#there are moments when you feel genuinely sorry for him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

darlingdaisyfarm · 2 days ago

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This honestly might be a downer or stupid, but I just got fired and I am having a really hard time. I just want to bury my head in Stan's chest and sob. I was wondering if you could write how the Stan and Ford might react to the reader being suddenly fired and maybe how they'd comfort them? I'm also really excited for the next chapter of your fic!

✧˚⋆ Stan & Ford supporting you when you need it most ⋆｡♡˚

oh sweetheart, im so sorry ur going through this, holy shit. just the moment i received this ask, i knew i had to write smth when ill get free time today, because i feel so sorry for you. i hope these two old men gave u even a tiny bit of comfort, please be kind to urself right now, youre gonna get through this, i promise. sending u all my love !! stay strong please 🫂🫂

STANLEY

the thing about Stan is that he gets it. he gets the feeling of being chewed up and spat out, of having doors slam in your face, of working your ass off and still being told you’re not enough. he gets the quiet humiliation, the bitterness in the back of your throat, the way your hands shake when you try to act like it doesn’t matterm

you don’t even remember how you got here. your feet must’ve carried you through the streets, past strangers whose lives weren’t just ruined, past cars honking, past buildings that still stood while the whole world inside you had collapsed.

“hey, hey. what the hell, sweetheart, breathe, alright? you’re okay, you’re right here.” his rough but worried voice reaches you when you slam mystery shack's door open, standing in the doorway with shaking hands, red-eyed.

“i got fired, Stan. j-just gone, outta nowhere. i don’t know what to do, Stan, im so lost.” your throat burns

before you can say anything else, he's opening his arms. “c'mere.” and you don't even hesitate as you crash into him like a wave, burying your face in his chest. and he holds you, one big arm wrapping around your back, the other hand coming up to cradle the back of your head

“there we go. you don’t gotta keep it all in, sweetheart.” the words hit you harder than you expect. you're so used to holding it together, to swallowing everything down, to being strong. and Stan, who’s built himself up from nothing, who’s taken every punch life threw at him and still kept standing, he’s telling you it’s okay to break.

so you do. you bury your face in his chest and cry until you’re dizzy, until your breath stutters and shakes, until all the anger and hurt and fear bleed out of you. Stanley doesn’t rush you or tell you to stop. “let it out, sweetie, s’gonna be okay.” he holds you close tightly because he’s spent his whole life holding people who needed it more than he did.

“it’s not fair,” you gasp, clutching on his clothes.

“no, it ain’t.”

“i worked so hard.”

“i know.”

“i feel like—like nothing i do is enough—”

Stan tightens his hold, pressing his chin to the top of your head. “hey. you listen to me.” his voice turns serious. “some suit in an office makin’ a crap decision got nothing to do with who you are. they're dumb. absolute morons for lettin’ you go. betcha the whole place is gonna fall apart without you because you were the best thing about that shithole. if they couldn’t see that, then screw ‘em. they lost you. not the other way around.”

you shake your head, clenching your fists. “but—“

“no buts,” he growls and then, softer: “you're not trash just ‘cause some idiots don’t know how to treat their workers. you're not worthless just ‘cause some suits decided you were expendable. you are not nothing.”

Stan pulls back to tip your chin up, making sure you’re listening. his thumb wipes a tear off your cheek. “i mean, you still got me, sweetheart. ain’t no job in the world that could change that.” he smiles genuinely at you.

you close your eyes, giving him a tiny sad smile back. you let yourself breathe, let yourself believe it, hiding your face in his chest again. Stan's grip stays strong and unshaking, shielding you from the whole world as you cry until you’re too tired, so all what you do is sob into his chest. you’re just leaning into him, exhausted, letting him hold you up.

Stan sighs, resting his cheek against your hair. “ya ever heard the story of the biggest screw-up in New Jersey?”

you sniffle. “what?”

”lemme tell ya, kid grows up in a house that don’t want him. gets kicked out. loses every job he ever had. ends up in a broken-down shack in the middle of nowhere. total loser.”

you shift against him. “Stan—“

“but he keeps goin’. and somehow, somehow, that dumbass loser ends up with people who love him. ends up holdin’ someone who needs it. ends up tellin’ the best damn person he’s ever met that they’re gonna be okay.”

he lets you lean into him again, lets you breathe him in, lets you stay as long as you need. tells you stories about all the bosses he’s scammed just to make you laugh.

at some point, when the tears have slowed and the weight in your chest isn’t crushing anymore, Stan ruffles your hair and leans back, arms crossed.

“y’know, i could use an extra set of hands around the shack.“

you blink up at him, sniffing. “what? you. . .you want me to work here?”

“yeah, id rather have someone i actually like workin’ here instead of hiring some random kid who’s just gonna rob me blind.” his usual gruff tone is back, but his gaze is what speaks louder, soft and certain, making it obvious that you belong here.

you open your mouth, but he cuts in, pointing a finger at you. “and before ya say some crap about not bein’ good enough or whatever, shut up. i’m the boss, i decide who’s good enough, and i say it’s you.”

you let out a shaky laugh, wiping your nose. “wow, such a heartfelt offer.”

he smirks. “hey, that’s as heartfelt as it gets, sweetheart. but seriously. think about it, okay? i got a spot for ya.” Stanley is not just offering a job for you, he’s offering a place, a place where you’re wanted, where you’re needed, where you don’t have to prove yourself to anyone.

you take a deep breath, feeling lighter for the first time all day. “yeah. yeah, i’ll think about it.”

“good,” Stan smiles and ruffles your hair again. “now, wanna eat somethin’? watch a dumb movie? beat me at cards? or you want me to egg their car?” about the last thing, he's joking, probably. but if you say yes, you know he’ll do it.

STANFORD

Ford finds you sitting at the kitchen table, arms crossed on the surface, face buried in them. you haven’t moved and spoken in a while, just sat there, motionless, like a puppet with the strings cut.

he clears his throat, stepping closer. “i, ah. noticed you didn’t come in for dinner.”

you don’t respond. his brows knit together, concern creasing his forehead. he takes the seat across from you, folding his hands on the table. “would you like to talk about it?”

for a moment, nothing. then, muffled: “i got fired.” slips from your mouth. so that's what happened. Ford doesn’t say oh. doesn’t say im sorry. doesn’t say what happened? he understands you because Ford Pines knows what it is to be discarded. he knows what it is to dedicate yourself to something, only to be told you are wrong. to be shoved out, unmoored, drifting in the space between who you thought you were and who they’ve decided you are now.

he knows what it is to look down at his hands and wonder if they are still meant to build something. after being betrayed.

he frowns thoughtfully. “that was. . . rather sudden, wasn’t it?”

you nod weakly. Ford exhales through his nose, gaze sharpening, analyzing. you. your sadness. the whole situation.

“it must feel unfair.“ he doesn’t just acknowledge the loss, but the injustice of it. and it makes your throat close up.

you lift your head slightly, looking at his face. “it- it is. i tried so hard. i put so much effort into that stupid job, and now it’s just—just gone.”

Ford hums. “tell me something.” he leans forward, putting elbows on the table. “do you think your value was in the work you did?”

you blink at him, but he doesn't even let you answer. “because if that were the case, then the moment you lost that job, you would have lost all worth as a person. but that’s not true, is it?” his voice is always so calm, full of absolute certainty.

you shake your head slowly, unsurely and Ford nods, satisfied. then, after a brief pause, he stands. “wait here” you don’t have the energy to question him. you just sit, staring blankly at the tabletop, until he returns a moment later with a notebook and pen.

he places them in front of you.

you glance up, confused. “what’s this for?”

Ford takes his seat again, tapping a finger against the cover. “do me a favor, darling. write down five things about yourself that have nothing to do with your job.”

your face looks tired and skeptical. you stare at the paper. “Ford, i—“

“anything,” he says softly, smiling at you. “everything. what you love. what you’re good at. what excites you, what makes you feel something. what matters to you.”

your fingers tighten around the pen. at first, you don’t know where to start. but Ford doesn’t rush you, just patiently sits beside you.

so you write. you write about the things that make you you. and at first, it feels stupid and awkward. it starts small, your favorite books, your favorite songs, the way you love thunderstorms, the way you always make extra coffee just in case someone else wants some.

but then it gets bigger. the things you’ve created. the things you’ve learned. the times you were kind when no one was looking. the people who love you, who see you. the way you keep going, even when it’s hard

Ford watches as you write, nodding approvingly at each entry.

“now tell me: did losing your job take any of that away?”

you stare at the words. the little pieces of yourself you hadn’t even thought about in the wake of everything. softly, you shake your head

Ford’s expression gentles. “then you’re still you. and you’re still worth just as much as you were yesterday. because no job, no institution, no single event defines you.” you swallow hard. Fords voice drops lower. “you are more than what you do, more than what you produce, more than what some company decides you’re worth. you are your thoughts. your curiosity. your kindness.” he gestures to the list. “you are all of this and nothing can take that from you.”

your breath wobbles. Ford’s gaze softens further. “come here, sweetheart.“ you hesitate but only for a second, then stand and he meets you halfway, arms wrapping around you. and Ford isn’t Stanley, isn’t someone used to giving big, open, thoughtless affection. but what he lacks in ease, he makes up for in intent.

because he means this. his big hand moves up and down your back slowly. “you’re not alone in this,” he murmurs into your hair. “we’ll figure something out. and until then. . . you are still extraordinary.“ his voice is so certain, and suddenly you don’t feel quite as lost.

“th-thank you” you bury your face in his sweater, hands gripping his sleeves

“and don’t let anyone ever tell you you aren’t smart or brave or worthy enough.”

you stay there a while. until Ford gives your shoulder one last squeeze and pulls back, adjusting his glasses. “now. i assume you haven’t eaten?”

you smile at him, shaking your head. “no, wasn't in the mood.“

“come, sweetheart, let’s fix that.”

#gravity falls #gravity falls x reader #gravity falls x you #x reader #ford pines x reader #stanford pines #stan pines x reader #grunkle stan #stanley pines x you #stanley pines x reader #stanford pines x you #stanford pines x reader #stan pines smut #ford pines smut #stanley pines #stanford pines headcanons #gravity falls fanfiction #stan pines x you #ford pines x you

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jd-loves-fiction · 2 days ago

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Sorry, two requests in one go but I NEED TO GET THIS OFF MY SYSTEM OR I FORGET

Same platonic dynamic with Boothill, Welt, Jing Yuan and Blade with reader who turned into a small child all of a sudden (around 2-3 years old, so toddler)

🌑 RAAHHH FEED ME (I couldnt resist the angst sowy :)) Also am I crazy or do they all give girl dad... they all feel like girl dad's to me, expect maybe Jing Yuan 😅

✦ 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐥 ✦

Possibly the most experienced in this field actually???

Not to remind y'all of the absolute angst of his backstory, but he adopted a little kid in the past so... he's actually pretty knowledgeable when it comes to kids

Doesnt make this smooth sailing tho

Firstly, he's super confused on how this happened and how to undo it - spends so much time stressing about it that he almost forgets he has to take care of you now until you start screaming

Now that he's looking at you, oh you're so cute it should be illegal

Cuteness aggression to the max with the most self-restraint a man could possibly have (knowing he could easily seriously hurt you)

Once he accepts that his only option is waiting it out, he's focusing on making sure you're comfy

Surprisingly very in tune with your wants and needs

Overall, you'll be well taken care of with him, though the moment you're soundly asleep, memories of the past come back to haunt him, reminding him of all he lost

Though he reasons with himself that the past has passed and all he can do is keep going without letting it drag him down

And you're helping him do just that ❤️

✦ 𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐭 ✦

Utterly confounded

Mostly just curious

How did this happen? Do you still have your memories? Did your brain also revert back?

But he also cant deny how freaking cute you are🥺

Very gentle, holding you close, whispering softly even if you're screaming - makes you sleepy immediately

If you start screaming incoherently he's gonna have a hard time figuring out what you need but will try his best and remain calm the whole time

Does anything you want him to, literally

Want to play dolls? He's making a cute voice and everything. Want him to read to you? Putting on the softest tone known to man and putting you to sleep before you're through the first page

This also applies to food - whatever you want to eat, he's letting you, since he knows this situation must be pretty stressful and he doesnt want you start screaming at him :(

Once it's over he probably wont mention it again to you in case you think it's embarrassing, but will keep the sweet memory close to his heart - it makes him feel fuzzy to think he could take care of you when you're so vulnerable

Also you're just so damn cute, he cant get over it 😭

✦ 𝐉𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐮𝐚𝐧 ✦

Give him a second he's gonna have to laugh about this for a while

Decent experience with teens and older children because of Yanqing and other students he's trained, but toddlers?

