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scarletemeterio · 1 day ago

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Hello! Can I ask for ekko with an reader who confessed to him thrice (and thrice rejected) and then he finally falls hard for them? With a happy ending, thank you!

(kind of like she fell first he fell harder trope)

Let Me Love You (Ekko x Reader)

Warnings: some cursing Genre: angst, hurt/comfort Word count: 2.3k Reader has no set pronouns!

The first time was the hardest of them all. You’d muster up the courage to confess your feelings for him, knowing very well that it could go south.

“I have something to tell you,” you uttered. He gave you a worried look, noticing that there was a hint of desperation in your voice. You were in his so-called office, working on something that didn’t really matter anymore.

“Is everything okay?” He simply asked.

“I’m not sure,” you began, “but I really need to say this.” He gave you his full attention, making you feel a bit intimidated by him and extremely self-conscious. “I’m in love with you,” you blurted out.

Silence quickly filled the room, and the tension could easily be cut by a knife. The moment you saw his face, you knew it: he didn’t feel the same way.

“I, uh, I don’t know what to say,” he mumbled more to himself than to you.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make things awkward at all. You can just forget I said anything.”

“I really don’t want to hurt you but I just don’t feel the same way.” You were trying to hold back your tears as his words left his mouth. “You’re an amazing person and anyone would be lucky to be with you, but that person isn’t me.”

You simply looked at him and slowly nodded. “It’s okay, you can’t force yourself to feel something you don’t.” It was hard to speak at this point. He knew you were hurt, but you’d never show it; it would just make things harder for the both of you. “Is this gonna change things between us?”

“I would hate that, honestly.” You nodded again, finally being on the same page about something. He came closer and put a reassuring hand on your shoulder to try and alleviate the tension. If only it were that easy.

•••

Some time passed and you still tried to hide your feelings for him. For a while, it worked, you’d suppressed them every time you spent time with the boy but deep down, you missed the way you were before. It had always been hard for you to open up to people, but you’d never been this miserable before. You were just a shadow of your usual self, and it was evident to everyone in the base.

Ekko himself tried to talk to you about it, clearly oblivious to the fact that he was the reason for your attitude. Finally, after a particularly hard day for you, you just lost it.

“You wanna know what’s wrong with me, Ekko? It’s you!” You truly didn’t mean to scream at him but you also couldn’t help it. Lately, you lived on edge, always frustrated about something; it was like you were a bomb simply waiting to explode. “I swear I tried to play dumb, to ignore everything but I just can’t.”

“Is this about-?”

“Yes, Ekko, of course it is.” You interrupted him. “I know you went on with your life and pretended I never said anything so we could go back to the way things were, but it’s not that easy for me. Nothing about this has been easy.”

“I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“Bullshit,” you spat. “You know exactly how I feel about you. We’ve known each other for years, you can’t tell me you never realized why I’ve been acting so strange.”

There was a pause between you. You were agitated, heart beating so fast that you could feel it in your throat. “I guess I wanted to pretend nothing ever happened,” he confessed after some time. “Acknowledging it made it real and I just- I just want my friend back, without any messiness and complications between us.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Ekko. I’m sorry my feelings are such an inconvenience to you. Trust me, I wish I could change them and forget about you for good but I just can’t.”

Something twitched inside of him when you said that and he looked at you with hurt eyes. “You really mean that? That you’d like to forget me?”

“I meant forgetting about my feelings for you, ‘cause you’re not making things easy for me,” you explained. “When you come over and put your arm around me or stand so close to me that I can feel you breathing it kills me, Ekko. And the worst part is that you know it.” You took a deep breath, anger slowly leaving you, feeling nothing but sadness. “Sometimes I feel like you enjoy testing me like that because you know that no matter what I’ll always come back to you. But I’m tired of this dance between us, it’s too much.”

“I just don’t know how to feel! This is hard for me too!” Neither of you cared if someone heard you at this point, you’d simply have to put up with the weird looks from everyone. “I don’t know what you want me to do and I’m confused.”

“Honestly,” you began, “I want you to give me some space.”

“Wait, I- uh, I don’t want that, please,” he took a step closer to you, trying to grab ahold of your hand but you avoided his touch, as you avoided his sad eyes.

“Do you have feelings for me, Ekko?”

“I said I’m confused.”

“It’s a simple question, do you?”

You finally looked at him and he realized that you were crying. He could count with one hand the number of times he’d seen you cry, and he never thought he’d be the reason why. “I don’t know,” he finally whispered.

“Then I don’t have anything else to say. I don’t want to wait for you to figure out how you feel and keep getting hurt in the process, I don’t think I deserve it.”

“Wait, please-.”

“Ekko,” you cut him, “I need some space, don’t make this even harder, please.” And with that, you left, leaving him even more confused than before, and with a pain in his chest he couldn’t really explain.

You should’ve known this was coming. Still, it hurt like the first time. You couldn’t blame him; if anything, you were glad he was honest with you. But after today, you realized that you needed to keep some distance from him, or this would end up destroying you for good.

•••

Days quickly turned into weeks, and you realized you hadn’t said a word to the Firelight’s leader in almost a month. Your heart still flipped inside whenever you inevitably ran into him or locked eyes with him within the first few days since the fight, and soon you started avoiding him all along.

In no time, the boy started feeling an emptiness inside him, something he couldn’t explain. He was truthful with you in that last conversation, he truly wasn’t sure how he felt, but with every passing day that you were nowhere to be seen, he realized that maybe he’d been a complete fool.

He missed you, there was no denying that. Now the question was if his feelings for you were simply platonic or if deep down he yearned for you, maybe even more than you for him. Ekko wasn’t the best with his emotions, not because he actively repressed them, but because all of this was extremely new to him, and he just felt so overwhelmed. However, there was one thing he was extremely sure of: he wanted you in his life.

It had been days since he last saw you, evident now that you’d been avoiding him for a while, so when he finally caught a glimpse of you around the base, it was like seeing an angel. Soon, his pleasant feelings were replaced by envy. You were talking with one of the new members from the Firelights, nothing out of the ordinary, but there was nothing he wanted more than to be the one you had your attention on. He didn’t recognize himself, filled with jealousy and bitterness.

The boy was pulled out of his thoughts when someone asked him a question, engaging in conversation with him, but that strange sensation still clung to him like glue. He hated himself and blamed his stupid ass for being such an idiot, these were merely the consequences of his own actions.

When he was lying in bed that night trying to fall asleep, you were the only thing on his mind. Your smile that shined like the stars, your lips that he so wanted to feel against his own while your arms wrapped around his body. He wanted to bang his head against the wall, he was such an idiot. If only he’d realized this before then maybe now you wouldn’t hate him. It all seemed so obvious to him now. You were there for him, by his side from the very beginning. He could always count on and lean on you, he trusted you even more than he trusted himself. Oftentimes he’d become mesmerized by how pretty you looked when you spent time together, the sun hitting your face in just the perfect way or your hair effortlessly framing your face in such a flawless way. Of course, he thought nothing of all this at the time, brushing it off as objective thinking. But now, it suddenly hit him, everything was different now because he wasn’t unsure anymore, he knew exactly how he felt about you. He loved you.

He sat on his bed, passing his hands through his face in an attempt to clear his mind. He wanted- no, needed to talk to you. Maybe you didn’t even feel the same way anymore, but he had to get it off his chest, he had to at least try. But right now, he also had to calm his nerves because if he didn’t, he’d go and knock on your door this very moment, and he was certain you didn’t wanna see him at all. So instead, he got up and went to take a walk, thinking it would be nice to sit by the tree to help him organize his thoughts. What he wasn’t expecting was seeing you there.

As soon as you saw his figure making its way to you, you got up, ready to leave but were interrupted by his voice. “Wait, please, don’t go.” You knew you should pay him no attention and leave anyway, but it had been so long since you’d last heard his voice that you were taken aback for a moment, standing in place. “Can we talk?” His voice was soft, nothing compared to what it was in your last conversation together; you could even hear a hint of desperation, which was what ultimately made you turn around and stay.

“What do you want, Ekko?” As soon as he heard you he let out a small smile, confirming that yours was the voice he wanted to hear every day when he woke up and every night before going to sleep.

He motioned for you to sit down again, doing the same right after you. “I’m sorry for everything,” he began saying, “I never meant for things to end up like this between us.” His chest accompanied his breathing, moving just a little too fast, earning him a concerned look from you. “I know that you probably hate me now, I know I would if I were you, and you’ll probably hate me even more after what I have to say since I acted like a complete idiot and took so long to figure out something that was right in front of me this whole time but I- uh, I do have feelings for you. Lots of feelings actually, I’m in love with you.”

You snapped your neck to look at him, trying to read his expression in search of a playful tone, but it wasn’t there. He was serious, he was finally saying what you wanted to hear for so long now. So long that you couldn’t fully believe him.

“Ekko, I don’t want any games, please.”

“I’m being serious. These weeks without you have been absolute torture, I can’t do this without you, I need you.” He rubbed his face, stopping at the bridge of his nose to pinch it. When he looked back at you, he had tears forming in his eyes, a sight you hadn’t seen in a very long time. “I’m being honest. I’m so sorry it took me so long to finally realize it. I made it my personal vow to always protect you and keep you safe and I’m the one that caused you pain and for that, I’m so sorry.”

You didn’t really know what to say, nothing seemed good enough. Your mind was racing and quickly you were lost in your thoughts and were brought back to reality by the sound of Ekko getting up, ready to leave. “These last weeks have been hell for me, too.” Your eyes met his and you stoop up, getting closer to him. “I don’t hate you, Ekko. I could never hate you.”

“But you don’t love me anymore?”

“I didn’t say that, I’m just a bit taken aback that’s all.” He got closer to you, trying to grab your hand and this time, you let him do it. He brought it to his face and planted a kiss on it, never breaking eye contact with you.

“I’m so in love with you that just thinking about spending a second away from you makes me suffer. I don’t want to feel that way anymore, I want to be with you, share my life with you, and love you every day.” One of his hands went to cup your face and you leaned against it. “Please let me love you.”

You looked at his lips and then back at his eyes, and in just a second the air was knocked out of your lungs when you felt his lips against yours. The kiss was sweet but desperate and filled with emotions. “Please let me love you, too,” you said when you separated.

“Nothing would make me happier.”

hey! i loved this request, i'm a sucker for angst :)

i changed it just a little bit but i still hope you like it anon, thanks for requesting! really enjoyed writing this one and i LOVE writing for ekko

#arcane #ekko x reader #arcane x reader #arcane x you #ekko x you #ekko fanfic #ekko arcane #ekko #arcane x y/n #arcane imagine #arcane fic #arcane fanfic #ekko fics

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psychoticfemmm · 2 days ago

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drunk on you

pairing: jj maybank x reader

summary: After a wild night of partying, JJ takes care of his drunk girlfriend, enduring her chaotic antics and relentless demands for kisses while the Pogues tease him endlessly.

The music thumped loudly in the background as JJ Maybank maneuvered his way through the crowded beach party, your drunken laughter echoing in his ears. You were practically draped over his shoulder like a giggling mess, your hand clutching the strap of his shirt while your other hand lazily waved at everyone passing by.

“JJ! I’m having so much fun!” you slurred, your face lighting up as you spotted him glancing down at you. “But I need—wait for it—another kiss!”

JJ chuckled, shaking his head. “You don’t need another kiss, princess. You need water. And maybe a nap.”

You pouted dramatically, squirming in his grasp. “Nooo. JJ, you’re being so mean. Just one!”

He stopped for a second, setting you down on your feet so you could look at him with wide, pleading eyes. “What did I just say? Water first, then maybe kisses,” he teased, a crooked grin on his face.

You leaned closer, practically pressing your forehead against his chest as you whined, “But you’re my boyfriend! It’s your job to kiss me whenever I ask.”

“You’re impossible,” JJ said with a sigh, but the fondness in his voice gave him away.

From a few feet away, Sarah, John B, Pope, and Kiara watched the scene unfold, laughing amongst themselves.

“She’s relentless,” Pope said, shaking his head in disbelief. “JJ looks like he’s babysitting.”

“Hey, at least she’s not crying,” Sarah chimed in, smirking. “That’s progress.”

“She’s definitely about to though,” Kiara added, watching as you flung yourself dramatically against JJ’s chest, shouting something about him being “the worst boyfriend ever” for withholding kisses.

“Alright, that’s it,” JJ declared, bending down and effortlessly scooping you into his arms bridal-style, just like in the picture. “I’m cutting you off. You’re done.”

You gasped, throwing your head back in faux outrage as your legs dangled over his arms. “You’re kidnapping me! Someone stop him!”

“No one’s stopping me, sweetheart,” JJ said with a laugh. “You’re out of control.”

The group burst into laughter, John B pulling out his phone to record the whole scene.

“JJ, this is gold,” John B said between laughs. “I can’t wait to show her this tomorrow.”

“Don’t you dare!” you shouted, suddenly animated, though your words were slurred. “John B Routledge, I swear, if you—JJ, make him stop!”

JJ rolled his eyes, adjusting his grip on you. “You think I can do everything, huh? I’m already carrying your drunk ass.”

“Because you love me,” you replied with a smug grin, poking his cheek.

“Yeah, yeah,” JJ muttered, though his smile betrayed him.

When you finally made it back to the house, JJ gently set you down on the couch. You flopped over dramatically, your arm draped over your face.

“You’re going to hate yourself in the morning,” he said, handing you a bottle of water.

“I’m going to hate you in the morning,” you quipped, though your smile said otherwise.

JJ rolled his eyes, plopping down beside you. “Fine. One kiss. Just one.”

You immediately perked up, your face lighting up as you crawled onto his lap and kissed him. It was a bit clumsy and overly enthusiastic, but JJ couldn’t help but laugh into it, pulling you closer.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” he said, pulling back before you could start again. “We’re in front of the Pogues, for crying out loud.”

Sure enough, Sarah, Kiara, and the rest of the group were standing in the doorway, watching with grins and smug expressions.

“Aw, JJ,” Sarah teased. “You’re such a softie.”

“Shut it, Sarah,” JJ shot back, his cheeks red.

“I think it’s cute,” Kiara said, nudging Pope.

Pope smirked. “You mean hilarious.”

You, however, were too busy giggling in JJ’s arms to care. And despite the teasing and chaos around him, JJ couldn’t help but smile. Because at the end of the day, you were his chaos—and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

You groaned as sunlight streamed through the window, making you squint against the bright rays. Your head pounded, and your mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton.

“What the hell…” you muttered, shielding your eyes as you slowly sat up.

From the doorway, JJ leaned casually against the frame, arms crossed and a smug grin plastered on his face.

“Good morning, sunshine,” he said, his tone entirely too cheerful.

You glared at him. “Why are you so loud?”

“Not my fault you had a little too much fun last night,” he teased, walking over and plopping down on the bed beside you.

You groaned, dropping back against the pillows. “Don’t remind me.”

“Oh, I’m definitely reminding you. Do you want to hear about how you demanded ‘one more kiss’ like, a hundred times? Or how you tried to fight John B because he wouldn’t stop filming you?”

Your eyes shot open, and you turned to him with horror. “I did not.”

“Oh, you did,” JJ said with a laugh. “And you called me, and I quote, ‘the worst boyfriend ever’ because I wouldn’t kiss you in the middle of the party.”

You covered your face with your hands, groaning. “I’m never drinking again.”

JJ leaned down, brushing his lips against your temple. “Don’t worry. I think it was adorable. Drunk you is my favorite.”

You peeked at him through your fingers. “You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?”

“Not a chance,” he said with a grin. “But don’t worry, princess. I’m here to take care of you.”

Despite your embarrassment, you couldn’t help but smile at him. Because at the end of the day, JJ always had your back—whether you were sober or not.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

since you guys loved the last JJ fic𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚

send requests! ⋆˚✿˖°

#aesthetic #fanfiction #jj maybank x reader #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank #obx season 4 #outer banks #obx jj #obx #obx fic #jj maybank fanfic #jj mayback imagine #fanfic #outer banks season

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suzukiblu · 1 day ago

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Day twenty-one of “Kon meets pink kryptonite and decides to fuck Tim and his boyfriend about it” behind the cut. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Yeah, there you go, boy,” Bernard says approvingly, squeezing his ass again, and Kon pushes it back into his hands a little on the next rock of his hips–that’ll look good for Tim too, right? Look–“pretty”, or just whatever Bernard wants to call it. “Just show Tim how good you feel right now, alright? You got my dick all inspired for this, buddy, so let him see what a good job you did with it.”

