#I am in essence a silly person | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Tumblr was acquired by Yahoo for $1.1B in 2013.

#I am in essence a silly person

shadowpuppetteer · 24 days

Text

PEOPLE: "What is with you and crossovers?" ME: "I just want my special interests to be friends, ok."

#crossover #silliness #special interests #friendship is magic and chaos #humor #comedy #I am in essence a silly person

8 notes · View notes

angelfic · 3 months

Text

— I MISS YOU, I’M SORRY.

pairing: theodore nott x reader

summary: you haven’t seen theo since he supposedly left you to join the other side. now that he’s back and has revealed his true intentions to you, you’re finding it hard to be forgiving.

warnings: swearing, kissing, tiniest bit of angst, very unedited. not much else other than a whole load of waffle… my bad

author’s note: this is a sort of fix-it fic… kinda. yes I am very much stealing the essence (you could say) from marauders fics because I prefer writing those and yes it’s basically this drabble recycled and yes grimmauld place is still the order headquarters well into the war just don’t question my timeline and you’ll be fine ok ty enjoy xoxo

12 Grimmauld place feels unsettling at the best of times, what with the portrait of Walburga Black hurling insults at you every time her curtain slips open and the row of shrunken house-elf heads mounted on the wall. The Order of the Phoenix holding hushed up meetings in the dining room while you and your friends are forced to stay upstairs isn’t anything new or surprising, but the last few days feel different.

Instead of Mrs Weasley telling members of the Order to whisper when you, her kids and Harry and Hermione are in the room, she flaps about ordering them to stop talking altogether. At first you think you’re imagining it when her eyes flick over to you every time, until you bring it up to Ginny and Hermione.

“You’re not imagining it,” Hermione mutters as she shuts the door of the bedroom and casts a quick Muffliato charm before settling cross legged on the bed opposite you and Ginny. “I overheard Mrs Weasley and Tonks in the kitchen this morning, talking about how the Order is arranging transport for some Death Eater spies to come back here.”

You gasp, pretending to be scandalised. “You mean you were evesdropping. That’s not very prefect-y of you.” Ginny snorts at Hermione’s indignant glare and you can’t help cracking a smile at the way her cheeks have slightly reddened. “Sorry, sorry, you know I’m kidding. But what’s that got to do with her looking at me like I’ve gone through a personal tragedy?”

“Your ex-boyfriend did leave you to go join the Death Eaters,” Ginny points out. Hermione gapes at her, but Ginny merely throws her hands up in exasperation. “Well, he did! No point beating around the bush!”

A lump rises in your throat at the mention of Theodore. Truth be told, you’ve tried not to think about what happened since the last time you spoke about him. ‘Spoke’ being a strong word since it was mostly crying and sniffling and blowing your nose into tissue after tissue in Ginny’s room at the Burrow. Mrs Weasley had made your favourite dinner that night and brought you up a hot chocolate to make you feel better. And it really had- so much so that you refused to speak about him since.

You’re more angry than you are sad now, which makes you nod at Ginny’s words. “You’re right. He’s an arsehole, there’s no point in tip-toeing around it for my sake.” Hermione frowns a little, worry clear as day on her face, but you don’t stop talking. “Besides, we’re on opposite sides and this is a war happening. Not some silly, childish break-up. He chose to be a Death Eater and if we have to fight him, so be it.”

Hermione and Ginny stay quiet for a few seconds and watch you breathe heavily. Thankfully, before either of them can speak, Harry and Ron come bursting into the room.

“They’ve only gone and brought Death Eaters into the bloody building!” Ron shakes his head.

Harry snorts at Ron’s dramatics. “Ex-Death Eaters. Apparently. Still a bit dodgy, in fairness.”

“I thought they were spies,” you say, unable to help your curiosity as you stand up. Ginny and Hermione follow you out of the room as you all peak over the bannister to try and get a glimpse of the action downstairs. Annoyingly, there only seem to be a couple of dishevelled looking Order members milling around.

“Maybe Mrs Weasley and Tonks got it mixed up, or maybe they aren’t privy to what’s going on…” Hermione frowns, deep in thought. “I don’t think anyone but Dumbledore knows what’s actually going on.”

Harry makes an irritated sound. “What’s new?”

“Oh, by the way, Mum sent us up to get you lot for dinner,” Ron says absentmindedly as he tries to get a good look over your shoulder at whatever is happening in the hall downstairs. “Mind you, that was before all the Death Eater business so she’ll probably send us right back up.”

The five of you quickly shuffle downstairs to get to the dining room and while your stomach is growling loud enough to forget any thoughts of Order business, Ron and Harry linger in the hall a little in an attempt to get some answers. You don’t doubt Harry will get some, being the Chosen One and all.

You nudge and elbow your way into the dining room where you’re happily surprised to see a messy-haired Tonks yawning over a bowl of soup. She smiles sleepily when she spots the three of you.

“Hi, girls,” she mumbles through a yawn. “Merlin, I’m exhausted. I keep falling asleep in my soup. Good thing it’s mushroom.” She points to her newly platinum blonde hair that matches the contents of her bowl.

“Why’re you so tired?” Hermione asks as she ladles some soup into bowls for you, Ginny and herself. Her voice is quiet as not to attract attention from Mrs Weasley with her questioning. “Is it to do with tonight’s, uh, Order business?”

“Yep.”

Tonks looks as though she’s about to drift off and Ginny seems to jump at the opportunity to gather information.

“So, what are their names?” She gets straight to the point, glaring at you when you choke on your soup a little, not expecting her to be so blunt.

You and Hermione stop eating and wait with bated breath for Tonks to refuse to answer. She merely yawns again, before talking. “You’ll meet them soon enough.”

“Meet them?” you ask, unable to help yourself. “Aren’t they… uh, you know… dangerous?”

“Dumbledore doesn’t seem to think so,” Tonks says, shrugging. You grow a little frustrated at this, since Dumbledore isn’t exactly known for having straightforward plans. While you know his intentions are good, someone he thinks is safe could very well be the opposite. While you ponder this, Tonks’ next words quickly turn your irritation into shock. “The others were understandably quite wary, what with one of them being You-Know-Who’s son and everything, but…”

You feel a ringing in your ear and every word coming from Tonks may as well be directed to her mushroom soup because you aren’t listening anymore. You-Know-Who’s son. You haven’t seen Mattheo since term ended, and even then it was only from a distance. You hadn’t spoken to him since Theo revealed his Dark Mark to you and you’d since avoided his entire friend group like the plague. If Mattheo is in the building, you can only hope and pray that Theodore isn’t with him.

Vaguely aware of someone shaking you by the shoulder, you snap out of your thoughts. “Who else is with Mattheo?” you ask Tonks, your voice sounding rough to your own ears. She blinks through her sleepiness, slightly startled awake by your unwavering eye contact. “Voldemort’s son. Who’s with him? What do they look like?”

You’re so focused on getting an answer from Tonks, and Hermione and Ginny are clearly on the same page as you now since they’re both silent and waiting for a response, that none of you notice Mrs Weasley entering the dining room.

“Tonks, is he blonde or-?”

“Enough!” Mrs Weasley interrupts you hastily, making everyone jump. She sounds panicked, but the look she throws Tonks is stern, like a warning to keep silent. When she turns back to you however, her eyes soften and her voice is gentle, albeit with a hint of annoyance. “I asked Dumbledore not to bring them here while everyone was awake. I didn’t want you all upset again, dear. Look, you can have your dinner upstairs, I’ll bring it up to you!”

You’re grateful for her concern, but it’s a little hard to feel anything other than the pit in your stomach since she’s just confirmed what you were dreading.

Ginny speaks up first, angry on your behalf. “Mum, she deserves to know if that awful git is in the same house as her! I say she ought to go and deck him in the face.”

“Ginny!” Hermione looks at her in exasperation as Mrs Weasley gasps, horrified. “That sort of attitude isn’t going to help anyone.”

“You’re right,” you mumble, getting up from your seat.

Hermione lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness.”

“I should go and deck him in the face.”

Hermione’s sputtering falls to deaf ears as you abruptly leave your seat to go out into the hall, the scraping of chairs behind you indicating that everyone is following closely.

Realistically, you have no plans to actually hit Theodore. In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever successfully landed a punch before in your life. This doesn’t stop you charging into the hallway and elbowing your way through the huddle of Order members to get to the door they seem to be crowded around.

Kingsley Shacklebolt is the last of them to stumble out of your way, clearly too surprised by your sudden presence to continue guarding the door. You raise a shaky hand to the doorknob and hesitate for a second, suddenly nervous. Kingsley takes this moment to snap out of his surprise and redirects his attentions to what you’re about to do next.

“My dear, I’m afraid I can’t allow you to-”

“Kingsley, do you have any idea why I’m standing here?” you say curtly, cutting him off.

He throws a quick glance at Mrs Weasley, almost as if it’s by reflex. Clearly she’s told more people than Dumbledore to keep word of Theodore far from you. “I, uhm, I may have heard a thing or two…”

“Right, so are you going to stop me entering this room, then?” you ask boldly. Your voice catches slightly on the end of your sentence and Kingsley falters a little.

“Well, really I should-“ he begins, eyes darting to your own slightly teary ones. He sighs. “No, I’m not. Just try not to hex the boy.”

He steps out of your way and you finally barge into room, the door swinging open as you stay lingering near the entrance. The room is just as dingy as the rest of the house, lit up by some candles dotted around the room

You first see Professor McGonagall getting up abruptly from her chair where she was previously sat next to a standing Dumbledore. He merely peers at you over his half moon spectacles and raises his eyebrows.

You suddenly feel a little silly, and rude for barging in like that. “Sorry, Professor Dumbledore, I-“

You stop talking when see movement on the other side of the room from the corner of your eye. Just as Tonks had said, Mattheo Riddle, son of Lord Voldemort is standing right there, flanked by Lorenzo Berkshire… and Theodore. Your mouth goes dry.

As soon as you catch his eye, he smiles broadly at you. You don’t return the gesture, taking his appearance in instead. He’s thinner than the last time you saw him. No visible injuries, but he’s definitely seen better days. His dirty blonde hair is overgrown and unruly as it falls into his eyes which, despite brightening up at your presence, are tired.