No clue, he's so lost

Genuinely tries to apply lion cub logic

It's the closest experience he's had to raising a kid ok?! He's trying 🥺

Probably ends up getting yelled at by Yanqing because no, human children do not work in any way similarly to lion cubs >:(

After that he's trying a little harder

He's surrounded by people who know more than him on this so he's putting you on his hip and carrying you around while he asks them what to do

Comes back to his office after and puts you down, not realizing that you're crawling over to Mimi

Nearly has a heart attack once he does realize but it's all good, Mimi's a good boy and just naps while you play with his mane

He was honestly ready to use you as an excuse to not do this work and seeing you napping with Mimi just solidifies it for him

The next time Yanqing comes by to make sure you're ok, he finds you all cuddled up on Mimi, so he leaves with a fond sigh

Jing yuan was totally awake btw

✦ 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐞 ✦

Oh sweet god he is not equipped for this AT ALL

Immediatly running to Kafka or Firefly for help (Silver Wolf is suddenly not so mysteriously absent) and they are somehow even less helpful than he is

Grumbling the whole time but does try his best to care for you

Does NOT know why you're screaming pls stop 😭

Has a surprising among of patience - he knows what children are like, so he's not blaming you for anything you do or losing it on you

He's good at keeping himself calm when the situation doesnt require him to lose his shit

Excels at... napping :)

Honest to god cant think of much else to do with you besides putting a sword in your hand, which both Kafka and Firefly scold for even thinking about

Cant really blame him, that's what his parents did and he turned out just fine :) (Note the sarcasm)

Something in his cold (literally) dead heart warms at the sight of you fumbling about and smiling sweetly at him

He never thought himself particularly inviting but he sure doesnt mind that you think so

The whole situation has him pondering his past but most of all, his humanity - what he lost of it and what he still has

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andy-15-07 · 2 days ago

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hii i read always about pedro pascal characters being grumpy towards reader and then feeling bad about it and comforting her so i just wanted to ask maybe reader being grumpy about something and being angry towards pedro himself or any of his characters and they are like confused and hurt, did they do something and then reader comforting them and shushing them that everything is okey and that they did nothing wrong, like babying them🩷🩷

Shushing the Storm

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader

Word Count: 3247 | Requests are open! (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

The wind howled outside the ramshackle shelter you’d taken refuge in, its mournful song echoing the turmoil that churned inside you. The remnants of a once-bustling world lay in ruins beyond the makeshift walls—a constant reminder of loss and struggle. Inside, however, the conflict was of another kind. It was raw, messy, and incredibly personal.

You sat at a battered wooden table, arms crossed tightly over your chest, staring daggers at Joel as he meticulously cleaned his old revolver. His normally stoic face was shadowed with an expression that seemed a blend of regret and confusion. The silence between you had stretched thin over the past few days, each passing moment weighted by words left unsaid and wounds unhealed.

“Joel,” you finally said, your voice low and edged with frustration. “Why do you always have to be so damn grumpy? I’m tired of it.”

He paused, the clink of metal against metal echoing in the quiet. Slowly, he set the gun aside and turned to you, his eyes searching yours for an answer he didn’t quite have. “I—I don’t know what you mean,” he stammered, his tone soft and uncertain, as if he were afraid any misstep might shatter something fragile between you.

“Don’t lie to me,” you snapped, the anger bubbling over. “Every time something’s off, you shut me out. You snap, you grumble, and you leave me hanging without an explanation. It’s like I’m not even here.” Your words were harsh, each syllable laced with the pent-up hurt of countless moments when you felt invisible, unwanted.

Joel’s brow furrowed, and he stepped back as if physically recoiling from the weight of your disappointment. “I—I'm sorry,” he murmured, but his apology sounded more like a reflex than genuine remorse. His voice was low, almost drowned out by the rain that began tapping against the metal roof of the shelter.

The tension in the room grew palpable. You could see the conflict in his eyes—his hardened exterior cracking just enough to reveal a vulnerable, confused man beneath. “Sorry isn’t enough, Joel,” you said sharply. “I need to know that you’re really here with me, that you care enough to try to fix this.”

He shifted his weight uneasily, running a hand through his tousled hair. “I do care,” he replied, his voice barely audible. “I just... sometimes, I can’t help it. I’ve been through hell, and sometimes, I carry that with me, even when I don’t want to.”

You softened slightly at his confession, but the anger still simmered beneath the surface. “That may be true, but I’m not your enemy,” you whispered, the bitterness in your tone giving way to genuine concern. “I’m here, Joel. I’m right here. And when you push me away, it hurts.”

Joel’s eyes dropped to the floor, shame mingling with a hurt he couldn’t quite hide. “I didn’t realize... I—I thought I was protecting you. I thought I was sparing you from my baggage,” he confessed, his words a murmur of regret.

You leaned forward, your expression softening further as you reached out a tentative hand towards him. “You’re not a burden,” you said, your voice gentle yet insistent. “You never have been. I know things are hard, and I know you’re scared sometimes. But I want to help, Joel. I want us to face this together.”

For a long, heart-stopping moment, silence stretched between you, punctuated only by the rhythm of the rain. Joel looked up at you then, eyes glistening with unshed tears and confusion. “I’m scared too,” he admitted, his voice trembling. “I’m scared of letting you in, scared that if I do, you’ll see how broken I am.”

A small, bittersweet smile tugged at your lips. “Maybe,” you said softly, “but I’d rather see that brokenness and help put it back together than never know the real you at all.”

He hesitated, his eyes searching yours for any sign of mockery or disdain, but finding only sincerity and compassion. “I don’t deserve your kindness,” he whispered, his tone laden with self-doubt.

“Shh, Joel,” you murmured, reaching out to gently brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “You do. And I’m not going anywhere.” The simple words carried the weight of your promise—a promise to be there even when things were messy, even when the storm inside him threatened to spill over.

Later that evening, as the storm outside began to wane, you found Joel sitting alone on the splintered porch of the shelter, staring blankly at the rain-soaked horizon. The world might have been falling apart, but you couldn’t bear to leave him alone with his demons any longer.

You approached quietly, settling down beside him on the creaking wooden steps. “Hey,” you said softly, nudging his shoulder with your hand. “Talk to me.”

Joel didn’t immediately respond, his eyes fixed on the distant, darkened skyline. Finally, he let out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier,” he said, his voice thick with remorse. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You turned to face him, studying the lines of exhaustion and regret that marred his face. “Joel, it’s okay,” you reassured him, placing a comforting hand over his. “I know you’re hurting, and sometimes you don’t know how to handle it. But I need you to understand that when you shut me out, it leaves me feeling alone too.”

He looked at you, the hurt in his eyes deepening. “I thought I was doing the right thing,” he murmured. “I thought I was protecting you, keeping you safe from my pain.”

“You’re protecting yourself, Joel,” you replied firmly, though your tone was gentle. “And I get that. But you have to let me in too. You’re not alone in this fight. I’m here, and I want to be part of your healing.”

There was a pause, during which the only sound was the soft murmur of the evening breeze and the distant echo of dripping water. Joel swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to your intertwined hands. “I’m just so tired,” he confessed, almost inaudibly. “Tired of pretending, tired of feeling like I’m always on the edge. Sometimes, I just... I just don’t know how to stop the storm inside.”

You squeezed his hand gently, your eyes filled with compassion. “Then let me help calm that storm,” you whispered, your voice laced with tenderness. “You don’t have to be strong all the time, Joel. It’s okay to let your guard down. I’m here to remind you that you’re not broken beyond repair.”

He chuckled softly, a sound that was more sorrow than humor. “You make it sound so simple,” he remarked, his tone bittersweet.

“It isn’t simple,” you admitted, shifting closer so that your shoulders touched. “But sometimes, even when things seem impossible, a little kindness can go a long way. I’m not trying to fix you, Joel—I’m just here to remind you that you’re loved, flaws and all.”

His eyes shimmered with unshed tears as he looked at you, a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability etched in every line of his face. “I—thank you,” he managed, his voice barely more than a whisper. “For not giving up on me.”

You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. “Never,” you promised, your voice gentle yet firm. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

The following morning, the shelter was filled with a tentative warmth. The storm had passed, leaving behind a calm that was reflected in the clear, pale light of dawn. Over a modest breakfast of canned beans and stale bread, the atmosphere was markedly lighter than it had been in the preceding days.

“Joel,” you began hesitantly, “can we talk about what happened? I don’t want us to just sweep it under the rug.”

He looked up from his cup of weak coffee, eyes filled with a cautious hope. “Of course,” he replied. “I know I’ve been... distant. I’m sorry for how I acted. I—” He paused, searching for the right words, “I’ve been carrying a lot of guilt about my past, and it sometimes makes me push you away. I don’t want to do that. I’m trying, I really am.”

You reached out, placing your hand over his, offering silent reassurance. “I appreciate that,” you said softly. “But I also need you to understand how it affects me. When you get grumpy or distant, it makes me feel like maybe I’m not enough. Like maybe you’d rather be alone than deal with my needs.”

His face fell, and for a moment, you saw the raw sting of his insecurities. “That’s not true,” he insisted, his voice shaking slightly. “You’re more than enough—if anything, you’re the reason I keep fighting. I don’t want to hurt you.”

You offered him a small, forgiving smile. “I know you don’t. And I’m not angry with you, Joel. I’m angry because I know you’re hurting, and because I care about you so much. I just wish you’d let me in more often.”

A long silence passed as he absorbed your words. Finally, he said, “Maybe I’ve been too afraid of being vulnerable. I’ve spent so long thinking that if I showed any weakness, it would all come crashing down. But… maybe it’s time I learned that it’s okay to lean on someone else.”

Your eyes shone with relief and tenderness. “It is okay,” you assured him. “Sometimes, being vulnerable is the bravest thing you can do. And I’ll be here to help carry the weight when it gets too much.”

Joel’s fingers curled around yours in a tentative grasp, as if testing the strength of the connection between you. “Promise me,” he said, his voice earnest, “that you’ll be patient with me. That even on my worst days, you won’t give up on me.”

“I promise,” you replied without hesitation. “I’m here for the long haul. Even when things get rough, I’ll always be here to shush the storm inside you and remind you that you’re safe.”

He gave a small, grateful laugh. “You really do have a way of making things seem less terrible,” he admitted, the corners of his mouth lifting ever so slightly.

“Maybe it’s because I know that sometimes, the roughest storms hide the most beautiful rainbows,” you said, your tone light but sincere. “And I believe in you, Joel—even when you can’t believe in yourself.”

As the days turned into weeks, the delicate dance between anger, hurt, and healing continued. There were still moments when Joel’s grumpiness would flare up—when memories of his past would surge forth like unwelcome ghosts—but each time, you found yourself ready to meet him with understanding instead of frustration.

One chilly evening, after a particularly difficult day scavenging for supplies in the ruins of an abandoned town, you returned to the shelter to find Joel slumped in a corner, his face obscured by shadow. The weight of unspoken words hung heavily in the air. You approached slowly, not wanting to startle him, but determined to offer the comfort he so desperately needed.

“Joel?” you asked gently, crouching beside him. “Talk to me, please.”

He looked up, eyes rimmed with tears and haunted by exhaustion. “I’m sorry,” he began, his voice cracking under the strain of emotions. “I know I’ve been a mess lately. I... I feel like I’m drowning, and I don’t know how to come up for air.”

You scooted closer, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as you spoke softly, “It’s alright. You don’t have to apologize for feeling like this. It’s okay to be scared, and it’s okay to cry.”

He leaned into your embrace, the rawness of his pain palpable. “I feel so weak, so broken,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I keep pushing everyone away because I think it’s easier than facing how much I need them.”

You pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. “You’re not weak, Joel. You’re hurting, and that’s human. It’s okay to let yourself feel it. I promise, you don’t have to carry this all by yourself.” Your words, soft and earnest, were meant to be a soothing balm to his wounded spirit.

He sniffled, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. “I’m scared that if I let you in completely, you’ll see just how damaged I am and… maybe you won’t want to stick around.”

“Joel,” you said firmly, “I’m not going anywhere. Every scar, every mistake—it all makes you who you are. And I wouldn’t trade any of it for the world because it led me to you.” You paused, your tone shifting to a tender, almost playful lilt as you added, “Besides, you’re kind of adorable when you’re trying to be all tough and mysterious. It’s like I get to be the one who gets to shush you and remind you that you’re safe.”

A hesitant smile tugged at his lips, the hint of humor breaking through the gloom. “Adorable, huh?” he teased softly, though the vulnerability in his eyes remained.

“Absolutely,” you replied, your tone light but filled with warmth. “Just promise me you’ll try to let me in a little more, okay? Even if it’s just a little bit at a time.”

“I promise,” he murmured, leaning into your embrace once more. “I’ll try. For you.”

In the weeks that followed, the shifts were subtle but profound. There were mornings when you’d catch him watching you with a softness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before, as if he was silently apologizing for all the times he’d been distant. And on days when old habits threatened to resurface, you’d gently remind him with a tender smile, “It’s okay, Joel. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He’d chuckle, a soft, self-deprecating sound. “I guess I do need reminding sometimes,” he’d say, his tone laced with a mix of amusement and gratitude.

One particularly quiet afternoon, as you both sat by a small fire outside the shelter, you found him staring into the flames, lost in thought. The dancing light painted shifting patterns on his weathered face. You settled beside him, resting your head lightly on his shoulder.

“Do you ever wonder if we’ll ever get past all this?” he asked quietly, his voice barely audible over the crackling fire.

You sighed, thoughtful. “Every day,” you admitted. “But I also believe that every storm eventually passes. And until then, we have each other. We have these moments—small, quiet moments—that remind us that even in the worst of times, there’s still hope.”

He turned to look at you, eyes softening. “You make it sound so simple,” he said, half in awe, half in disbelief.

“It isn’t simple,” you replied gently. “But sometimes, the simplest things are the most profound. Like a soft word when you’re angry, a gentle touch when you’re hurting, or a quiet reminder that you’re never truly alone.”