“Your dick, yeah,” Kon gasps out half-senselessly, rocking his hips a little faster and trying so hard not to use any super-speed or anything he can’t reinforce Bernard’s body–and the bed–enough to handle. But if–if he’s supposed to be giving Tim something to watch, he doesn’t have to watch his mouth so much, so–so–“Feels so good in me, wanted it so bad, thank you thank you, feels so good, I fuckin’ love it, wanna come on it again, please lemme, lemme come on it an’ I’ll be so good, I’ll be anything y’want, lemme come on the whole thing.”

“God, your fucking mouth,” Bernard groans before burying his own in Kon’s neck, and his skin buzz-buzz-buzzes and–“Oh, you’re so cute, boy, go on, you can stay right in my lap and beg all you want.”

“Please,” Kon moans back immediately, rocking his hips down a little harder than he means to, and Bernard hisses appreciatively against the tendon in his throat and then drops his mouth down to his collarbone and then down to–his chest, which Kon abruptly remembers promising Bernard he could play with all he wanted and immediately has to stifle a whine over. “B-Bernard, please, I really–”

Bernard bites his sternum; kisses the upward curve of one of his pecs. Squeezes his double-handed grip on his ass again and spreads his ass with that squeeze, which makes Kon realize that he’s doing it deliberately and probably did the lifting thing deliberately too, and realize just how much Tim must be seeing of the way his hole’s taking Bernard’s dick, like–just between the angle and the grip Bernard has on him and the obvious effort the other is obviously going to, which–fuck, how did he not realize that immediately? Or at least a little sooner?

He nearly chokes on another moan and rocks his hips down a little bit harder and tries so hard not to be–be too much or too greedy or–he’s supposed to be–he’s supposed to–

Does Tim like it? Does Tim think–does Tim think he’s being . . . being pretty enough for him? He’s not saying anything, but Kon can still feel him watching, and . . . and he doesn’t know what Tim’s thinking, obviously, but he’s already getting embarrassingly close to coming again himself, because– because Tim gave him to Bernard, Tim wants to see this, Tim thinks he’s something worth the giving, something worth giving his boyfriend who makes him get all cute and flustered and smitten and smiley and shit–Tim thinks he’s something good enough to give to that boyfriend, and thinks he can make that boyfriend feel good and make him happy and make him come, thinks he’s something that boyfriend will like–

And he feels like Bernard does like him, right now.

Actually, right now he feels like Bernard really likes him, considering.

But also, he has literally not even gotten his dick touched again, and he still feels like he could come like this. That’s–that’s really–

Bernard said he was good at it, some hazy, sticky-warm part of Kon thinks, somewhere in that floaty space he’s not quite reaching but really feels like he wants to. Bernard said . . .

“Really, really cute,” Bernard murmurs against his chest, and Kon bites the inside of his cheek and shudders. Bernard said he’s good at this. Bernard thinks he’s–thinks he’s cute, which is still not something he’s ever gotten off on hearing before getting in this bed but is also still definitely something he’s getting off on hearing right now.

Actually, he’s pretty sure the only reason he can last at all is because no one is touching his dick right now.

#timberkon #konbern #timkon #timbern #kon el #conner kent #bernard dowd #tim drake #superboy #dc robin #wip: think pink #dom/sub

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transformers-spike · 2 days ago

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Helloo, I'm wondering if you can do a sh comfort with any character from tfp plz :3

From the ☣️ annon

Went for Starscream because I know his brand of comfort is... questionable but entertaining to write - also (sfw)

You’re in trouble. Big fucking trouble. You can stay in your little lab all you want, fiddling with genetic samples with the grace of a high schooler dissecting a frog, lacking your usual precision. Yes, you got yourself into it. No, your past self refuses to apologize to the current you. And while you may understand what pushed the old you to make this decision a week ago, personal growth isn’t going to do shit after the stunt you’ve pulled. Starscream is your abductor, yes, but he’s also your “guardian” so to speak; the Decepticon responsible for your continued wellbeing. This has not stopped him from threatening your life back when you were being “rescued” from your old job, but there’s no use dwelling on it. The point is, there’s a degree of mutual trust between the two of you. In exchange for a wide variety of resources and access to actual alien technology, you’ve been hard at work handling projects he’s tossed your way. You pride yourself in it, because who wouldn’t after spending decades perfecting their craft? Or getting into a ludicrous amount of student debt… Your stint with the government was, admittedly, your lowest point; MK-Ultra 2.0 type experiments you only agreed to as a morally and financially bankrupt newcomer with a grudge against society as a whole after working half a decade in retail. To say you regret it is to put it lightly. At the very least the Decepticons are honest about their intentions, no “protecting the people” rhetoric; if they’re going to cyberform the Earth then you’ll be there with your bucket of popcorn watching it all unfold. Although, past you wasn’t quite as eager. Guilt racked your brain, tormented you well into the night, reminded you every waking moment you could only be an instrument in someone else’s plan, a pawn that would unquestionably follow its master even if it meant digging its own grave. Yes, you’re doing better now (you think), and you were concealing the secret just fine until you misjudged the boiling point of an experimental concoction and got a face-full of glass. It could have been worse, you had shielded yourself with your arms, earning only a couple scars on your face (and a frightening amount on your arms). That’s when Knock Out came in. Oh Knock Out. You cunt . Of course he was being too kind; it wasn’t from the chunks of glass he was removing with a pair of forceps, nor the tears of pain running down your face (you honestly expected him to go “Ew” and toss a blanket over your head so he wouldn’t have to look). It’s because he had seen the week-old cut along your arm. He didn’t make a fuss, didn’t point it out, didn’t so much as pause while treating you. Oh no – he sent you a message first thing in the morning informing you he relayed the extra detail to Starscream and sent you the Cybertronian equivalent of a shrug emoji. Your first reaction was to threaten his life through text, which he responded to with an eyeroll.

This leaves you here, waiting at your post, counting down the seconds to doomsday, hands shaking cursing yourself for spilling the (thankfully non-corrosive) substance down the beaker. You try to seem casual when the door opens up. You try to steady your breathing when you feel his footsteps. You try to put down the beaker and greet him – which drops and shatters. Staring down at your work, mouth agape, you don’t have the strength to look him in the optic after three major blunders in under 24 hours. Although it’s hard to avoid his gaze when he commands your attention with his presence alone. “Hey,” you say, sweating profusely. “Nice day we’re having. Out here in space, I mean.” His expression is one of exasperated frustration. “Oh don’t patronize me.” He scoops you up like a naughty kitten, glaring daggers at you. “Show me,” he orders. You cradle your arm to your chest. “But, Knock Out bandaged it yesterday-” “Are you trying to waste my time?” You hang your head low and undo the wrappings at a snail’s pace, desperately stalling, praying for anything to intervene and pull Starscream away so you can scramble under your desk and hyperventilate in peace. But your boss doesn’t have time to waste. He groans dramatically before plucking your arm and tearing through the bandages in one clean cut of his talon. “I swear it’s not that bad,” you say, the antithesis of convincing, cringing inside as he observes the scars in eerie silence. The expression he wears is unreadable. His optics drag from your arm to your face. You swallow. “It’s just a scratch-” “No,” he cuts you off, voice bursting with anger. “Do you take me for a fool?” “Wait I didn’t mean it that way-” “Shut up.” He glowers down at you, claws tightening around your arm. “I will remind you, human, that you are an investment . And I won’t have my investments break of their own volition. So tell me,” he drags you closer, sending a sudden burst of pain which you dare not show, “ why would you do it?”

“I… I don’t… I don’t know how to explain,” you whisper. He scoffs and rolls his optics. “Is it so difficult to collaborate? If you won’t tell me, then I can’t help you.” The words ring in your ears. You go weak in the knees. “Help me?” you echo, incredulity heavy on your tongue. He flashes you a look of utter confusion. “What? Did you think I would punish you? Oh, please , it’s not my modus operandi. I have a more refined manner of supervising my subordinates compared to… I’m sure you can guess whom. Now stop wasting my time, and tell me why .”

“Uh… it’s a long story,” you babble, still reeling from his words. “Then shorten it, I don’t have all cycle.”

“I’ve been plagued with some… pretty horrendous thoughts at night, among,” you vaguely gesture at your makeshift lab, “the stress of deadlines.” He contemplates you, arching an optical ridge. It feels… strangely human compared to the apathetic stares of your old bosses. You’re a number here just the same, except it will be significantly more difficult to replace you. “I can’t change the deadlines,” he starts in an oddly soft tone, scrutinizing your reaction. “However, I can procure the proper medication to avoid another incident. .” You flash him a bewildered look. “Antidepressants?” you ask incredulously. “I was referring to something along the lines of ambien or adderall.” He releases your arm and taps his chin. “Perhaps both considering your current state.”

“Oh…” You blink. “I didn’t expect you to know this much about human pharmaceuticals.”

He scoffs again, putting an offended servo to his chassis. “Unlike us, you humans are exceptionally fragile, mentally and physiologically. I had anticipated some manner of a breakdown, although not this severe.” “So am I forgiven?” you ask, a mild attempt at sarcasm to clear the ambiance. It earns you a glare. “No,” he declares unsurprisingly. “I will be confiscating the hazardous materials.” You cock an eyebrow and point at the glass vials behind you, two of which are very obviously missing from the rack (and one whose pieces are mostly dislodged from your arm). He ex-vents loudly, slapping a servo to his face. “I was referring to the sharp instruments in your possession.” His voice is muffled. “Fair enough,” you say. “And B09F will be dispensing your medication.” “A bit excessive. But sure.” He scowls at you between his digits. He seems… terribly overworked. Cybertronians don’t have eyebags, but you swear there are dark lines under his optics. You clear your throat and avoid eye contact. “Thank you. I appreciate it quite a bit. You’re much better than my previous employer.” Said previous employer orchestrate your kidnapping and made you work towards humanity’s downfall with a blaster to your head. This, you leave out completely. He freezes for a split second. Slowly, he removes his servo to contemplate you better. “Odd,” he remarks. “I thought humanity would treat you better as one of their own.” A smile spreads across his face. “No matter. At least someone can appreciate the effort I put into running a tight ship.” You return his smile in spades. “I’m sure I’m not the only one.” “Flattery won’t work on me,” he scoffs. A moment passes by. He opens up an optic like a dog waiting to be pet. “Well?” he urges. “Uh… I’m sure others admire you just as much as I? You’re… the best commander on the ship? You’re the most competent person I know?... You’re a better father than my dad ever was?” His optics snap open. “Are you comparing me to your genetic progenitor?” “To an extent? In the sense that you’re a better mentor and guardian than mine ever was.”

He squints at you. “You humans are terrible towards your own kind. Although I suppose I should accept your compliment.” His wings flick in a show of… begrudging content. “Now, take the rest of the day off.” You beam up at him. “With the condition you’re bound to your quarters.” You look down in disappointment. “Fine, you can roam around the perimeter as long as B09F chaperons you.” “Sure thing dad,” you say in an attempt at humor. He furrows his optical ridge. “If you start calling me "daddy" I'm tossing you out the airlock.”

#transformers x human #transformers x reader #transformers prime #tfp starscream #tfp starscream x reader #starscream x reader #self h@rm

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lipglossanon · 23 hours ago

Text

22 December

Moaner!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, pervert Leon, stalker Leon, obscene phone calls, name calling, degradation, masturbation

Black Christmas (1974) homage 💜

not proofread

You wave the cigarette smoke away from your face. Brittany giggles and blows another puff your way, sending your irritation spiking as you stand up from the sofa.

“You’re such a child,” you sneer at her. “I hope you get cancer.”

“Hey!” She frowns at you, bubbly laughter dropping off. “What a shitty thing to say to someone.”

“But you’re not someone,” you smile sweetly. “You’re just a dumb bitch.”

Before Brittany can move from the couch, the den mother steps in with a haggard face. She’s nearing her 50’s and her days of putting up with hormonal young women are drawing to a close.

“Now you two, be nice,” she chides, tired eyes moving between you both. “Brittany go pack. Your dad called a few minutes ago saying he’s on his way to pick you up for the airport.”

She stands from the sofa, running a hand through her box blonde hair. “Thank you, Miss Margaret. It’ll be nice to spend the holidays with family, something not all of us have.”

She grins, a nasty showing of her bleached teeth, “Have a lovely holiday, sister.”

“Hope your plane explodes on take off,” you shoot back, listening as Miss Margaret sighs in defeat—both of you watching Brittany disappear around the corner.

“I wish you girls wouldn’t fight like that. It’s so unbecoming,” she pats her pockets, pulling out a peppermint candy, wrapper crinkling when she opens it.

“Well, if she wouldn’t have screwed me over with that Professor, then I wouldn’t have any issues with her.”

Patting your arm, the den mother makes her way back out of the room. “I know, dear. But thankfully, you’ll have a break from her over the holidays.”

Standing next to the tree in the empty living room, you pinch the bridge of your nose, willing yourself not to get a headache. The shrill ring of the landline cuts into your thoughts like a dull knife. Blowing out a breath, you walk into the foyer and pick up the corded receiver.

“Hello, Alpha Beta Theta house.”

Loud breathing comes over the line, like they’ve just finished running a marathon.

“Hello?”

A shuddering groan fills your ear along with a wet squelching noise, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

“Is—is anyone there?” You clear your throat.

“Unh, unh,” a masculine voice finally makes a more pronounced noise. “Mmm.”

“You know prank calls can get you in a lot of trouble,” you twist the cord in your fingers, nerves beginning to get the best of you.

A raspy laugh before he speaks. “Bet you have a tight piggy cunt. Little miss uptight bitch.”

Fear and anger burn hot in your chest. “Did Brittany put you up to this? Well, fuck her and fuck you too, you fucking loser.”

You slam the phone down onto the cradle. Clenching your fists at your sides, you want to scream. You want to kick and slap and hit and gouge and—

The shrill ring of the phone has you baring your teeth at it like a feral dog. Snatching it up on the second trill, you bring the receiver up to your face.

“Alpha Beta Theta.”

The words are pulled from your mouth like rotten teeth.

“Don’t hang up on me again, you cunting whore.” The man hisses at you. “I’ll rape all of your holes and then make more to stuff my cock into.”

Sweat beads on the back of your neck along with your palms and under your armpits.

“W-who are you?”

He laughs again. “No one. Now stay on the line.”

The wet sound from earlier picks up, only this time it’s louder. He grunts and you suddenly realize what he’s doing.

Schlick, schlick, schlick.

It’s insane and disgusting—

and yet—

You clench your thighs, clit achy while you listen to this pervert jerk off. He curses under his breath and it makes your nipples stiffen. Gripping the phone in your hand so tightly the plastic creaks, you breathe in shakily. He must hear it cause his noises pick up speed, the wet slide of what has to be his fist around his cock grows louder still.

“Wanna stick my face in your fat piggy cunt, lick those pretty piggy lips and suck on your juicy piggy clit.”

Instead of disgust, arousal pools hot and heavy in your core, panties sticking to your wet pussy. He groans brokenly, words bitten off as you listen to him cum on the other side of the call. Your hand begins to cramp from the grip you have on the receiver, making you swap over to the other ear.

Breathing heavily for a few moments, he sighs out a hum.

“Merry Christmas, cunt.”

Those are his last words as the dial tone blares to life. You sit the phone down and shakily walk back into the living room. Pussy empty and aching, you sink down on the couch cushions.

“Who was that, dearie?”

Miss Margaret stands on the other side of the room in the doorway leading to the kitchen.

“Uh, no one,” you repeat the pervert's answer. “Just a wrong number.”

“Oh, okay.”

She heads back into the kitchen, leaving you alone with your messy thighs and turbulent thoughts.

#smutmas #12 days of smutmas #smutmas 2024 #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #stalker!leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #fem!reader #moaner!leon s kennedy

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vmpivory · 2 days ago

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but you're still a traitor.

౨ৎ﹒ [ 양정원 ] ☆ female reader / angst + cw. skinship + 0.8k wc - ( library ) now playing.. traitor by olivia rodrigo

raindrops hit the window slowly as you sat there, knees pulled to your chest. you were doing your favorite thing ever, listening to music with your earphones on a rainy day. favorite activities are supposed to make you feel better. but now it wasn't helping.

"brown guilty eyes and little white lies yeah, i played dumb but i always knew"

it was olivia rodrigo's 'traitor'. you know she didn't, but it felt like olivia herself wrote this song for you and jungwon. it explained everything happened between you two.

sad songs make you feel better, they say. then why are tears rolling down your face now? ─ more under cut!