You keep your expression as impassive as you can, slightly angry with yourself at the twinge of concern you feel. It was all well and good interrupting whatever meeting was happening in here before you came in, but now that you’re here… you have no idea what to do or say.

Theo’s smile falters when you continue to stand there with clenched fists and a stony face and you’re tempted to just run out of the room when Dumbledore clears his throat.

“Well,” your Headmaster says pleasantly, as though you were all engaged in polite conversation rather than a strained silence. “This reunion was certainly a little earlier than anticipated, but I suppose that can’t be helped. I think we ought to give Mr Nott and Miss Y/L/N a moment alone.”

“Uh, can’t we stay in here too?” Lorenzo asks with a nervous chuckle, eyes darting to the watchful crowd standing right outside the door. You can’t blame him for wary, being an ex-Death Eater in a house full of Order members.

Mattheo nods, throwing an arm around Theodore’s shoulder, ignoring the glare he receives. “Yeah. These two won’t mind a bit of company. Right?” he asks you cheerfully. You blink at him.

“Relax, Berkshire,” Professor McGonagall says, rolling her eyes at the way Lorenzo has inched further into the room. She snaps her fingers to get them moving out the door. “Nobody is going to hex you, you silly boy.”

“Can’t say the same for Theo,” Mattheo mutters as he walks past you and follows everyone out, shutting the door.

You don’t really have any choice but to look at Theo now. He tries a smile again, despite the fact you’re not returning it and he takes a step towards you.

You immediately step back.

Theo flinches ever so slightly, his eyes unable to hide that he’s hurt.

Good, you think viciously.

Sighing, he looks at you imploringly like he wants to say something, but can’t find the words. “You’re angry with me,” he settles on muttering, his voice quiet in the dark room.

You let out a derisive laugh. “Angry? You worked that out, huh? Death-Eater’s didn’t completely addle your brain then, did they?”

“Darling, please let me explain,” Theo pleads, taking another few steps towards you.

Rather than stepping back, you whip out your wand and point it right at him. He doesn’t back away, merely raising his hands in surrender and arching an eyebrow as if to ask you if you’re serious. This angers you further.

“Do not call me darling,” you hiss, raising your wand further. Theo doesn’t react, as though he knows you’d never actually use magic to hurt him. Your hand trembles with the weight of the realisation that no, you wouldn’t hurt him. That you’ve actually been more worried that becoming a Death Eater would get him hurt than him betraying you. He left you with nothing but a cold goodbye and you still can’t help caring.

Feeling stupid, and a little bit pathetic, you drop your hand to your side and allow him to continue standing before you as he lowers his hands. You grit your teeth and cross your arms. “Explain.”

Theo lets out a relieved breath. “I never wanted to leave you,” he says, and you immediately roll your eyes. “I- no, look at me. I didn’t.”

“That doesn’t explain the fact that you did,” you deadpan, turning away to leave. Theo quickly reaches out to grasp both of your arms and gently turns you towards him.

You stiffen at the first physical contact you’ve had with him in months, your body betraying you and erupting goosebumps all over your arms in spite of your anger.

“I lied about it to protect you,” he whispers, peering at you through the strands of hair that are stubbornly falling into his eyes from weeks of neglect. Theo looks slightly pained and you recognise his expression to mean that he’s desperately trying to phrase his next words correctly. His eyes flick over to your right arm. No. To his left wrist, where you know his Dark Mark to be. “You can ask Dumbledore if you don’t believe me… Me and the others only ever took the Mark so we’d be able to spy on The D- on him.”

The relief hits you like a freight train and lightens your heavy chest all in one go. You hadn’t just felt betrayed by your boyfriend leaving you all those months ago. You had felt dread at the possibility of him joining a Pureblood supremacist’s cult. Dread at the idea that the views he’d shared with you were all lies and that he was a completely difference person to the one you loved.

Despite the relief, the sting of the breakup still lingers with you.

“That meant you had to be a prick when you left me?” you ask, voice shaking against your will. His eyes soften.

“Yes,” he says weakly. “How else could I have left you without worrying that… that he could use you against me if he found me out? I never wanted to take the Mark and it killed me when I saw the look on your face.”

Your scowl, trying your best to distract Theodore from the fact that your vision has gone blurry from the tears welling up in your eyes. By the look on his face, you doubt you’re doing a very good job. “Do you really think I would have cared about a fucking tattoo, if you had just told me the truth?”

“No, I know,” Theo sighs, absentmindedly drawing closer to you. “I’ll explain anything you want, but the work we did was too close to The Dark Lord to risk telling anyone about at the time. Dumbledore made me, Mattheo and Enzo swear not to say anything. It was safer that way.”

“Did you make an Unbreakable Vow?” you whisper, stiller than ever.

Theo furrows his brows. “No, but-”

You pull away from him abruptly and back away to the door, ignoring the way his hands reach out in an attempt to hold your arms again. “Then I hope the information you got for Dumbledore was worth it.”

You don’t look back at him, nor do you check to see if anyone is in the hallway as you run upstairs and into your room, slamming the door shut as you lean against it, breathing heavily. You stay there for a while, reeling from your anger and irritation at the fact you still have to stay in this bloody house while Theodore’s in it.

The next few days are confusing to say the least. Theo doesn’t seem to have any plans to avoid you, but he respects your space.

Sort of.

He isn’t badgering you every second of the day, but somehow whichever room you’re in, he finds himself in as well. Whenever you try and reach for something, even if it’s not on a particularly high shelf, or particularly far away, Theo beats you to it, ever the gentleman.

It’s starting to unnerve you a little.

One particular afternoon, you walk into the kitchen hoping to make a cup of tea in peace. At the table sits Theo, a cigarette hanging loosely between his fingers. When he spots you, he sits up straighter and you dawdle stupidly at the entrance.

Before you can snap out of it and remember what you came in here for, Theo gets up and walks over to the mugs. “Tea?” he asks politely, and, you think, a little hopefully.

“Will you make it and let me drink it alone?” you ask bluntly.

“I’ll make it and sit with you in silence,” he offers, undeterred despite your coldness.

Narrowing your eyes, you glance at the clock and sigh. It’s too early in the morning to put off having your tea, so you allow it. “Fine. Milk and-”

“Two sugars,” he cuts you off with an annoyingly smug smile. “I remember.”

You poke your cheek with your tongue, but stay silent as he turns his attentions to the kettle. Theo’s face quickly falls when he realises he has no idea how to use it. Your impassive expression almost cracks and you have to bite back a laugh as he examines the thing. Walking over to the counter, you drag the kettle so that it’s closer to you. And so you don’t have to be as close to Theo, but that’s besides the point.

“It’s already filled with water, you just need to flip the switch so it starts boiling,” you explain, pointing to the little part. Theo places his cigarette in between his lips as he furrows his brows, clearly skeptical of the muggle contraption. You suppose you can’t blame him since you, Hermione and Harry have had to explain the kettle to countless members of the Order since it was introduced to the house a few months ago.

You still don’t know where the plug socket is and considering the fact that Grimmauld Place has never inhabited muggles, you aren’t going to bother asking.

When Theo flicks the switch and sees the light turn red, a satisfied smile graces his lips where the cigarette still hangs. You look away from his mouth very quickly and go to sit down. Unable to leave without making things awkward, you decide the only thing to do is watch Theo make two cups of tea. He doesn’t need instruction since he knows exactly how you like it, but something catches in your throat when he uses a green mug. Your favourite colour.

The only sound in the kitchen is the clink of the spoon swirling in the cups and Theo soon brings both cups over with an incredibly concentrated frown to make sure there’s no spillages as he sets one down on the table. The other he hands to you himself and you have to clench your jaw when you grab it, your own hands brushing against his, which he doesn’t seem to be in a rush to move away.

“Thanks,” you mutter, trying to use the burning heat of the mug against your skin to distract from the fact that you have tingles.

“S’alright,” he replies, a barely restrained grin on his face. You narrow your eyes at him over the rim of the mug as you sip your tea.

Damn, you think to yourself. Why is it always so good when he makes it?

The two of you settle into a surprisingly comfortable silence as you drink your tea and he smokes. The puffs are very carefully directed away from you, but you can’t help wrinkling your nose out of habit. Back when you were still together, you were always firm about him cutting down and now you have to restrain yourself from reaching over and plucking the cigarette out of his lips to throw it away like you used to do with ease. He never objected.

Theo notices your looks all the same, and it’s almost like he’s reading your thoughts. He raises a brow, almost daring you to remove the cigarette yourself. “You want me to stop?”

“I don’t care,” you say in an attempt to sound nonchalant. Shrugging, you try your hardest not to react to his obvious bait, but it’s like a bloody reflex. “It’s your lungs on the line, not mine. If you want to lose five years off your life, then by all means, go ahead. I really couldn’t care-”

“As you wish,” he interrupts you, grinning like an idiot again. The next thing you know, he’s putting out the cigarette, and sipping his tea instead. He doesn’t even like tea.

“I didn’t say you had to stop,” you grumble, slightly pleased nonetheless.

He merely hums, taking a gulp of his tea. You accidentally let out a snort of laughter when he grimaces at the taste. Theo’s lips quirk up in amusement when you laugh, unrestrained and it’s only when you catch him staring at you that you quickly stop.

The smug expression on his face quickly returns as though he knows you’re finding it hard to be fully angry at him.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you snap, drawing your knees up on your chair towards your chin. “You look stupid. And your hair is too long.”

Theo huffs out a surprised laugh. “My hair is too long?” he asks incredulously, reaching up to tug a piece down so it reaches the bottom of his nose. “Hm, you’re right. You cut it pretty good that one time. Would you do it again for me?”

“Mrs Weasley is better at it,” you say, chin jutting out stubbornly. “I’m sure she’d be delighted if you just ask.”

“The way she looks at me, I’d be lucky to get away with my head still attached to my body,” he drawls, wholly unimpressed by your suggestion. “Why can’t you do it?”