Joel’s gaze drifted back to the flames, and for a moment, the silence between you was comfortable—a shared understanding without the need for constant words. Then, almost shyly, he asked, “Do you really think I’m worth all this? With my baggage and my broken pieces?”

You turned to him, your eyes steady and full of certainty. “I don’t just think it, Joel—I know it. You’re worth every bit of struggle, every tear, every moment of pain, because you’re you. And I wouldn’t change a single thing about you.”

He reached out and pulled you closer, as if trying to hold onto that assurance with all his might. “Thank you,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. “Thank you for not giving up on me, even when I make it hard.”

“Never,” you promised, smoothing your hand over his hair. “I’ll always be here to shush the storm inside you, to remind you that it’s okay to be vulnerable, and that you’re loved—no matter what.”

As the fire dwindled to glowing embers, you both sat in companionable silence, the trials of the past few days melting away in the warmth of your mutual understanding. In that quiet moment, beneath a sky slowly clearing of its dark clouds, you knew that despite the scars and the struggles, there was something undeniably beautiful about the way you and Joel were learning to navigate the chaos—together.

Time moved on, as it inevitably does, carrying with it both hardship and healing. There were days when Joel’s grumpiness would creep back in, a stubborn remnant of the pain he’d carried for so long. And on those days, you’d catch him off guard with a teasing remark or a playful nudge, lightening the mood with a reminder that even the toughest exterior could be softened by a gentle touch.

One afternoon, after a long day of foraging near the outskirts of a crumbling city, you found Joel standing by the old, rusted gate of what once might have been a grand estate. The wind tousled his hair as he gazed out at the horizon, lost in his own thoughts. You approached quietly, a small smile on your lips.

“Hey, Mr. Tough Guy,” you said, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. “Remember our little promise?”

He turned slightly, a wry smile forming on his lips despite the lingering shadows in his eyes. “And what promise might that be?” he teased, though there was a softness to his tone that hadn’t been there before.

“The promise that no matter how rough things get, you’ll let me in just a little more each day,” you replied, your voice playful yet sincere.

Joel’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he pulled you into a gentle hug. “I think I can manage that,” he said, the warmth of his acceptance resonating in his tone. “Especially if you keep reminding me that it’s okay to be a little... weak sometimes.”

You laughed softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. Besides, I get to be the one who shushes all that unnecessary grumpiness with a smile.”

He shook his head, a small chuckle escaping him as he held you close. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“Maybe,” you admitted with a grin. “But I wouldn’t trade our little chaos for the world.”

In that moment, as the sun dipped low and bathed the ruined city in a golden glow, you both understood that life was a series of storms and quiet moments—a tapestry woven with threads of pain, hope, and the enduring power of compassion. And as long as you had each other to lean on, there was no storm too fierce, no wound too deep, and no darkness that couldn’t be softened by the light of understanding.

So here’s to the grumpy days, the moments of anger and hurt, and to the gentle shushing that followed—each a testament to the messy, beautiful journey of healing together. And as you and Joel continued to navigate the uncertain path ahead, you knew that every soft word, every tender touch, and every moment of vulnerability was a step towards mending not just the scars of the past, but the promise of a better tomorrow.

“I love you,” Joel murmured one evening as you both settled down to rest after a particularly hard day, his voice raw but sincere.

You smiled, your heart full. “I know. And I love you too—grumpiness, storms, and all.”

In that moment, as the last embers of the day faded into night, everything felt exactly as it should: imperfect, challenging, but undeniably real—and infinitely worth it.

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damn-stark · 23 hours ago

Note

Dae-ho tic where him and reader always sabotage each others relationships/talking stages with other people because they want each other but are afraid to say it

4 attempts

Kang Dae-ho (player 388) x fem!reader

A/N- I giggled writing this!

Warning- Angst and fluff!!

————

1st attempt-

This first sabotage was as simple as breathing. Maybe Dae-ho is being cocky, or your possible boyfriend was insecure, but it truly was a simple task. Dae-ho happened to catch that you were going to hang out at your house and he came stumbling by at your door.

“Dae-ho,” you stammer with surprise as you see him outside your door.

Said man smiles his charming smile and holds your gaze. “Hey, sorry for not calling beforehand but I was in the neighborhood and I had this,” he says as he shows off one of your favorite desserts, replacing your annoyance with temptation.

“You’re not going out right?” He follows his comment with a question he knows the answer to.

“No, but I have someone over. A date. Potential boyfriend,” you reveal, but it doesn’t bring him any surprise, he pretends to be shocked but he knows that too.

“Well I am your best friend,” he points out. “I need to meet him anyway. What harm can it bring?”

You contemplate his comment and also glance at the bag in his hand as if that delicious dessert is what is winning you over, but the truth is a part of you is relieved he’s here, interrupting this moment. You don’t let yourself accept that but you are and that part of yourself that is steps back to open the door wider so he may walk in.

When you close the door behind him your date interjects with a question as he walks over. “Who was it?”

When he makes it to the entrance of the house he comes to a sudden halt and straightens up as he sees Dae-ho at your side with a small smile that was too smug rather than friendly.

“Kang Dae-ho, her best friend,” he introduces himself and then gets closer to your date to offer him his hand.

Your date glances at his hand with his breath caught in his throat and then looks over at you with uncertainty before drawing out a deep breath and taking Dae-ho’s hand without meeting his eye.

“I am sorry for intruding,” Dae-ho doesn’t fail to be respectful as he makes himself at home right away and walks to the dining table to set his stuff down. “But I was in the neighborhood and bought some of her favorite dessert and well what friend would I be if I didn’t share?” Dae-ho says as you quickly join him while your date follows behind slowly, catching your eagerness that you failed to show him.

“However, I am sorry that I didn’t bring you any. I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” your date quickly assures him as he finally reaches the table.

Dae-ho flashes him a faint smile before he reaches in the bag and pulls out a small box and napkin and hands it to you. He doesn’t finish there though, he pulls out a drink kept inside the bag and as if expecting it, you take it without so much as looking, letting your date know for certain what he needs to do.

So by morning, just as Dae-ho wanted, your date cut all communication with you with a blunt text.

——

2nd attempt-

Failing is hardly something you did. Sure you do fail from time to time, you are only human, but it’s not something you let slide often, but today…today was one of those days. You failed horribly.

“You’re his best friend, you know him more than anyone could so tell me honestly what he's like,” Dae-ho’s date tries to interrogate you out of genuine curiosity. With no ill intent. You recognize that with the way she carries herself, the way she acts, and the way she looks at him with genuine interest and affection. Maybe that’s what makes you fail or maybe it’s what she says next

”I really like him,” she says. “I just want to know if I'm wasting my time and getting my hopes up to later get them crushed.”

Your stomach twists and irritation rushes through your veins. You don’t even take time to question yourself if you want to shatter her feelings and stomp on her illusions, that irritation takes over before you know it.

“He may be my friend but,” you pause and take a step closer to her. “I have to be honest because no one else will,” you speak with a honey-laced voice. “He’s not particularly loyal. It may seem like that now but in a couple weeks he will be texting other girls. It happened last time.”

The girl’s lashes bat as she deals with the disappoint you just hit her with and steps away as she ducks her head.

“If only I warned you before you came,” you say as you reach over and pat her hand. “Just don’t tell him I told you so.”

You finish with a sweet smile and stroke her hand before you walk out a bit too overzealous, but how could you not be?

You might have failed at containing your…burning feelings, but what you told Dae-ho’s date worked because by the next day she asked him out for coffee and ended things with him.

——

3rd attempt-

Maybe it’s the men you date, or maybe men in particular happen to be more jealous than women but don’t dare to admit it. Or maybe, just maybe, it was Dae-ho stepping over the line. Again.

Whether he meant to or not it didn’t matter. You were at the concert of your favorite artist and Dae-ho happened to be there too. It was on purpose, he happened to like that artist too so why would he miss it?

Now you were at two separate sides of the stadium, but when it came down to it, when you were drunk off the excitement, Dae-ho made his way to you and there was no stopping either of you now.

You both sang at the top of your lungs, jumped, and danced like no one was watching when someone was. Your boyfriend. He was next to you, but with Dae-ho there and stepping over the line, singing with you, and dancing too close for comfort, it’s like your boyfriend didn’t exist. He didn’t even feel like a third wheel because he felt invisible.

Or you just didn’t care about him when it came to Dae-ho. Maybe Dae-ho is all you need. He’s all you care about—no, he’s the one person you care about most in this world so no one else can even be at his level.

It was easy to see, and it was even more obvious that Dae-ho recuperated those feelings with the way he looked at you so affectionately and beamed at you so brightly. He laughs at the little things you say and can never keep his eyes off you; it’s like he’s making sure nothing or no one causes you any harm.

He may be charming and look like he could not harm a fly, but anyone could see how protective Dae-ho was without having to even bare his teeth.

Yet that’s not what sent your boyfriend fleeing, it was a smaller fact. A gesture that could mean nothing but can also mean the world. You shared a drink. You had finished yours so Dae-ho said you could drink from his cup, and that’s what hurt your boyfriend the most because he looked down at his own cup and it was still halfway full, making it just enough to share with you, but you didn’t even look his way. Not even to ask to buy some more, so when he could, he broke up with you, giving Dae-ho a win.

——

Last attempt-

If things were simple you would be able to accept your feelings. You would be happy with the person you think about the most. The one person you love more than life itself, but here you are, with makeup running down your cheeks in a restaurant after a man you hardly liked confessed to cheating on you.

Maybe you should’ve expected it. It’s karma after what you’ve done to sabotage Dae-ho’s relationship, but it didn’t stop it from hurting.

As to why your boyfriend told you in a restaurant of all places? You don’t know, but it made it worse; knowing all the people are staring, and listening in to the drama that unfolded before them.

Yet your embarrassment is not what sends you fleeing. You could have walked out when you were collected and no longer had makeup staining your cheeks, but you can’t handle the pain, you can’t contain the ball of emotions that keeps growing and makes your throat and eyes burn, so you swiftly grab all your belongings and storm out of the restaurant. In doing so, on your way out, you bump into none other than your best friend Dae-ho.

At first, he didn’t recognize you, but it does hit him once you’re out the door that it was you. So with a quick dismissive comment over his shoulder to his date, he runs after you.

Dae-ho calls out to you as you storm away with your arms wrapped around your body to keep as much warmth as possible on this winter night, but you don’t stop, so without so much as thinking about his date, he runs after you to catch up. Once he’s close enough he grabs your shoulder before you can take another step and turns you around.

When you look him in the eye and realize it’s not your boyfriend but Dae-ho, you break down into a sob. “Dae-ho,” you mewl.

Said man looks at you like he’s been wounded and grabs your shoulders. “What’s wrong? What happened?” He quickly bombards you with questions.

You sniffle and part your lips. “My boyfriend, he—he.” You can’t even finish what you’re going to say because of how choked up you get, and he doesn’t wait or pester you to finish. He immediately wraps his arms around you and hugs you against him, basking you in his warmth and comfort.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he tries to soothe you as he rubs your back. “You’re going to be okay.”

You let out another shaky sob and grip onto him so he wouldn’t let go. Neither of you proceed to utter a thing, you stand under the falling snow and let the bitterness nip at any exposed skin it can reach.

It’s only once your shoulders stop shaking and Dae-ho’s date is long gone after being forgotten, that you pull away, but he doesn’t let you stray far, he cups your jaw and holds your gaze with tenderness.

“He cheated on me,” you whisper hoarsely, making him sigh with pity.

“I’m sorry,” he says as he strokes your cheeks with the tip of his cold fingers. “He’s an asshole.”

You nod gently and sniffle again. “I don’t even know why I dated him. I didn’t even like him, but I thought maybe…just maybe it would help.”

Dae-ho blinks with confusion and he quickly he follows up on your question. “Help what?”

You avert your gaze and sniffle. Your pause lasts for a moment. It’s only when his hand falls on your shoulder and the other falls at his side that you speak up.

“Forget my feelings for you.”

A cloud of Dae-ho’s breath forms in the space past his lips as he can’t help but gasp.

“I went into that relationship knowing what I felt, but I also know that you don’t feel the same and I can’t possibly live with that so I had to forget, but he…” you trail off and slowly lift your gaze, meeting his bewildered eyes.

“Who,” he stammers and you lose all contact with him as he pulls his hand off your shoulder. “Why…why would you think I don’t have the same feeling you do? I love you,” he admits, stealing your breath and making you feel as if you’re out of this world.

“All this time,” he adds as he watches you work through your disbelief. “I was just…scared that it would ruin us. If I had known—all those dates I’ve been on…” he trails off and grabs your shoulders so you can look him in the eyes as he then continues firmly. “…If it’s true that you feel what I do, tell me and I will stop wasting my time with nobodies.”

You blink in disbelief and your lips part because of the same feelings.

It’s hard to process the fact that he shares the same love you have for him, but that fear of letting him know no longer exists. You’re just hesitant because you’re still caught in disbelief.

“I…I do,” you confess slowly, making him beam at you before he presses his forehead against yours.

“I was going to kiss you, but I think it would be wrong considering…” he doesn’t finish saying but you know he’s referring to your situation.

“Hm,” you hum and grab his face this time to press a light kiss on his lips. “For warmth.” You giggle.

He can’t stop smiling. His smile brightens as he keeps you close with the intention to not let you stray from him anymore.