"that you'd talk to her, maybe did even worse i kept quiet so i could keep you"

no, you shouldn't be crying over a boy now, you keep telling yourself. but the harder you tried to convince yourself, the harder it became to stop the tears.

you stood up and walked to the mirror right beside your desk as the song continued. you looked at your reflection in the mirror, your eyes puffy and cheeks red. your makeup was also ruined.

"and ain't if funny how you ran to her the second we called it quits?"

you quickly took your makeup bag, trying to fix your makeup. your friends were gonna come over in a few hours for a sleepover and you couldn't show up like this.

as you tried to fix your mascara, your hands trembled slightly. you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

why was this so hard? jungwon wasn’t worth it. at least, that’s what your best friend giselle always said. "you’re too good for him, anyway." maybe she was right.

"and ain't it funny how you said you were friends? not it sure as hell don't look like it"

you heard a loud knock on the door. you froze, mascara brush still in your hand, eyes locked on your reflection. you hadn't expected anyone so soon. you wiped your eyes quickly, swiping away the last traces of tears and taking off your earphones. you walked over to the door, your heart pounding in your chest for reasons you didn't understand. you opened it and there he was, yang jungwon. standing there in a hoodie you bought for him, his hair messy and soaked because of the rain. he was holding a cup of your favorite coffee in his hand. "can we talk?" he asked, quietly. you know you turned off the song before opening the door but you could still hear it.

"you betrayed me and i know that you'll never feel sorry for the way i hurt, yeah"

"there's nothing to talk abou-"

"have you been crying?"

you quickly wiped your cheeks again, even though you knew it was pointless. "no" you muttered, voice shaky "i'm fine."

jungwon stepped closer, his eyes scanning your face, searching for the truth. "you don't look fine," he placed the coffee cup on the table beside you and reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "i'm really sorry, y/n"

you flinched slightly at his touch, not sure if you were ready to hear those words coming from him. the last time he apologized, it felt empty. he promised change, but it never came.

"you'd talk to her when we were together loved you at your worst but that didn't matter"

"you're sorry?" she repeated, "are you serious? you hurt me, jungwon. twice." his expression softened, guilt taking over him. "i know i messed up and i hate myself for it. i shouldn't have done those things, i was such an ass and-" "aren't you dating her now?" jungwon pauses, avoiding your eyes for a moment. "yeah but.." he muttered "i regret how we ended and what i did" you shook your head, holding back tears. "that's not how this works, jungwon. you can't just show up here, apologize, and expect things to go back to normal. did you do the same with me too? did you go up to her and apologized while you were dating me too?"

"it took you two weeks to go off and date her"

jungwon looked taken aback by your words, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for the right thing to say. "i-i didn't know how to fix it" he said, "i'm really sorry, y/n. i wasn't fair to you. i wasn't fair to either of you and i really regret it." you wanted to yell, to tell him how much he hurt you, how much you cried when you found out about him and her, but all of that felt like it would break you even more. no, he wasn’t the boy you once knew, the boy you once loved. he changed. "i'm done talking. goodbye, jungwon," you said, your voice steady but your heart aching. he didn’t respond, just nodded, turned and walked towards the door.

"guess you didn't cheat but you're still a traitor"

i wrote this in an hour bc i was so bored and its not proofread TT hope ygs like it tho ! <3

PERM TAGLiST: @woniesprincess @orimuraa @heeaara

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mollyrolls · 2 days ago

Text

stop the clock 𖦹 matsukawa i. x reader

day 8: the name drop

in collaboration with get ugly by @eggyrocks @warlocksoup

an: if you guys haven't seen my rampant screaming, eggy's new phenomenal fic get ugly is in the stc universe!!! you must go read it and give eggy love otherwise ill eat you

uquiz 𖦹 pinterest

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“You broke my heart, you know that?”

Issei calls out to the expanse of the store as he enters, foot barely past the threshold before he speaks.

“Uh, sorry?”

Suddenly, his blood runs cold. The voice coming from the desk is not the one he’s come to love, but a completely new one. He turns slowly, preparing himself for the embarrassment he will have to endure.

Sitting in her perch was a shorter guy, with a streak of blonde cutting right through his hair. He’s looking at Issei like he knows him, which is confusing because Issei’s sure this is the first time he’s seen him.

Upon seeing his face, the guy from the counter breaks into a huge grin.

“Oh my god, you must be Mattsun.”

Adjusting slightly to appear more relaxed, he gives a tentative smile.

“Uh, yeah. I am.”

The guy leans forward on his elbows, watching him like a TV show.

“How much money have you actually spent on cherries? It’s got to be like ¥4000 at this point.”

This peaks his interest significantly. He hasn’t told anyone but Makki and Suna about the cherries, because he had to explain the new business expense he’d been logging, so it must have been her.

This of course means-

“She talks about me?” He can hardly contain his glee at this news.

“Yeah. It’s not-”

Issei puts a hand up to stop the guy. He doesn’t care to hear what she’s been saying, for better or for worse. Since it’s likely worse, the knowledge that he consumes the tiniest bit of space in her brain is enough for him.

As he does so, the guy splits into a huge grin.

“You’re just like I imagined. Can I please watch you flirt? I need this for science.”

Before he can do anything, the guy behind the counter yells out to the store.

Yells her name. Something in Issei’s head starts to spin.

He wanted to know her name. So badly that he was chastised relentlessly by Makki for spending his whole shift on his phone with Suna. They had scoured every corner of her spotify account, looking for anything to identify her.

Tragically, she’d prepared for him. Her username was just a bunch of numbers, she had no profile name or picture, and all the playlists were simply numbered 1-16.

So yes, knowing her name was like fireworks sparking in his head. But this was not how he wanted to learn it. He likes that she makes him work; he wanted it to be a prize that he’d earned.

At the sound of her name, she appears behind the little isles and looks over at where they are. Issei can’t help but notice she’s in his corner. Where the cherries are.

As she makes eye contact with Issei, her facade cracks. Surprise, embarrassment, realization, embarrassment, collected, all in the span of a few seconds. She comes around to round out their circle, not really looking at Issei.

He thinks it’s weird seeing her from this angle. She’s not different, maybe a little nervous, but not enough to really change her demeanor. Yet, without the safety of her counter she looks more vulnerable.

“Is something wrong, Noya?” She asks the guy behind the counter, seemingly unprepared to handle Issei.

Noya grins cheekily, and gestures to the space between them as if inviting the show to begin. She glowers at him but he seems unaffected. Issei’s impressed; if he was on the receiving end of that glare he’d need some new pants.

Noya beams wider before turning to him again. “Cmon, let’s see it! Lay on the charm man.”

“You’re gross. And stealing from me by still being clocked in,” She bites back before Issei can even start. He just stands back and watches their exchange, like a spectator at the zoo.

Something in him is jealous of Noya and the way he can get her to shed her skin. Regardless, he takes what he can get. Despite his nasty gut feeling, he’s seeing a side of her he’s never gotten access to. What she’s like with her friends, when she’s not putting on her facade. Who his mystery girl really is.

Noya eventually concedes after being threatened short of death and is pushed out of the store. Before he disappears into the dusk, he whispers something to her that makes her eyes roll all the way to the back of her head.

She watches him turn the corner and disappear into the night, and Issei notices the steadying breaths she has to take.

Upon re-entering the store, she looks more collected. As she tucks her hands in her back pockets, she rocks a little on her feet. He looks down and notices the boots she’s sporting, and the tiniest little streak on the toe.

“So.”

His attention is brought back up when she addresses him, still swaying slightly.

“So?”

She shifts her shoulders back reflexively, like she’s ready for a fight. “You know my name now.”

He looks back at her, saying nothing. She doesn’t take the bait.

“What, you aren’t gonna berate me to death? Wax poetic about how beautiful it is and how it suits me and how when you heard it, angels sang?”

He tries to hide a smile. “Do you want me to?”

“No.”

“Then I won’t.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “What happened to you?”

He gives a tiny shrug.

“I don’t know what you mean. I’m still the same old Issei.”

Unconvinced, she glares at him a little longer. He takes it on the chin. When she presses, he stands firm.

Issei thinks she’s sorting things out in her head. He’d give her whatever she needs, even if it makes his knees a little weak, and right now that means a silent dressing down. His hands are sweaty.

“This is unnerving.” She admits after a few moments, then turns on her heel to walk back deeper into the store.

Issei waits a couple moments then follows.

“What is?”

“You.” She reaches her destination, and starts to restock his cherries.

“Haven’t I always annoyed you though?”

“Yeah. But this is different.”

She continues picking up the pots from the box, rotating them around and sliding them into their place. There’s about 20 little jars, only taking up a single shelf.

Issei lingers nearby, leaning on the doors of a fridge. His back radiates enough heat to make some condensation. “How do you mean?”

She stops for a second in contemplation; looking over her shoulder to peer at him again, turning thoughts over in her mind. She opens her mouth to say something, but closes it just as fast.

In her hesitancy, Issei notices a touch of vulnerability in her eyes. It’s hidden deep behind her irises, but he knows her now. With a blink, it’s gone.

Instead, she lets out a deep sigh, a bit of frustration and a drop of disappointment.

“I dunno. Never mind.”

“Hey, cmon.” Issei tries to probe her again, keep her talking, but she grows resolute in her decision. She quickly emits an energy that is impenetrable. He doesn’t have the tools yet to identify a crack.

He stands and waits for an opening, one that she doesn’t give. The condensation from the fridge starts to drip down his neck.

He feels a buzz in his pocket, and sees a text.

suna [9:57 pm]: ur gonna b late. get some salt while ur there, quit harassing women, and hurry up

He can’t help the small grunt of annoyance he lets out, resentment growing at everything around him.

When he looks back up, she’s staring at him in a way he’s never seen. There’s not a lack of emotion, there’s too many to sort. He expects her to glance away, and she does.

The whirr of the fridges is louder than normal.

“I’ll uh… I’ll see you around,” Issei starts, feeling oddly small. He scuffs his shoe, hoping she’ll ask him to stay, or ask him a clarifying question, or anything other than this suffocating silence. When nothing comes, he pushes off the wall and starts down the aisle.

He really does try to leave, but sometimes he can’t help himself. He pauses, and she watches.

“For what it’s worth, I think it’s lame your friend ruined that bit. It was kinda fun having the mystery.”

She takes the peace treaty gratefully, but still doesn’t speak.

“If you want, we can agree to forget it? I’ll earn it fair and square?”

There’s a little chuckle, mostly to herself, before she replies.

“Are you even capable of forgetting that?”

He laughs, somewhat from relief that he had managed to salvage whatever he’d fucked up.

“Nah, probably not. I can try though.”

She dismisses that with a wave of her hand.

“Why bother. I’ll just… put bleach in Noya’s shampoo or something.”

He grins at her, easy and open. She doesn’t return it, but stands up a bit more casually.

The unspoken words between them weigh heavy in the air, but it’s returned to a level that Issei can manage. They’re closer than he’d thought.

He realizes he’s been staring, trying and failing to place her perfume. Issei ducks his head quickly, before turning and walking out more intentionally.

Right before he reaches the door, he turns around one last time. To his surprise, he meets her eyes.

“I- I hope the concert was good. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He can’t hear her from across the store, but sees her mouth ‘bye.’

By the time he gets to work, he’s distracted. Anytime a woman tries to flirt with him, all he can think of is the melody behind her eyes, and what was going through her head.

Issei doesn’t make that many tips that night.

She’s hunched over her drawing table, various trashed doodles surrounding her. Her phone is plugged into the wall, just above 14%. It always dies faster when she’s on the phone.

“I don’t see what the big deal is?”

Seven’s voice is breathy over the speaker, she’s out in the cold. She fills in the background of her strip with haphazard crosses.

“So he’s a little dorky guy with a crush. Is he threatening?”

She lets out a half-there chuckle. “No. He likes batman band-aids.”

“So what’s the problem?”

Her pencil tip breaks from the pressure.

“I-”

Instead of sharpening it, she fishes for another.

“I think he actually likes me. Like, not as a bit.”

Over the speaker, some rock radio comes over from Seven’s side. It’s loud enough that she can hear it. It makes her cringe.

“Is that so bad?”

The response takes so long that Seven has to ask if she’s there.

“Yeah. It is.”

She hangs up before she’s faced with the next probing question.

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taglist: closed.

@bakingcuriosity, @nobodybutnnoorr, @ciderscape, @lilchubbyyy, @soulfullystarry,

@interstellarz, @wakashudou , @myromanempiree, @notverymarley, @aozui,

@lllaw,, @cnnmairoll, @cosmiicdust, @reignsaway,

@wyrcan, @garfieldissocool, @soobin1437, @guitarstringed-scars, @adorerinn,

@thiisisntlovely, @miliondollagirl, @snail-squasher, @pocketful-ofdaisies, @cherrypieyourface,

@honeekyuu, @rivaiken,

@ineednanami, @akaashislovee, @kodzu-ken

@yoshit-he-dinosaur, @thyproblem, @cupidsblonde, @little-flower30, @asthmaticcchoeee

@lunasfics, @bakery-anon, @haikyuuluverrr, @chososcamgirl, @seroh

@introvertsince2003, @thechaosoflonging, @kameyyy, @riousluvs, @totallytatum

@animenaces-world, @layskettlecookedchips, @chaotic-neutral-ig, @jadeoru, @anniewings

#haikyuu #hq #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu smau #hq smau #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu matsukawa #matsukawa x reader #matsukawa issei #matsukawa issei x reader #issei x reader #matsukawa x you #issei x you #matsukawa smau #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #mw.matsukawa issei #stop the clock

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asheli1515 · 2 days ago

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The Place You Found Me || Rafe Cameron

best!friend!reader X soft!rafe

a/n: heyyyy. I hope you like this one. I love a good 'one character is injured and the other comforts them" story. I also love writing Rafe's emotional side and him being an emotionally intelligent man so this was born. Hope ya'll are having a great holiday season!!

word count: ~3.8k (a longer one)

warnings/disclaimers: angst, fluff, brief mentions of violence, daddy issues, ward mentioned, mental health, mentions of self-harm, unhealthy coping mechanisms

summary: When a heated argument with Ward spirals out of control, Rafe vanishes without a word, leaving everyone—including his childhood best friend—in the dark. As the only person who truly knows Rafe’s complex, troubled soul, Reader immediately senses something is deeply wrong. Determined to uncover the truth, they embark on a search, while wrestling with their own fears and emotions. Will their unyielding bond be enough to bring Rafe back, or has he finally reached the breaking point that sends him beyond their reach?

masterlist

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

READER POV:

Rafe has been missing for days – three, to be exact. Everyone has been telling me that he will show back up eventually because ‘he always does this.’ However, to me, this time feels different than the others… like the dam finally broke.

It was another fight between Rafe and his father, Ward, that caused his disappearance. It must have been particularly bad this time because Ward is looking about as good as a boxer after a fight. He had a cut on his eyebrow and a bruised cheekbone, as well as bloodied knuckles that lead me to believe Rafe will have wounds that will mirror his own. The most sickening part of this is the smile on Ward's face. He is playing the part of a concerned father very poorly. I've been privy to many altercations between the father and son over the years and this is Ward's response every time. He pretends like nothing happened, like Rafe isn't falling apart in front of him, like it isn't his fault. It breaks my heart every time because I can see how broken he is but it seems like no one else can. It might be because they don't want to so that their precious reputation can remain unmarred.

I know more about the behind-the-scenes dealings of the Cameron’s because of my friendship with Rafe. It is one of the most bizarre aspects of my life because I don't even know how to explain how it happened. All I know is one day we bumped into each other at an event put on by the Cameron's for some charity or holiday. From then on, we were inseparable. Wherever I was, Rafe was not far behind. People always speculated about what we were to each other, but we never labeled it. We just knew that no one knew us like we knew each other. However, recently I have been feeling more...intense feelings toward him. I tried ignoring them for the sake of our friendship, but I definitely failed. I know that because of how my heart feels like it's being squeezed to the point of exploding. Rafe is not a stranger to reckless behavior, and I am terrified to figure out what drastic measures he might have taken after the fight. If anything happened to him, I don't know what I would do. What if he-

No, I can't think like that. He wouldn't do that to me...he couldn't. As this thought crosses my mind, a tear slips from my eye. I quickly wiped the evidence away from my cheek and head into the Cameron's house. I run into Sarah on my way to Rafe’s room. Ever since he vanished, I had made a daily routine of going to his room to try and figure out where he could have gone. I also have been going in there because I miss him desperately. I have never missed anyone this much and I don't know how to deal with it so I just sit. I sit in his room to be close to him but also in the hope that he'll show up eventually like he usually does.

