- “Hey, whoa, no way. Your mom loves you. I promise you, Sparks, that’s not why she’s gone. You’d be crazy to leave you.” He whispered into the crown of your head, one hand rubbing your back while the other drummed its fingers on your knee.

- You spent a lot of nights at the Stilinski house after that.

——————————————————

- Sitting in a circle of candles was not how you had planned to spend your Wednesday night.

- You had arrived at the Stilinski house, fully prepared to cover your calculus textbook back to front.

- Instead, Stiles rushed down the stairs with papers flying behind him.

- “Okay, okay I think I can get you to levitate.”

- “I’m sorry what?”

- And then you find yourself sitting on his floor, white candles all around you.

- “Okay so, you just need to hold this sigil and concentrate.”

- “You’ve told me that already.”

- “Right, sorry.”

- You give him a soft smile before closing your eyes, taking a deep breath.

- The feeling of your magic fills your chest. The voices of Beacon Hills, the years of supernatural energy flowing all around you.

- You hear Stiles gasp, but choose to ignore him, holding your concentration as best you can.

- “Sparks..”

- “Shhh, i’m concentrating.”

- “Look down, Sparks.”

- You slowly peak out from one eye, before letting out a gasp. The circle of candles and wooden floor was more than a foot below you.

- “H-Holy shit!”

- “I got you!”

- Losing your concentration, you quickly plummet towards the floor, though a set of arms quickly wrap around you.

- Stiles’ face is about two inches from yours as you scramble to hold onto him.

- “I.. uh..”

- “You… You okay?”

- You nod slowly, one hand instinctively moving up to play with the hair at the bottom of his neck.

- You barely hear it, but a low, quiet moan leaves Stiles’ move before he blinks quickly and shakes his head.

- “I’ll.. I’ll put you down now.”

- When your feet hit the ground, you both stand in each other’s arms.

- “Thanks, Mischief..” You whisper.

- “Anytime, Sparks.”

[amnxp]

All mine

Pairing: Xavier x fem!reader

Warnings: none its fluff:P maybe a lil angst at the begining

Summary: You seem to be spending an awful lot of time with your other friends recently, so as a result Xavier has started to feel a little…left behind. You make amends.

A/N: i have way too many new fics lined up guyssss and all the guys will get atleast one fic because i just cannot for the life of me decide who my fav is…so all it is!:)) The next fic will prob be a Caleb Fic

!English is not my native Language!

You didn’t really mean to do it.

You and Xavier had so many plans these past few weeks that just never manifested.


At first, it was Monday—you two had planned to visit that new cat café down the road you’d been gushing about for absolute weeks. But then Zayne called you with an emergency: a wanderer had injured another child and wouldn’t talk to anyone else. You texted Xavier on your way to the hospital, letting him know you wouldn’t make it, followed by a cat sticker that apologized. You postponed it to Wednesday. But that day, Rafayel called you, claiming he was “injured” and also “dying,” so you rushed off to him while Xavier was waiting just outside your apartment door. Again, you apologized and postponed it.

Friday, Saturday, then the following Monday. If it wasn’t one of the boys, your work would call you in, and your heart broke for Xavier even more. Never once did he complain or say anything, but you noticed the way his smile became more tight-lipped each time, and how his eyes had gone bored, as if already accounting for the fact that the two of you simply weren’t going.

So after returning home from a rough mission, you immediately turned your phone off—after alerting the other boys not to disturb you under any circumstances. You quickly went through your closet to find something more fitting than your blood-covered work uniform, then closed your apartment door behind you and rushed upstairs to Xavier’s.

In front of his door, your hands had gone clammy, and you didn’t even know why. How long had it been since it was just you and Xavier? God, you missed him so much.
You knocked softly before saying, “It’s me, Xav. Can you let me in?”

The door yanked open in thirty seconds flat.

You didn’t even let him open his mouth before throwing your arms around his neck and planting a sweet, solemn kiss just below his jaw—where you know he’s ticklish.
His hands flew immediately to your waist as he stumbled backwards with you, closing the apartment door behind him.

“I missed you so much, Xav. I’m so sorry for postponing our plans.” You raised your head from his neck to look at him.

He’d grown a soft shade of pink across his cheek before lowering his head too, nuzzling into your hair.