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bcmbiquinn · 3 days ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/bcmbiquinn/774846876722855936?source=share

A tickle fic? Pls 🥺

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ hey anon, sorry for taking so long but here it is, hope you enjoy it, even if it’s small

Content warning: Just too adorable, proceed with caution. ♡

The dim glow of the living room lamp casts soft shadows on the walls, the only source of light as you curl up on the couch with Joe, tangled in each other like you were made to fit like this. The movie on the screen is long forgotten, replaced by slow, lingering kisses that have stolen both of your attention. His lips moved slowly against yours, his hand resting on your waist, fingertips drawing lazy circles against your skin.

Joe sighs against your lips, a sound that makes your chest feel warm and light. He tilts his head slightly, deepening the kiss. Everything about him feels gentle, his touch, the warmth of his breath, the way he holds you like he has all the time in the world.

Your fingers slid under the hem of his shirt. But the second your hand brushed against a particular spot near his ribs, he let out the tiniest giggle. A real, genuine, boyish giggle. You pulled back, blinking at him in surprise.

“Wait a second…” a slow grin stretched across your face as realisation dawned.

Joe's eyes widened. “No, don’t even think about it”

But it was too late. Your fingers darted back to his side, experimentally wiggling against his skin, he jolted, a surprised laugh escaping before he clamped his lips shut, shaking his head wildly.

“Babe, babe, no…” he gasps between fits of helpless laughter, squirming and trying to catch your hands. But it’s too late and you’re merciless.

That encouraged you. You climbed over him, straddling his lap as you launched your full attack, tickling his sides, his stomach, anywhere you could reach.

“Oh, this is golden!” You teased, digging your finger into the soft spot near his ribs that seems to be his weak point. His laughter turns breathless, almost wheezy and his hands clamp around your wrist but he’s too busy giggling to fight back properly.

He squirmed beneath you, laughter spilling out in full, uncontrolled bursts. Then…

He snorted.

“You snorted!” You shriek, laughing so hard your own stomach aches.

Joe groans, hiding his face with both hands as you finally let up, still giggling as you fall beside him. His breath is heavy, his face flushed and he’s glaring at you, though the corner of his lips are twitching like he’s trying not to smile.

You continue laughing at him. “Joe snorts when he laughs!!” You teased.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” he mutters.

”I can’t believe you snort when you laugh,” you shoot back, grinning.

“Right. Well, this has been fun,” he says dramatically, reaching for the couch pillow and tossing it at you. “I’m moving out. Leaving the country. Maybe the planet.”

You dodge the pillow easily, still giggling as you cuddle back into his side. “No, you’re not. You love me too much.”

Joseph huffs, but the way his arm wraps around you again says you’re absolutely right. After a beat, he grumbles, “You’re never gonna let this go, are you?”

You grin up at him. “Not a chance.”

He tried to glare at you, but the laughter still twitching at his lips betrayed him. And when you leaned down, pressing a teasing kiss to the tip of his nose before launching back into your tickle attack, he surrendered completely, lost in laughter, in you, in the warmth of this perfect, silly moment.

#joseph quinn #joe quinn #chocolate button eyes #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn one shot #joseph quinn fluff

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xxnashiraxx · 22 hours ago

Text

WIP Whenever 🩸

@khywren tagged, and so I shall heed the call. 😌

I'm way too excited to leave all this angst behind- so much, that I'm halfway done with Chapter 20! And it's going to be a TREAT 😏

Here's a little snippet for everyone!

On one hand… it’s almost enough. Something’s missing- his words are pretty, but still… lacking. It’s nothing more than a feeling- one she can’t quite put a name to as it flits, elusive, just outside her periphery. When she looks at him, she tries to search for it in his eyes, swallowed by the darkness that eclipses his claret irises. Her heartbeat thunders in her ears, a deafening roar that tries to drown her insight with tantalizing images of his lips on her skin, siphoning salvation from her artery like a man at the altar. It clouds every space in between, leaving her leaning slightly forward, hair falling behind her shoulder. “I want to start over,” He repeats his earlier appeal, lids drifting softly, crowding into her space with barely an inclination of his head. “My name is Astarion. I’m a vampire from Baldur’s Gate.” The spell lapses for a moment, and she snorts. “Nice to meet you,” “Stupid,” She mutters, though she can’t hide the smile trying to break free. Either she’s the fool, doomed to repeat her mistakes over and over, or he is. And if it’s the latter, he’ll be sorry. But not now… now she’ll reclaim that crown to a kingdom of ignorance- population one. “I’m Ofelia,” She says, breath catching when his fingers cover hers, mooring her to the stone beneath and keeping her from drifting off. “I’m not from Toril… and I’m possessed.” His lips twitch, trying to cover his amusement. “Hope that’s okay,” “More than, darling,” She cradles him in her eyes, oblivious to the powerlessness of her hold over him. It burrows like shrapnel, creeping closer and closer to ending his tireless charade- one she too knows nothing of… Though she’d tried to latch onto it, now it slips through her fingers into obscurity- buried where even he hopes he won’t find it. Maybe… it’ll never see the light of day again- maybe, they can both share her throne. Together. “Drink,” She petitions, more of a declaration than a question. He spares her from further objection, rising to his knees to tower over her. It’s as if she can see the moon behind him again, blue flora illuminating him with ethereal silver. “Like this?” He questions, hands hovering over her shoulders in an impression of laying her back. She shakes her head, unwilling to fully relive the experience, before turning completely from him. If… they try something different, maybe she won’t linger on memories that now hide away from the light he’s relit within. “Behind me,” She murmurs, feeling him settle around her to pull her close. A thousand emotions bubble up through her skin, flooding the surface in gooseflesh and stilted anticipation. She feels almost trapped, yet at the same time freed- the blade reflecting her acceptance and willingness to help him while flashing the side of hesitance and fear for what he may say or do in the future… The sharp edge of her wariness to trust again, coupled with her desire to surrender to it. Give in, give in, give in… But that’s how she got into this predicament in the first place. “Astarion,” A bitter taste, settling at the back of her tongue, and she sucks a breath in when he brushes the hair over her shoulder to expose the right side of her neck. “Make it hurt.”

No pressure tagging my beloveds (you can ignore if you've already been tagged in these the last couple days! I'm trying to narrow my list and not be genuinely unhinged with tags): @pinkberrytea @caffeinatedmunchkin @andromedaancunin @bby-bel-art @nerdallwritey @lanafofana @vividiana @heylittleriotact @inkymoonbunny @roguishcat @obsessedwhyyes @bloodinwine @hellethil @verbenaa @alwaysmauria @deadly-diminuendo @marlowethebard

#wip whenever #my writing #wip #with stars to fill my dream #ofelia pov #ofelia #astarion #durgstarion #fic wip #bg3 isekai #underdark shenanigans #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfic

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tinytinyblogs · 1 day ago

Note

Hi! I don’t know if you take requests but y’know how you did the yandere series w/ Stray Kids? Is it possible if you do the reverse of that? The reader the yandere and the members the victim? If it’s too much you don’t have to do it, I just thought with your writing it would be good. Have a great day/night/sleep 🧷🐣

This Is Not Love

When love isn't as sweet as they expected

Hyung line, Maknae line (coming soon)

💬 I've been away for quite a while—I know! Sorry for the delay, but I'm finally back and ready to start writing again.

Stray Kids Masterlist 1.0 & 2.0

Your insights and reactions make these posts come alive. Love reblogs, comments, and all the good vibes welcome ✨

Chan

Over time, as your yandere tendencies began to surface, Chan couldn’t help but notice the subtle shifts in your behavior. At first, it was small things—the way your eyes lingered a little too long when he talked to others, or how you’d always find excuses to be near him, even when it wasn’t necessary. Then it became more apparent: the possessive grip on his arm, the quiet jealousy when he spent time with the members, the way you seemed to always know where he was, even when he hadn’t told you. Chan, being the observant and empathetic leader he is, didn’t miss any of it. Instead of reacting with anger or fear, he felt concern. He could see the turmoil beneath your actions, the insecurity driving your need to control and cling. One evening, after a particularly intense moment where you lashed out at the thought of him being away from you, he decided it was time to address it. Gently, he took your hand, his touch warm and reassuring. His voice was soft but firm as he spoke. “I see how much you care about me, and I appreciate it. But this… this isn’t healthy. You don’t have to hold on so tightly. I’m not going anywhere.” His words were like a balm to your anxious heart, but he didn’t stop there. Chan, ever the caretaker, made it clear that he cared deeply for you. He held your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a soothing rhythm, and looked into your eyes with a mix of love and concern.

“I want to help you,” he said. “This isn’t right, and I think you know that too. But I’m here for you. I’ll be by your side while you work on this, okay? You don’t have to do it alone.” His warmth and patience began to break through the walls of your possessiveness. You could feel the sincerity in his words, the way he genuinely wanted to see you heal and grow. It wasn’t just about fixing the relationship—it was about fixing you, and he was willing to stand by you every step of the way. Chan’s unwavering support and gentle guidance started to change something in you. His kindness reminded you that love didn’t have to be about control or fear. It could be about trust, patience, and growth. And with him holding your hand, you felt like maybe, just maybe, you could learn to let go. But Chan, ever the responsible leader, didn’t let his care overshadow the need for boundaries. “I’ll always care about you,” he said, his voice steady. “But you have to promise me you’ll work on this. For yourself, and for us. I’ll be here, but you have to take the steps to fix it. Can you do that for me?” His words were a gentle push, a reminder that while he would support you, the journey to healing was yours to take. And with his hand in yours, you felt a little less afraid to start.

Minho

At first, Minho tried to brush off your possessive behavior. He noticed the way your eyes would narrow when he mentioned hanging out with friends, or how you’d always find a reason to tag along when he tried to go somewhere without you. It was strange, sure, but he figured it was just a phase—something that would pass with time. He is trying hard to understand why you act that way. Is it because you love him that much? He really wants to see it in a positive light, even though he knows something feels off about your behavior. But as the days went by, your actions became more intense. You started making excuses to keep him from meeting his friends, guilt-tripping him whenever he tried to leave, and even showing up unannounced at places you knew he’d be. It was suffocating, and Minho, who valued his independence and personal space, found himself growing more and more frustrated. One day, after you tried to stop him from meeting his friends yet again, he finally reached his limit. He turned to you, his expression a mix of annoyance and disbelief, and said bluntly, “You’re acting weird. Stop following me. I’m just meeting my friends—it’s not a big deal.” His words were sharp, but they came from a place of honesty.

Minho wasn’t one to sugarcoat things, and he couldn’t pretend your behavior was okay anymore. An argument might arise from this statement—he doesn’t like how the relationship makes him so unhappy. Shouldn't it be sweet instead of feeling this way? He didn’t like this side of you—the clinginess, the possessiveness, the way you seemed to want to control his every move. It wasn’t healthy, and he knew it. If things didn’t change, Minho made it clear that he wouldn’t stick around. He valued his freedom and his relationships with others too much to let anyone—even you—dictate how he lived his life. “If this keeps up,” he said, his tone firm but calm, “I’m stepping out. I can’t do this if it’s going to be like this.” Minho wasn’t cruel, but he wasn’t going to compromise his boundaries either. He hoped you’d understand and take steps to change, but if the situation became worse, he wouldn’t hesitate to walk away. For Minho, self-respect and peace of mind were non-negotiable, and he’d protect them—even if it meant leaving you behind. He truly believes you should work on yourself—he won't tolerate such an unsettling relationship.

Changbin

At first, Changbin found your clinginess endearing. The way you always wanted to be near him, the way your eyes lit up when he was around—it made him feel loved and protected. He even thought it was cute, smiling sweetly at you whenever you clung to his arm or insisted on spending every moment together. Since he is also the clingy type, he doesn’t mind it. “Aww, you really want me all to yourself, huh?” he’d tease, his voice warm and affectionate. But as time went on, your behavior started to shift. What once felt like sweet devotion began to feel overwhelming. You’d interrupt his gym sessions, showing up unannounced and insisting he spend time with you instead. Or you’d sabotage his studio time, making excuses to pull him away from his work. At first, Changbin tried to brush it off, telling himself it was just your way of showing love. But deep down, he couldn’t ignore the growing confusion and frustration. One day, after you interrupted yet another studio session, Changbin decided to address it. He took a deep breath, his tone gentle but firm.

“Hey, let’s trust each other, okay? I know you care about me, and I care about you too. But I need my space sometimes—to work out, to make music, to just… be me. You get that, right?” Changbin wasn’t quick to judge you. He understood that your actions came from a place of love, even if they were misguided. He didn’t want to hurt you, and he hoped that by talking things through, you’d see how important it was for both of you to have balance in the relationship. But if things didn’t improve—if your possessiveness continued to escalate—Changbin knew he’d have to take a firmer stance. He cared about you deeply, but he also cared about his own well-being and his passions. If it came to it, he’d sit you down and make everything crystal clear. “I love you,” he’d say, his voice steady but serious, “but this isn’t healthy. We need to trust each other, or this isn’t going to work.” Changbin’s heart was big, but so was his sense of self-respect. He’d give you the chance to change, to grow, but if the situation became too much to handle, he wouldn’t hesitate to set boundaries—even if it meant stepping back for the sake of both of your happiness.