“Because I’m not done being angry with you yet,” you reply simply, draining the contents of your mug. “Trust me when I say you don’t want me anywhere near your head with a pair of scissors either.”

Theo nods slowly, a smile gracing his lips— strange, since you just threatened physical violence. “So, what I’m hearing is that you’re not going to be angry with me forever.”

“I- Well, I didn’t mean-” you stutter pointlessly, cutting yourself off with a sigh. “I don’t know yet. It’s too early for this, leave me alone.”

“That was the first cigarette I’ve had since before I left,” Theo says quietly, searching your face for a reaction, almost nervously.

You aren’t quite sure how to respond to this random piece of information and you find yourself floundering. “Uhm. Okay, good. That’s… Yeah, that’s great for you and your lungs, well done. Saves money too. They were actually, uh, saying on the news the other day that the average amount people spend on-”

“Darling, as much as I appreciate it, that’s not what I’m getting at,” he interrupts, the ghost of a smirk at his lips. You scowl at him for letting you go on for so long and motion for him to get to the bloody point. “Every time I brought a cigarette to my lips, I remembered you weren’t going to be there to nag me about it. It just feels pointless now.”

You stare at him. “Nice to know that my nagging was what you remembered me by.”

“That’s not-” Theo cuts himself off with a laugh that sounds halfway to a groan. “Merlin, you’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?”

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can get a word out, Harry walks in which you find odd considering it’s so early in the morning and him and Ron are usually only out of bed when Mrs Weasley yells them down for breakfast.

“Morning,” he says through a yawn. The greeting is directed at you, but he sends an expectant look at Theo right after. “Time to leave, Nott.

“Leave for where?” you ask before you can help yourself. You realise with a start that Harry and Theo are dressed and ready while you’re still in your pyjamas. “Where do you have to go?”

“Horcrux hunting,” Harry says flippantly, as though he’s just announced he’s going fishing. Hermione had filled you in on the information Theo and the others had ascertained from their time with Voldemort, but you didn’t even consider them or Harry would actually be going with the Order to find them. “Nott and the others know more than we do, so they’re coming with.”

You level a look at Theo, who seems to be pointedly avoiding eye contact with you. “Thanks for sharing that tiny tidbit of information, by the way,” you mutter sourly.

He winces, getting up slowly from his chair. “It, uh, didn’t seem that important. It’s only a quick little task anyway. We’ll be back before you know it.”

“I’m not stupid,” you scoff, standing up so you can attempt to look a little more dignified as you confront Theo. Harry, on the other hand, looks as though he regrets his decision to enter the kitchen in the first place. Despite this, you hadn’t missed the way he furrowed his brows when Theo spoke. “Even if Harry wasn’t looking at you like you were speaking gibberish, I would know that you’re lying. It’s a Horcrux you’re leaving to get. Not the weekly food shop.”

Harry snickers at this, though quickly turns it into a cough when Theo sends him a withering glare. Sighing, you decide to ignore him for the moment and turn to Harry instead

“Be safe,” you say, gentler than before. “And don’t be a hero, just try and get out of there safely.”

“Pfft,” Harry waves you off, a sarcastic tone entering his voice. “When have you known me to do that?”

You roll your eyes, cracking a smile as he walks away, supposedly to find the rest of the group.

“Don’t I get a ‘be safe’ as well?” Theo tries for a casual, joking voice. A hint of irritation seeps through it though. You shift on your feet a little awkwardly, slightly flustered at his obvious jealousy.

“Uhm, okay. Bye,” you say stiffly, fiddling with the loose string of your cardigan sleeve so you have something to do with your hands other than ball them up at your sides. Theo seems to be satisfied with the curt response, or more likely your lack of insults, and he nods, turning away to leave. As you watch him walk away, a familiar sense of anxiety bubbles up in your stomach and you blurt out the only thing you can think of. “Don’t die!”

He slowly turns around, very clearly holding back a grin. You think you might thump the boy. “Will you forgive me if I come back alive?”

“Well,” you huff, crossing your arms. As petty as it may be, you’ve always found it hard to loosen a grudge. You settle for a shrug instead. “Come back alive first and then I’ll see.”

Theo takes two steps forward and closes the short distance that was previously allowing you to keep a cool- well, cool-ish, head. He keeps both arms behind his back, however, as he dips his head down slightly.

“My sweet, stubborn girl,” Theo says in a low voice. His proximity flounders you for a moment and you don’t even protest that no, you’re not his anything. The way your breathing turns shallow would be contradicting that greatly though. “I’ll try my best. And if I don’t come back alive, I promise you can yell at my ghost.”

You scowl, and this time you actually do thump him on the arm. “You’re not funny, you idiot. Now, go. I can already hear Mattheo irritating the patience out of Harry.”

Theo gives you a little two-fingered salute and a wink before he walks away again, leaving you alone with a funny feeling in settling in your stomach.

You aren’t the only one who sits anxiously in the living room waiting for the group to return with the infamous Horcrux. Ron has eaten his way through three bowls of cereal and rapidly makes a start on his fourth while Hermione tries to distract herself with reading a book that she hasn’t noticed is upside down.

After another hour goes by, Ginny, who was previously pacing up and down the stairs, sighs and turns Hermione’s book the right way up which startles her, causing her to give up altogether.

You sit cross-legged and completely still, other than switching your legs every time one of them goes numb. Eventually, you get so sick of watching Mrs Weasley mop over the same spot on the floor for the fifth time that you jump up from your seat, causing her to start and knock over the bucket of dirty mop water all over the floor.

“Oh, dear,” she mutters, waving her wand and siphoning all the water up in a second.

“Sorry, Mrs Weasley,” you say, wincing. “I’m just a little stressed since it’s been ages already-”

You get cut off by Hermione gasping at the sound of the front door opening along with voices. She grips your arm tightly. “They’re back!”

Barely registering the pain of her nails digging into the skin of your arm, you waste no time in running into the hall with the others to greet everyone at the door. You can’t help the relieved smile on your face when you do a quick head count and find everyone present.

As you get closer, you see how exhausted they look. Not to mention the fact they’re dripping water all over the rug. Harry stands at the front of the group looking like he might collapse if he stands any longer and Hermione and Ron pick up on this as they rush over to help him inside.

As they stumble him across the hall, you stop craning your neck as Theo comes into view. The relief you previously felt leaves you faster than your body knows how to deal with and you have to force yourself to breathe when you take in the state of him.

At first glance he doesn’t look particularly worse than the rest. They all have a vaguely haunted look in their eyes along with a sickly pallor like they haven’t seen the sun in days.

But the way Mattheo and Lorenzo are holding him up brings attention to the fact that all of his weight is being put on one leg. The other, to your horror, has a deep, bloody gash trailing down his thigh and onto his calf. The sight of blood steadily dripping onto the floor below has you frozen, almost mesmerised in a terrible way, and it’s not until Dumbledore speaks that you snap out of it and to attention.

“Miss Y/L/N, if you could please fetch Madam Pomfrey for me,” Dumbledore asks, his voice a lot calmer than you feel. You nod, turning away quickly before Theo can see the panic which is probably clear as day on your face.

It takes a scary second to find Madam Pomfrey, but as soon as you do, she gets down to business preparing her supplies in the living room which is as far as Theo seems to be able to make it.

He lays on the sofa, breathing shallowly as Madam Pomfrey crouches down beside him to begin assessing the wound. Peering at it closely, she looks up at Dumbledore sharply. “Inferi?”

“I’m afraid so,” he replies solemnly and you let out a choked sort of whimper.

“Merlin,” Ron whispers, looking like he might be sick. Whether that’s because Madam Pomfrey is cleaning Theo’s leg, or because of the mention of Inferi, you aren’t sure. “What the hell were you guys doing?”

“All will be explained, Mr Weasley,” Dumbledore reassures him, looking over his spectacles. “However, I must insist that for now we allow dear Madam Pomfrey to tend to Mr Nott’s injuries.”

“Will you be able to heal him?” Mattheo asks, swallowing hard. The concern in his voice for his best friend has your heart clenching and you look to Madam Pomfrey just as earnestly for an answer.

“Yes, I dare say I can,” Madam Pomfrey says grimly, but she pulls out a couple little bottle of potions from her bag with a frown. “That doesn’t mean it won’t be extremely painful, unfortunately.”

“Can’t imagine what pain feels like,” Theo mumbles, shifting his position on the sofa slightly and wincing. His face goes whiter than before and he shuts his eyes tightly from the pain, but he still manages to talk, however hard it may be. “Not like I’ve just had Inferi mistaking my leg for their lunch.”

“No talking and no moving,” Madam Pomfrey instructs Theo, sending him a stern glare.

“Sorry-”

“Shhh!” you hiss, giving him a glare of your own. Theo’s eyes flutter open slightly and his lips quirk up when he sees you leaning over him as close as you can get without Madam Pomfrey shooing you away.

His smile quickly drops when Madam Pomfrey pours some purple liquid into the open wound, causing it to hiss and smoke. The groan that leaves Theo has you holding your breath and you fight the urge to shut your eyes and turn away.

“Merlin, I can’t watch,” Lorenzo gags, his skin turning even sicklier than before. Turning away, he holds onto Mattheo’s shoulder to steady himself, the latter looking more interested than anything as he peers at Theo’s sizzling cut. Lorenzo shakes his head and holds a hand over his mouth every time he can hear Madam Pomfrey pouring more of the potion. “Oh, God, that’s disgusting.”

“Mr Berkshire, if you are unable to watch, then don’t,” Madam Pomfrey snaps, screwing the bottle shut and grabbing another one. She waves her hand in an impatient shooing motion. “In fact, everyone out. Now! This isn’t a Quidditch match, for heaven’s sake!”

Dumbledore starts filing everyone out and you consider staying for a minute but Madam Pomfrey’s raised eyebrows have you hurtling out of the room with everyone else. Theo starts to say something, but a drop of something else makes him grit his teeth and the green smoke produced by the potion follows you out the door.

The next hour or so is filled with Harry, Mattheo and Lorenzo being fussed over by Mrs Weasley, who insists on them going up to bed once they’ve cleaned up and changed into dry clothing. Unfortunately for the rest of you, this means you won’t be getting an update any time soon. Dumbledore is, as always these days, nowhere to be seen.