“It’s okay. I know you’ve been busy and—”

You cut him off by placing your hand on his lips, shaking your head vigorously.

“No. You do not get to go sweet boyfriend on me. Xav, you’re allowed to be mad. I know you missed me too.” Your hand went to cradle his face mid-sentence, and you stroked his cheek.

His hand flew to your wrist, pushing into your palm before planting a kiss there.
“Can we stay in today? I’m not really feeling up to going out,” he muttered into your hand and between kisses.

You let out a huge grin, whispering against his lips, “Of course. Whatever you want.”

As you walked into his apartment, he made his way to the kitchen to finish what he’d been cooking before you’d interrupted him. Looking around, you noticed his place was a bit more… messy than it usually was.

“Xav? Why is your apartment so messy?”

No answer. You assumed he couldn’t hear you from the kitchen.

You moved to the couch and sat down in the corner, leaning against the armrest with your legs tucked beneath your chin. Your eyes darted around the apartment before Xavier finally returned and sat down—what seems like an entire ocean away from you. Or at least, that’s how it felt. You furrowed your brows, looking between him and the empty space beside you. Xavier always sat close. Even if it was just a leg brushing yours. The gap between you two now feel less like distance and more like hesitation.

“Xav?” you muttered.

“Yeah?” His eyes focused on yours, then scanned your face like he was mapping out every feature. There's a flicker of something in his eyes, something raw and a little desperate.

“Why are you so far away? Can you—”

You didn’t get to finish before he moved hastily and threw himself between your legs, burying his face in your neck, one of his large hands cradling the back of your head.

“Xavier?” You heard a small whimper as your hand threaded through his hair, trying to pull him back. He refused to move.

“I missed you. So much,” he mumbled, and you felt your heart shatter into tiny pieces. Xavier was usually far more composed than this (sometimes), but you could tell he’d been sitting on these feelings for some time. “I’m so sorry. I’ll call in sick for work and tell everyone I can’t be contacted. I’ll stay with you the whole week. We’ll do whatever you want.”

Your last sentence was followed by a trail of kisses from his eyelid down to the side of his neck, giving a little extra attention to that small mole of his.

“Do you promise?”

“I promise.”

Your eyes darted between his before you raised your hand to smooth the tension from his furrowed brows, then let it drift to his lips, brushing over his bottom one. You let out a soft sigh, leaning in to kiss him.

His hand slid down to your waist, slipping under your (his) shirt. As your lips parted, he helped you take it off, placing kisses down to your lower stomach, where he looked up at you.

“I missed you.”

[tojisun]

military man simon ghost riley x nun!reader

!! it’s all in his head :(( // prev

the first time simon dreamt about taking you—there, by the confession booth; somewhere hidden from prying eyes, somewhere he knows you would forgive him—he turned to ignoring you. he stopped visiting the chapel, stopped coming with johnny every wednesdays. he stopped coming to the local town completely, choosing to spend his vacation at the base instead, somewhere far, far from you.

his shame ate him up, consuming him one fibre at a time.

it was not that simon felt guilty for thinking about you that way—mewling for his touch, breathy in your own right, blinking your eyes up at him as you whisper his name in a voice so reverent, he forgets who it is that you truly worship—and he knows that was the problem. he held no guilt for his thoughts, for his sin, because simon wants nothing more than to fulfill his dreams.

he imagined it, you know? while dousing himself with the hard sprays of the cold shower, simon fisted at his throbbing cock and pumped his fist as he chased after the woman in his dreams, the one he knows that couldn’t be you even if she possessed your body or borrowed your voice. the one he knows was just a twisted manifestation of his fascination for you because simon knows you will never fall for temptation this way. especially not for him. especially not with him.

simon folded his body into himself, his head pressed against the cold tiles, grunting and moaning, too far gone with his desire until his pleasure tips over, spilling, his orgasm racking his body with tremors.

simon savours the silence of the yowling lust that was licking up from the pit of his stomach, feeling himself twitching with a sort of euphoric buzz, before washing away the remnants of his shame.

the next day, he filed for a mission across the continent and simon did not come back home for eight months.

he foolishly thought that this would have been enough to chase away the pooling storm of his yearning, but when simon returned. when simon visited the little chapel with johnny, and when he saw you once again, simon realized, with a heavy heart, that no amount of distance or time crawling by could make him forget how to love you.

that night, simon dreamt about you again. he dreamt about taking you—slow despite the ravenous hunger that ensnared him, and loving despite the blasphemy.

and when he woke up, simon basked in the glow of his euphoria, his palm ghosting over his chub. when he finally slipped his hand underneath his boxers, simon closed his eyes and murmured your name as he lost himself in the throes of his pleasure.