Hyunjin

At first, Hyunjin found your intense love for him incredibly romantic. The way you doted on him, protected him, and made sure he felt cherished—it melted his heart. He couldn’t help but smile when you went out of your way to take care of him, showering him with attention and affection. To Hyunjin, it felt like you were showing him just how much he was worth, and it made him feel truly loved. “You really love me that much, huh?” he’d say with a soft laugh, his eyes sparkling with gratitude. But as time went on, your love began to take on a more obsessive tone. You started stalking his every move—showing up unexpectedly at his dance practices, keeping tabs on his schedule, and even monitoring his interactions with others. At first, Hyunjin tried to brush it off, telling himself it was just your way of caring. But slowly, a sense of unease crept in. He began to question whether this was normal, whether this was how love was supposed to feel. The more your behavior intensified, the more Hyunjin felt trapped. He found himself panicking, his mind racing with doubts. Is this right? Is this how a relationship should be?

He valued his freedom and his individuality, and the thought of losing them scared him. One day, when your actions crossed a line—perhaps by confronting someone he was talking to or demanding he cancel plans to be with you—Hyunjin finally reached his breaking point. His emotions spilled over in a dramatic, tearful confrontation. “I love you,” he said, his voice trembling, “but this… this isn’t okay. You can’t control me like this. I need my freedom. I need to be able to live my life without feeling like I’m being watched all the time.” Tears streamed down his face as he poured his heart out, his dramatic nature amplifying the intensity of the moment. “I care about you so much, but this isn’t how love should work. Love is supposed to make us feel safe and happy, not trapped and scared. Please… understand that.” Hyunjin’s words were raw and heartfelt, a plea for balance and understanding. He didn’t want to lose you, but he also couldn’t lose himself in the process. If things didn’t change, he knew he’d have to make the difficult decision to step back—not because he didn’t love you, but because he loved himself enough to know he deserved a love that was healthy and free.

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uracutieraka · 2 days ago

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JJK and the obnoxiously nice new girl!

Introduction

10:23 A.M.

You skin is sticky with sweat from the sweltering summer heat in Tokyo. You slightly regret your decision to wear your new school uniform, but how else was your new teacher supposed to spot you in the busy crowded market?

You wonder around to different stalls, chatting with the workers at each one.

"Y/n L/n?" a deep voice says from behind you. You jump with a small squeal at the mans sudden presence. Turning you’re met with a tall man with white hair.

"You must be Gojo! I've heard so much about you!" You have a wide smile on your face, voice sweet and excited.

"Oh? Have you now? Good things I hope!" He has a smug grin on his face as he puffs his chest out and puts his hands on his hips.

"Stop showing off to our new classmate you idiot." A girls voice tears through the small interaction.

You turn and reach your hand out to her.

"You must be Kugisaki!" Your smile is still wide and toothy, it makes her slightly cringe for a moment but then she takes your hand.

"You know my name?"

You now sport a small pout as she drops the handshake and gives you a questioning look.

"Well, yeah, I learned all your names before coming here." Your eyes drift from her as two boys walk up behind her, one of them slinging his arm over her shoulder and leaning against her.

"You must be Fushiguro?" You now extend your arm out to the other boy, who remained stoic. He nods and shakes your hand.

Finally you turn to the other boy who's now fighting with Kugisaki.

"And you're Itadori!" He now turns to you with a smile wider than yours.

"The one and only!" He takes your hand and shakes it vigorously.

"Woah!" You say with a giggle at his excitement. Arm being pulled up and down quickly.

"Itadori!," The short haired girl grabs at his arm to make him stop, sending you an apologetic look. "Sorry, he's, uhm, for lack of better words special."

You laugh as they go back to arguing.

"So, what'dya think of Japan so far?" The teacher now slings his arm over your shoulder and leans down so his face is next to yours.

"Hmm, it's hot. Not hotter than summers back home, and the language barrier is kind of difficult." A small frown settles on your face. He leans back up and his hand gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze, his lips drawn tightly together.

"Yeah, but don't worry, it'll get easier over time."

You beam up at him and nod in agreeance.

12:17 P.M.

The walk to the school was long and you seriously regretted your shoe choice. Finally you approach the large gate and stare in awe.

The pink haired boy runs in front of you and grabs your wrist.

"Come on! We'll show you around!" His voice is loud and his grip is tight, but you don’t mind.

He starts pulling you behind him and it’s only then you start to care. He’s fast, like really extremely fast.

The other two first years are following behind the two of you and yelling for him to slow down, it’s only when Itadori hears his name being said by a deep voice that he stops.

You trip over your own foot trying to not run into him and it causes you to fall. Skirt flying up in the process. Kugisaki is quick to rush over and pull it back down for you, but you just stay laying face first on the hard ground. Too embarrassed to look up at the group of people now surrounding you. “Yuji! What the hell dude!” The brown haired girl yells up at him, he’s already profusely apologizing for the mistake. It’s only when you feel yourself get lifted off the ground that you force your eyes open to asses the situation.

“Are you okay?” You turn around to be met with a panda bear. Then look behind him to see a white haired boy and a girl with glasses. Heat has now completely settled across your body. Embarrassed for showing your intimates to this new group of people.

“L/n, I am so genuinely sorry! Please let me make it up to you!” You make eye contact with him and his eyes are wide and face is beet red. You sigh and dust yourself off, letting a small smile settle on your face.

"It's okay, accidents happen!," His face relaxes a bit but it's short lived as the girl with glasses flicks his forehead. You cringe but decide to further lighten the mood. "Now that everyones seen my underwear, I guess I have no reason to be nervous!" You chuckle a bit at the thought.

Kugaski pouts before turning back to the boy who started this whole mess and scowls.

"Y'know Itadori, you're lucky L/n's so nice. Otherwise I'd beat your ass."

The two of them yet again begin fighting, you watch with a small smile before a large paw rests on your shoulder. Heat crawls back up your face when you remember what just happened that led to them arguing to begin with.

"So," a deep voice rumbles, you shiver and turn around slowly. "You must be the new first year!" His voice is cheerful and it makes you feel a sense of relief. The same wide smile fills your face again as you formally introduce yourself.

The panda introduces himself then the two second years behind him. You shake their hands and shake your head as he explains that Inumaki can only communicate using cooking terms, due to the nature of his curse. You take a mental note to start paying attention when he talks, so you can learn how to effectively communicate with him. Eventually after chatting a bit and Panda asking where you were originally from because 'frankly your accent sucks!' Kugasaki pulls you away, ready to actually show you around.

She guides you around the large campus, showing you every nook and cranny. Allowing you to chat with the people you come across. After a while of walking she finally leads you to the dorms.

3:45 P.M.

"So I figured you'd want your own room, and there's plenty of space for one, but if you wanted we could always share one." You smile at her and agree that having your own is appealing.

"I've practically lived on my own my whole life, but it'd be nice to not for once." You watch as she processes your words and her face grows wide with a smile.

"Awesome! I'll have the guys bring your stuff over, let me show you to your room then!" You watch as she quickly types on her phone, presumably texting Itadori and Fushiguro to bring your stuff to her dorm.

4:33 P.M.

Eventually they arrive, Panda following them, with all your belongings.

"Damn woman! Could you have literally anymore stuff?" Itadori huffs out as he sets the boxes he was carrying down.

You giggle and thank him for helping, turning around you thank the other two as well.

"I hope it wasn't too much of a burden!" You say and Fushiguro says it wasn't, though Itadori mumbles about how it was.

"Oh! By the way!," You say, leaning down to dig in your backpack, stopping the boys before they left. "I made everyone cookies! I made them two days ago before I left to come here, and I planned on giving them to you guys tomorrow but since y'all are here, why not now?"

You pull out 3 large ziplock bags and hold them up.

"Wow. That's a lot of cookies!" Panda says. You smile shyly and explain you might have gone a bit overboard, but you didn't know how many people there would be exactly.

"Here's for us first years," You say setting a bag down on the table "And this is for the second years!" You shove another bag into Panda's arms.

"Who's the last bag for?" Kugisaki asks.

"The teachers of course! I heard the third years aren't really ever around so I didn't bother making them any," You begin mumbling to yourself about how you probably should make them some anyways.

"Well, I'm sure there's already plenty here that we could share some around!" Panda declares, you look up at him and agree.

"Oh my godddddd! These are so good!" You turn around to see Itadori with his mouth stuffed full, a half eaten cookie in his hand.

"Really? Im glad! I figured they wouldn't be as good because they're a little old..."

"Hey! You guys having a party in here of what?" Everyone turns towards the door to see Gojo leaning against the frame.

"Gojo! Dude! Try these cookies!" Itadori shoves the bag outwards towards the tall man, who steps forward to take one.

He take a bite and through his blindfold you can see his eyebrows raise up.

"Oh my god! These are delicious!"

"L/n made them!"

The white haired man turns towards you and points between you and the cookie in his hand.

"No words. These are amazing!"

You laugh and thank him.

"Alright guys! Get out now! L/n needs to unpack and i'm sure she wants to shower and rest."

Gojo and Itadori start mumbling about how she's a buzzkill but the other two thank you for the cookies and quickly leave.

Gojo is the last to walk out the door but before he does he turns to face you.

"Oh, by the way Y/n, the principal wants to see you first thing in the morning, something about your parents."

You hum and thank him as he closes the door.

"Your parents?" You now turn to face the girl who's leaned against the small countertop in the common room of your new shared dorm.

You sigh and lazily fall back into the chair at the small table, allowing your head to fall forward onto the cold wood. You now turn your neck, cheek flat against the hard surface, and look at her.

"Yeah. It's some bull shit. Honestly," you sigh and sit back up, a small, tired smile tugs at your lips. "I'm just glad to be here!"

You watch as her face contorts into a type of concern, but you mentally sigh as she smiles back and asks you if you want help unpacking.

"Itadori is dramatic, you don't have that much stuff. I'm sure we could get you fully unpacked by tonight."

Though your body is screaming for sleep, your mind is telling you it's better if you just get it over with, so you agree.

12:26 A.M.

Wet hair is soaking your pillow but you're too exhausted to even care. Your eyes are heavy as you scroll through your phone, it had been long forgotten since you arrived in Tokyo this morning.

You respond to a few messages from people back home, then sigh as you click the power button and shove the device off to the side of your bed.

You look around your new room, proud of you and Kugisaki for getting it set up in one night. You'd have to get her lunch tomorrow to thank her for helping you. You smile softly as you finally allow your eyes to close.

Your body reacts quickly to you finally relaxing, within five minutes you're in a deep sleep.

Kugisaki softly knocks on your door before peeking in to check on you, she smiles and quietly shuts it, excited to finally have a roommate.

JJK Masterlist

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skeletonh0e · 2 days ago

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Hi! I have a fun request :3

How about Classic Sans x Reader (gender neutral) where their relationship started off as very close friends which escalated into a friends with benefits relationship before they started dating

Like headcanons on how they would even get into the fwb part of their relationship in the first place and then later Sans realizing he has feelings for them :3

Sorry this took a bit but comin' up! No explicit NSFW but some suggestive stuff here or there obvs given the subject material

Classic Sans x Reader; Friends (with benefits) to Lovers

It all just kind of happens tbh

You two have very natural chemistry, Sans could easily spend hours simply goofing off or chatting about nothing with you. Something just naturally clicks

You both want to spend more time together

And you do

And you keep getting closer as a result

It further helps that you vibe pretty well with a lot of his friends and more importantly Papyrus as well

You're not only a good friend but someone he genuinely trusts and you likewise are able to read him better than mosts are, even able to call him out when he's clearly lying or pulling 'sum bullshit.

The shift in your relationship happens one drunken night when both of you went out to Grillby's, throwing back some shots and having some laughs

The typical shit you to do

But he brings you home (he can still short cut while drunk thankfully) and you invite him to stay the night

He's always found you attractive mind you but he's never attempted to pull anything for various reasons, never the right time, assumed you weren't interested, etc.

And now his mind is fuzzy thanks to liquor, he's in a really good mood because he spent most of the evening hanging out with you, you're all flushed, looking cute and literally inviting him....

You can figure out the rest from there

The morning after is a bit...awkward

He stays! He even made (ordered) you some breakfast for the hangover you both have

A part of him, the part that doesn't want to deal with complicated emotions or situations like these, kind of hopes maybe you'd be drunk enough to forget

But you weren't <3

"Are we....a thing now?"

"we don't have to be we can still just be friends"

"Friends that just hook up?"

".....yeah"

And that kind of settles it, neither of you seem to be aware of any deeper romantic feelings yet or maybe simply in denial about the possibility. Maybe a mix of both who's to say

Tha awkward tension lessens some, you two kind of easing into this new dynamic

Sans isn't exactly a stranger to having friendly hookups, though it's newer ground on your end. The thing is the two of you don't expect to be just....getting intimate so frequently

The second time is in a spur of a moment thing where you two happen to have his house to ourselves

The third time you two get a bit....adventurous at his hot dog stand shall we say

The fourth time? Let's just say it involved a short cut

It's kind of like the same as when you two were just friends who didn't do this kind of stuff, except there is more casual touching than there wasn't before

It's subtle on his end, he's more prone to be closer to you, wrap an arm around you or even lean against you. Meanwhile you're noticeably more handsy

And it doesn't go completely unnoticed

Undyne : .....are you and Sans a thing now?

Y / N : Noo??? The fuck makes you say that?