“Hey, how are you holding up?” Sarah questions as we pass each other in the foyer. She looks like she has gotten about as much sleep as I have, which is none. She doesn’t like to admit it, but she really does love him and this is tearing her up inside.

“I’m okay.” I lie unconvincingly. “Ugh, no I’m not. I’m actually really scared for him. I don’t like not knowing where he is or what trouble he’s gotten himself into. I mean you know how reckless he is when his emotions are high. I-I just want him to be back here with us…me.” I finish my tangent and try to calm myself down. I can’t let my emotions get the better of me, especially not now.

She sighs and gives me a hug which I reciprocate immediately. “I know…it will be okay, alright?” She pulls back and looks me in the eyes. I can see her sincerity and it makes me relax, if only a little.

“Thank you, Sarah. I don’t know what I would do without you. You’re a really good friend and sister.” I smile but it doesn’t quite reach my eyes. “I’m going to look for him at a few places that seem promising later if you want to join.” I offer.

She shakes her head. “No, it should be you. I know we’re siblings but my bond with him couldn’t even hold a candle to yours. He’ll respond better to you.” She says matter-of-factly. The fact that she feels this way makes me feel slightly guilty. I don’t want to make her feel like I am more important to him than she is.

“Are you sure?” I ask with a slight frown.

“Yes, absolutely! I just want him back and you are our best chance of that happening.” She states. She opens her mouth again as if she was going to continue speaking but shuts it after she thinks for a moment. It was as if she was unsure if she should say whatever it was that almost came out of her mouth.

I look at her with questioning eyes. “What were you going to say?”

She looks conflicted but eventually speaks. “I can’t give you the answer you want because what I was going to say should come from Rafe. All I will say is that you know he loves you, right? Like more than I have ever seen him love anyone, even our father which is a difficult thing to accomplish.” She stops speaking when she realizes that she was rambling. “Anyway, I’ll let you get back to what you were doing. Go find him for us, yeah?” She finishes and walks out of the house and toward her car.

Her words hit me hard because I know he loves me and that's why this hurts so much. He loves me but isn't in love with me, though, that doesn't matter right now.

I need to find him and soon.

I open the door to his room and find myself sitting at the foot of his bed. I pull my knees into my chest and lean my head back on to the bedspread. I sit there for a while just observing the contents of the room that are the same as they were yesterday and the day before that. His room is clean which is unexpected given the jumbled-up mess I know his mind was in before he left. There is a bulletin board with important notes and pictures, a lot of them are either from me or I am in. This realization brings a genuine smile to my face and it's the first one I've had in days. Most people assume Rafe Cameron doesn't have a sentimental bone in his body, but he does. I've seen it first-hand but the others in Kildare never even give him a chance to show them how kind he can be. They paint him as this uncontrollable, cold monster but that's just not him.

After a while, I leave Tannyhill to go to the first location on my list. There's an overlook on the island that is usually avoided by the town’s residents because there is no railing to prevent people from falling. Rafe, however, loves it because of that fact. He likes the adrenaline of standing close to the edge and it terrifies me every time we go there but I go for him. When I get there I find it to be lacking his presence and head to the next spot on my list.

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

After hours of running around to places all over Kildare. I finally reached the last place on my list. I'm starting to lose hope of ever finding him and I hate that feeling. The feeling of never seeing somebody you care about again and there's nothing you can do to fix it.

As I approached my last chance of finding him, I pause to take it in. The building I am met with used to be a greenhouse but has long since been abandoned. Half of the roof is sunken in and the plants that were housed inside are now overgrown. Vines and grass cover most of the exterior giving the illusion of a jungle. I eventually made my way to the entrance, maneuvering under the vines growing over the front doors. Once I am inside, the darkness overwhelms me and I wait for my eyes to adjust.

Once they do, I see tables with potted plants sprawled out across them and an amount of dust that can only come with time. Eventually, in the corner of my eye, I see him... sitting against the wall across the room.

“Rafe!” I gasp quietly.

I run to his side and see the extent of his injuries immediately. He has a black eye, a busted lip, and bruised knuckles. None of it looks life threatening which puts some of my fears to rest but not all of them.

“Rafe? Hey, it’s me. Can you look at me?” I ask gently.

He looks up at me and I almost break down in tears at the brokenness I find in his eyes. He looks like he has given up and that is tearing me up inside.

“Hey…” He says softly. “You found me.”

“Yeah, I did. I know you like it here. The whole ‘beauty of destruction’ thing…how could I forget?” I say sadly.

He smiles weakly. “I knew you would find me eventually. You know me better than anyone.” He moves to face me and winces slightly due to his wounds.

“I hate that you have to see me like this…” He trails off and looks away from me like he should be embarrassed over something that Ward did.

“You shouldn’t even be hurt. This is all your dad’s fault just like it always is.” I stop when I realize that I am getting worked up over something that is not important in this moment. “Sorry, I shouldn’t say that.” I apologize to Rafe. The apology is unnecessary though because he isn’t exactly unaware of my disdain for his father. Ever since I learned about the way Ward treats him, looking at him at him made me feel sick to my stomach.

He looks at me fondly and takes my hand in his. “It’s okay…I know you don’t like him. I’m not even sure I like him most days but he’s my father, ya know?”

He absent-mindedly rubs circles on my palm with his thumb while I attempt to formulate a response.

“I know he is…I just can’t stand to see you hurting, Rafe.” I say as a tear slips down my cheek. I have been trying to keep my emotions in check these past few days but I am not sure how much longer I can keep it up.

“Hey, don’t cry. I’m okay, I promise.” He says softly as he wipes the tear from my cheek as he cups my face and makes me look at him.

I look into his eyes as more tears escape mine. “I know you are…this time. But what if you aren’t next time? I can’t do this without you, Rafe. I can’t.”

He pulls me into a hug that I can tell was needed by both of us. I needed it to prove to me that he is really here in this moment, and he needed it to keep him tethered to reality.

“You won’t have to. I promise that I am never going to leave you, okay?”

I nod into his shoulder as my face is currently buried in the crook of his neck. Something about today, this moment with Rafe, feels different. The air around us feels more charged than usual and I am scared to do anything as if moving will ruin it.

“I really missed you the past few days…a lot.” I say into his shoulder as I take a deep breath to calm myself after the stress of the days prior.

“I missed you too, sweetheart.” He sighs as he says this. “I wanted to come back but every time I thought about going back and facing my dad made it impossible to. I wanted to tell you that I was okay, but I didn’t want my dad to find me this time. I-I needed to just get away from it all. Before I knew it, it had been three days, and I realized that I needed to come back. That I had to come back for you at the very least.” He looked into my eyes then and my heart stopped beating.

The way he said those words and the way he is currently looking at me right now makes my breath hitch. His gaze is not his usual friendly one but one that holds something deeper. It makes me question if he feels for me even a little of what I feel for him.

“Rafe…” I whisper breathlessly as I don’t trust my voice to not shake if I were to speak with more force.

I don’t even know what I planned to say when his name came out of my mouth. Was I going to say something profound that would help him move on from this disastrous situation we were currently in? Or was I going to be stupid and just blurt out the fact that I loved him, that I was in love with him. Knowing me it was most likely going to be the latter.

The thought of confessing to him was absolutely terrifying but what is equally, if not more, terrifying is loving someone and never getting to tell them that fact. When he disappeared three days ago, I was sure he was going to come back. What the people in town were telling me was not far from the truth. He always came back. Then one day turned into two and two turned into three. I was so scared that three days was going to turn into some ridiculously high number and that high number would turn into forever.

I thought I wasn’t going to see him again and the part that broke me the most was the fact that I hadn’t told him how I felt…how I feel still. This whole experience has made me realize that life is too short to lie to myself about my feelings or be afraid of them not being reciprocated. Yes, there was a chance that he wouldn’t feel the same way, but I would rather take that chance than never get to tell him how I feel. I owe it to myself and Rafe to be honest. I would rather live with rejection than live with never knowing his true feelings towards me. In this moment, I decide to tell Rafe how I feel, and I am terrified.

“Rafe, I need to tell you something. I need you to listen and not say anything until I am finished, okay? I need to get this out and I don’t know if I can if you stop me.” I speak quickly as my nerves start to pick up.

He looks at with a concerned expression but agrees to what I asked of him.

“Okay…” I exhale the breath I didn’t realize that I was holding and prepare to tell him all that I have wanted to tell him for the past few months. I move my hand to the side of his face, a whisper of a touch grazing his face. I then pull my hand away to speak.

“Um, okay. To begin, I was so afraid that I had lost you the past couple of days. I know I already told you this, but I really want to emphasize that fact because I need you to understand how hopeless I have felt without you. I mean you told me about how you’ve struggled with your mental health over the years and about the fact that you are impulsive to a fault.” I stop for a moment to take a breath before continuing.

The next sentence comes out in a whisper as if saying it out loud would make it true. “I thought that…that maybe you had done something to yourself.”

“I know you wouldn’t do that to your family o-or me but I started thinking of every worst-case scenario since your fight with Ward. I know you do this when you get overwhelmed, but you usually text me within a few hours or at least by the next day. When you didn’t do that this time, I panicked. I knew it had to be different because you wouldn’t purposely leave me like that.” I reach up to caress the side of his face. I had to be as close to him as possible in this moment and I didn’t care if this action gave away the feelings that I have locked away for so long.

“Anyway, all of this has made me realize something. I have realized that life is short, and I have no idea what could happen or what tomorrow holds. I realized that I need to be honest with you about something that I haven’t even been completely honest with myself about until recently.” I take a deep breath and prepare to confess my feelings to him.

“What I’m trying to say, Rafe, is…I’m in love with you.” My voice comes out timidly and almost like I am unsure of myself. I don’t dare to look at him because I am afraid that I will be met with an expression of pity. I remove my hand from his face so that he can take in everything I had just told him. My hand is almost back at my side when he grabs it with his own and puts my hand back where it was a few moments ago. He leans into my touch and his tense muscles relax in a way that I haven’t seen in a long time.

I stop breathing

“Look at me.” He says this in such a gentle way that I almost pass out.

When I still don’t look at him, he puts his hand on my face in the same manner that my hand is on his face. I make eye contact with him and a shiver runs down my spine. The eyes that I am met with are not ones of pity, but ones filled with the most love that I have ever seen…and it’s for me.

“You have no idea how long I have wanted to hear you say that.” He breathes as his eyes well up with tears. “I have loved you ever since we first met. I didn’t know why or how it happened, but I always wanted to be around you. You were always on my mind, and it was the strangest feeling for me because I had never felt for anyone else what I do for you, sweetheart.” A tear slips down his cheek and I quickly wipe it away with my thumb.

“You quiet my mind and that is something I've strived so long for. My mind is always so loud and overwhelming but with you…” He pauses to kiss my palm. The heat of his touch lingering long after his lips leave my skin. “…with you I was finally able to just be. I was finally able to hear what really mattered.”

“I am so madly in love with you, baby. I was yours the moment I laid eyes on you, even if I hadn’t realized it yet.” I am completely dumbfounded by the words coming out of his mouth that I can’t even find my own to respond with.

“I am so sorry for leaving you without telling you where I was going. I never meant for it to go this far. I was just so overwhelmed that I couldn’t think straight. I promise that I will talk to you next time before doing anything. I don’t want you to feel like I abandoned you ever again. I am so proud of you for being honest with me, you know that? You are my reason to stay so as long as you are here, I will be too.” He finishes speaking and it sounds as if he is out of breath.

I am truly speechless. He loves me…he loves me? I never in a million years thought that Rafe could ever love me but here we are. I am still at a loss for words but luckily actions speak louder than the words I can’t seem to find.

I lean in and kiss Rafe in a gentle way to test the waters. Electricity shoots through me as he responds to my advances. The kiss was soft, tentative, and delicate. It deepened, not with urgency, but with a steady, quiet intensity—a sharing of something neither of us ever thought would be shared. Every sensation—the warmth of his skin, the faint tremor in his hands, the way our heartbeats seemed to sync—was magnified. When we finally parted, it was only by a fraction, our lips lingering close enough to feel the faintest brush of breath.

Our eyes met, and in that gaze, everything was laid bare. In this moment, I was more content than I ever have been in my entire life. It felt as if my whole future could be more than I ever thought it could be. As I looked into Rafe’s eyes, I saw a love that could never be broken, one that I wanted for so long.

Rafe loved me…he was in love with me, and I would never take that fact for granted.

“This is the best moment of my life,” I say, laughing and smiling at him. I could barely believe the events that had transpired in the past hour, but I knew I would remember them forever.

“Mine too.” He said this with such warmth that I could barely feel the cool air in the greenhouse anymore.

“Let’s get you back to your sister. She had been worried sick.” I say as I help him stand up from the floor.

“Has she now? I find that hard to believe.” He jokes as he slings an arm around my shoulders and pulls me into him. He places a kiss on the top of my head.

“Shut up! You know she loves you… in her own way.” I giggle thinking about how Sarah loves to tease him. Despite this, Rafe and I know that she cares about him more than she lets on.

As we walk out of the greenhouse and to my car, I am filled with a hope that wasn’t there before. I am excited to see what the future holds for me and Rafe but right now? Right now was enough for me.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

#obx series #obx netflix #obx fanfiction #obx fic #rafe obx #obx #soft rafe cameron #sad rafe cameron #rafe cameron #fluff #angst #rafe x reader

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w1w2 · 1 day ago

Text

Skating the Divide

Myoui Mina x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ca. 5k

Synopsis: On the ice, every move tells a story. For two skaters with opposing styles, the competition is more than just a test of skill. It’s a clash of worlds.

English isn’t my first language so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

Part 1 | Part 2 - Cracks in the Ice | Part 3 | Part 4

The tension between Y/N and Mina had been simmering since their first practice, and by the end of the week, it had reached a boiling point. The rink had become a battleground, their clashes echoing louder than their skates cutting into the ice.

They stood at the rink, catching their breaths after yet another failed attempt at the lift sequence. Mina pinched the bridge of her nose, her frustration barely contained. Y/N leaned against the edge of the rink, her hands gripping the boards tightly as if trying to keep herself from shouting.

“Let’s go again,” Mina said, her voice clipped and businesslike.

“Again?” Y/N shot her a disbelieving look. “We’ve done it a million times already. Maybe the problem isn’t me.. it’s your precious plan.”

Mina turned sharply, her gaze like ice. “The problem is that you refuse to follow it. If you would just listen—”

“Listen to what? More lectures about how I’m not good enough?” Y/N interrupted, her voice rising. Her chest heaved as she pushed off the boards and skated toward Mina. “You’ve been nitpicking every single thing I do since day one. Newsflash: I’m not a robot!”

“And thank God for that,” Mina retorted, crossing her arms. “Because if you were, we might actually make progress.”

Y/N let out a bitter laugh, throwing her hands in the air. “Oh, so now it’s all my fault? Maybe if you stopped micromanaging every second and let me breathe, we wouldn’t be stuck here.”

“I wouldn’t have to micromanage if you took this seriously,” Mina snapped, her voice cutting through the air like a blade.

That did it. Y/N’s eyes burned, her face flushing with anger. “Are you kidding me? I’m the one who’s been busting my ass trying to make this work while you stand there acting like you’re too good for all of this!”

Mina’s jaw tightened, her calm facade finally starting to crack. “I’m acting like I’m too good?” she repeated, her tone low and dangerous. “At least I know what it means to work for something instead of just hoping my charm will carry me through.”

The words hit harder than Y/N expected, and she felt a lump rise in her throat. She blinked rapidly, refusing to let Mina see the sting of her remark.

She doesn’t know anything about me, Y/N thought angrily, but her inner voice wavered. Beneath the anger, there was a flicker of doubt. Was that how Mina really saw her? As someone who didn’t deserve to be here?

Her throat felt tight, but she refused to let it show. Instead, she crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Mina. “At least I don’t skate like I have a stick up my—”

“Don’t,” Mina interrupted, her voice quiet but sharp enough to stop Y/N mid-sentence. Her gaze bore into Y/N, and for a moment, the air between them felt impossibly heavy.

Mina clenched her fists at her sides, her nails pressing into her palms as she fought to keep her composure. Y/N’s chaotic energy grated on her nerves in a way that was both infuriating and... unsettling. She told herself it was frustration, that it was the clash of their approaches to skating but she couldn’t ignore the deeper, unspoken emotion simmering beneath the surface.

It was a flicker of something she didn’t want to name, let alone acknowledge.

She doesn’t understand what’s at stake here, Mina thought, her chest tightening as familiar pressure wrapped around her like a vice. This isn’t a game. This is everything.