“I wonder if they found the Horcrux,” you say under your breath to Hermione as she anxiously taps her foot against the kitchen floor.

“They did,” she says grimly, glancing impatiently at the clock. She has her thinking face on, brows furrowed and gaze distant. “It was in a cave in the middle of nowhere. Harry quickly told me before Mrs Weasley sent them off. I wonder when they’ll wake up though… They didn’t look too happy, and I have a feeling it wasn’t all to do with Nott.”

You nod slowly, a weight lifting off your chest despite the last part. If, after all this, they hadn’t retrieved the Horcrux, you think you’d probably have gone to the bloody cave yourself.

“Theodore’s resting now, anyway,” Hermione adds, giving you a quick glance as though she’s waiting for a reaction. You keep your face as impassive as you can, attempting a casual nod. “Madam Pomfrey says he’s healing nicely and his leg will be fine. It’ll just be a bit sore for a few days. I’m sure he’s awake if you want to go see him.”

“I might,” you mumble, shrugging. You try to sound flippant, but the urge to clamber out of your seat probably shows because Hermione rolls her eyes at you.

“Oh, why don’t you just put him out of his misery?” she asks, her words coming out at the speed of light, like she’s been wanting to say it for a while. You blink at her in shock. Sighing, she leans over the table and her tone becomes gentle. “I know he lied to you, and you should be angry with him for that! But… well, it’s been a really awkward few days with him asking us where you are every second of the day. And, technically, he was never really a Death Eater, he was helping our side!”

Hermione takes a deep breath and exhales, slumping back in her seat as she waits for your reaction. You try not to laugh. “How long have you been holding that one in?”

“Since the second he turned up here,” she says, sagely. “Now, don’t change the subject! Go and see him. Go on, off you go!”

You stand up, swiftly dodging Hermione’s flapping hands to try and rush you out the door. “Okay, I’m going. It’s probably about time anyway,” you grumble, a fond smile creeping up on you nonetheless.

Looking satisfied, Hermione stops trying to usher you out and you make your way over to the living room again. The door is open and you sigh with relief when you notice the room is empty, bar Theo who’s in the same position as he was the last time you saw him. His eyes are shut and you wonder if he’s sleeping until you step on a creaky floorboard and he cracks one eye open.

“Hey,” you say quietly, tip-toeing into the room to perch on the coffee table adjacent to the sofa. “Did I wake you?”

“Nah,” Theo replies, moving to sit up as much as he can. You suspect he’d have the same answer even if he was asleep. He looks a lot more awake than he did before and you feel your chest squeeze tightly when you realise how glad you are. Theo seems to notice this and he reaches over to hold one of your hands, detaching it from the way you grasp them both together. “I promised you I’d come back alive, didn’t I?”

You snort, shaking your head at his ability to be so chipper. “Alive and dripping blood all over the carpet. You know if Kreacher finds out it was you, he’ll murder you in your sleep, right?”

“It doesn’t count if I die now,” Theo protests, frowning as if you’re talking about a serious possibility and not joking. “Deal was you’d forgive me if I came back alive after finding the Horcrux, remember?”

“Hm,” you hum, pretending to think deeply about it as he rubs circles on the back of your hand with his thumb. It causes you to momentarily lose your focus. “What I remember saying is that I would think about it.”

Theo shakes his head, a look of mock concern overtaking his features. “I think the stress of my injury has gotten to your memory… What I remember is you vowing to forgive me the moment I stepped foot in this place.”

“I think Madam Pomfrey’s painkillers are getting to you,” you say drily, moving to kneel on the floor next to him.

“She didn’t use any,” Theo grumbles, looking mournfully at the bandages on his leg. “She’s really sadistic, I’m telling you.”

You laugh, ducking your head so you aren’t flustered by the way Theo’s eyes focus on your smile with a grin of his own.

“You know what she told me would help with the pain?” Theo asks quietly, his enviously long eyelashes fanning over his cheekbones as he looks down at you, almost nervously.

“Let me guess,” you say, sitting up so the distance between your faces is much shorter now. “A kiss to make it all better?”

“Healer’s orders,” he says, shrugging. His breathing quickens when you don’t move away and he swallows hard, eyes dropping lower to your mouth when you bite your lip to stop from cracking a smile. “I’m not saying you have to, but if you’re okay with going directly against her orders, then-”

You cut him off by pressing a lingering kiss to his lips and he inhales sharply, unmoving for a split second before parting his lips and deepening the kiss. Theo’s hands move to your waist where he uses his remaining strength to hoist you up onto the sofa next him, one of your legs thrown over his waist as you half-straddle him.

You gasp into his mouth when he nips at your bottom lip and the sound he makes in the back of his throat has your cheeks warming up and you kiss him harder. The fact it’s been so long since you’ve even been near him has you both kissing for what feels like hours and you only pull away when you need to breathe and you’re worried you’re leaning on Theo’s leg.

Pulling away, you scan Theo’s face and pause for a second to take in his beautiful features. His eyes are blown wide like he can’t believe he’s here with you, kissing you. A warm feeling starting in your stomach spreads all the way down to the tips of your fingers as he looks at you.

“Any other very important requests from the Healer?” you ask breathlessly, feeling a shiver run down your spine where Theo lightly skims his fingers. A dangerous smile overtakes his face and his lips, pink and swollen from kissing you, curve up, causing you to narrow your eyes at him.

“I think she mentioned something about a sponge bath?”

You whack his arm and he yelps, grabbing your wrist to stop you assaulting him further. “Hey, I’m an injured patient!”

“Your leg is injured, not your arm.”

“It is now,” he says, pouting as he rubs dramatically at his bicep where you lightly thumped him. He grumbles when you roll your eyes and press another kiss to his lips to get him to stop pouting. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Hm,” you hum, settling your face in his chest and sighing at the warmth of his arms, feeling him smile against your forehead where he kisses you.

#theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott scenarios #theodore nott imagines #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott smut #theodore nott

1K notes · View notes

lovelybrooke · 1 month

Text

Letters Never Sent (Yandere Malleus x Reader)

---

A letter wrote by Malleus Draconia, never sent to the object of his desires. Why don't you open it up and see what's inside...

masterlist

---

Dear My Child of Man,

I am writing this letter with no intention of you receiving it.

Maybe this is "silly" as you would describe it, but I find myself slowly losing the restraint on my emotions as the days go by. My heart fills with unfamiliar feelings as I think of you, mixing together into an ever present sense of desire that makes me near shameful.

I find myself thinking of you always, from the moment I wake, to the moment I fall asleep. You seep your way into my dreams, where for but a moment I can relish in the fantasy that is you. I dream of your soft voice, your comforting gaze, your addicting presence. You are so captivating that I often forget I'm dreaming, until I awake with an aching feeling I've come to know as longing.

I long for you, I've learned.

I long for your voice, for your gaze, for your presence. I long for every essence of your being to be directed towards me. Some may call me a fool, scoff my way and paint me a madman, but I am nothing without my love for you, so it bothers me none. I often wonder if you think of me as intensely as I do you. I have to admit it is exciting, the mere thought of you reciprocating my feelings warms me so. It is intoxicating, even as a fantasy, simply imagining a life with you is enough for me. Somedays, I imagine gifting you with an unending dream, one where it is just us, away from the rest of the world. Away from duty, and work, and anything else that could distract us from each other, from our love. We would be together and we would be happy until the end of your days, and even after you're gone, I would continue loving you.

You were always so opposed to the idea, immortality. I remember the look on your face when you realized just how long I had lived, the sadness, the remorse, the pain. At that moment, it was not something I feared, more accurately not something I thought much about. It was not until I met you that it dawned upon me that at some point, you would leave this world, and that it would keep moving. Time would progress, people would grieve, but they would move on, plants would sprout and grow and wilt and eventually grow again, but I would remain stuck. Stuck with my dreams and fantasies. Stuck with the memory of you so present it would be like you never left in the first place.

Even now, I fear what the world would be like without you. Not much fills me with fear, my Child of Man, but I've found myself scared lately. The thought of you leaving, of going back to your home, and never returning scares me. It is almost comical in a way, I find myself dreading the thought even while writing this. You should be proud, how easily you are able to terrify me is an excellent skill, one many would love to possess.

You were my first true friend, did you know that? I have Lilia and Silver and Sebek, but I've always been treated as above them, as something untouchable. You were the first person to treat me like an equal, to bless me with the wonderful feeling of friendship. I often find myself racked with guilt, why should I desire more from you when you've already given me so much already? It is selfish, to seek out your love so desperately when I've already taken so much from you. You are my friend, and I should value our friendship above all.

But that is why I fear, because my love for you goes beyond the boundaries of friendship. I would even say it goes beyond the boundaries of love. It is a longing so deep I wonder if I'll ever be the same again, all while knowing that I am too engrossed in the feeling that is you to ever go back. A longing so deep I yearn with desire unexplainable to man, desire so profound and raw that I am sure you have changed something within me. A longing so deep the closest word to describe it is obsession, but even obsession doesn't explain the hundreds of letters, all unset, pilling away, all centering you.

Fear, love, what do distinctions matter if every single one of my thoughts center you.

I have no desire to send this letter, my Child of Man, but I hope with every meeting, every passing day, every time we are together, you are able to feel the love I hold for you. I hope my longing, my devotion, my never ending, boundless obsession is clear to you, my love.

Because I fear what will happen when I run out of paper.

---

A/n: here's to me hoping that this will break my writers block.

#yandere x reader #soft yandere #platonic yandere #twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twst malleus #twst x reader #yandere twst #twst

217 notes · View notes

stardustpr1ncess · 2 months

Text

Bonzle is 100% without a shadow of a doubt a trans allegory. People have been trying their best to say Sora isn't transcoded, but Bonzle is 2 scenes away from looking at the camera and saying "Hello. I'm a trans allegory." I shall now go into detail on every piece of evidence for this claim because fuck you.