Undyne : You two weren't this touchy before

You just roll your eyes and tell her to mind her own damn businesses (you know damn well how she looks at Alphys)

I definitely think you realize that your feelings are romantic first rather than platonic or purely lustful, when is a bit unclear probably post cotius when you two are happily snuggled up and just chatting

It's when it hits that you're happy, really happy and you kind of don't want to leave his embrace

....you're in love with this idiot

Sans is slower with it

He's not oblivious to it, he knows he likes you a lot and clearly you two get along well. The bonehead is just a bit hesitant to properly let anyone into his life like that and he doesn't throw words as strong as "love" all willy nilly

However one time while in the moment of passion, he kind of just realized he could get used to doing this with you forever, get used to having you around forever, wanted to have you around forever, needed to have you around forever

The emotions of it hit him like a truck when you're both still reeling from your respective highs, it spills out

"i'm in love with you..."

You blink, not sure if you heard him correctly, "Did you just...?"

And then he fucking teleports away.

You're more than thrown for a loop by it

To his credit he doesn't just avoid you after the fact, the man was just overwhelmed and further overwhelmed himself by saying it before he himself could process it

Still kinda sheepish about it when you two talk and you do bring it up

It was your turn to throw him for a loop by saying you loved him too.

"are we a thing now?"

"Yeah, yeah I'd like to be anyway."

That kind of settles it, you two don't make any big announcement, the most your relationship goes public is just people asking if you two are a thing now

And you both respond yes

Well, you tell them yes, Sans gets cheeky with it

"i'm a thing, they're a thing, guess that settles it."

#sans x reader #classic sans x reader #classic sans #sans undertale x reader #undertale x reader #requests

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lemon-zest-art · 2 days ago

Text

Faster Than You - Sonadow

A/N - i know i posted hours ago but i really want here and AO3 to be at the same place lmao

Feel free to comment or make any fanart and tag me! I hope you guys are enjoying so far :3

Ch.3

Silver couldn't help the eye roll, feeling a small elbow hit his side as he did so. Turning to look at blaze that was giving him a certain look, causing him to gulp lightly and put back on a soft smile.

They both looked at Sonic, and couldn't help but feel a bit out of place as everyone kept stopping the blue blur for pictures and signatures.

Sonic on the other hand tried his best to use these interactions as a way to distract himself from his earlier fantasies, which wasn't entirely unsuccessful one could say, at least he wasn't in Greek land anymore.

He would talk a bit, sign whatever object or body part that was asked and then pose for the camera. A routined action he only got used to doing after such a long time of being in the business. He suddenly felt a daring glaze coming from his two friends, and as a result excused himself from the crowd and went to join his friends.

Silver had gotten the three of them a nice table, further away from the crowd where they could actually enjoy some time without being flustered by others every two seconds. This bar was known to be frequented by popular people, they were lucky enough to have a reserved area for the racers. Greeting a couple of other racers they knew on their way to their seats. The barmaid offered them drinks on the house.

Sonic couldn't be any more glad, what better than a couple of drinks to help his uncommon problem?

As he put his hand out to grab the free drink, Silver placed his hand on top of sonic’s.

"Dude, we're not here to watch yourself get wasted"

Sonic scoffed slightly

"Calm down man, it's just a drink!" He said with his classic smile, sliding over the other two drinks to his friends.

"I just wanted to get out with my two best friends! My buddies! My amigos!"

Blaze rubbed her temples a bit as she sighed

"This can't end well..."

[...]

A couple hours went by, and luckily the trio was actually having a lot of fun. Reminiscing of the past, laughing and genuinely spending quality time together.

"I'm gonna go grab more drinks, be right back" sonic mentioned as Silver was going on and on about some childhood story. Blaze nodded towards the blue blur, as if to confirm she heard him. But as sonic got off his seat, not only did he realise how much he actually had to drink, but instantaneously noticed a very recognizable jacket sitting by the bar. Immediately his face turned pink, images of grapes and white robes filling his mind as his audible 'gulp' could be heard. He did his best to control his breathing as he walked towards the bar.

And there he was, in flesh and so close he could smell the fresh odor of his perfume.

‘So not only does he get to be hot, but he smells good? This shouldn't be legal’

He couldn't help but notice the sweet hints of cinnamon emanating from him. Making it much more difficult than it is to order such a simple drink, stealing a few glances every few seconds. In his mind he was being oh so subtle about it, but the drinks and nervousness was showing otherwise. Any more and we’d start seeing actual beads of sweat gliding down his face and neck. He wiped his sweaty palms on his jacket, succeeding to order his drink as the barmaid left to make it.

He had to say something, anything to him. This was the right moment to do so. He let a small cough out of nervousness, finally opening his mouth to speak when suddenly-

"So, you're finally gonna say something?"

Interrupted Shadow, a small smirk posing on his lips as he took a small sip of his drink. Sonic blinked his eyes, furrowing his eyebrows as he tried to say something

"Ah..e..euh- i’m sorry what?" Was the best he could get out. Mentally slapping himself at such a pitiful answer.

He waited for shadow to follow up with something, anything- but his drink got there and shadow still hasn't followed up. Sonic huffed lightly, grabbing his drink and turning around to go back to his friends.

"Yknow, it's bad for your reputation to stalk others." Shadow yapped, turning around to finally face the blue racer who had his back towards him.

Sonic slightly growled out of anger, sluggishly replying

"You're really annoying yknow-.... that..."

Unfortunately once again losing all credibility as he turned around, about to let Shadow have it but being immediately flustered by the scene before him. Not only did he not expect to be as close as they were, but the other surely was putting on a show for him. In his left hand he held his drink, the right arm holding his weight as he leaned onto the bar. His legs slightly ajared on each side of his chair as he looked directly into Sonic's eyes, the kind of action Shadow would put fault on the alcohol. Taking another sip as he looked directly into the other's emerald eyes, waiting for the blue hedgehog to continue with his thoughts. Instead all that could be heard was Sonic's thoughts accidentally leaving his mouth as he scratched the back of his neck

"oh.. crap"

#fanfiction #shadow the hedgehog #sonadow #sonic fandom #sonic the hedgehog #blaze the cat #shadow x sonic #silver the hedgehog #sonic #sonic x shadow

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lore-grandma · 1 day ago

Text

How the dorm leaders would up realizing they like reader/ when their feelings started to change (idk anymore)

Notes: I’m sure some of these aren’t accurate, it comes with the territory. Yuu is reader. I think if you’ve seen my posts about these kind of games, that you’ll notice a pattern that the mc is always reader. Idk what else. Um i might do the other characters, I will likely make a cop out and make ortho’s section platonic. Also I’m pretty sure that night raven will accept students at any age as long as you can read. So the reader’s age with change depending on the canon character’s age. At minimum reader will be a year younger than the guys. Now let’s go.

Riddle

Riddle gives off such love at first sight vibes, but would be in such denial. I think realistically Riddle would come to terms with his feelings after his blot. I mean if the magicless student stayed while he was at his worst, then there’s a bond there. You basically saved him and even if his mother does not approve, in his mind he sees you as a worthy partner. It’d take the whole dorm to force him to confess, he’d only confess if he knew for sure you liked him.

Leona

Dear lord this guy would be such a slow burn. He definitely wasn’t fond of you before his blot. Of course after the beat down, he probably felt slightly indebted. Only a little. The he was probably was feeling those fuzzy feelings around the time you stood up for your friends. Like that takes balls, to risk it all. It’d take far too many close calls on both of your lives for him to finally confess.

Azul

Probably like a love at second sight. Like was definitely when he met you during the whole contract situation. Now he genuinely wasn’t considering it until the whole Jamil situation. Would’ve probably confessed after that, in his office, was basically forced by the tweels because of how much they teased him.

Kalim

Honestly despite how open he is, I don’t think he genuinely understands how love works. Shit just happens. Like somehow y’all are married. Probably got into a relationship a few months after Jamil’s overblot.

Vil

This one happens after a life long friendship, maybe starts to be planted in the ground during the training arc during his story. But it def took awhile.

Idia

It didn’t start because he knew you irl. I mean canonically reader doesn’t have much of an online presence, but I can’t imagine that idia makes any realizations during his whole overblot. Maybe his feelings start around malleus’s overblot but that story hasn’t ended yet so Ive yet to make that decision.

Malleus

I do believe he just either sees you as a friend or that human that he so happens to see on his walks to see gargoyles. Of course by the time that reader actually knows his name. Then malleus considers them a friend. I see malleus as oblivious to love but not in the way that kalim is. He’s probably more familiar with familial love than romantic love. The moment he probably realized it officially was when he realized he could lose his support systems i.e. lillia and you. Sure silver and sebek are fine company but there’s definitely a feeling that they’re treating him with respect because he’s their future leader. Also I know that so that I said that reader was going to be at minimum to be a year younger than the characters that’s being talked about. But like reader is human (I’m sorry guys) and doesn’t have any magic in their world, so unfortunately we’ll have to stick with a human age that would probably be a rough equivalent to the age of draconians. So likely ehhh 22 maybe? I’m not sure if the fae just age slowly or just age fairly normally (still slow but not to the point where in a hundred years malleus is still a literal baby) and matures mentally at different rates. Anyways I’m putting reader at a safe young age but not so old it feels like we’re pairing a teenager with an adult. Age is weird in these situations.

#twisted wonderland x reader

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ecoterrorist-katara · 2 days ago

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hi! curious as to what you think about the comparison of aang giving up cosmic energy for katara and percy rejecting immortality for annabeth? i genuinely do not think they are the same because percabeth knew each other for years and gradually evolved from friends to lovers, in which their feelings were mutual. most importantly, him rejecting immortality did not have any negative bearing on the future of the world. as for aang, he gave up the avatar state, which he needed to save the world/defeat ozai. he risked it because of his obsession with katara, who at the time did not reciprocate his feelings at all.

hi! I agree that Percy rejecting immortality comes across as very romantic because, well, he already saved the world! Plus he was able to leverage his rejection of immortality to help people like him. That said, while I don't find the cosmic energy arc in ATLA romantic, I can't find it in myself to blame Aang in-universe. It's one of those "damn this kid is 12, he's lost everything, and I can't believe he has to make these decisions" moments of the show that made me feel super bad for him, and even if I disagree with his choice I understand why he made it.

However! I do have a HUGE problem with the arc, and it lies entirely with how the writers made Katara a damsel. They never gave Aang the opportunity to see Katara as another hero, like him.

Katara is not a Chosen One like Aang, but she still chose to be a hero. In episode 1, Katara chooses to stand up for Aang against her community. A few episodes later, she gets herself tossed into prison to free Haru and earthbenders. She demonstrates again and again that she's not worried about her own safety, as long as she's doing the right thing and protecting others.

There's a bit of dramatic irony in Crossroads of Destiny where Aang has this vision of Katara struggling in chains and looking every inch the damsel...meanwhile we the audience know that Katara is alive and well and yelling at Zuko. Then Aang goes off to save her, only for her to save him instead. He has that moment of “I’m sorry Katara” where he tries to access the Avatar State, implying that he’s letting her go, as if this is a decision about him — as if the decision to save Katara was about Aang’s attachment to her, rather than their shared values.

Even after the Ba Sing Se scare, it never seemed to occur to Aang to ask Katara what she would have wanted, and I assume this is because it never crossed the writers' minds that Katara is anything but a character development object for Aang when it comes to their romance. Would Katara be willing to sacrifice her own safety so that Aang can defeat Ozai? Uh, yes, least of all because she's scrappy and she would've figured something out to save herself (recall this was neither the first nor the last time Katara ended up in prison — is Katara the only ATLA character who’s thrown in jail every season? I think so lmao). But even if she wants Aang to let the world burn and prioritize her over his duties as the Avatar, the point is that she deserves a say.

Katara will presumably one day need to choose between love and duty. These are supposed to be shared burdens when two heroes love each other. Sokka and Suki, a secondary ship, got a whole arc where Sokka learns he doesn't have to save Suki because she has agency and she also wants to save him! But what did Ka/taang get? Nothing of the kind. It’s not clear if Katara even knows that Aang was about to give up the Avatar State for her, because they never talk about it!

I think other people have talked at length about how in ATLA, Katara is her own character and her own person with her own journey...except when she’s written as Aang’s love interest. The cosmic energy/Avatar State fiasco is another example of that.

#pro aang #but #anti kataang #anti bryke #seriously what the hell was this #Katara deserved better #my meta #can i ask you a question?

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darkintothedawn · 3 days ago

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DAY EIGHT || Stiles Stilinski 'Teen Wolf'

Pairing — Stiles Stilinski x Gender Neutral reader

Summary — Day eight of 'THE BOYFRIEND CODE'. You're supposed to be watching a film with Stiles and Scott. They're also supposed to be enjoying it and not silently feuding. So, is it really that out of pocket when you decide to test Stiles' vaguely threatening rule of no tickle wars?

8. Thou shalt not initiate tickle fights unless fully prepared for the consequences. (The consequences include, but are not limited to: uncontrollable giggling, immediate retaliation, loss of breath from excessive laughter, potential betrayal by nearby allies, an all-out war that lasts for days, and, most importantly, the risk of thy boyfriend holding a lifelong grudge and striking when thou least expects it. You have been warned.)

Memo— I thought I had scheduled this but I guess not, sorry! You can find the rest of the 'THE BOYFRIEND CODE' here.

Word Count — 5456

Warnings — Fluff. Intense tickling. Scott being a willing bystander.