For Mina, skating wasn’t just a sport. It was a lifeline, a discipline that had shaped her entire existence. Every hour spent perfecting her craft, every blister and bruise, every fleeting moment of joy on the ice, it all built toward the singular goal of being the best. To win. To be untouchable.

But Y/N’s approach was the antithesis of everything Mina believed in. Her free-spirited movements and unpredictable improvisations felt like chaos wrapped in glitter. It was beautiful in its own way, but it lacked the precision Mina had spent years honing.

She doesn’t take it seriously enough, Mina thought, her gaze narrowing as she watched Y/N skate in frustration, her arms gesturing wildly as she argued. How can I rely on someone who doesn’t understand that perfection isn’t optional?

And yet, as she looked at Y/N, standing there with her hands on her hips, her eyes blazing with determination, Mina felt a pang of something foreign.

How does she do that? Mina wondered, her mind briefly slipping from its carefully controlled script. Y/N’s defiance wasn’t just loud, it was fearless. She made mistakes and brushed them off like they didn’t matter, and she skated with a freedom Mina hadn’t felt in years.

For a fleeting moment, Mina envied her. Envied the way she seemed to embrace imperfection, to pour herself into the ice without fear of judgment. But that thought was dangerous. It lingered in the shadows of her mind like a whisper she refused to hear.

That kind of thinking wouldn’t win championships, Mina reminded herself firmly, forcing her gaze to harden. There was no room for freedom. No room for chaos. Only discipline and control. Y/N’s heart pounded as she stared at Mina, her chest tight with frustration. She hated the way Mina always seemed so calm, so composed, like nothing could touch her. It made Y/N feel like she was constantly playing catch-up, like no matter how hard she worked, she’d never be good enough.

Mina’s cold, clipped remarks were the worst. Each one landed like a blow, subtle but sharp, carving away at Y/N’s confidence.

How does she do that? Y/N thought bitterly, her fingers curling into fists. How can she make me feel like an amateur with just a few words?

But beneath her anger, Y/N felt an ache she didn’t want to name. Mina’s constant criticisms stirred up ghosts from her past. Memories of every coach, every judge, every competitor who had looked at her and told her she didn’t belong.

She thought of the rink back home, the cracked ice and the borrowed skates she had to make last for seasons at a time. Of her parents sitting in the freezing stands, cheering her on even when she placed last. Skating wasn’t just a passion for Y/N; it was survival. It was the one thing she had fought to hold on to when everything else felt out of reach.

Mina doesn’t know what it’s like, Y/N thought, bitterness creeping into her chest. She doesn’t know what it’s like to fight for every second on the ice. To always feel like you’re one mistake away from losing it all.

But there was more to it than that, wasn’t there? It wasn’t just Mina’s words that got under her skin. It was the way she carried herself, like she was untouchable. It made Y/N feel... vulnerable.

Y/N shook her head, brushing the thought away. Vulnerability wasn’t an option. She couldn’t afford to let anyone see the cracks, least of all Mina.

No way am I letting her win this. Y/N lifted her chin, her defiant glare locking onto Mina. If Mina wanted perfection, Y/N would show her something better.

They tried the lift again, Y/N’s hands firm on Mina’s waist as they prepared for the sequence. Y/N steadied herself before lifting Mina again, her knees bent with effort as she tried to match Mina’s timing. But as Mina stretched into position, Y/N’s grip slipped slightly. She tried to adjust, but their movements collided in an awkward tangle, sending Mina sliding awkwardly out of Y/N’s grasp.

Y/N let out a frustrated growl, catching herself on the edge of the rink. “This isn’t working,” she said, her voice taut with anger.

“Because you keep improvising,” Mina snapped, skating a tight circle before coming to a stop in front of Y/N. “If you would just stick to the plan—”

“Oh, here we go again with the plan!” Y/N interrupted, throwing her arms wide. “God forbid I add a little flair to this robotic routine you’ve cooked up.”

“This isn’t about flair,” Mina retorted, her voice rising ever so slightly. “This is about trust. I can’t work with someone who doesn’t take this seriously.”

Y/N froze, the words hitting her like a slap. Her mouth opened to respond, but nothing came out. For a moment, the only sound was the faint hum of the arena lights.For Mina, the words had slipped out before she could stop them, but they carried the weight of her deepest fear: failure. She couldn’t afford to lose control, not in her routine, not in her partnership, and certainly not in front of the judges.

For Y/N, the accusation cut deep, feeding into her worst insecurity: that she didn’t belong here. She skated to prove herself, to show the world she was more than an underdog. But now, those fears gnawed at her, leaving her feeling smaller than she’d ever admit.

They tried again, and again, and again. Each attempt only seemed to widen the chasm between them. Needing a moment to recharge, both were physically and emotionally drained, their movements sluggish and their tempers frayed as they stepped away for a brief respite.

As Y/N sat on the bench unlacing her skates, she muttered to herself, “I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

Mina overheard, her gaze flicking toward Y/N briefly before she turned away. “Neither can I,” she whispered under her breath, her voice barely audible.

The rink was eerily quiet that night, the usual hum of activity replaced by the soft hum of the arena lights. It was late, well past the time most skaters had gone home, but Mina and Y/N remained. Neither had planned to practice this late, but both had silently agreed to stay after their latest argument earlier in the day.

Y/N skated in slow, lazy circles at one end of the rink, her mind a storm of frustration and doubt. At the other end, Mina methodically practiced footwork, her movements precise and controlled. For a long while, they didn’t speak, the silence between them heavy but oddly comfortable in its stillness.

It was Y/N who broke the quiet.

“You’re always like this, aren’t you?” she said, her voice carrying across the empty rink.

Mina stopped mid-step, turning to face her. “Like what?”

“So... perfect.” Y/N skated closer, her tone somewhere between bitterness and curiosity. “Everything you do is so flawless, so polished. You’ve probably never even fallen in public, have you?”

Mina’s lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes narrowing. “Falling isn’t an option,” she said, her voice calm but guarded. “Not if you want to be the best.”

Y/N tilted her head, studying her. “Must be exhausting.”

The words hung in the air, heavier than Y/N intended. Mina hesitated, her usually poised expression flickering with something more vulnerable.

“What’s exhausting,” Mina said finally, her voice quieter, “is trying to make it look easy.”

Y/N blinked, surprised by the admission. “What do you mean?”

Mina sighed, gliding to the edge of the rink and resting her hands on the boards. For a moment, she didn’t speak, her gaze distant as if she were seeing something far away.

“When you’re at the top,” she said, “everyone expects you to stay there. You can’t make mistakes. You can’t show weakness. Because the moment you do...” She paused, her grip tightening on the boards. “Someone’s waiting to take your place.”

Y/N skated closer, stopping a few feet away. She hadn’t expected this. This glimpse of vulnerability from someone who always seemed so untouchable.

“That’s why you’re so hard on yourself,” Y/N said softly. “And on me.”

Mina turned her head slightly, her expression unreadable. “Perfection isn’t optional,” she said. “Not for me.”

Y/N leaned against the boards beside her, their shoulders almost touching. “Yeah, well, I wouldn’t know what that’s like,” she said with a wry smile. “Perfection’s never been an option for me. I’m just trying to survive out here.”

Mina glanced at her, the faintest trace of curiosity in her eyes. “What do you mean?”

Y/N hesitated, then exhaled deeply, her breath fogging the cold air. “I didn’t grow up like you. I didn’t have the fancy coaches or the perfect skates. I had to borrow skates that didn’t fit, patch up my gear, and hope for the best. I’d practice on this crappy little rink with cracked ice and no heat, and I’d watch videos of skaters like you, wondering how the hell I’d ever get to where you are.”

Mina listened in silence, her usual mask of composure replaced by quiet attentiveness.

“I mean, look at you,” Y/N continued, her voice tinged with both admiration and frustration. “You’ve got everything. The talent, the polish, the... the presence. People look at you and see perfection. They look at me and see some scrappy underdog who doesn’t belong.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Mina’s gaze softened, and she looked down at her hands, her fingers tracing the edge of the boards.

“You think I don’t feel like that sometimes?” she said quietly.

Y/N turned to her, surprised. “What?”

Mina’s shoulders stiffened slightly, as if bracing herself. “You think I don’t feel out of place? Like I’m just... playing a part?” Her voice wavered, just barely. “Everyone expects me to be perfect, but sometimes I feel like I’m one mistake away from proving them all wrong. From proving I’m not good enough.”

Y/N stared at her, the ice between them melting with every word. She had never seen Mina like this.. Vulnerable, human.

“You’ve got a funny way of showing it,” Y/N said softly.

Mina glanced at her, her lips curving into the faintest hint of a smile. “And you have a funny way of making me question everything I thought I knew about skating.”

They both laughed, a quiet, tentative sound that echoed in the empty rink.

For the first time since they’d been paired, the air between them felt lighter, less fraught with tension.

“So,” Y/N said, nudging Mina playfully with her shoulder. “What do you say we try again? No lectures, no rules. Just... skating.”

Mina hesitated, then nodded, her smile softening. “Just skating,” she agreed.

Together, they pushed off the boards and onto the ice. And for the first time, it felt like they were skating as partners.

The sound of their skates slicing across the ice filled the rink as Y/N and Mina attempted a particularly challenging lift for what felt like the hundredth time. The late-night practice had stretched even longer. This wasn’t just about the competition. It was about proving to each other, and perhaps themselves, that they could make this work.

“Ready?” Mina asked, her voice steady but softer than usual.

“Let’s do it,” Y/N replied, nodding as she adjusted her position.

Y/N positioned her hands firmly around Mina’s waist, her grip tense but determined. Mina bent her knees slightly, readying herself as Y/N exhaled sharply and began the lift.

For a brief moment, everything felt perfect.

But then, something shifted. Perhaps Y/N’s footing faltered, or Mina overcorrected her balance. The shift threw them into a dangerous wobble, and for a terrifying second, Mina felt herself tilting backward.

Instinct took over. Y/N tightened her hold, steadying Mina just enough to lower her to the ice safely. Mina’s feet touched the ground with a jarring thud, and she stumbled forward, clutching Y/N’s shoulders for balance.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Mina’s chest heaved as she caught her breath, her hands still gripping Y/N’s shoulders. Y/N’s hands remained steady at Mina’s waist, trembling slightly from the effort of holding her partner aloft.

“You okay?” Y/N asked, her voice low but steady, a flicker of worry in her tone.

Mina nodded, her cheeks flushed from both exertion and the unexpected closeness. “I’m fine. Thanks.”

Their eyes met briefly, the usual friction between them replaced by a tentative understanding. The adrenaline still thrummed through Mina’s veins, but it wasn’t just relief that held her in place. It was the realization that she had trusted Y/N in that moment, and Y/N hadn’t let her down.

Y/N, the chaotic whirlwind she had often dismissed, had proven herself capable, someone she could count on, even when the stakes were high. It unsettled her.

There was a fearlessness in Y/N that Mina couldn’t deny. An unwavering trust that, even in the midst of chaos, things would work out. And Y/N had trusted her in that moment. Despite all the friction between them, despite the tension and arguments, Y/N had trusted Mina to catch her.

It unsettled her. And yet... it felt right.

“You should trust me more,” Y/N said, her voice softer than Mina had ever heard it. Her breath was warm against the cold air, and a small, almost teasing smile tugged at her lips.

The words caught Mina off guard. Trust had always been a loaded concept for her. Something earned through precision, control, and discipline. Y/N embodied none of those things. But at that moment, Mina didn’t bristle. She didn’t overthink.

Instead, she smiled back. Just a little. “Maybe you should stop making that so hard,” she said, her tone lighter than usual.

It was a rare exchange for her, a moment of levity in a sea of pressure and perfection. And for the first time, Mina didn’t feel the need to guard herself.

Y/N’s hands lingered on Mina’s waist, her fingers curling slightly as she caught her breath. Her heart pounded, not just from the effort of the lift but from the realization of how easily Mina had placed her trust in her.

Mina had always seemed untouchable: cool, unyielding, and always in control. But in this moment, Y/N glimpsed something else, a vulnerability she hadn’t expected. Mina’s posture, though steady, carried a softness that spoke of trust.

For the first time, Y/N didn’t feel at odds with Mina. Instead, she saw the flickering possibility of real teamwork.

She glanced up, and her breath hitched slightly when her eyes met Mina’s. There was something unspoken in the other woman’s gaze, a softness Y/N had never seen before.

“You know,” Y/N said, breaking the silence with her usual humor, because humor was the only way she knew how to handle moments like this, “for someone who’s all about control, you’re pretty good at improvising.”

The corner of Mina’s lips twitched, a flicker of a smile that felt warmer than the rink’s frozen air. “Don’t get used to it,” she replied, but the words lacked their usual bite.

Y/N grinned, her chest lighter than it had been in days. “Oh, I don’t know. I kind of like this side of you.”

Mina exhaled softly, but she didn’t pull away immediately. Instead, she allowed Y/N a moment to regain her footing, her usual critique conspicuously absent. There was no biting comment, no impatient sigh, just a quiet acknowledgment of their shared effort.

Y/N’s heart softened. She’d spent so much time seeing Mina as a wall she had to climb, but maybe Mina wasn’t a wall at all. Maybe she was someone who understood what it meant to carry weight, even if she carried it differently than Y/N did.

They tried the lift again. This time, Y/N’s movements were measured, her hands steady as she guided Mina off the ice. Mina, in turn, adjusted seamlessly, their timing finally beginning to align. The lift wasn’t flawless, but it felt solid, closer to success than it had ever been.

By the end of the session, they were both exhausted, but the atmosphere between them had changed.

As they skated off the ice together, Y/N nudged Mina with her elbow. “Not bad, Myoui. Not bad at all.”

Mina smirked, the warmth in her eyes belying her usual cool demeanor. “You weren’t terrible either.”

It wasn’t a declaration of friendship, nor an admission of trust, but it was something. A crack in the walls they’d both built around themselves.

For the first time, they weren’t just skating partners thrown together by circumstance. They were a team.

The world outside was dark and quiet, the city lights twinkling faintly against the night sky. Y/N walked a few steps behind Mina, the tension that had previously hung between them replaced by a tentative calm. They didn’t speak until they reached the vending machines near the exit, where Mina paused, frowning slightly as she studied the options.

“What are you doing?” Y/N asked, her tone curious.

Mina glanced at her. “Getting something.”

“From this ancient thing?” Y/N stepped closer, tapping the vending machine with a grin. “It barely works. Half the time it eats your money and gives you nothing in return.”

Mina arched an eyebrow. “Sounds like someone I know.”

Y/N blinked, momentarily stunned before a laugh burst from her lips. “Wait, was that a joke? Myoui Mina, did you just try to roast me?”

Mina smirked, a barely-there expression that Y/N almost missed. “Maybe.”

“Wow.” Y/N put a hand to her chest, mock gasping. “I’m impressed. The ice queen has a sense of humor.”

Mina rolled her eyes, but the corner of her lips twitched. She turned back to the machine, pulling a few coins from her pocket. Y/N watched her select a pack of strawberry Pocky, the machine groaning as it dispensed the snack with a mechanical clunk.

“Strawberry?” Y/N asked, tilting her head.

Mina nodded. “It’s my favorite.”

“No way.” Y/N leaned over and pulled a similar pack from her bag, holding it up triumphantly. “Mine too. The superior flavor, obviously.”

Mina blinked, her gaze flicking between Y/N and the candy in her hand. For the first time, she looked genuinely surprised.

They sat together on a nearby bench, the cold air biting at their faces as they shared an unspoken truce over their mutual love of strawberry Pocky. Y/N broke the silence first.

“You’re not what I expected,” she said, leaning back against the bench.

Mina raised an eyebrow. “What did you expect?”

Y/N shrugged, biting into a stick of Pocky. “I don’t know. Someone... meaner? I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re still infuriating, but... you’ve got layers.”

Mina didn’t reply immediately. Instead, she looked down at the box in her hands, her fingers toying with the edge of the packaging. “You’re different than I thought too,” she admitted softly.

Y/N glanced at her, caught off guard by the honesty in Mina’s tone. “Yeah?”

Mina nodded, her gaze distant. “You’re... fearless. It’s frustrating sometimes, but it’s also...” She hesitated, searching for the right word. “Inspiring.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed, and she laughed lightly, trying to deflect the compliment. “Careful, Myoui. You’re starting to sound like you actually like me.”

“Don’t push it,” Mina replied, but her voice lacked its usual sharpness.

Later, as they walked to their separate cars, Y/N glanced at Mina and asked, “Do you ever do anything just... for fun? Like, outside of skating?”