-

next

[riansdiary]

The "Character Switch" Game: How to Shift Out of a Victim/Negative Mindset Instantly

Dearest Gentle Readers...

Tired of spiraling, overthinking and getting triggered by the 3d or your negative thoughts? Try this game and watch how fast your mindset shifts. There's a reason why you're stuck in the same loop. Time to break out of it. Whenever you catch yourself doubting, reacting to the 3D or overthinking, simply switch to a character who would never stress about this. There's already a version of you who has everything you want. Time to step in that reality and start thinking like that version.

I have been through a negative mind cycle where I just worry, overthink and let the old story faze me but this has been helping me change my mindset and make affirming a.k.a thinking in my favor more casual, natural and more fun. I used to flip my thoughts and it's fine if you do but I don't like to give it energy nor agree with it. I have a different way of doing it now. I like to dismiss it and correct it instead of reacting or getting triggered. Think how that version of you who has everything you want would react to the old story or the 3d.

Let's start!

Let's do it in steps so it's easy to understand. This is perfect if you wanna affirm without making it feel like a chore. You should just be the version of you who has your desires. So how do we play this game? Here it is.

1. Catch yourself whenever you're thinking negative, doubting, reacting or thinking of the old story

Be aware when you're doing all of this and catch yourself just when you start to doubt, hear a murmur of the old story, react, spiral or have negative thoughts. Notice that you're running an old script. Always pause and catch yourself. You don't want that to be your story anymore? Okay, don't fight it, don't judge it, don't pay too much attention to it and then you just dismiss it and correct it.

It's literally an old story, last month's magazine, last season's clothing or imagine it's just a hater trying to get to you. But we don't have to give it an emotional reaction or give it energy or have to fight it. How do we do it then, Rian? Then pay attention to the next step which is when this switch game really starts.

2. PICK YOUR FAVORITE CHARACTER TO EMBODY who has the energy and mindset you need for this

Yes, I always talk about embodying and it is one of my favorite ways to respond or affirm because it gives me the mindset I need to be the version of myself who has what she wants. And it's fun so why not have fun while manifesting? It's gonna help you in the end to have this new habit. It's like training your mind to be like the version of you who has your desires and why pick characters? First, not just any characters. We need high-value characters whose mindset and energy will boost our own. Especially ones who are strong minded, powerful, fierce, confident, detached, unbothered, unfazed by anything and those who have high self concept. Those who think they are worthy of their desires. They will help us train our mindsets to be like theirs.

This is the fun part of it but the next step is even more fun!

Now pick your favorite character, a character who makes you feel confident, one you admire and a character who you think would be the best in manifesting.

Personally, I like to switch it up sometimes based on my mood but my three main ones are Chanel Oberlin, Wednesday and Blair Waldorf. Sometimes Hermione.

Examples: Elle Woods, Chanel Oberlin, Blair Waldorf, Wednesday Addams, Hermione Granger, Veronica Lodge, Cheryl Blossom, Maddy Perez, Regina George, Katherine Pierce and so on

So pick your character or even your favorite celebrity if you want and let's move on to the next step!

3. Respond as that Character

Think like this: "Would Chanel Oberlin worry about this thought/doubt/old story? What would Chanel do? What would Blair Waldorf do?" No. They'd dismiss it and move on like it's an irrelevant thing. Like it's Chanel #5 showing Chanel Oberlin an outdated magazine but she runs the trend. Like Chanel #5 is showing Chanel that her haters are saying that she's not rich. Like it's last season's trend or clothing for her.

She would literally scoff and say:

"Oh please, as if I don't already have everything I want."

"Oh, you think I'm not rich? That's adorable. Do you need me to buy you some glasses? Or maybe a clue?"

"Ugh. Irrelevant. I always win. Next thought!"