EPISODE 5: Bonzle is afraid of how her found family will react to learning she's a spell (trans) and worries she will be rejected because of it. Easy parallel to trans people being afraid of revealing they're trans post transition. There's also her conversation with Bitch Boy Master Wu, with her saying she feels great loneliness, and only after gaining a physical form (transitioning) she feels happy and her true self. Very common trans experience. Gonna also put all of the quotes for my evidence as well since I know there's transphobes (filth) that like Ninjago and will be scrambling to deny it when people start coming to this conclusion too.

"Bonzle: I-- I was afraid of what you'd think if you knew about my past... Wu: It's called loneliness... Bonzle: I feel like, for the first time ever, I've become who I was destined to be... Bonzle: I was afraid if you found out I wasn't a real person, you wouldn't want me to be in our family anymore."

EPISODE 6: Bonzle is apprehensive about meeting with Gandalaria, seeing as how she's only known Bonzle as a spell, aka pre transition. She worries if she will respect her identity, much like how actual trans people fear how their family, more specifically a parental figure, would react. Bit of a light episode but an important aspect, here's the quotes;

"Bonzle: The Sorceress. She only knows me as a spell. What if she doesn't believe in me as a real person?"

EPISODE 7: This episode is the sauce. Bonzle is reunited with Gandalaria and their conversation is nothing short of magical. Gandalaria immediately recognizes Bonzle, saying she was her greatest creation and had always hoped she'd come home, shattering Bonzle's fears. It's a fantastic contrast, showing how this interaction can go well for some people, while others get an interaction much more akin to Sora's parents. When she's informed of Bonzle's chosen name, Gandalaria immediately starts using it, saying it's a great name. However, for that juicy authenticity, Gandalaria accidentally says spell before quickly correcting herself saying Bonzle. IT'S LITERALLY SO FUCKING OBVIOUS BONZLE'S BONES MIGHT AS WELL BE BLUE PINK AND WHITE. Oh yeah, here's the paragraph of quotes;

"Gandalaria: It's you! My dearest! You've come home! Bonzle: You... You recognize me? Even in my boney physical form? Gandalaria: Oh, I would know your true essence anywhere. Bonzle: I was so afraid you wouldn't accept me for who I am now. Gandalaria Are you kidding? I put my heart, my soul into every spell I weave... The most complex spell I've ever woven, and the first of my creations to ever come back to me!.. Bonzle: I'm Bonzle. That's the name I chose when I became a person. Gandalaria: Well, that's a splendid name... If this Ras times it right, he could reverse the power spell-- uh, Bonzle here--."

EPISODE 9: This episodes importance comes from Jordana, who acts EXACTLY how transphobes do. She constantly calls her a spell (some sort of derogatory term), says she's playing person (like pretending to be a girl), and says she's helping her do what she was made for, like transphobes very creepy beliefs in reproduction. Literally you half expect Jordana to ask which bathroom Bonzle uses since she was a spell. THE QUOTES;

"Jordana: Settle down, spell. I don't know what you think you've been doing, playing person with your fake family, but I know your true purpose... You should thank us. We're helping you to do what you were created to do."

In conclusion the silly lego skeleton girl is one of them spooky transgenders. Lmk if there's anything I missed. Thank you for reading.

#ninjago #lego ninjago #ninjago dragons rising #lego ninjago dragons rising #dragons rising #dragons rising season 2 #ninjago spoilers #dragons rising spoilers #ninjago bonzle #ninjago Gandalaria #ninjago sora

247 notes · View notes

peaterookie · 4 months

Text

Lupin Week 2024 Day 4: AUs and Mythology

Goemon's face looks like he's seen a ghost.

ahhhh god ok my stupid stupid silly au i made a year ago.... this will be a bit long so get ready

tldr: lupin died, the gang is alive. goemon finds lupin but he's a shark merman!? and lupin remembers nothing!!!

long version:

so this AU follows upon the story of shin lupin, which basically, the gang gets killed off by zenigata because he rigged an island full of explosives.

instead of them all dying however, lupin decides to knock the gang unconscious and find a way for them to escape off the island safely, leaving only him in the island to die.

the rest of the gang had no idea how they escaped and assumed that lupin had sacrificed himself for them. they woke up adrifted on the ocean until they eventually got picked up by a ship where the invisible captain from new adventures returns. but ah ill spare the details for another day

---

2 years have passed and the gang just kinda separated to do their own thing. we'll only focus on goemon cuz he's the featured character of this comic.

goemon decided to escape the life of crime that has burdened him for years living as a part of the lupgang. he's mostly a wanderer now and tries to do good and help people along the way

funnily enough, goemon is not the first person to find lupin, but I'll talk about this later. but goemon is definitely very mixed about seeing his friend who he thought was dead for years. he doesn't know whether to be happy or worried.

---

lupin, at the brink of death after the explosion, plummets down the ocean and wakes up one day, feeling like he's been rebirthed!

essentially, lupin became a merman because right before he could die, his body (i mean what's left of it 💀) interacted with a magic crystal that has the ability to grant life to a living being.

It's really rare, but it exists in clusters deep in the ocean floor or- deep under the rocks of an island :) you can say im bullshitting, which i am but i dont think exploding an entire island down to every rock has happened before, so it can kinda make sense why something so coincidental about these crystals could happen. (I AM TOTALLY MAKING EXCUSES I JUST WANTED TO MAKE LUPIN A MERMAN.)

and so these crystals used whats left of lupins body and reassembled him back, and idk other essences of the ocean to make him a merman!

the memories of his past life have definitely been buried deep inside his brain to the point he can't remember any of it though, so he thinks that he was born under the ocean and has lived there for his entire life. other than that he retains almost everything about himself, down to stealing stupid shit and messing with humans just for the fucks of it. he's kinda seen as like a nessie.

---

anyways, y'know how i said goemon wasn't the first one to meet lupin? that's because lupin has met zenigata before!

living a life with only fishes around means lupin's kinda lonely and likes to stalk humans sometimes. the interaction with him and zenigata did not end well though, and lupin has no idea why zeni wants him dead so much.

after that he's way more cautious around people that look like zenigata- hatted big men with guns. its gonna be fun once he sees jigen.

ok what else... i think that's all i want to reveal now. will i do more of this? maybe. maybe not. kinda embarrassed of this because of how silly it is but i hope you people find this interesting! byebye

#lupin iii #lupin the third #lupin iii manga #goemon ishikawa xiii #peaterookie art #shin lupin iii #lupinweek2024 #lupin au #merman #merman lupin

207 notes · View notes

hanyjar · 6 months

Text

rain sucks. (i'll make you love it.)

isagi yoichi x reader

summary: your story with isagi yoichi, told through five moments, a bus stop, and rain.

notes: [6.25k words.] idk if isagi lovers still exist, but in the wise words of taylor swift: this is me trying ;)

disclaimers: cursing, reader hates the rain and likes to talk, break up with an ex (not isagi) in part one, loneliness in 'one' and four', self doubt in 'five' but isagi is quick to comfort, fluff -> angst -> fluff, rain kisses, romantic gestures, strangers -> friends -> lovers.

edit: isagi likes rain here (as opposed to the info given in the light novel T_T so very sorry ahh)

masterlist.

ONE.

It has been a bad day.

No. That’s putting it too lightly. Today, June 20th, is the very epitome of shit.

The heated argument you had with your now ex-partner continues to linger in your mind. “I think we’ve been wasting our time” plays on loop like a broken record, and you wonder if you look as lifeless as you feel.

It’s quite a silly thing: how a single person can make you feel as if the whole world is ending. It’s even sillier how you devoted all this effort into a relationship that is nothing but a waste of time to them.

Waste of time.

Even after they crushed your already tattered heart and left it for dead, you can’t help but think how much easier it would be if you feel that way about them too.

Love is a stupid, stupid thing.

You appreciate mother nature for taking pity on you, at least. Rain in the midst of summer has never been your favourite thing - the air always being a little too hard to breathe and the dreary sky a tell-tale sign that the bus is going to be late that day. But today, you feel okay towards rain. The tears from the heavens above do well to cover up your own; the droplets become friends, accompanying you in your forlorn state. For once, you don’t complain about the broken roof at the bus stop letting rain in. For once, you find comfort in the very thing you hate.

And you cry a little bit inside, knowing that your ex has managed to break that part of you as well.

“...Bad day?” A voice breaks you free from your stupor.

You turn to your left, and you feel your breath being taken away.

There, a stranger stands. From first glance, the boy is nothing but ordinary. His navy - almost black - hair did little to set him apart from the rest of the crowd, and he dons the same Ichinan uniform that you (and the multitude of students in the area) wear. But there is something within his cerulean eyes. A fervour of sorts, one that is begging to be unleashed for the whole world to see. To the untrained eye, he is the very essence of average; to a trained eye, the stranger is utterly beautiful.

…Or, that’s what you would say, if he didn’t look like a wet cat. Not the ones featured in those animal shampoo commercials, but one of the sad, pathetically cute, on the verge of tears, literally sopping wet ones. Your breath is taken away, simply because the boy is a mess.

You can’t help but think that this stranger has had a shit day, too.

“Like you have no idea.” You say, voice drenched in exasperation. “Though… You look like you’ve been through a nightmare yourself.”

“A nightmare is an understatement,” he cradles his left temple with his palm. You laugh at his antics.

“Try me, then. Nothing can be worse than getting dumped, right?”

The smile on his face immediately falls, and you can’t help but feel a little bad for dropping a bomb like that to a stranger. “My god.” He exhales, “I am so sorry.” His crestfallen expression makes you feel as if he truly means those words.

“Don’t be. You didn’t know.” Your eyes look down to the soiled concrete. “I’ll be fine, time will pass, after all.” (You say that more to yourself than him, if anything.)

The bus stop is silent for a while, and you feel as if you’ve ruined everything - for the second time today. It’s almost as if the bus stop boy knows, and is eager to change that.

“Well. My name is Isagi Yoichi,” he begins. “And my soccer coach told me that I am mediocre at best; that I don’t have what it takes to do what I love professionally.”

You look into his eyes once more, and the fervour that was once there is now shrouded in a sense of agony you know all too well. The same agony that is, without a doubt, present in your eyes too. Words fail you. And for the years you have shrugged as the therapist friend, you find yourself at a genuine loss.