Mina tilted her head slightly, the question catching her off guard. “I don’t have much time for fun.”

Y/N stopped in her tracks, turning to face her. “You’re kidding, right? No guilty pleasures? No goofy hobbies? Nothing?”

Mina hesitated, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. “I like puzzles,” she admitted reluctantly.

Y/N burst into laughter, the sound echoing in the quiet parking lot. “Puzzles? That’s adorable.”

Mina frowned, crossing her arms. “There’s nothing adorable about it. It’s logical. Strategic.”

“Sure it is,” Y/N teased, grinning. “Next time, I’m bringing you a puzzle of, like, kittens or something.”

Despite herself, Mina smiled. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re uptight,” Y/N replied with a wink.

For a moment, they stood there, the tension that had defined their partnership slowly melting away. Mina found herself charmed by Y/N’s infectious energy, her ability to find humor and joy in the smallest moments.

And for Y/N, Mina’s quiet humor and growing warmth were a revelation, a reminder that there was more to the ice queen than meets the eye.

As they parted ways, Y/N called after Mina, “Don’t let me catch you practicing without me tomorrow, okay? Team effort, remember?”

Mina paused, looking over her shoulder with a faint smile. “Only if you stop improvising.”

“No promises!” Y/N shouted, laughing as Mina rolled her eyes and walked to her car.

The night marked a turning point, not just in their partnership, but in the way they saw each other. They were still opposites in many ways, but beneath the differences, a bond was beginning to form.

A few days had passed since the tentative understanding between Y/N and Mina at their late-night practice. The air between them was still fragile, like the ice beneath their skates, and both women tread carefully. Their sessions were more productive now, but far from seamless. Y/N’s daring improvisations still clashed with Mina’s perfectionism, but there was less venom in their arguments and an unspoken effort to meet halfway.

The rest of the rink, however, was less accommodating.

It began subtly. Side glances and hushed conversations that trailed off when Y/N or Mina entered a room. At first, Y/N ignored it. She was used to being the odd one out, the wildcard in a sport dominated by elegance and precision. But as the days went on, the whispers grew louder, harder to ignore.

One day, as Y/N sat on a bench lacing her skates, the words finally pierced through her focus.

“I don’t get it,” one skater said, her voice carrying just loud enough to reach Y/N. “Why would they pair someone like her with Mina?”

“She’s going to drag her down,” another replied, the sharp edge in her tone unmistakable.

Y/N’s fingers faltered on the laces, her chest tightening. She kept her head down, pretending not to hear.

“Can you imagine?” The first voice laughed. “Mina, the queen of precision, stuck with someone who can’t even land a consistent triple loop.”

“It’s a joke,” chimed a third. “They’re only doing this doubles thing to shake things up, but pairing them together? It’s cruel to Mina.”

Y/N bit her lip, her stomach churning. She forced her fingers to keep moving, tugging at the laces with more force than necessary.

The voices continued, oblivious or uncaring that she could hear every word.

“She’s all flash and no substance. It’s embarrassing to watch.”

“Maybe they thought Mina could whip her into shape.”

“Or maybe they wanted to give Mina a challenge. You know, like a handicap,” one added with a smirk, and the group burst into laughter.

Y/N’s hands stilled. The words cut deeper than she wanted to admit. She’d always prided herself on her resilience, on not letting the opinions of others dictate her worth. But this felt different. It wasn’t just about her; it was about Mina, too.

She glanced up briefly, catching her reflection in the mirror across the room. Her usually bright eyes looked duller, weighed down by doubt. Was she really dragging Mina down? Was everyone right?

Later that day, during a break between sessions, Y/N sat alone at a table in the skaters’ lounge, nursing a lukewarm cup of coffee. The room buzzed with activity, skaters stretching, laughing, and reviewing their routines. Y/N tried to focus on the notes Mina had left her about their sequence, but her mind kept replaying the voices from the locker room.

“Hey, Y/N,” a voice called, too sweet to be genuine.

She looked up to see Nayeon, one of the more vocal skaters, sauntering over with a sly smile. Nayeon was flanked by two others, all of them radiating the kind of confidence that came from years of polished performances and unshakable scores.

“How’s it going with Mina?” Nayeon asked, leaning against the table. “Must be... challenging.”

Y/N’s jaw tightened. “We’re doing fine,” she replied, keeping her tone even.

“Really?” Nayeon raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “Because from what I hear, it sounds like she’s doing most of the work.”

One of Nayeon’s friends snickered. “I mean, she’s Mina Myoui. She can handle anything. But it must be hard, carrying all that dead weight.”

Y/N’s grip on her coffee cup tightened. “If you’ve got something to say, just say it.”

Nayeon tilted her head, pretending to consider it. “I’m just saying, doubles skating is about synergy, right? And it’s hard to have synergy when one partner’s a champion and the other... well, you know.”

The laugh that followed felt like a dagger. Y/N stood abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor.

“You don’t know anything about us,” she said, her voice low but trembling with anger.

Nayeon smirked. “Oh, I think everyone knows exactly what’s happening. You’re lucky to be skating with someone like Mina. Too bad she’s stuck with someone like you.”

The room fell quiet, the tension palpable. Y/N’s chest burned, the weight of their words pressing down on her. Without another word, she stormed out, the door slamming shut behind her.

She didn’t stop until she reached the empty rink, the cold air biting at her flushed cheeks. She needed to move, to release the storm swirling inside her.

Pacing the rink’s edge, Y/N muttered under her breath. “Lucky? Stuck with me? They don’t know anything.” Her voice cracked, and she stopped, gripping the boards tightly.

Her mind raced with doubts. Maybe they’re right. Maybe I am dragging her down. Mina’s perfect. She deserves someone who matches her, not... me.

But alongside the doubt was anger. At the skaters, at herself, and, though she hated to admit it, at Mina. She’d overheard some of Mina’s earlier comments, the veiled criticisms that had fed into her insecurities. Even if things between them had softened, Mina hadn’t gone out of her way to defend her, either.

“I’m not dead weight,” Y/N whispered fiercely, as if saying it aloud would make it true.

She stayed there for a long time, the quiet rink swallowing her frustration. When she finally moved, it was with a determination burning in her chest. If the world thought she wasn’t good enough, she’d prove them wrong. Not for Mina, not for the judges, but for herself.

#mina x reader #gg x reader #girl group imagines #kpop x fem reader #kpop imagines #twice x reader #twice imagines #mina myoui x fem reader #mina x fem reader #mina x fem!reader #myoui mina imagines

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colferpics · 2 days ago

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SNL: How Chris Colfer Ended Up on "What's Up With That?"

youtube

Article below the cut:

Sit down and take a big, mental Ooooo weeeee — it’s not like Diondre Cole will let you get a word in anyway. Chris Colfer learned this in spectacularly amusing fashion while appearing on the seventh edition of Saturday Night Live’s recurring “What Up With That?” sketch, which found the Gleeactor sandwiched between a real Paul Simon and fake Lindsey Buckingham. (The latter of whom, as always, cut his family vacation short to be there.) Teased as part of “a salute to music greats” on the show’s May 14, 2011, episode, Colfer had the honor of fulfilling the essential duties of the middle chair: silently tolerating the absurdity of how Diondre (Kenan Thompson) runs his made-for-BET program, as the host would rather disrupt his guests with elaborate song-and-dance routines than actually let them talk. While the first guest tends to get a sentence or two in — Simon briefly hypes up his new album — the second is often relegated to reaction shots while a Narnia wardrobe full of characters such as, say, “the bad boy of bluegrass” Captain Sexy Banjo and the real Buckingham materialize out of nowhere. If you’re overthinking it, just stop. “What Up With That?” was not intended for analysis.

Colfer, who had recently wrapped Glee’s phenomena of a second season, was at the right place at the right time for SNL to think of him for the cameo. Plans were canceled. Excitement ran high. It all went live in 36 hours. And he didn’t care that he had nothing to do besides cross his legs. “It’s such a special memory for me. Being a microscopic spot of SNL history is the ultimate bragging right,” he says now. “If anyone ever tries to one-up me at a party, I whip that one out, and I usually win the conversation.”

How exactly was this sketch presented to you? Were you aware that it had already become a recurring and well-oiled SNL staple of sorts? Yeah, I was. I’ve always been a huge fan of SNL, so I was familiar with the sketch and I thought it was hilarious. I was in New York City, and I had just done a live interview. I did so many interviews at the time for Glee that I can’t even remember who it was for. My publicist and I were walking down, like, 47th or 48th Street afterward, and she got a random call. It was Friday afternoon. One of SNL’s bookers had just seen me on live television and asked if I was still in the city. They said, “Can he do a cameo in tomorrow night’s episode?”And I responded, “Hell yes, absolutely.” No joke: They asked me to come in for a rehearsal immediately. So we had to clear the rest of my afternoon and went straight to Rockefeller Center. It was the easiest rehearsal I’ve ever done, because I didn’t have to do anything. I just had to sit there and be quiet. Then I went in the next day, and we did the dress rehearsal and then we did the live taping. It was magical.

Did you instinctively understand the humor? I mean, when I tell friends about my love of “What Up With That?”, what comes out of my mouth is jumbled nonsense about BET and a fake Lindsey Buckingham. It’s not the easiest thing to wrap a mind around. I did. I remember on Saturday, in between the rehearsal and the live taping, the writers came to my dressing room and said, “We want to give you a line. Let’s try this out.” And I responded, “Absolutely not. You cannot give me a line. It’s way funnier if I’m just there and I don’t say anything.” And they looked at me and said, “Well, you’re the first guest to ever say that, and thank God, because we agree.”

An excellent instinct. I can’t remember what the specific line was, but I was going to say something at the very end, and Kenan’s character was going to cut me off. But we all agreed it was funnier if I didn’t even try to talk.

So you sit down for the dress rehearsal, look to your left, and there’s Paul Simon in the chair. What was your opening line to him? It was a complete secret who was in those seats until I showed up at that rehearsal. They didn’t tell me any details until I actually arrived in the studio — I had to be escorted right on the stage to my seat. I didn’t even have a script. Well, I didn’t need one, of course, because I wasn’t saying anything. And then I turned to my left and it’s Paul Simon. And then I turned to my right, and it’s Lindsey Buckingham waiting in the wings of the set. How the heck did I get here? I couldn’t say anything. I froze. I remember thinking at that moment, Chris, do not ask any questions about Stevie Nicks or Carrie Fisher. I had to repeat that to myself over and over and over again in my head. Paul Simon probably thought I was a seat filler.

So you didn’t ask if he was a Gleek? Oh God, no. I never assume anyone knows who I am or knows where I’m from.

Was there a sense of nerves on your end before the live taping began? It’s funny, because this required the least amount of effort on my part, but I was still extremely nervous. I was nervous that I would trip on the way there. But more so than nerves, it’s just that that show is pure adrenaline. It’s chaos, but it’s organized chaos. Everyone knows exactly what they’re doing, but it’s absolutely what you would imagine: People running back and forth in the hallways, carrying props and costumes and set pieces. It was really, really neat. I still have my little Chris Colfer plaque for my dressing room.

Where do you keep it?I have an awards case, so it’s on display there. It was a gift.

For me, at least, the best part of the sketch is all of the wordless expressions taking in the absurdity of everything. Do you remember how the writers wanted you to react to certain beats? The direction that the three of us were given was: “You’re on the show with this lunatic who doesn’t let his guests talk. Look as annoyed and out of place as possible.” So that seems easy, in theory, but the hardest part was not laughing my ass off. There’s one particular moment, when Kristen Wiig does this little hoedown in the middle of the sketch while a banjo plays. Everyone in the audience was falling to pieces, and I was looking at the ceiling so I wouldn’t join them. I got to release some of the joy in that moment.

The lineage of “middle seat” people includes Mindy Kaling, Ernest Borgnine, Carrie Brownstein, Robin Williams, and Jack McBrayer. Do you see any connective tissue among you all? I feel like I would just be flattering myself trying to make a connection, so instead I’ll say we all just happened to be free at the right time and have a good sense of humor.

Who do you think would be uniquely qualified to portray a fake Chris Colfer? The only person I know who could do it is Marcia Gay Harden — with a good wig. Years ago, they were going to do an episode of Glee where something happened at McKinley High School. There was going to be this big, fake movie made about it. So we were all casting ourselves on who would play our characters in this fake movie. They had Glenn Close playing Sue Sylvester and Justin Timberlake as Matthew Morrison. So I said, “Well, Marcia Gay Harden has to play me.” It was a big joke. Unfortunately, the episode didn’t happen, but they were thinking about actually making it.

Did you go to the SNL after-party in celebration of the episode? Yes, I did, and I got to chat with Lorne Michaels for a little bit. It’s really hard to make small talk with someone with that kind of résumé. You don’t want to ask the wrong question, and you don’t want to seem like you’re too big of a fan. But I couldn’t help myself. I asked about the history of the show, his favorite sketches, and the sketches he regretted. He was very kind and open to answering everything. He did tell me I’d be back on, so I’ll hold him to it one day.

Have you ever cut a family vacation short to do a talk show? I’m sure I have. I’ve cut family vacations short for much, much less, too.

#chris colfer #vulture #interview #snl #Youtube

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gardenladysworld · 2 days ago

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Starbound hearts

Status: I'm working on it

Pairings: Neteyam x human!f!reader

Genre/Warnings: fluff, slow burn, oblivious characters, light angst, hurt/comfort, pining

Summary: In the breathtaking, untamed beauty of Pandora, two souls from different worlds find themselves drawn together against all odds. Neteyam, the dutiful future olo'eyktan of the Omaticaya clan, is bound by the expectations of his people and the traditions of his ancestors. She, a human scientist with a love for Pandora’s wonders, sees herself as an outsider, unworthy of the connection she craves.

Part 4

Tags: @nerdylawyerbanditprofessor-blog

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Part 5.: To try

Neteyam’s steps slowed as he approached the small gathering. You stood among a group of younger Na’vi, your face alight with laughter as you listened to their excited chatter. Lo’ak was at your side, leaning casually against a tree, his expression one of playful amusement as he tossed in his own comments. You fit so easily into the scene, your presence blending with theirs in a way that made Neteyam’s chest ache.

His golden eyes lingered on your wrist, catching the faint shimmer of the bracelet he had painstakingly woven for you just the day before. It wasn’t elaborate, just a simple band of beads and twine, but seeing it there, snug against your delicate skin, stirred something deep inside him. You wore it. You chose to wear it. Did you know what it meant to him? Did you feel even a fraction of what he felt for you?

Neteyam’s tail flicked restlessly as his heart battled with his mind. The warmth of your laugh reached his ears, and he felt an unbearable longing to be closer—to hear your laughter directed at him, to be the one who made you smile. But as much as his heart screamed at him to step forward, his feet remained rooted to the ground.

He couldn’t do it.

He couldn’t approach you, not like this. Not with his heart so full and his mind so heavy with doubt. What would he even say? That he loved you? That he thought about you every moment of the day? That you made him question everything he thought he knew about his place in the world?

No. He couldn’t burden you with that. Not when he had nothing to offer you in return but a life of impossibilities.

His gaze drifted back to you, his heart squeezing painfully. You looked radiant, your features glowing with happiness as you showed one of the children something in your basket. They listened intently, their wide Na’vi eyes filled with curiosity, and you met their enthusiasm with a kindness and patience that made Neteyam’s chest swell. You were so good, so naturally a part of this world despite not being Na’vi. Yet, you would always be human—a reminder of the divide that he couldn’t ignore.

And then there was Lo’ak.

Neteyam’s jaw tightened as his brother leaned closer to you, gesturing animatedly as he shared what was undoubtedly some exaggerated story. You laughed again, your hand brushing Lo’ak’s arm briefly as you steadied yourself, and Neteyam’s chest burned with something he didn’t want to name. Lo’ak had always been charming, effortlessly drawing people to him with his carefree nature. Did you see him differently? Did you—

No. He cut the thought off sharply, guilt twisting in his gut. Lo’ak was his brother, and his bond with you was one of friendship, just like yours with the rest of the family. But the doubt lingered, an unwelcome whisper that fueled his torment.

Neteyam’s fingers flexed at his sides as he took a slow, steadying breath. He wanted to step forward, to be the one by your side, to tell you everything he felt, everything he wanted. But the words caught in his throat, heavy with the weight of their impossibility. He was the future olo’eyktan, bound to his people and his duty. You were human, and their worlds were not meant to intertwine like this.

And yet...

His heart ached with the desire to find out, to take the risk, to close the gap between them. But fear held him back—fear of rejection, fear of hurting you, fear of failing his people. He couldn’t afford to be selfish, not when so much depended on him.