"The old story? Outdated. A total flop. The only story that matters is this one. The new story, the one where I'm on top, everything is effortless and where I already have it all."

"Oh please, this is so last season. I already have everything I want."

Every time you catch yourself entertaining the old story or the 3d or the doubts, switch. As if you're a player who can switch characters easily. Respond like how they would in your mind, don't be shy, be dramatic and theatrical if you want. Act and think like those characters. Put their shoes on.

I literally switch to whichever character I want and then I think like them and dismiss it like them. You could even do this as the version of you who has your desires. Enjoy and make it fun. You can do this for affirming naturally as well. Affirm it as a fact. You're that version already, for you, these thoughts, doubts and the old story are just like haters. How would Wonyoung or Jennie shut them down? No they won't waste their breath, they will just dismiss them and they stay unbothered.

Remember if you're that version of you who's rich or you are Chanel Oberlin or Blair Waldorf, how would they react if a hater says they're not rich? They would think that they are crazy and just laugh at them.

When you're slipping out of the wish fulfilled, ask yourself:

What would Chanel do?

She'd scoff at the 3D and say, "Ugh, this is old news. I already have what I want. Next!"

She'd flip her hair and say, "I'm Chanel Oberlin. Of course, I have everything I want. That's just how life works for me."

She'd laugh and say, "Doubts? Please. I don't entertain nonsense. I win, always."

What would Wednesday do?

She'd glare at doubt and say, "Pathetic. Reality bends to my will. It has no choice."

She'd tilt her head and say, "Fear? Doubt? I don't have such weaknesses. Reality is my obedient servant."

She'd give a bored look and say, "Reality is predictable. I decide what happens, and it happens. No suspense, no surprises."

What would Blair do?

She'd roll her eyes and say, "I always get what I want. It's not luck, it's just how the world works when you're me."

She'd glance at her reflection and say, "Of course it's already mine. A Waldorf never settles for anything less."

She'd smirk and say, "The old story? Please, as if that was ever my reality. I've always been the main character and the main character always gets what she wants."

What would Hermione do?

She'd raise an eyebrow and say, "Oh, you think I can't have what I want? Ten points from doubt. I already have it."

She'd give an exasperated sigh, "Honestly, have you learned nothing? If you keep acting like you don't have it, of course reality will reflect that. I have it. That's final."

She'd cross her arms and huff, "Oh, for heaven's sake, are you seriously still entertaining that nonsense? The old story is irrelevant. I already have what I want, end of discussion."

Some extra examples:

What would Elle Woods do?

She'd wink and say, "Manifesting isn't that hard. Like, have you met me? I always get what I want."

What would Veronica Lodge do?

She'd cross her arms and say, "I don't dwell on problems, I solve them. And I always get what I want."

What would Cheryl Blossom do?

She'd glare and say, "The old story? Burn it. I'm the author, and this is my fairytale."

What would Regina George do?

She'd flip her hair, roll her eyes, and say, "That's the ugliest thought I've ever heard. Stop trying to make doubt happen! It's not going to happen. I already have what I want."

What would Maddy Perez do?

She'd give you that look and say, "Oh, you think reality gets a say? That's cute. I already have everything. Period."

What would Jang Wonyoung do?

She'd smile sweetly, tilt her head, and say, "Oh? You’re doubting? That's not my problem. Not my reality anymore. I already have everything, and I always will."

Anyway, the point is to pick your character, watch their best scenes on YouTube or their content then whenever you get a doubt, a negative thought or think of the old story, SWITCH TO THAT CHARACTER (switch like how you pick characters in a game or pass the baton to them), EMBODY AND THINK LIKE THEM.

Make sure to also do it when you affirm, switch to that character and affirm confidently, affirm as a fact and with certainty.

4. STAY IN CHARACTER

Keep playing the role to train your mind to always think in your favor. Literally walk, talk and act like this character if you want to be more confident like them. That's it.

Remember to ask yourself: What would my favorite character do?

Would Blair stalk the 3D for evidence? No. Would Chanel care what people think? Never. Would Wednesday ever be fazed by the old story? Absolutely not. Have fun, play the game, make it a habit and soon it won't be a game, it'll be your natural mindset.