The three of you were camped out in Stiles’ living room, the faint hum of the TV filling the space as an old monster movie played in the background. Stiles had claimed the couch as his throne, sprawled out with one leg dangling off the side and the other propped up on the coffee table. Scott sat cross-legged on the floor, leaning back against the couch with a bowl of popcorn balanced on his knee.

The tension between them was almost imperceptible, but you could feel it in the air—the lingering remnants of their heated Superman vs. Batman debate from earlier in the week. Stiles had brought it up again only once, in passing, and Scott’s quick, unimpressed glance had shut him down so thoroughly that he hadn’t dared revisit it. Still, every now and then, you caught Stiles shooting Scott a look, like he was just waiting for the right moment to reignite the argument.

You were perched on the arm of the couch beside Stiles, legs tucked under you, trying not to laugh every time one of them got a little too quiet or avoided eye contact. The tension wasn’t serious—it was the kind of petty grudge you knew would dissolve the second something more important came up—but it was still hilarious to watch.

The coffee table in front of you was littered with empty soda cans, crumpled napkins, and a half-eaten pizza box that Stiles had insisted on ordering even though Scott had brought snacks. The room was dimly lit, the glow of the TV casting long shadows against the walls, and the air smelled faintly of butter and pepperoni.

Every now and then, Stiles would make a comment about the movie—a snarky critique of the monster’s special effects or an exaggerated gasp at a cheesy jump scare—and Scott would chuckle despite himself, the sound a little begrudging but genuine. It was progress.

You leaned back, glancing between them with a small, amused smile. If this was what tension looked like between the two of them, you could handle it. For now, though, you were content to just sit back and watch the chaos unfold.

As the movie dragged on, you found yourself slowly gravitating toward Stiles, the pull of his warmth too tempting to resist. At first, it was subtle—a shift in your position here, a casual lean there. But before long, you were fully draped against him, your head nestled against his shoulder, arms loosely around his waist.

Stiles didn’t say a word, but you felt the slight pause in his breathing when you leaned into him fully. His hand, which had been idly fidgeting with the drawstring of his hoodie, came to rest on your arm, his fingers tracing slow, absent-minded patterns against your sleeve.

Scott turned his head slightly, raising an eyebrow at the two of you, but didn’t comment. You caught the flicker of amusement in his expression before he returned his focus to the screen. Stiles caught it too, apparently, because he shifted a little, straightening up as if to assert that this level of clinginess was completely normal.

“You comfortable?” he murmured quietly, tilting his head down toward you, his voice low enough that Scott wouldn’t hear over the movie.

“Mhm,” you hummed, letting your eyes drift closed for a moment. “You’re comfy.”

“Good,” he muttered, his hand shifting slightly so he could intertwine his fingers with yours. His thumb brushed over your knuckles absentmindedly, like it was second nature.

“Are you two watching the movie or filming a rom-com over there?” Scott teased, tossing a piece of popcorn at the both of you.

Stiles caught it mid-air with his free hand, popping it into his mouth and grinning. “We can multitask,” he shot back, leaning into the banter like it was a competitive sport.

You just buried your face against his shoulder, stifling a laugh. “Don’t drag me into your battles.”

“Oh, you’re already in this. Especially after last time,” Stiles replied, squeezing your hand for emphasis. “We’re a team. Ride or die.”

Scott rolled his eyes but didn’t press further, though you could see him shaking his head in amusement.

As the movie carried on, you shifted closer still, pulling your legs up onto the couch and practically curling into Stiles’ side. His arm tightened around you instinctively, and for all his usual dramatics and snark, there was something so natural and effortless in the way he held you.

“Seriously, though,” Stiles whispered, his lips close to your ear. “You’re like a koala. Not that I’m complaining, but I think you’ve fused to my side.”

You smiled, tilting your head up to look at him. “Guess you’re stuck with me, Stilinski.”

“Good,” he said simply, his voice softer than usual as his eyes lingered on yours.

For a moment, the world outside the living room seemed to fade, the distant hum of the TV and Scott’s occasional chuckles falling away. It was just you and Stiles, wrapped up in a bubble of warmth and comfort that felt entirely your own.

As you leaned against Stiles, fingers lacing comfortably with his, your mind began to wander, piecing together the steps of your master plan. It had been just over a week since you signed The Boyfriend Code, the sacred document Stiles had presented to you with all the seriousness of a binding legal contract. You’d spent that evening sprawled out in his room, flipping through the rules while he sat cross-legged on the bed, eagerly explaining each one like a proud lawyer.

When you reached Rule 8—Thou shalt not initiate tickle fights unless fully prepared for the consequences—you’d paused, arching an eyebrow at him, not even finishing the rest of the rule.

“Fully prepared for the consequences?” you’d echoed, intrigued. “What exactly are these consequences, Stilinski?”

He’d grinned, leaning back against his headboard with a confidence that could only be described as cocky. “Oh, you know… total destruction. Uncontrollable giggling. A merciless retaliation that won’t end until you’re gasping for air and begging for mercy. And, of course, the possibility of me holding a grudge and striking back when you least expect it.”

“Sounds dramatic,” you’d teased, closing the notebook with a soft thud.

Stiles had leaned forward then, his eyes narrowing slightly in a way that was both playful and serious. “I’m not kidding. If you start a tickle fight, I will go all out. So, if you’re thinking about it, you better be ready to bring your A-game.”

You’d laughed, shaking your head at his theatrics. “Noted. But I think I can handle it.”

Now, a week later, those words felt like a challenge you were finally ready to rise to. You glanced up at Stiles out of the corner of your eye, watching as his focus shifted back and forth between the TV screen and Scott, who was still throwing popcorn at him for no apparent reason.

Perfect. He was distracted.

Your fingers twitched slightly, testing the waters. You hadn’t made your move yet, but the anticipation was already building, your heart beating a little faster at the thought of what was to come. Stiles had warned you—thoroughly—but that just made this all the more enticing.

You cast a glance toward Scott, briefly debating whether or not he’d become an ally in this battle. But then you remembered the part about “Potential betrayal by nearby allies,” and decided not to risk it. This was between you and Stiles, and you’d face whatever consequences came your way. Or well, it was for now anyway.

Still, you hesitated for just a second longer, your mind flashing back to that smirk Stiles had worn when he’d explained the rule. He wasn’t bluffing; you knew that much. But you also knew that this was your chance to catch him off guard, and you weren’t going to let it slip away.

For now, though, you stayed still, resting your head against his shoulder like nothing was amiss. You’d wait for the right moment—maybe when he was fully engrossed in the movie or maybe when he was mid-sentence with Scott—maybe then you’d strike.

You decided to play the long game. If Stiles was going to be on edge with Scott throwing popcorn at him like an overgrown child, then you’d use that to your advantage. Distraction was key, and you could think of no better way to disarm him than by fully leaning into the role of clingy, needy lover.

==You shifted against him, wrapping an arm snugly around his middle and pressing closer. At first, it seemed like he didn’t notice, too busy dodging Scott’s latest poorly aimed popcorn attack. But then you nuzzled into his neck, your nose brushing against his skin just enough to make him twitch.==

“What’re you doing?” he muttered, half a laugh in his voice as he tilted his head slightly to look at you.

“Nothing,” you murmured innocently, your voice low and sweet as you tightened your grip on him. “Just… wondering when Scott’s going to leave so I can have my boyfriend to myself.”

That got his attention. His body stiffened slightly, and he turned his head toward you, his eyebrows lifting in a mix of confusion and suspicion. “Seriously? You’re doing this now?”

“What?” you asked, feigning innocence as you batted your eyelashes at him. “I’m just saying. We’ve had a long day. Don’t you want to just… relax? Alone?”

Scott, blissfully unaware of your plotting, threw another kernel of popcorn that bounced off Stiles’ arm. “I can still hear you, you know,” he said, though he didn’t sound the least bit bothered.

Stiles groaned, clearly torn between continuing the verbal sparring match with Scott or focusing on you. “Don’t start,” he said, shooting you a half-hearted glare that held absolutely no heat.

“Start what?” you asked, nuzzling into his neck again. This time, you let your lips graze his skin ever so slightly, just enough to send a small shiver through him. “I’m just being affectionate. Isn’t that allowed?”

“Not when you’re this affectionate,” he grumbled, though you could see the faint blush creeping up his neck. “It’s suspicious. You’re up to something.”

You simply hummed in response, brushing your thumb in slow, lazy circles against his side. “Suspicious? Me? Never.”

He opened his mouth to retort, but another popcorn attack from Scott interrupted him, and he groaned, raising his hands in surrender. “Scott, can you not? We’re trying to have a moment here.”

Scott snorted, clearly amused. “Oh, sorry. Didn’t realize I was interrupting your little… whatever this is.”

Stiles turned back to you, his eyes narrowing slightly. “This isn’t over,” he muttered, though his voice had softened as you continued to cuddle against him.

You smiled to yourself, satisfied that your plan was already starting to work. The tension in his shoulders was easing, his focus was shifting to you, and he was far too distracted to notice the true scheme brewing in your mind.

For now, you’d play the part of the doting lover, lulling him into a false sense of security. But your time would come soon enough—and when it did, you’d be ready.

And it couldn't have come any sooner. You could feel it—Stiles was cracking. Slowly but surely, his guard was lowering, piece by piece. Every nuzzle, every brush of your lips against his neck, every squeeze of your arm around his waist was chipping away at his resolve.

“You know,” you murmured, tilting your head so your lips were just barely grazing his ear, “It wouldn’t kill Scott to give us some space.”

Stiles swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly. “I mean… yeah,” he muttered, his voice faltering. “Space. Space is good. Space is healthy.”

“Exactly,” you agreed, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his stomach now. “We’ve been through so much lately. Don’t you think we deserve a little time to ourselves? Just you and me?”

He let out a shaky breath, leaning slightly into your touch without even realizing it. “You’re not wrong,” he said, his voice a little quieter now, a little less sure.

Scott, still oblivious, lobbed another piece of popcorn that missed its mark entirely and landed somewhere on the floor behind you. Stiles barely even noticed this time, his attention fully locked on you.

“You’re really laying it on thick,” he muttered, though there was no bite in his words. In fact, his tone was downright soft now, as if he couldn’t help but melt under your affectionate assault.

“Am I?” you asked, your voice all sweetness and innocence as you tilted your head to look up at him. “I just missed you, Stiles. Is that a crime?”

His eyes flickered between yours, searching for any hint of deception, but you’d honed your act to perfection. Finally, with a heavy sigh, he gave in, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you closer.

“Okay, fine,” he said, his voice dropping into a resigned, affectionate grumble. “You win. I’m officially broken. I’ll allow it.”

“Allow what?” you teased, looking up at him with wide, mock-innocent eyes.

“This,” he said, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. “All of it. The cuddling, the nuzzling, the whole… thing you’ve got going on.”

You smiled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You make it sound like I’m torturing you.”

“You are,” he said, though his lips twitched upward in a smile he couldn’t quite suppress. “But I’m not exactly complaining.”

Perfect. His guard was fully down now, his focus entirely on you. Your time to strike was mere moments away, and the victory would taste all the sweeter after how much effort you’d put into breaking him down.

Your hands slipped under Stiles’ flannel, the fabric soft against your fingers as they met the warmth of his skin. His stomach tensed under your touch, and you let your fingers trail lazily over it, tracing small circles and patterns. “Hmm,” you hummed thoughtfully, a playful grin tugging at your lips. “I think I’m starting to feel them.”

“Feel what?” Stiles asked, his voice laced with suspicion, though the pink creeping up his neck betrayed how flustered he was.

“Your abs,” you said, matter-of-factly, letting your fingers dance a little higher. “They’re coming in. I can practically hear Coach yelling about core strength.”

He let out a huff, equal parts flattered and embarrassed, shifting slightly under your touch. “Okay, first of all, they’re not abs yet. Second, you’re getting dangerously close to making me regret letting you win earlier.”

You grinned, leaning closer until your lips brushed the shell of his ear. “Oh, Stiles,” you murmured softly, your voice dropping into something unbearably sweet. “I love you, you know that?”

His breath hitched, and you could feel the way he stilled under you, his focus narrowing to just your touch, your words.

“I adore you,” you continued, your hands drifting to his sides now, your thumbs brushing gently over his skin. “I’d do anything for you, Stiles. You’re my favourite person in the entire world, and I’ll always put you above everything else.”

He turned his head slightly, just enough to catch your eyes, his face soft and utterly unguarded. “You mean that?” he asked, his voice quiet, vulnerable in a way that made your heart squeeze.

“Of course I do,” you said, letting your forehead rest against his for a brief moment.

And then, just as his lips parted to respond, you struck. Your hands darted to his sides, fingers digging in mercilessly as you whispered, “Sorry,” through a chorus of giggles.

Stiles’ reaction was immediate and explosive. He practically yelped, a strangled mix of a laugh and a gasp escaping his mouth as he flinched under your fingers. “No—no, no, no! You can’t—” His protest was swallowed by uncontrollable giggles as your fingers worked mercilessly along his sides.

“You were saying?” you teased, grinning triumphantly as you used your position in his lap to your full advantage. He was trapped beneath you, squirming and wriggling, but with your legs effectively pinning him in place and your hands finding all the spots that made him laugh the hardest, he stood no chance.