With a final glance at you, Neteyam turned away, his shoulders heavy as he began to walk back toward Kiri. His footsteps were slow, reluctant, as if some unseen force was pulling him back toward you, urging him to stay. But he pushed forward, each step a reminder of the distance he was determined to maintain.

What he didn’t see was the way your laughter faltered as you caught sight of him, your bright eyes softening with an emotion you couldn’t quite name. You watched him retreat, your hand brushing absently against the bracelet on your wrist, as though seeking the comfort of its presence.

Neteyam didn’t look back. He couldn’t. If he did, he feared he might lose the last shred of control he had left. So he kept walking, his heart heavy, his mind a whirlwind of regret and longing. When he reached Kiri, she was waiting, her sharp eyes taking in the tension in his frame and the sadness in his expression.

“You didn’t talk to her,” Kiri said quietly, her tone laced with both disappointment and understanding.

Neteyam shook his head, his voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t.”

Kiri frowned, her tail flicking in frustration. “You can’t keep running away from this, Neteyam.”

He didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the ground. He wanted to believe she was right, that he could find the courage to face what he felt and take the leap. But for now, all he could do was carry the weight of his love in silence, watching you from afar and hoping that, somehow, Eywa would show him the way.

The village was alive with activity as you stepped into the familiar clearing, the sounds of laughter and chatter mingling with the rustling of the forest around you. The soft morning light filtered through the towering trees, dappling everything in hues of green and gold. You smiled as a group of younger Na’vi children spotted you and eagerly called out, waving you over.

You made your way to them, your basket of supplies swaying at your side, and crouched to their level as they crowded around you. Their wide, curious eyes sparkled with excitement as you began to unpack small trinkets and colorful items you had brought from the lab—beads, threads, and other small gifts you knew they loved. Their enthusiasm was infectious, and you laughed as they each clamored to choose their favorites.

“You’re spoiling them again,” came a teasing voice from behind you. You glanced up to see Lo’ak standing a few feet away, arms crossed and his signature smirk firmly in place.

You grinned. “It’s not spoiling if they earn it,” you countered, gesturing to one of the children proudly displaying a new bead necklace. “Besides, I’m pretty sure I promised these after they helped me last time.”

Lo’ak chuckled, shaking his head as he leaned casually against a tree. “You’re going to make them expect you to show up with gifts every time.”

“And you’ll be the one to help me find more,” you shot back with a playful wink, earning an exaggerated groan from him.

The children giggled, caught between marveling at their treasures and watching the lighthearted banter between you and Lo’ak. You felt at ease, surrounded by the warmth of their laughter and the sense of belonging that had grown over the years. The Omatikaya had accepted you in ways you never thought possible, and while you knew you would always be human, moments like this made you feel like you were a part of their world.

As the group began to disperse, each child eager to show off their new trinkets to others in the village, you rose to your feet. Lo’ak remained at your side, launching into one of his wild tales that you only half-believed but fully enjoyed. You laughed as he gestured animatedly, miming some impossible feat involving an ikran and a cliff, his voice filled with mock bravado.

As he spoke, something caught your attention out of the corner of your eye—a figure standing a little ways off, near the edge of the gathering. You glanced over, and your heart skipped a beat when you saw Neteyam. He was watching, his tall frame as still as a statue, his golden eyes fixed on you. The intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down your spine, though you weren’t entirely sure why.

Neteyam had always been... different. Quieter, more composed than his brother, but no less present. Where Lo’ak’s attention was loud and boisterous, Neteyam’s was subtle—an extra glance your way during conversations, a hand extended to steady you during a climb, a gift left quietly at your side with no words spoken. He was a constant in your life, solid and dependable in a way that made you feel safe. And yet, there was something in the way he looked at you now that felt deeper, heavier, as though he were holding back something he couldn’t say.

You raised your hand slightly, an instinctive gesture, though you weren’t sure if you were about to wave or beckon him closer. Before you could decide, he turned away, his broad shoulders stiff as he walked back toward where Kiri was sitting.

A pang of something sharp and bittersweet shot through you. Disappointment? Confusion? You weren’t sure. But it left you standing there, your hand faltering mid-gesture, your heart thudding in your chest for reasons you didn’t fully understand.

“Something wrong?” Lo’ak’s voice broke through your thoughts, and you blinked, realizing you’d been staring after Neteyam.

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “Nothing.” But your eyes flicked back to where Neteyam had disappeared, and you felt a pang of unease.

Why had he turned away? He usually greeted you with his calm, steady presence, always making you feel as though your arrival was something he looked forward to. But this time, he hadn’t said a word. Had you done something wrong? Or was something else bothering him?

Your fingers brushed absently against the bracelet on your wrist—the one he had made for you. You hadn’t taken it off since he gave it to you, the simple band of beads and twine carrying more meaning than you could put into words. You glanced down at it now, your thumb tracing its patterns as your thoughts lingered on him.

Neteyam had always been different—steadier, quieter, more thoughtful than Lo’ak’s fiery energy or Kiri’s sharp wit. He had a way of making you feel seen without saying much, as though he understood you in ways no one else did. And yet, there were times when he seemed to retreat, pulling away like he was carrying a weight you couldn’t see.

This felt like one of those times.

“Hey,” Lo’ak said, snapping his fingers in front of your face slightly bending down to your level. You startled slightly, and he smirked. “You good?”

You forced a smile, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just... distracted, I guess.”

Lo’ak gave you a long look, then shrugged. “If you say so.” He gestured toward the other side of the village. “Come on, Tuk’s been waiting to show you something. You know how she gets if you take too long.”

You nodded, letting him guide you away, but your thoughts remained with Neteyam. You couldn’t shake the image of him standing there, watching you, only to turn and walk away as though you hadn’t seen him.

As Lo’ak kept talking, you glanced back one last time, hoping to catch another glimpse of him. He was gone, but the ache in your chest lingered. Whatever was troubling him, you wished he would tell you. You wanted to help, to ease whatever burden he carried—even if you didn’t fully understand it.

Part 6.: Soon

#neteyam x reader #avatar twow #avatar 2022 #james cameron avatar #avatar the way of water #neteyam x you #neteyam x human reader #neteyam sully #neteyam

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silkenwinger · 2 days ago

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lightning crashes

umm. yellowjackets lite, post plane crash (and post getting shot) johnny soap mactavish x reader.

tw for misogynistic language

part 1. read on ao3

It's a perfect time for hunting.

Ammo has to be counted by the units, the rifles rigidly cleaned until they almost shine their rustled parts. Because the rules are so strict, you’re sure it will be a successful session. A deer, maybe even a moose. The mountains are harsh, but rewarding, if one threads them with care and respect.

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

“Here,” says John, or should you say Johnny, as he brings you a heavy blanket, one of the first you found in that decrepit cabin. It’s been you, him, and ten other people for months now. You were more when the plane fell, in between bodies and steaming metal. The stench of death and fire is still clear on your mind, the aftermath clear as a polaroid picture.

You don’t remember Johnny on the plane. All you can recall from the day before everything ended was the rigid cold of the early morning when you departed and the insipid food that was served for lunch.

“Thank you,” you tell him, and he flashes you a full teeth smile. Still annoyingly white, it is.

You use the blanket to tuck in poor Aurora, another survivor who has gotten sick recently. While she shows signs of improvement and has even started eating something again, you’re worried about her condition. You hope she can recover quickly, else she might lose all strength to keep going. It has happened to two other survivors, but you can’t bear to see it again– a slow death, a complete surrender of the soul. It harms those around, too.

Climbing out of the seat, safety belt still locked in, you thought you were in hell already. You’d made your way out of the plane limping, only to be grabbed by your arms and shaken firmly– the tears had fully started to fall down by then, but at least you realized fully that you were alive. And in company, too.

Back then, it was Johnny– a super fit man whose only injury appeared to be a cut on his forehead and an inability to shut up . But while he kept screaming, hurting your ears, you realized he was trying to find as many living people as possible.

He was military, he told you later, and it was just instinct– sorry about that, lass. You simply nodded, head far removed from the situation. Mind elsewhere, and now as well the memories of the first days are quite foggy. The forest expanded like an ocean in front and behind you, all around, the mountains high in the background. There seemed to be no sign of human life, like an untouched corner of the world. Impossible, as you would discover later.

There were fifteen of you. Mostly men, four women counting you. Everyone tried to use their phones, but it was no use. No reception. The pilots were dead. So many people died. Somehow, the fire had stopped by itself: you don’t remember raining but it might as well have. Johnny and the other men had used some metal parts of the plane to make roofs, where you slept the nights away warmed by fires. Two survivors died from the wounds they suffered during the crash in the first week. You still recalled the coldness of their skin when you tried to wake them, their necks marble hard.

You’d been scared for your life, and panicking, and totally useless. A little information from your childhood, when you looked for mushrooms with your grandpa, was what you could offer. What plants were edible and which were not, but a continent away, in a man regulated environment, millennia of hunting and foraging. Here, in the wilderness, there was another set of rules in place. But you could look for signs of danger, still. And you began looking for food with the others. This, you thought, is my purpose. Gathering food.

One day, Johnny and other men had scrambled back to the crash site and yelled that there was a cabin not too far. Four great walls, a roof on top. Basically a haven. You looked up, down, sides, up and down again. Before you could hear him, Johnny slid next to you, your eyes level with the scar on the side of his head when you turned.

“Nice place, huh? And that’s not all. There’s weapons as well.”

“Really?” you beamed, and he grinned back.

“Huh-uh. Hunting rifles, of course. I bet some old man lived off the land in his last years.”

“It’s, uhm,” you stuttered, looking at the bare bones decor and the old moose head hanging on the fireplace, “a bit spartan.”

“Ha! Spartan, she says,” he laughed and you felt blood rushing to your face, “sure. It really is, uh?”

You shrugged, embarrassed. The rest of the guys shuffling in took in the place without even sending a glance your way.

It was spring back then. It’s now fall and winter is approaching. Still no sign anybody is looking for you. It’s unthinkable, really, that no signal has gone off and told the rescuers your position. Sometimes you think you're being left here on purpose, that they don’t want you back.

Or, it doesn’t want to let go of you.

You help Aurora rise a bit to make her drink water from the flask and she thanks you, still a bit breathless. You pet her hair without even thinking about it. A bit further away, just outside the cabin, someone is talking. An undertone of demand, of anger.

It’s Oliver, one of the main hunters, and Johnny. Oliver is one of those people who always seem mad. Easy to be so, here. Harder to be kind, and helpful, the way Johnny is. But it’s plain to see the reason why Oliver is always angry, boiling. He can’t handle Johnny being the de facto leader, threatened in his macho man facade. Johnny defuses, his hands up, tone firm and unafraid. Real hostage crisis experience. In comparison to the men he dealt with before, you think, guys who peaked as quarterbacks in highschool are like fussy children to him.

But also, in comparison to these men, you’re a burden and a nullity. Your weeds will die come winter, and you’ll be left with dust in your hands. Whatever is left in the cabin will finish, too. Johnny has taught you how to shoot, with a bit of remorse on your part– not enough bullets for you to really learn, you told him as much. It would be a waste, it’s much better for him to use the ammunition to hunt. He replied that you had to learn anyway. So you’d learn. The doubt remained on why he decided you should learn how to and not the others who couldn’t, but you let it go.

You remember his body pressing into yours, his hands on your arms, the squeeze of his index and thumb on them. Up, down, left, right. You could have sworn he whispered something in your ear, a question perhaps by its tone, but it went away with the wind, or maybe that’s what it was in the first place.

Johnny, for some reason that is still unknown to you, likes you. What he likes is unclear– maybe you’re his type or something, but he hasn’t pushed, or prodded, for anything more than platonic companionship. He simply talks to you, listens to your odd dreams, teaches you stuff and asks about plants.

He talks about his previous job, too.

“Used to be Special Forces,” he’d said, and your mouth hung open in the dim light of the cabin. “Secret operations against terrorism. I can’t tell you more, bonnie, even though I’m retired.” He pointed to the scars on his head, the heat coming from his body comforting at your side. Sometimes you wondered if he was making it all up, but his size and the way he handled the guns corroborated his version in your mind.

“I was in a special team, handpicked. Good lads they are. Bet they’re going to find us before anyone else,” he remarked, and you felt it again, that spike of hope in your heart. Kill it, your mind said. Think of the present only.

You exit the cabin to see what’s going on outside. Martha, clad only in a t-shirt and her leggings, is cutting wood by the side, huffing and puffing. Another chronic people-pleaser. You are friends with her, feet warming the others under the covers in the evening. She seems totally uncaring of the men arguing some feet away, and you can’t blame her.

“I’m saying we are going to fucking die here,” pleads George, always very levelheaded and unemotional. He clutches at his already ratty shirt, torn apart by branches and the incident. His eyes are focused on Johnny, glossy. The ex soldier doesn’t move an inch, apparently unaffected by the crying request.

“I agree,” says Oliver, tall in his convictions now that he’s not the only one going against the grain. Johnny shakes his head.

“You’re mental. You have no idea of what’s out there, and the further we get from the crash site the harder it is for them to find us. Besides,” he turns to nod at you and Martha with his chin, “I’m not going to abandon them.”

“They’ll be fine. You’ll be fine, right girls?” Asks Oliver, and your eyebrows wrinkle together. You’re not exactly elated to be left here, probably without any of the three rifles. Martha just keeps chopping wood. The embarrassed silence that falls is answer enough. Oliver goes red in the face, wrath coming and boiling over.

“Whatever, MacTavish. We don’t need you. I know how to shoot, and Chris was a scout. I bet there’s a town south. We will go tomorrow morning.”

“Sure, do whatever you want. But,” he squares the other two up once and for all, “you’re only taking one rifle with you.”

Oliver opens his mouth, ready to oppose, but Johnny continues.

“You’re in no danger other than some big animals. There’s three of you, keep watch at night and you’ll scare all critters anyway. You’re grown,” an hint of contempt, “and vaccinated, I hope. See what comes out of it.”

It feels like a scolding, the knowing words of someone who’s been there before. But where has he been, really? And is it really wise to send them off on their own without him?

You ask him as much when you’re washing a few clothes by the river that passes near. When you’d first found it, you were hopeful: a river always accompanied human settlements ever since civilizations started. But even retracing it, you found nothing more than rocks and plants and nature.

Johnny, who’s doing pretty much nothing but watching you wash the clothes, laughs.

“You heard them, didn’t you, bonnie? They’re strong and brave. Determined. If they think they can save us all, I say let them.” He looks down then, a bit wistful. You think he’s reminiscing on something. Maybe when he used to think he could save everyone, too? You twist the soapwort leaves between your fingers, and then brush them against a blood stain on the shirt you’re washing. It’s one of Johnny’s.

His profile comes right into your view when he sits on the bank next to you. A straight nose and thick eyebrows. Ice blue eyes that looks muted in the diminishing sunlight. His original, if a little unfashionable mohawk that has started to grow longer at its sides. A classical hero, the protagonist of the story. You dry your left hand on your jeans and pat his shoulder, tentatively. Johnny is usually cheery and headstrong, and you don’t want to see him down. He twitches at your touch, which makes you remove your hand immediately. His expression changes at that, a small wrinkle appearing on his forehead– before you can even put your hand back in the water, he shifts closer to you and leans his whole shoulder so that it touches yours. You blink at that, but don’t move. You can feel his nose on the exposed skin of your neck. An inhale.

“Johnny!” Booms a voice feet away, and your whole body moves to the side, startled. You hear Johnny barely suppress a growl. It’s Chris, the other guy who’s supposed to leave tomorrow. He’s nondescript. Doesn’t leave an impression on you, whether negative or positive, although you suppose that’s an impression, too. Chris calls out Johnny’s name one more time before the wanted man rises to his feet, ruffles your hair in the process, and sighs while he leaves for the cabin.

You keep washing the clothes. Your fingers have pruned, the movements not fast or constant enough to mitigate the cold water. Shivering, you bring your gaze to the mountains in the distance, and to the patch of forest directly under it, the tall spruces and pines shadowing the understory, the true heart of the wood. If you could cross the river, you would probably find mushrooms and plants you’ve already picked off on this side of the bank. If, if, if…

You feel a presence on your side, and while you think it’s Johnny that has returned to you, you have enough awareness to realize it isn’t so before you even look. It’s Oliver. He’s standing up, looking down at you still crouched. He says your name, like you already don’t know he wants to speak with you.

“Did you tell Johnny to remain here?” He questions, eyebrows furrowed, locks of dark hair falling over them. You don’t care for his attempt at intimidating you.