Yours Truly,

Lady Rian Whistledown 💋

[faeryarchives]

loved by the moon (riddle, leona, and azul x f!reader)

requested by @lydiacallas: Can i ask for a Moon Goddess like!Fem!Reader? Like they have magic linked to the moon, they have like- this ethereal, pure and calm vibe of the moon itself and their voice is calm too. Maybe their hair is a bit glow in the dark? With Malleus, Azul, Lilia, Riddle and Leona, please and thank you very much! 🥺✨ warning: minor spoilers to book 6 + somewhat long imagine note: reader uses she / they pronouns + is in the same grade as the boys !! this is very overdue im sorry 😣 and i based some characteristic and abilities to moonlight cookie and princess luna guilty as charged 😔 + malleus and lilia part will be in another post! recent fics: happy birthday (malleus x reader) & when your hopeless streamer gets a girlfriend (ace x reader) & its you, it always had been you

·˚ ༘ riddle rosehearts (2nd year ramshackle dorm leader)

"the decision of all professors and staffs of night raven college falls in favor for miss (name) (last name) to enroll here - exempting them from the all-boys rule. she will be in charge of the ramshackle dorm during her stay here."

riddle does not understand how on earth were you able to stay in the school and always hold yourself with such grace, he couldn't explain why your presence seems to be similar to vil like you were oozing of calm vibes

you were the total opposites - he is more accustomed to fire while you specialize in water magic*. he lose his rationality quickly while he had never see you even falter during the time you two were classmates + he always abides by the rules while you do what ever you want 

"you are not allowed to sleep in class!" "it's not sleeping, i am just resting my eyes..." "you must not pick flowers from the garden on wednesdays." "riddle, i am not under the queen of hearts rules."

and riddle actually holds a one sided grudge against you for that + makes it his mission always to remind you of the rules, going on about mini rants to which you nodded to while reading your books

typically, riddle would've mention something about the rule of the queen of hearts but he was strangely quiet. you see him looking down at his notebook, lost in his world. and that surprised you because never you would've thought you would know this side of him. "no rule trivia for today?" "...huh?" "there is something on your mind, no? why don't we talk about that instead our usual trivias."

as time passed by, you and riddle gradually close friends to the point that heartslabyul treats you like their saving grace whenever riddle goes on a rampage, even more when you became second years

when the first overblot happened, it was the first time he saw your face, usually so calm, crumbled like dust when the blot manifested into a large phantom

"hahaha! the law in this world is me! not even you, (name), can stop me!" "i'm not letting you go so easily, riddle. rules are meant to protect your people, but you don't realize you are using them to suffocate them. you even hurt my dorm mates, enough of this!"

riddle was sure you wouldn't speak to him again because you weren't there the moment he woke up. he tried asking trey and cater if you were avoiding him, but they could not answer him. the next few days, he didn't even get to talk to you.

then he found himself admiring nrc at night time, breaking his own rules, maybe it's okay to let is slide for now. as he needs some time to think

absentmindedly wandering around the school grounds, letting the cool breeze feel his skin, riddle had his hand brushing through the thick bushes until they got pricked by a stray thorn "ah-" he hissed, holding up his pricked finger. it was just a tiny injury that's nothing to worry about. the injury was nothing compared to what he saw next "riddle? what are you doing this here at this hour?"

riddle spotted you sitting under the tree where silver usually takes his naps, surrounded by bunnies as they piled around your lap.

after days of not seeing each other, riddle thought he was going crazy because the last time he saw you, he knew pretty sure that your eyes and hair do not have that silver glow - it was like you were the moon itself

"is it my fault that your eyes and hair changed?" "oh, this is awkward... " you look at the bunnies trying to hide behind you, being scared of riddle's sudden appearance, contemplating about something before sighing in defeat. "i think i owe you an explanation. but first, can you keep a secret?" this confused riddle very much. what do you mean explanation? did something happen while he was out? before he could even think of it, you were already in front of him - your point and middle finger placed on his forehead. 'the moon has come out to play, now bid your worries away.' a comfortable feeling of cold wrapped around riddle's body, feeling the fatigue from his overblotting disappear, the weight on his shoulder being gone and his pricked finger healed. while riddle stared at you in shock, you finally reveal your true appearance and float around him like a curious child. "would you believe me if i told you i am the descendant of the moon goddess?"