“...I guess we’re in the same boat then.” You muster out, lamely. “But are you seriously going to let some old geezer tell you what to do with your life? I mean, he’s literally the coach of a no-name highschool team.” Your hands make their way onto Isagi’s, clasping his in-between yours. “Your coach has no right to tell you that when he’s failed at that dream already. Don’t let your coach dictate your worth; don’t let him stop you from shining. Ever.”

He stares at your hands for a second, eyes widened and mouth agape. You are quick to detach yourself from him. “Forgive me,” a sheepish smile grows on your face.” “I speak too much sometimes.”

“No need,” Isagi’s hand moves to rest on the nape of his neck. “Thank you. I needed to hear that today, I think.”

Isagi smiles boyishly. It suits him.

“It’s no problem.” You fiddle with the straps of your backpack, suddenly feeling bashful at his gratitude. “Adults like that? They think they rule the world, but in reality—”

The squeaking of tires interrupts you, and the bus arrives exactly eleven minutes late.

“That’s my cue,” you say, and for a second, you could swear that Isagi seems disappointed. You make your way towards the bus, head turning towards his way before you get on board. “Thanks for the chat, stranger. I’ll see you around.”

You make your way through the barren bus, the driver eyeing you up-and-down for your soaked figure. And just like that, uncertainty and dejection return in waves. Talking to Isagi was a good distraction and all, but you can’t forget that your partner of two years just fucking broke up with you. You are alone now.

You want nothing more than to sleep it all off. This feeling of loneliness is a type that you would not wish on anyone - even your worst enemy. (Well, maybe someone. Your ex, being the said someone. But you like to think that is just the anger talking.)

“Hey!” Isagi’s voice echoes out. Like a ray of sunlight breaking through the grey skies of your mind, it is his turn to make your eyes widen; his voice bypassing the sheet of glass separating you two and reaching the storm that surrounds your heart. “Don’t let that past relationship stop you from shining too, okay?”

…Perhaps, you aren’t so alone after all.

The bus sets off, and Isagi sees you smile at him through the rain-stricken window. The boy hopes that his sentiments have reached you; he hopes that you’ll follow the same advice that you’ve given him.

But above all else, he hopes that he will see you again.

TWO.

“I hate this bus stop and its stupid roof.”

Isagi stops typing away on his phone. “You say that like, all the time nowadays.”

You’ve definitely sucked the life out of that phrase recently, but you take it as a good sign. An indication that you’ve healed.

The relationship that you once held dear is nothing but a mere memory of the past. The countless sleepless nights and time spent wallowing in your own self-doubt have all but ceased to exist. You realised that it simply was not worth your while to cry about a lost love, and to instead surround yourself with the love that remains from those around you. If anything, you are grateful for it: you have grown from that experience tremendously. By no means would you ever consider it to be a waste of time. And in the process?

You garnered a friend. A confidant. That break up led to the beginning of something magical. It led to a friendship with Isagi Yoichi, or, who you like to call, your bus-stop boy.

After the fateful day, you started to notice his presence around more. At first it was in the halls of Ichinan, a mere wave shared between you two here and there. Then the new school year began, and Isagi was shuffled into your homeroom. You began seeing him from once in a while, to literally everyday.

His presence began to bleed more and more into yours, and your lives ended up intertwining together until there was nothing you could do to untangle them. Eventually? Isagi was your deskmate. He was cooking lunch for you, you two eating his homemade lunches together in comfortable silence. You began waiting for his soccer practice to finish, and Isagi would wait by your side at the station until the bus came. A rhythm that you two fell into, almost as easy as breathing.

In your chapter of new beginnings, there is no Isagi Yoichi without you, and there is no you without Isagi Yoichi. An inseparable duo, you two are dubbed as.

You like to think you know a lot about him now. Maybe even go as far as to say you know everything about him, as he knows everything about you.

“It lets the rain in, Isagi.” You whine. “And besides, why is it even raining in Spring? Tsuyu* season isn’t for like, another month or two. There’s no way anyone could like this weather. No way.”

“I don’t know… I don’t mind it every now and then,” he says. “I like rain. I think it’s nice.”

Pause.

Well, maybe you don’t know everything about him.

“What? Since when?” You put your hand on your heart, gasping in mock-offence. “I didn’t know that I’m friends with a traitor.”

He rolls his eyes at you. The audacity. “A traitor, really? Just because I like a bit of rain here and there?”

“It goes deeper than that, Isagi!” You say. (It really doesn’t. You just want an excuse to complain a little, and a sassy Isagi Yoichi is always a fun sight.) “What’s there to like anyways? I don’t get it.”

“I can try to explain it for you, if you’d like.”

“Please do.”

“Have you ever seen what it looks like after it has rained?” He asks. You shake your head in response. You’ve never been the type to stick around long enough to see the sky stop crying. “You should. It’s wonderful, y’know: the glow it leaves afterwards. The streets look like they’ve been reborn - you can literally see the dirt on the concrete being washed away and given another life. If you’re lucky? A rainbow might come and say hi.” Isagi smiles at the little comment he makes.” That sight alone is worth getting your books wet and missing the bus every now and then. And it is just one of many reasons I have, honestly.”

You find yourself smiling at his enthusiasm. It’s cute, when he’s like this. You’re glad that he’s comfortable enough around you to show this side of himself. “I like it when you infodump, Isagi.”

“Did my infodump manage to change your mind?” A tinge of hope emerges in his voice and eyes. You shake your head. The hope is gone just as fast as it came. “Well, maybe the main reason will.”

He gives you a mysterious smile, and proceeds to say nothing.

“Aren’t you going to finish that sentence?”

“Nope, I don’t think I will.” Isagi says. You shoot him an incredulous look. “I’ll tell you… If you don’t fail your social studies paper.”

“Wha— Hey! Now that’s just being mean!”

He laughs. “So then… Why do you hate rain so much, anyways?”

“Changing the subject, really?” You say.

He merely shrugs in response, giving you a teasing grin. “Just roll with it. I promise I’ll tell you,” he pauses. “One day.”

You kick his foot in response, making an impromptu game of footsies ensue.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Isagi lifts his hands up to the side of his head, surrendering in a fit of boyish laughter. “No but really, I’m curious. Why do you hate it so much?”

“I don’t really know. It’s just—“ You stick your leg out precariously, as if the rain is going to melt your foot. “I hate the rain. I always have, and probably always will.”

A lull of silence passes by - not dissimilar to the one that happened on your first meeting with him. It’s different this time, though, as it is not a silence that is born out of two strangers not quite knowing what to say. It went deeper than that, more intimate, more comforting. Isagi puts a hand on your shoulder, turning you around to face him. “Well,” he begins. “One day, I hope I can show you how beautiful rain can be.”

Isagi smiles - a pretty, pretty thing.

There, amongst the dreary skies and wet cherry blossom leaves, is sunlight. Sunlight, in the form of him. Him, the Ichinan forward. Isagi, a boy who has nestled his way into your life almost too easily.

Yoichi, who leaves your heart hammering a bit too fast for comfort.

“Come on, you’re going to miss your bus.” Isagi’s hand finds its way to yours, locking into place like they were made for eachother. “It’s darker than usual. I’ll walk you home today, okay?”

He drags you towards your usual window seat, tapping the two matching keycards you share while entering. Isagi whispers a quick goodnight as he sits on the seat next to yours.

A smile makes its way towards your lips. Warmth filling up your entire body, entire soul.

You adore his sleeping face; you adore him.

Wait. Adore? Uh oh, you think. I might be falling in love.

*Tsuyu: The rainy period in Japan, generally spanning from May to July. The direct translation is ‘plum rain’, because it coincides with the season that plums ripen in Japan.

THREE.

Isagi is the first one to break the silence.

It’s weird, how he called you out to the bus stop out of the blue. Meeting together here in the past was always out of necessity: one born from a desire to go home and to have a chat with your best friend to end the day on a high note. Never, is the meeting at your sanctuary intentional, like it is now.

You couldn’t help but rush to get here. Not when he texted you like that: frantic and brimming with urgency.

“Sorry for making you come all this way, especially at this time of the night.” He says, carefully. As if he is tiptoeing around eggshells. Like you are strangers again. Isagi is never this careful around you, and hasn’t been for a while now. The change of pace perpetuates fear into the depths of your soul like no other.

“It’s fine.” You tentatively look up from your lap, preferring to look at the night sky instead of his face. I’d do anything for you, when you text me like that. “It’s just… Your message; the tone you’re speaking to me in right now. You’re seriously worrying me, Isagi.”

Isagi lets out a sigh, one quivering with nerves and worry. He places a hand onto your clenched ones, rubbing comforting circles onto the dorsal side. That’s weird. You didn’t even realise you were shaking. “You know that letter from the Japan Football Association I got a few days ago? The one we were so excited about?”

“The one I forced you to accept, right?”

“That’s the one.” He smiles fondly at the memory. The one of the two of you in his room, him being at an absolute mental blank, while you - the ever-so lovely you - was crying tears of joy - a stark contrast to the tears you shed earlier that day, watching him lose the qualifiers. You egged him to accept it, because ‘nothing would make you happier than to see him pursue his dreams’, you said. Words that sent an elation of joy to flood across his body, for he didn’t think that he could love you more. “…Well, I went to that address they gave us today. And that letter didn’t exactly tell the whole story. Of what it is, what their goal is.” Isagi continues; you feel a lump beginning to form at the back of your throat. “Yes, it’s a player improvement project. But I have to stay at this camp, I think. I don’t know how long I’ll be staying there, and I can’t contact anyone that’s not a part of it either. All I know is that it starts tomorrow. Officially.”

“What…” You muster out, at a complete loss for words.

“It’s called Blue Lock, and I’m going for it.” He places his unoccupied hand onto his chest, eyes igniting with a kindred spirit like no other. “I think this is my best shot at becoming the best. To play beyond a national level, and make you proud. But…” He pauses, pinching your chin with his index finger and thumb, forcing you to look him in the eyes for the first time in this conversation. “I won't go if you don’t want me to. I won’t, and will never do anything that you don’t like. So just say the word, and I’ll stay. Right here, right by your side.”