“No.”

“Then why isn’t he coming with us?”

“He told you, didn’t he? I’m not the boss of him.” You roll your eyes and keep washing the grass off someone’s pants. You think they might be Martha’s.

“Listen, bitch,” your hackles rise at that, and he gets closer, “you don’t talk to me like that. He wasn’t like this at the start, he would have come immediately. Whatever you’ve done to him made him a pussy.” His face is a splotchy red. Your instincts and your mind are at odds. The former tells you to cower and fawn, to appease an angry man. But your mind is wiser. It knows he’s no danger. So long as Johnny is around.

“Maybe it’s just a stupid idea. I’d trust the trained soldier over myself and you.” You rise to your feet and tap your wet hands with a stray rag. There’s a part of you that wishes you could be more direct in your approach, look at Oliver in the eyes, but instead you’re looking at the ground, pebbles and mud.

Martha calls for you, and you rush to put the wet clothes in the bag and get the hell out of there. He’s a bully, but you know he won’t dare to push you around the other survivors. For all his strength and character, he’s not well liked. And that’s all that matters around people, is it not?

#call of duty #cod #soap x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #if i finish this. im kissing myself on the lips. somehow #cod x reader #yours truly #john soap mactavish

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abbyzins · 2 days ago

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My Top Ghost Headcanons

mdni under the cut for minor nsfw <3

Ghost loves to dance. Especially to 1960's/1970's stuff. Think Bill Withers, ABBA, Elton John, The Beatles. He'd never tell a soul, and you'd have to beg him to dance with you at a bar or even just in your living room. But when you finally manage to drag him up, you find out that he is a shockingly good dancer. He chocks it up to being trained in hand to hand combat, which he claims is relatively similar.

Ghost has piercings. Like a lot of piercings, most of which would not be military approved if anyone out of his inner circle saw them for more than a moment. Surprisingly none are on his cock (he likes to keep that particular part of his anatomy as is.) He has his nipples pierced, his navel, septum, left nostril, tongue, and at least 12 ear piercings, spread relatively evenly between the two. All of which have some form of plain silver hoop or barbell running through them.

Ghost is a creep…Like in the most literal of ways. He’s never done anything too nasty (or illegal, because an arrest would absolutely cost him the job he values so much), but he keeps your nudes on clear view with the rest of his camera roll, like he’s daring someone to look over his shoulder. He likes to watch you sleep for fun- and not in an endearing way, in a looming over your side of the bed in his mask kind of way. He walks 10 steps behind you on the street, not because he wants to protect you, but because he wants to absolutely leer at your ass, because it’s a great ass, and pull you from behind into an alley to make out with you.

Ghost isn't conventionally attractive. He might have been, at one point, before his body was carved to hell, but he doesn't have the mostly faded, flush with the skin, conventionally sexy kind of hollywood scars. He's got deep red slashes that cause chronic pain, because they don't behave like normal skin. He has a Glasgow smile that didn't heal evenly, leaving red craters on either side of his face and the left side of his mouth ever so slightly open. Permanently. His body is covered in spiderwebs of scars and tattoos, some clearly from before he was injured, with slashes and nicks marring what were once clean lines. He's got scars on his arms and thighs that you'll never ask about, because even under the road map of trauma his body shows, the silvery white lines from his teenage years still show through. After a while they fade from view, and you can see the features that used to lay underneath the scarred skin. He doesn’t mind them anymore, and like you, has mostly stopped seeing them. (It's like loving someone with a really ugly mole, you stop seeing it after a while)

Ghost absolutely loves pet names. He'll call you anything he can think of, love, baby, princess, nothing is off the table. But the pet name that stuck, much to the confusion of everyone around you, was dolly. Neither of you had an explanation for why this stuck, you're a military woman after all. 150 pounds of pure muscle. A 5'7 attack dog who is terrifyingly good with knives and followed by the true rumor that you degloved a cadets testicle during hand to hand combat training in basic. Your call sign is Freak for gods sake, and still, to him, you're his precious dolly.

Ghost doesn't wear a mask because he's insecure about his appearance, he’s not, or because he wants to hide his scars, he doesn’t. He wears it because he doesn't want to make people uncomfortable. There was a point in his life, before he had a majority of his facial scars, that he would've never thought about covering his face, but after his first time venturing out without a mask and with a crater cut into either side of his face he decided it was something he’d never willingly do again. People stared and whispered, mothers scolded older children for looking too obviously while smaller children cried. But no one looked at him with fear that day, instead, their gazes were ones of pity, and there was nothing he hated more than being pitied.

For the first three years you knew him, Ghost's mask didn't come off in your presence. Even after you started whatever weird, dysfunctional friends with benefits thing you had, he still refused to take off the mask. He would, on incredibly rare occasion, roll it up as little as humanly possible to eat you out, but he'd stop if you looked at him for too long. A byproduct of this complete refusal to remove the full face covering, was that the two of you never kissed. It wasn't that he didn't want to kiss you...sometimes, rarely. But his aversion to removing his balaclava was stronger than the rare urge to put his lips on you. This full aversion to all things face covering removal related topics lasted into the second year of your little tryst, when, at dinner one night, he took off the mask. you didn't let him put it back on at home again.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #cod #ghost cod #task force 141 #ghost call of duty

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gingerkunoichii · 5 hours ago

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☆ Yandere Naruto Men and their Obsession with You ☆

Characters: Naruto Uzumaki, Shikamaru Nara, Sasuke Uchiha, Kakashi Hatake, Itachi Uchiha, Obito Uchiha.

Warnings: abusive relationships, control, emotional manipulation, lovebombing, obsessive crazy love, isolation, intense jealousy, violence, almost physical abuse.

His Loving Obsession • Naruto isn’t just obsessed—he’s everywhere. His sunshine demeanour means no one questions it when he’s constantly by your side, always checking in, always making sure you’re okay. But behind the smiles and laughter, there’s something darker—a need so strong it borders on suffocation. Every time you smile at someone else, every time you talk about your plans without him, his stomach twists, and that friendly grin becomes just a little tighter. • Naruto doesn’t just love you—he worships you. He remembers every little thing about you, from your favourite snack to the way you like your coffee. He’ll show up with small surprises—your favorite candy, a new book you mentioned in passing, a blanket because he noticed you shivering the other day. He’s always thinking about you, always looking for ways to make you smile. • Naruto is a master at making you feel guilty without ever outright saying it. If you spend time with someone else, his expression falls just enough to make your chest ache. “Do you really think they care about you the way I do?” There’s no malice in his voice, only a quiet vulnerability that makes your chest ache. He’s not trying to control you (or so it seems)—he just can’t bear the thought of losing you to someone who doesn’t love you as deeply as he does.

• His jealousy is weirdly explosive. If someone flirts with you, his entire demeanour shifts. The laughter stops, his voice drops, and his eyes harden. It's like he's a whole different person. He’s quick to insert himself between you and the “threat,” acting like the person speaking to you is some sort of strange pervert, making it awkward for everyone.

• Naruto’s love becomes all-consuming. His hugs are tight, his hands always on you—your waist, your arm, the small of your back. He needs the reassurance of your presence, needs to feel your warmth under his fingers. His kisses are soft but desperate, like he’s trying to pour all his feelings into every movement, whispering against your lips, “No one can take you from me, Y/N.” You're so bombarded by him that you have no space to ever question it.

His Toxic Obsession

• Shikamaru doesn’t just watch you—he studies you. Every word you say, every nervous habit, every glance you throw at someone else—it’s all meticulously catalogued in his mind. He knows you better than you know yourself, and he uses that knowledge like a weapon. When he speaks to you, it’s with a precision that leaves you reeling and self-doubting, his words cutting straight to the heart of your insecurities and desires. • He isn’t loud or obvious when he cuts people out of your life. He does it quietly, methodically, in ways you don’t notice until it’s too late. Maybe he “accidentally” forgets to tell you about a group hangout or makes plans that conveniently overlap with your commitments to others. Before you realize it, he’s the only constant in your life, the only person you can turn to. “See? It’s just us now. It’s easier this way.” • Shikamaru doesn’t need to raise his voice to control you. His calm, measured tone is enough to make you second-guess everything. “Are you sure that’s a good idea, Y/N? I mean, do what you want, but…” His words always trail off, leaving you to fill in the blanks. And when you do change your mind, he’s there with a lazy smirk, like he knew you would all along.

• When Shikamaru finally confesses, it’s not a plea—it’s a statement. “I’ve been patient with you. I’ve let you figure things out on your own, but it’s time you see what’s obvious.” His voice is low, steady, leaving no room for argument, your self-worth is so battered down from everything he's done you actually believe him, actually want to be with him.

• Shikamaru’s love is suffocating, an intricate web of manipulation and control that feels impossible to escape. But beneath the darkness, there’s an unsettling tenderness—a quiet devotion that makes you hesitate. “I only do this because I love you,” he says, his voice soft, almost vulnerable. And in those moments, you wonder if he truly believes it. If maybe, somehow, he’s convinced himself that this twisted, obsessive love is what you need.

His Unrelenting Obsession

• Sasuke’s fixation is nothing short of paralyzing. His eyes follow you everywhere, dark and unblinking, like he’s dissecting you piece by piece. It’s suffocating, the way he can hold you in place with just a look, his intensity seeping into every interaction until it feels like there’s nowhere to hide. He had never been so entranced by someone or something before you. • Sasuke wouldn’t hesitate to dismantle anything—or anyone—that threatens his control. A co-worker who’s too friendly? Suddenly, they’re fired over a baseless rumour. A friend who tries to intervene? They start receiving anonymous threats. It’s never loud or messy; it’s surgical, precise. He’s a ghost in the machine, orchestrating your isolation with a chilling efficiency that leaves you wondering if you’re imagining it when he acts the same as he always does - cool and detached. • Sasuke would make you dependent on him without you even realizing it. He’d insert himself into every aspect of your life—your confidant, your protector, your only constant. When things fall apart (because he made sure they would), he’s the one picking up the pieces, whispering, “You don’t need anyone else. I’ll take care of you.” And in your weakest moments, it feels like the truth. • If you ever try to leave him, Sasuke’s calm exterior would shatter. He wouldn’t yell or beg—he’d act. Your phone? Smashed. Your keys? Gone. Every avenue of escape meticulously closed off until the only person you can turn to is him. His voice would drop to a dangerous whisper: “Everyone has left me. You don't get to do that, Y/N.” And when he says it, it feels like a vow—a terrifying, irreversible truth. • Beneath the darkness, there’s a twisted form of love—a desperate, all-consuming need to keep you safe, to keep you his. Sasuke genuinely believes that what he’s doing is for your own good, that no one else could possibly love you the way he does. And in his mind, it’s not obsession—it’s destiny. You were meant to be his, no matter the cost.

His Devoted Obsession

• Kakashi’s tactics are subtle and insidious, cloaked in warmth and care. He’d insert himself into your life in ways that feel natural, like he’s just a dependable friend who’s always there when you need him, always appearing when things are going dire. But it’s calculated. Every comforting word, every thoughtful gesture, every perfectly timed “coincidence” is part of his plan to weave himself into the fabric of your life. “You looked a little overwhelmed, so I thought I’d step in.” • Kakashi convinces himself that his obsession is rooted in a desire to protect you, that it's normal he would be like this after everything that had happened to him throughout his life. If you’re in danger, he’s the first one there, stepping in with a calm authority that leaves no room for argument. “You don’t need to thank me. I’d do anything for you.” • His charm is his greatest weapon. He knows how to put you at ease, to make you laugh, to make you feel safe. His lazy demeanour and soft-spoken words hide the intensity of his obsession, lulling you into a false sense of security, that he would never do anything to hurt you. When he teases you, his tone is light and playful, but there’s an edge to his smile that makes your pulse quicken.

• Kakashi doesn’t need to be loud or aggressive to isolate you—he’s far too smart for that. Instead, he subtly plants doubt in your mind about the people around you. “They didn’t seem very supportive of you earlier, did they?” “Are you sure they have your best interests at heart?” His tone is so soft, so thoughtful and seemingly wise, that you don’t realize he’s slowly nudging you into relying on him alone. • He doesn’t see his actions as manipulative or controlling—they’re protective, necessary. “I can't lose you, not after losing everyone else,” he’ll say, his voice so soft and convincing that you genuinely believe him. But the truth is, Kakashi’s love is a cage, and no matter how warm and comforting it feels, it’s one you’ll never escape.

His Desperate Obsession

• He loves you so desperately, so tenderly, with full unrestrained love. It feels like you were swept off your heels by him and his intensity, the way he knew he wanted you from the beginning and the way you completely crumbled underneath him was almost pathetic. He loves you like no one has before, gifting you thoughtful things he knows you like, listening to everything you say with genuine interest. He protects you, no one bothers you whilst you're with him suddenly - and you don't quite understand. • Itachi carries the ghosts of his clan in every step, every breath, every calculated action. He’s spent his entire life sacrificing, losing everything to protect what he loves. But you? You’re something he can’t sacrifice, something he won’t. He tells himself that this time, he won’t fail, won’t let the people he loves slip through his fingers. This time, he’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe, no matter the cost. • Itachi’s protectiveness goes beyond reason. He’s already failed once, letting his clan fall under his blade for the greater good, and he refuses to fail again. He doesn’t trust the world to keep you safe, so he takes matters into his own hands. The friend who’s too nosy? Gone without a trace. The ex who tries to reach out? Shows up in the news dead. You don’t see the strings he’s pulling, the shadows he’s working in, but the world around you becomes eerily smooth, free of threats. “You’re safe with me,” he’d say, his tone so calm, so certain, that you believe him. • His obsession is fuelled by guilt as much as love. He knows he doesn’t deserve you, not after what he’s done, but that only makes him cling to you harder. You’re his second chance, his proof that he can protect something without destroying it. He doesn’t tell you this—he doesn’t want to burden you with his darkness—but every glance, every touch carries the unspoken weight of his guilt. “You make me feel human again,” he’d admit in a rare moments of vulnerability. • If you ever tried to leave, Itachi wouldn’t react with anger or desperation. His voice would stay calm, his movements controlled, but there would be a finality in his words that makes your stomach twist. one that you know you can't resist because at this point he had made himself the top of the pyramid in your life. “You don’t understand what you’re saying. The world isn’t safe for you without me.” And if you push further, he’d step closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “I’ve already lost everyone I’ve ever loved. I won’t let it happen again. Not with you.”

His Masked Obsession

• When you first meet him, when you're only friends he keeps up the guise of Tobi. Tobi is a harmless goof, all smiles and playful antics. He makes you laugh, brightens your day, and slips into your life so easily it feels natural. But Tobi isn’t real—he’s a shield, a distraction from the storm brewing beneath. Every laugh, every clumsy joke is calculated, a way to draw you closer, to make you trust him. “See? Tobi’s a good boy!” he chirps, his eyes gleaming with something darker than innocence. • As Tobi, he drowns you in affection. He remembers every little thing you like, shows up with thoughtful gifts “just because,” and tells you how much you mean to him at every opportunity. “You’re Tobi’s favourite person! No one else compares!” His voice is light, his tone warm, and it’s easy to feel safe around him. • The switch happens when you least expect it. The moment you cross a line he doesn’t like—talking to someone else for too long, brushing off his affection, or even hinting at distance—the mask shatters. His voice drops and lowers, his posture stiffens, and the playful Tobi disappears. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asks, his tone sharp and cutting. It’s a complete shift, like you’re staring into the eyes of someone you don’t recognize. • Losing Rin shattered Obito, and the thought of losing you pushes him over the edge. Every moment he isn’t with you feels like a threat, every smile you give someone else feels like a betrayal. He projects his pain onto you, his desperation spilling out in violent outbursts followed by trembling apologies. “I can’t lose you,” he growls, his hands fisting in your hair as he pulls you closer. “Not again. Not ever.” • After every outburst, Tobi returns, full of apologies and desperate affection. He showers you with gifts, clings to you like a lost puppy, and whispers tearful apologies. “Tobi’s so sorry! Tobi didn’t mean to scare you!” His voice is trembling, his hands gentle as he cups your face. He tells you how much he loves you, how he can’t live without you, how he’ll do better. • Obito’s love is suffocating, destructive, a wildfire that consumes everything in its path. He doesn’t see his violence as cruelty—it’s protection. He doesn’t see his obsession as wrong—it’s love. “I’ll destroy anyone who tries to take you from me,” he says, his voice calm but his eyes wild. “Even you, if I have to.” And in his mind, that’s not a threat—it’s a promise.

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