... oh. OH !!

prepare for him because this little goldfish right here is most likely a fan of reading books about your kind + cue the sparkling eyes

and oh my god are those butterflies he can feel in his stomach? or maybe he is just hungry but he only feel that way around you though. oh well !!

** okay so i think reader will be compatible with water magic because the moon has this gravitaional pull right which cause the high tides and low tides... and riddle is fire!

·˚ ༘ leona kingscholar (3rd year transfer student)

"kingscholar, think of this as your punishment for the spelldrive incident. i would gladly take miss (name) for a tour but alas, there are countless of papers that needs my attention."

leona knew that there is something like a cloak of mysteriousness around you the moment you appeared in the college mid-year as a transfer student from rsa

just you don't interfere with his plans and he will also stay out of yours but it turns out he was assigned by the crow to take you around

"... wow, do i look like a punishment worthy chore?" you sigh, shaking your head in disappointment before turning to leona and he could swear he could see your eyes glowing for a moment when you stare at him. "i take it that the dorm leader of savannaclaw will be my tour guide?" "just don't lag behind." giving you a shrug before he started walking ahead of you. despite his short descriptions and tour around the school, leona is thankful that you didn't seem to be a nosy type of person, just a little on the calm and reserve type than most people he knew.

doesn't understand how people seems to look starstruck whenever you walk by them i mean you are attractive yes but not being able to move? that's different

it also turns out you share most of your classes! maybe crowley was really punishing him for the incident as he was stuck with you, being your babysitter.

but you almost look like his babysitter + quickly became one of the most tolerable people in the school and he doesn't mind having you around

"leona? let me bother you for a moment, can you help me with this problem?" "oh that?" the lion lifted his head and stared at the paper you were holding before waving his hand in dismissal. "remember the activity we did as partners? that's the one." "..." you squinted your eyes and leona could see them literally glow in purple light causing him to blink several times if he was seeing it right but it disappeared quickly. "oh i get it now, thanks." "do your eyes really glow like that?" "huh? i don't know what you are talking about."

you were not the nagging type - letting him hide and snooze off behind you during class and surprisingly, you were fun to spar with during practical exams + too smart for your own good

he had never seen any kind of fighting similar to yours like your fighting style is only yours to begin with - not only you excel in defending, you never seem to get tired despite being a speedy defender.

you and the savanaclaw dorm leader spent the whole afternoon sparring with each other and by the time you notice it, the sun was already setting. "aren't you tired yet, leona?" "you better tell me how you manage to keep up with me all this time." you did say to keep up with you the first time we met." you twirl your spear around you before stabbing it on the ground, leaning on it and grinned at leona. "i'm just keeping my promise."

now leona was pretty sure you are not a normal transfer student + especially after fighting with you in the island of woe and it was pretty interesting how you unexpectedly exposed yourself in front him and jamil.

the moment you, who was assigned to be in the front of the group due to you having the most capable defensive powers, entered the room on the current sector, leona and jamil look at your back in surprise. "(name)-senpai?" "what's up, jamil?" "... is that a normal thing for you?" the room was oozing with the presence of phantoms everywhere and there was no source of light - aside from your hair locks that are now shining like a billowing night sky of twinkling stardust, borne in a void of black and fading in an indigo moonset "oh that's normal, we can just use it as source of light. save your magic for now." "no wonder your magic feels different from everyone else - you are a moon goddess, right?"

leona is not blind, he just need a solid evidence to confirm his gut feeling. unique magic spells + signature spear + glowing eyes and your hair locks literally looking like that?

while fighting along side each other, leona could literally leave his back open because heknew and trust that you always have his back and vice versa

"leona-senpai, watch out-" before jamil could jump in between the incoming attack and leona, you pulled the second year by his hood deflected the attack with your spear so effortlessly. "it's fine, moon fairy here got our backs." you hear leona said proudly before landing a critical hit on the phantom. "aren't you glad you're stuck with us?"

everyone in school knows how two of you would make an unbeatable duo when it comes to strategies and games

and not going to lie, leona thinks so too! you are strong, smart and everything above + treats you life his closest friend and respects you a lot but you do things sometimes that are not really necessary

"are you done yet?" he couldn't help but ask, his tail thumping on the floor with annoyance while you tried braiding some parts of his hair.