It hurts so damn bad. All of this, how it is so out of the blue, how there’s a possibility you may never see the boy, who has been such a pivotal aspect of your life for the last year or so, ever again. You want to be supportive - heck, you’d go to war just to see Isagi shine. But it hurts. You love him, for goodness sake. Every bone in your body wants him to stay, to not break the sacred normalcy that you have shared with the man that makes you smile brighter than anyone else can.

But the skies are clear. And the right answer, the solution to all of this, is even clearer.

“You’d have to be stupid to not go.” You say, voice unwavering with confidence. However, your eyes are anything but. “You have to go, Isagi. I don’t want to destroy your dreams like that and ruin the potential you have. I could never live with myself if I made you stay.”

Isagi kisses you on the forehead, once. “Thank you,” Twice. “Thank you, so much.” He leans his forehead against yours, and his teary ones meet your equally watery ones. “I’m going to miss you more than anything. I promise, I’m going to become number one. Just for you.”

“You better.” You chuckle, choking on a sob. “Shine brighter than anyone else, Isagi. I’ll be watching you every step of the way.”

He nods in response, and you stay like that for a while. For minutes, hours, even. Foreheads kissing each other, and staring into his cerulean eyes like it’s the last time you’ll ever see them.

“I never told you the reason, didn’t I?” Isagi breathes out.

“What?”

“The reason why I love rain as much as I do.” He says. You let out a careful no, wondering if he did tell you, and you just weren’t listening.

“It’s because,” Isagi begins, reaching for your right hand and opening it, palm facing up. “It was raining when I met you.” You feel him reach for his back pocket, and Isagi pulls out a pristine white envelope, placing it into your hand. It is sealed with red wax and decorated with golden swirls. Beautiful. Like it came right out of a fairytale. “…And you are the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

Your body quivers, and you feel the tears threatening to return again. “You’re so corny,” you say, half-flustered and half-shy. “And I still hate the rain.” You reach a hand up to his cheek, looking at his lips in a way that just friends don’t. “But Isagi, you. You are the best thing that’s happened to me too.”

He looks at your lips too, and you anticipate for something more - to go beyond what you two have built so beautifully. To go beyond friends, and transform into lovers.

Isagi pulls you in for a tight hug instead. You reciprocate. Those thoughts disappear as fast as they came.

“So..” You clench the letter tight within your hands, and you cringe at the feeling of droplets meeting your shoulder. (Truth is, you didn’t know if you were cringing at the fact you wished he had kissed you, or if it is the impending sky-fall. You choose to believe the latter.) “Do I open it now?”

He pulls away from the hug first, and smiles, embarrassment painting his features. “I’d prefer it if you read it later.”

The droplets fasten, quicker and quicker, and Isagi pulls you closer to him, putting you out of the rain’s way. “Oh come on! It has to rain now, out of all times?” You heave a great sigh, burying your head into the nape of his neck.

“It gives us an excuse to stay here for a little while longer, doesn’t it?” He gives you puppy dog eyes.

“As much as I’d love to stay with you all night, it’s getting late,” you say, laughing inwardly. “I don’t want to worry your parents. Actually— have you even told your parents about Blue Lock yet?”

He shakes his head. “No, I wanted you to be the first one to know.”

How sweet. “Then you should hurry home,” you whisper. “I shouldn’t hold you up.”

“You sure?” Isagi holds your hands tighter than before. I don’t want to leave you yet, his eyes scream.

“I’m sure.” You squeeze his hands in response. I don’t want to let you go either, your eyes say.

Isagi leans in once more, bumping your noses together, eyes meeting in a silent agreement. But we have to. And we’ll be okay.

“Promise that you won’t forget me?”

“I could never.”

And so he goes. But you stay. You remain seated, sheltered beneath the shoddy bus-stop. A sense of déjà vu passes, it’s just like all those times before. But it’s almost painful this time. Your bus-stop boy is walking away from you, instead of seeking shelter alongside you. You laugh at yourself, bitterly. You don’t know if you’ll ever move on from him, or if you even want to. Not when your forever-person has pried his way into your heart like this, not when Isagi feels like home.

You pry the wax seal off the letter, unfolding the paper that is encased inside in a hurry, a tinge of excitement coursing through your veins.

‘I still haven’t shown you the beauty of rain. Will you wait for me? Love, Isagi.’

A laugh escapes your lips. Of course you would. You’d wait forever, and forevermore for him. He didn't even have to ask. It’s something that you would’ve done as one would breathe air. And in a way, you realise that there’s a certain calamity to your circumstance.

You love him so much that you’d willingly let Isagi tear down everything you’ve ever known. Whether it may be something silly like your animosity towards rain, or the idea of letting someone love you again. You’d let him do it all.

And that is terrifying. But exquisitely so.

A barrage of steps sounds itself out in the quiet of the night, a figure making its way to you - closer, closer, and closer. Oh god, someones not trying to kill me, are they?

Then you see a familiar sight. A boy with his hair in disarray, black outerwear soaking wet, looking just like the wet cat from your first meeting but this time more mature and more determined, and suddenly he’s pulling you into the rain with him, grasping onto your shoulders, locking his eyes onto yours and oh. He’s kissing you on the lips now.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I couldn’t leave without kissing you first. I think I’d go crazy if I didn't.”

“I think I’d go crazy too,” you chuckle, resting your head against his chest. “And yeah. Of course I’ll wait for you, dummy.”

“You opened it already?”

“I can’t wait to see how you’ll make me love rain.”

…You should’ve known he would’ve given you that kiss first.

Isagi is not the type to leave you disappointed for too long, after all.

FOUR.

The days seem to blur together in Isagi’s absence.

The last year or so was, for a lack of a better word, lonely. Filled with rumours that you drove your best friend mad and he ran away, or that you murdered Isagi and the police have yet to discover his body, you felt as if the only people in your life for the last few months were your family and Isagi’s parents.

The sudden isolation is getting to you. And you know it. It shows in the dreariness of your demeanour; bears its teeth in the darkening eye bags that have crept their way onto your face. You’re not certain that he will be able to recall your face anymore. Heck, you can’t recognise yourself anymore either. Gosh, who would’ve thought that being Isagi-less for a little while would do this to you?

But today brings something new to the table: hope. Confirmation that all of this waiting has been worth it after all. You’ll get to see him in an hour or two come morning, and it will be enough.

Or, at least, that's the timeframe you predicted last night.

“There have been reports of mass delays in the Saitama Public Transport Network due to heavy storms and rainfall. Civilians can expect their regularly scheduled buses and trains to be postponed for up to two hours or more—“

You throw a pancake at your TV and scream.

The what-would-be one hour trip to Tokyo is now possibly three, and since your butter fingers slipped and set the wrong alarm last night, you are already running late.

You just hope that Isagi’s parents are still waiting for you outside.

Ding!

You reach into your pocket for your phone, and a message from Isagi’s mother illuminates the screen.

‘Sorry, Honey. We left already. Issei is worried that the traffic is going to hold us up from getting to Tokyo in time.’

Great. Just great.

It seems as if the universe is practically begging for you to not see Isagi today. But after not seeing him for months - not even a hi, hello, or a single sign that your Isagi is safe and sound - you only have one thing on your mind.

Screw the universe. I need to see him. Screw it all.

You chuck on a pair of navy converses, making your way towards the bus stop that started it all. The streets are busier nowadays. With various roadworks and several shops getting renovations left and right. However, the one location that you know like the back of your hand remains abandoned, frozen in time, almost. Still on its last leg, with a leaky roof and ivy adorning the wooden frame.

The seats have grown moss on them from the increase in rainfall nowadays. And so you choose to stand instead - quietly observing the pouring downfall, thoughts running amok.

It’s almost scary, how time has simultaneously been impetuous and sluggish lately. And you know it ties back to Isagi. It always does. You haven’t seen the boy in ages, actually. And that, in itself, is an understatement. It isn’t in the 'two weeks off school’, or the ‘we haven’t talked since summer break’ way, but in an ‘I’m honestly forgetting your face since it is now a new spring without you’ way.

…You don’t think you’ll have the heart to ever tell him that.

There is one thing that scares you more, though. And that's in the way that you’re forgetting how Isagi looks when he wears his smile. Does his lips curve upwards or downwards? Do his eyes turn into half-moons when he’s happy or does he bear his cerulean eyes for everyone to see? All of these are questions that invade your mind during sleepless midnights. Questions, that you never thought you would ask at all.

You can only hope that his smile is better than you can imagine. That he glows radiantly like he does in the fragments that appear in your memory every once in a while. Will happiness look good on him? Will it feel like a shame that you’ve been missing out on it all this time?

Maybe that’s the real reason why you’re worried that Isagi won't remember you: because you can hardly recall his face yourself. As in, truly, know what he looks like. You know Isagi from the blurry photos on your phone taken at 3AM sleepovers, and the display frames lined around his family’s home. The big picture itself is easy to see. The little things - the quirks of his that made you fall - have been much harder to recall.

But you do remember a few things. Arguably, the most important ones.

Your love for him; Isagi’s promise. The way he kissed you like he needed you to live; the way you cried for him amongst the skyfall.

The way Isagi taught you that it’s okay to love.

And it’s okay to be loved back.

For now, that is enough.

Droplets continue to batter against your woollen jumper, the rain drenching your entire being. It soaks your hair, makes the knuckles on your clenched fists a light violet, disguises the tears falling down from your face. The rain is ever so violent, leaving a mess of you in its wake. For the second time in your life, you let the rain do as it pleases. You let it destroy the outfit you meticulously planned, wreak havoc on the converses Isagi gave to you on your birthday. All in hopes that it will eventually cleanse your soul. Cleanse the pain, the happiness. Wipe the slate clean, as the rain does with the pavement, until you are reborn from the ashes and live a life where you aren’t so, irrecoverably in love with your best friend.

But you know, deep down, it will never save you from your calamitous love. That even if you are reborn, one word will remain in your heart. One, sacred word that you keep like an oath.