His hands shot out instinctively, although they were mostly stopped by your knees on them, grabbing at your wrists in a weak attempt to stop you, but his grip faltered every time another burst of laughter overtook him. “This is—unfair—” he choked out between gasps of air, his cheeks flushed a deep red, his eyes squeezed shut as he lost himself to the relentless tickling.

“Unfair?” you echoed, feigning innocence. “I seem to recall someone writing this into the boyfriend code. Something about being ‘fully prepared for the consequences’?” You mimicked his voice dramatically at the end, which only made him laugh harder.

Scott, who had been pretending to pay attention to the movie up until now, finally sighed and stood up. “I’m getting more popcorn,” he muttered, waving a hand over his shoulder. “You two are exhausting.”

“Bye, Scott!” you chirped cheerfully, barely sparing him a glance as you kept your attention on Stiles.

With Scott gone, you leaned in even closer, narrowing your focus on every sensitive spot you could reach. The position gave you an edge—your weight pressed against him, his arms pinned awkwardly by your knees—and you weren’t above using it to make him suffer (lovingly, of course).

But there was something in his laughter now, an undertone that made you pause for just a second. His eyes were still scrunched shut, but you caught the tiniest flicker of calculation behind his hysteria, the barest hint of a smirk peeking through his laughter.

“Oh no,” you whispered, the realization hitting you like a brick.

Stiles was letting you win—just enough to lull you into a false sense of security. His squirming had slowed, and though his face was still red from laughing, there was a calm brewing behind the chaos.

He hadn’t made his move yet, but you could feel it in the way his hands rested on your thighs now, not grabbing at your wrists anymore. Like a predator waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

“Oh, no, no, no, no!” Stiles practically shouted between peals of laughter, his hands twitching as though debating whether to defend himself or keep waiting for the perfect moment to strike back. His laugh cracked into something higher-pitched when you dug into his ribs, and for a second, he actually arched away from you. “I swear—stop it! I’ll—oh my God, stop!—”

But you didn’t. You knew he was plotting. You could feel the tension in his frame, the way his hands weren’t really fighting you off anymore, just resting on your thighs like he was biding his time. But despite the very real danger lurking beneath your position in his lap, you couldn’t help yourself. If you were going down, you were going to go down victorious.

“Scott!” you called dramatically, throwing your head back as if summoning divine intervention. “Scott, I know you’re on my side! You’re totally on my side, right? Right?!”

From the kitchen came a distinct crunch of freshly popped popcorn, followed by a long, drawn-out sigh. “Absolutely not,” Scott called back, sounding as done with your antics as ever. “You started this. You’re on your own.”

“Wow, betrayal,” you gasped, grinning even as you continued your relentless assault on Stiles’ sides. “And after I stood with you and said Superman would beat Batman! I thought we were united on this, Scott!”

Stiles barked out a sharp laugh, his eyes flying open just long enough to shoot you an accusatory look. “You—ha!—you only said that to—oh my God, stop, stop, stop!—to mess with me!”

You tilted your head, feigning innocence as your fingers danced over his ribs. “What? Nooo,” you said sweetly. “I mean, okay, maybe a little, but I did it with love!”

“Love, my ass!” Stiles choked, his laughter almost too loud now, echoing in the small room. “You’re so—you’re such a—” He broke off, groaning as he couldn’t even finish the sentence, his voice swallowed by another fit of laughter.

Meanwhile, you weren’t done with Scott. “Scott, come on!” you yelled again, ignoring the sound of popcorn being poured into a bowl. “You’d help me if I needed it, wouldn’t you? I’m like family! You can’t just let him win!”

“Oh, I can,” Scott replied lazily. “And I will. Good luck, though. You’re gonna need it.”

You turned back to Stiles, biting back a laugh at how completely red his face had gone, his hair sticking up in all directions from how much he’d been thrashing under you. “Scott’s a terrible friend,” you declared solemnly, meeting Stiles’ watery gaze.

“Scott’s—ha!—Scott’s the best friend ever!” Stiles wheezed, his hands tightening on your thighs for just a moment. His laugh turned into a low growl of determination as his fingers flexed. “You’re—so—done!”

You froze, caught in the storm of his wild grin and the glint of retribution in his eyes. You knew what was coming, but you couldn’t stop the maniacal giggle that bubbled out of you as you made one last-ditch effort to tickle him into submission.

The shift happened so fast it was almost disorienting. One second, you were perched smugly in his lap, confident you were about to end this fight with your superior positioning and quick reflexes. The next, you were flat on your back, staring up at Stiles’ wickedly gleeful face as he hovered over you like some vengeful trickster god.

“Oh, you really thought you were getting away with that,” he said, his voice low and triumphant, eyes alight with a mischievous glow that sent a shiver down your spine. “Code eight, babe. Immediate retaliation. You signed the boyfriend code, and now you pay.”

You barely had time to suck in a breath before his hands struck, zeroing in on your sides with an accuracy that could only come from years of knowing exactly where you were most ticklish. Fingers danced along your ribs, fluttered over your stomach, and dug into that awful spot just under your arms that made you practically convulse.

“Stiles!” you gasped, but your voice was swallowed by your laughter, a helpless, breathless sound that made your chest ache within seconds.

He didn’t stop. Not wen you thrashed so violently you spilled off of the couch and onto the floor, not when he rolled with you, and definitely not when he was adjusting himself for "Maximum tickle output" on the floor.

Oh no, he was far too committed for that. If anything, your desperate laughter only spurred him on. “What’s the matter?” he teased, his grin impossibly wide as he shifted his position, fully pinning you beneath him so you couldn’t even think about escaping. “You’re not laughing now—oh wait, yes you are!”

You couldn’t even form a proper response. All that came out was a strangled squeal as his fingers worked over your sides, dipping lower to your stomach, only to dart back to your ribs. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he was reveling in it.

“Does it tickle?” he asked mock-innocently, his voice practically dripping with fake concern. “Oh no, babe, I think it does! What are we gonna do about that?” His hands sped up, relentless and methodical as he targeted every single weak spot he knew by heart.

Your laughter turned silent for a moment, your head thrown back against the floor as you kicked your legs uselessly. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and still, Stiles didn’t let up.

“Too much?” he asked, leaning closer so you could see the wicked amusement in his expression. “Yeah, too bad. You started this war, and now you’re in my territory.”

Scott strolled back into the room at that exact moment, holding a fresh bowl of popcorn. He paused in the doorway, raising an unimpressed brow at the scene before him: you thrashing helplessly on the floor under Stiles’ weight, your laughter uncontrollable, while Stiles had the smuggest, most self-satisfied grin on his face.

“Seriously?” Scott muttered, walking past the chaos without even batting an eye. He sank onto the couch, setting the bowl beside him. “You’re both insane.”

You managed a gasp between bouts of laughter, barely able to choke out, “Scott! Help!”

Scott didn’t even turn his head. “Nope.”

“Useless!” you wheezed, but your protest dissolved into more laughter as Stiles redoubled his efforts.

“Oh, Scott’s not gonna save you,” Stiles said gleefully, his hands moving to a new spot—just above your hips. The moment his fingers made contact, your whole body jolted, and the sound that escaped you was half laugh, half shriek.

“That’s the spot!” he crowed, his fingers digging in mercilessly. “Knew I’d find it eventually.”

You twisted, trying to squirm away, but Stiles had you pinned so effectively there was no chance. Your hands flailed, desperate to block him, but he dodged every attempt with infuriating ease. “Oh no,” he taunted, “Don’t try to fight it now. You’ve accepted your fate, haven’t you?”

Your response was lost in another round of uncontrollable giggles, your entire body trembling under the onslaught. Your chest ached from the effort, and your cheeks burned from how wide you’d been smiling, but Stiles didn’t stop.

He adjusted his position slightly, his legs bracketing yours, leaning more of his weight onto you so you couldn’t even attempt to twist away. “What’s that?” he asked, pretending to listen to your breathless squeaks. “Oh, you’re sorry? Sorry’s not gonna cut it, babe.”

You couldn’t even form words now, your laughter turning silent again as you struggled to breathe. Your hands clawed weakly at his, but it was no use—he was on a mission, and he wasn’t about to let up anytime soon.

“Look at you,” he said, laughing himself now as he watched you struggle, his fingers slowing for a brief, blessed second—just long enough for you to suck in a ragged breath—before they darted right back to your sides. “Completely helpless. This is what happens when you mess with me. Let this be a warning for next time.”

Scott, still entirely unbothered, reached for a handful of popcorn, muttering under his breath, “There’s not gonna be a next time. You’re both gonna kill each other.”

Stiles snorted, his hands finally, finally slowing their assault as he leaned back just slightly to catch his own breath. “Oh, I’m not killing,” he said, grinning down at you. “This is just me making sure it's clear I'm in charge here.”

Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, your body still trembling from the residual giggles. Tears streaked your cheeks, and your voice was hoarse from laughing so hard, but somehow, even through the exhaustion, you managed to glare up at him.

Stiles caught the look, his grin softening just slightly. “Aw, don’t look at me like that,” he said, his voice dropping into something teasingly sweet. “You’re the one who started it.”

And, despite everything, despite how utterly wrecked you felt, you couldn’t help but laugh again—soft, breathless, and completely in love with the chaos.

Stiles let out a satisfied sigh as he finally collapsed on top of you, his full weight pinning you to the floor. It should’ve been too much—he wasn’t exactly light—but instead, it was grounding, like his body had been custom-made to fit against yours , his body heat seeping into yours, his arms looping around your waist as if he didn’t plan on letting go anytime soon. His arms were wrapped snugly around your middle as if to solidify his victory, and his face burrowed into the crook of your neck where his breath fanned warmly against your skin.

You were still trying to catch your breath, chest rising and falling unevenly from the onslaught of laughter he’d dragged out of you. “Okay,” you rasped, voice hoarse but full of the kind of exhaustion that felt almost good. “I might hate you a little for that.”

Stiles snorted against your neck, the sound low and muffled, and you felt the way his lips curved into a grin. “Please,” he muttered, “You love me too much to hate me.”

You didn’t argue, instead letting your hands drift lazily up his back, the soft fabric of his flannel brushing against your fingertips. “Fine,” you murmured, “But don’t think I regret breaking rule eight.”

“You should regret it,” he said, his voice still laced with smugness. “I warned you when you signed the code. You tickle me, I will retaliate. It’s basic math, babe.”

His arms tightened around you briefly, almost like a playful squeeze, before he let out a soft laugh. You didn’t have the energy to retort, so you just shifted beneath him enough to nuzzle into his hair, letting the strands tickle your nose.

For a moment, the room was quiet except for your breathing and the faint sound of Scott crunching popcorn in the background. Stiles seemed perfectly content to stay sprawled on top of you, his body a warm, solid weight that pressed you into the floor in the most comfortable way.

When you finally felt like you weren’t going to pass out from lack of oxygen, you tilted your head enough to speak into his hair. “Hey, for what it’s worth…”

“Hm?” he mumbled, not moving from his spot.

You hesitated for just a second, your hands tracing lazy patterns along his back. “I meant what I said earlier. When I told you I love you, adore you, all of that. I wasn’t just saying it to lower your guard, even if it worked.”

His head lifted slightly, just enough for his eyes to meet yours, and the look he gave you nearly took your breath away all over again. His gaze was soft, the warmth in his brown eyes almost overwhelming, and for a second, it felt like he was trying to memorize every detail of your face.

“Yeah?” he said, his voice quieter now, the teasing tone replaced with something gentler.

“Yeah,” you said softly, your fingers brushing through his hair in a way that made him close his eyes briefly, leaning into your touch. “I meant every word.”

For a moment, you thought he might lean down to kiss you, to murmur something sweet and heart-stopping in response. But then, because he was Stiles, he grinned, the spark returning to his eyes as he shifted just enough to press his lips to your ear.

“Oh, I was definitely going to show you how much I appreciated hearing that,” he murmured, his voice low and rough around the edges. His breath against your ear sent a shiver straight through you, and his hands slid down your sides slowly, deliberately, like he was savoring every second. “You have no idea the plans I had for you tonight, babe.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest, heat pooling in your stomach at the way his tone had dropped, and your hands tightened in his hair reflexively. “Had?” you managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Stiles pulled back just enough to meet your gaze again, his grin now a little too smug for your liking. “Oh, yeah,” he said, his hands still resting lightly on your sides. “Because now? I’m wrecked. This whole tickle war took it out of me. Sorry, sweetheart, but I think you’re gonna have to wait for round two.”

You groaned, letting your head fall back against the floor dramatically as your hands dropped to his shoulders. “Stiles, you can’t just—”

“Don’t worry,” he cut you off, his grin widening as he leaned down to nuzzle into the crook of your neck again. “I’ll make it worth your while. Eventually.”

You huffed out a breath, half annoyed and half amused, as your hands found their way to his back again, fingers curling into his flannel. “Fine,” you muttered, your voice muffled against his hair. “But for the record, I’m exhausted too. So it’s not like I was gonna be much use anyway.”

Stiles chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your skin as he adjusted himself slightly, making sure he was comfortable before settling in completely. “Good,” he murmured, his arms tightening around you once more. “Then we’re even.”

You couldn’t help but smile, letting your hands drift aimlessly along his back as the two of you fell into a comfortable silence. His weight was heavy but soothing, his warmth seeping into you in a way that made your eyelids grow heavier with every passing second.

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