you peek over his should and smiled, trying to show him the small braid that you did on the side. "yeah, it's fun braiding your hair!" after your identity being revealed, you let yourself relax more around him - when you express happiness, your hair starts glowing as it did before and small crescent like moon thingy start appearing around you

... leona find that cute + now he understand why people become starstruck when it comes to you

**you know how moonlight cookie's hair color looks like? yeah that's the one!

·˚ ༘ azul ashengrotto (2nd year ramshackle vice dorm leader)

"did you hear about the rumors? recently, students are saying that when you go to the botanical garden at night and stand under the moonlight - all your questions will be answered!"

the fact that rumors like that exists made azul irritated because it means he got competition. and having competition in the thing he do best is not fun.

so he and the twins went to investigate - how and where the rumors first started and who are most likely to be involved in the case

surprisingly enough, it all leads to a certain ramshackle vice dorm leader aka you + azul already knew you due to being the same year and his 'rival'

he considers you as his rival because you two always seem to fight for the top 2 and 3 spot every exam but for you... i think he would be hurt if you say that you like to aim for the top spot because it's fun 🤩

it was during lunch time and you were planning to eat with yuu, grim and the others when all of a sudden, someone blocked your way out by leaning on the door. "(last name) can i ask a bit of your time? i would like to ask you regarding an important matter." the ever so charismatic azul asked, his usual charming smile on as if he wants to do business with you. "oh, hi azul. what is it about?" "how delightful! do you happen to know the rumor about your unanswered questions will be answered as you stand under the moonlight?" "there is a rumor like that? under the moonlight? why the specifics?" one thing that azul observed about you is that your emotion reflects on your eyes. call it his gut feel but just one look and he already knew you were telling the truth "a pity... it seems like i am back to square one." "... maybe i can go help you out? i am not that busy these upcoming days."

and so azul's little group grew in numbers consisting of him, you, yuu, grim and the twins. oddly enough, it was actually fun to hang out with you

azul never got to interact with you that much before and only knew information about your through papers and from what he heard from people but being with you right now exceeds his expectations

"if headmaster crowley is similar to crow... do you think he likes to hoard shiny things?" you suddenly whispered it to azul one day in class, your mind clearly wandering and not paying attention to what professor trein is writing on the board. "what is with the random thought?" what is we leave a trail of shiny things and create a trap, that would be really funny."

you were an oddball. sometimes you will joke around with him and trying to make him laugh during class. there are also times where he couldn't explain the calming feeling he had whenever you are around + he could never even feel any other intentions from your actions as if you genuinely want to become his friend

it took him a while to notice how you always seem to stand out and become the embodiment of grace and elegance - a confident yet modest person who knows what you want

you always help him out in solving the rumor mystery but there is something that made you look suspicious → you always go back to your dorm before sunset

it's not that he wants to take up all your time but the way you stand firm of not being able to join them during night time and saying how dangerous it is made him suspect you of something

so he went alone wearing his ceremonial robes (the twins are taking over his duties for a while i know very unbelievable but imagine) to investigate the botanical garden and there he saw you run inside - a trail of silver light following you behind

and when azul went inside to stand in the spot, trying to think of what to wish until he hears a familiar voice ringing in the building

"say your wish out loud and the moon will light its way to you." "well, now this is marvelous. can i see one guiding my wish for me?" azul looked up, trying to call out for you, even looking around to see signs of you. there was a moment of silence before he heard you sigh and in an instance, you appeared before him, avoiding his look. "i thought i told you to let it go?"

after finding out you were his competitor - he didn't really feel annoyed at all! rather he was intrigued on how you were able to do it ...? you help the students find the answers on their own in their dreams?!

seeing your hair glow in silver light in the dark reminds him of himself as some octopus also glow in the dark just like him!

"azul, do you know that i really admire you?" "me? what is there to admire about me? i do nknow i have a remarkable potential but compared to y-" "no, seriously. you don't need to compare yourself to me. having to do all these business related work AND studying at the same time? you should appreciate yourself more."

... do you want to make him cry on the spot? hearing such words makes him happy but hearing it from you aka one of the people he really admire and yes he admits he admire you as a rival - his emotions are going haywire.

even if he is smart, it will take time for azul to realize that his admiration is just growing stronger and stronger each day and bloom into something else