Promise.

You wonder if Isagi remembers his promise in the same way that you do.

It’s the only reason why you are going to the game today, after all.

Your hands loosen from the fist you’ve been keeping this whole time, deep crescent moons adorning the insides of your palm. A slip of paper flurries out from your hand - swishing with the wind in a way that a feather would. It dances around, until it lands in the puddle that has formed beneath your feet.

Shit. The ticket.

You bend down and clutch a now-soaked sheet of paper in your palm, tiny inscriptions that adorned the sheet now bleeding together. The only thing now visibly readable being: ‘JAPAN’S U20 VS BLUE LOCK’.

Rain really, really sucks.

(You’ve never hated it more.)

The bus finally arrives amidst the downpour.

(Yet, for some reason, a small part of you is excited to see the rainbow that comes after the storm.)

FIVE.

Isagi has always loved the rain.

Ever since he was a young boy, the rain has always had a certain allure that captivated him more than most. In his eyes, puddles held miniature worlds within them, with pebbles acting as land formations and stray twigs imitating people. Enchanting. Raindrops race each other down window panes, with him as an eager viewer. Simply spellbinding. However, nothing has ever beat the feeling of playing soccer amongst the rainfall. The feeling of watching the opponents around you struggle to run in the mud, as you calculate the best direction to head in; pieces of grass decorating your cleats in the aftermath like a badge of honour. Getting sick afterwards is a simple price to pay if it means transforming the pitch into a battlefield. Rain makes the game something to remember.

It’s the duality of rain that makes Isagi treasure the phenomenon dearly; rain can be simultaneously beautiful and destructive at the same time. Which, shockingly to him, is the very same fact that makes you despise it so much.

Your face appears within his mind. Isagi smiles.

Ah yes, you.

The person who despises rain more than anything else in the world. Who groans at the slightest hint of darkening clouds, and acts as if drizzle is akin to acid rain that will obliterate everyone in an instant.

Nowadays, media outlets constantly poke and prod into your relationship with one another as Isagi’s reputation grows - at a speed only fathomable in his wildest dreams - wondering how he can love you so much when the two of you are so different in every sense.

“…They just don’t understand,” he said to you on a day where it was all too much. “They’ll never understand how you’ve changed my life, is all.”

“Me? The person who nearly forgot you? Who doubted you and thought that you would’ve forgotten about them too?” You angrily clenched your head. “I don’t see how you’ve forgiven me so easily for that.”

“I told you already,” he began. “When I was gone I had the same thoughts as you. I forgot you for a bit, too. I doubted you, as well. I could never hold that against you, because I did the same, and– and… I regret it everyday; I know you regret it too.” Isagi inhaled sharply. “But at the end of the day, we both remembered the promise. And that’s enough.”

“…Right. I’m sorry, Yoichi.” Your eyes locked with his through the gaps between your fingers. “I love you so much, y’know that?”

“I know.” He grabbed your left hand, giving it a swift kiss. “I love you more, infinitely.”

Isagi cherishes you like he is a marauder and you are the finest jewel; he looks at you like you’re the only person who ever matters. And that’s true. Because to him, you are. With the countless sacrifices you’ve made for him; sticking by his side every step of the way; waiting and waiting for years; being the brunt of scrutiny from the media - heck - even your peers in high-school prior to his Blue Lock debut, Isagi is unsure if he will ever be able to repay you for all that you’ve done.

…But he does have an idea on where to begin.

Isagi averts his attention to the sights outside the bus window. He wonders why the rain is extra pretty today. The beauty of the raindrops seem otherworldly currently - a cascade of water flowing down overflowing gutters, iridescent hues lining the streets that he grew up on, children jumping into puddles with no care in the world. The rainy downpour from the heavens above seems unfaltering - even against the brilliance of Saitama’s lights. And amidst the hustle and bustle - adults finding their way into comforting warmth - there is you. Waiting in the rain for him underneath the bus stop, face twisted in discomfort, twirling the umbrella in your hand round and round.

It is no coincidence that the rain is so charming today.

No.

It’s prettier, because of you.

Always, you.

His sweetheart of many years.

“Hey, stranger.” You greet him as Isagi steps outside of the vehicle he practically grew up on, ushering him underneath the umbrella you brought with you.

You, who he loves more and more everyday.

“Hey yourself.” His eyes twinkle with mirth as he takes the umbrella from your hands. “It’s been a long time since we were both here, hasn’t it?”

“It has,” Your face lightens up with the smile that he loves so much. “To think the last time we were here together was when…”

He looks into your eyes, face erupting with a mix of his boyish smile and laughter. “...When I kissed you. Yeah. I don’t think I could ever forget that night.”

The look on your face tells Isagi that neither could you.

“Even though we’ve had countless other kisses since then, that one is still my favourite, y’know?” Your hands move up to cup his face within your palms. “Yoichi, you don’t do romantic things like that anymore.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Positive.” You stick your tongue out at him.

Isagi lets go of the source of shelter you are sharing, and lets it drift away with the wind. “Hey! We’re gonna get soaked!” You turn your back towards him, hands desperately trying to catch the stray umbrella that seems to be more than happy to escape. “C’mon Yoichi! What was that for?”

“Turn around for me.”

“What?”

“Just do it.” He says, a smile evident in his words.

Isagi sees you gasp, the sight of him knocking the wind from your chest.

There he is, kneeling with his right knee down to the floor - pants getting soaked from the wet concrete below. And in his outstretched hands, lays a small, black velvet box, a diamond ring embedded within its centre.

“Will you marry me?” Isagi asks, starry-eyed. Voice soft and vulnerable.

One day came, and now you know Isagi is right.

Rain can be beautiful.

EXTRA.

“Hey, Isagi. What’s the date today?”

“June 20th. Why?”

“No reason,” a small grin makes its way to your face. “Just curious.”

#blue lock x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi x reader #yoichi x reader #isagi yoichi #blue lock #yoichi isagi x reader #blue lock isagi #bllk x reader #bllk imagines #isagi yoichi bllk #bllk #blue lock imagines #blue lock fanfic #isagi yoichi x you #isagi yoichi x y/n

350 notes · View notes

daydreaming-in-letters · 7 days

Text

Against the wall

05/24/2024

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,917

Warnings: rpf, alcohol, pining, naughty thoughts, fluff

Summary: Sometimes all it takes is a room full of people to figure out you want nothing more than to be alone with that one person.

A/N: Guys, this was written in a fevered frenzy. Haven't felt the muse in months and don't know whether she did a good job, but I am so happy she is not dead.

Picture is a screen cap from this video

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

If you enjoy my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. No permission is given to copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

She had forgotten how much she loathed being in a room full of people. Maybe it was a condition that came with age, to appreciate silence and solitude, or maybe, just maybe, it was entirely his fault.

Her back leaning against the wall, his hand was splayed out right next to her head, supporting the weight of his body as he leant in slightly so he could focus on her voice above the noise of the bustling room. He had never been this close to her, so close she could smell the intoxication scent of his body, and in an instant the chatter was drowned out by the wild drum of her heart, which in turn made it one of the most challenging tasks she had ever had to face to string her words together into meaningful sentences.

But it seemed she had somehow succeeded, against all odds, as he turned his head to look at her, his face so close now that she could feel the heat of his breath on her face. And as if that had not been enough to clear every coherent thought from her head, he chose to turn his lips up into the most dazzling smile upon her silly joke.

It made her dizzy, combined with the sparkle in his eyes it was an almost deadly combination, impossible to resist. It had captured her completely. He had captured her completely, occupied her every thought in a way that was bordering on concerning, for her sanity, maybe even for the idea of feminism she lived by, but even more so for the very essence of her existence.

She had seen it all so clearly, a happy future, no one to bother her, especially no man to cause her even more worries than she already had. Just her, the path in front of her clearly mapped out. And then he had crossed her way, and it had dawned on her that what she had deemed the perfect life would seem like nothing but a cheap substitute next to a life with him. Certainly, she could still be happy without him—if she needed to.

The problem was, she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to live a life without the sound of his laughter, without his twisted sense of humour and the way he looked at her when they were engaged in a conversation, as if there was no one else in this world, as if it was only him and her. He made her feel secure in a way no one ever had. When he entered the room, she could feel her shoulders relax, her breath going more easily and the galloping of her heart slowing in pace. And when she talked to him, it was as if she had never done anything else in her entire life. There was nothing of the usual unease or urge to appeal between them that might, under different circumstances or with a different man, lead her to a point at which she had either moulded herself into a completely different person or where everything meaningful she had wanted to say and that had been phrased so clearly in her head became lost somewhere on the way from her brain to her mouth. With him though, she could just be herself, safe in the knowledge that he would not judge or tire of her at some point.

If only she knew with the same certainty if he felt the same. Obviously he did enjoy talking to her as well, or he wouldn’t be standing here right now, choosing to talk to her when he had a room full of people to choose from. But did he also hang on her lips like she did on his? Did he also wonder if they were just as soft as he imagined them to be? And would he like her to step closer, or pull him closer to her instead? And when her hand rested against his chest then, would she feel the same thunderous beat that drummed behind her own ribs? Would it start to flutter as soon as their lips met and refuse to fall back into its regular rhythm until their bodies lay sweaty and spent, their desire finally sated? And in their blissed out state, would he hold her? Would he pull her that impossible inch closer and press the softest of kisses to her forehead, telling her all she needed to know without uttering a single word? Would he still be there in the morning to see her tousled hair and sleep-wrinkled face and look at her with the same affection she thought to find in his gaze right now? Would he—

“There you are! I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” His back still turned on the intruder, he gave her the most dramatic roll of his eyes she had ever seen, making it very hard for her to hide a snicker. “Come, there is someone I need you to meet.”

She wanted to protest, wanted to do whatever it took to keep him close, but before her brain had even been able to form a protest, he was being dragged away from her, his lips forming a silent apology.

This social engagement was tedious. The thought came as somewhat of a surprise to him. There had been a time when he had truly enjoyed this kind of event, but tonight something just was not right about this party. Well, not ‘something’ as in an unknown factor that made this party different from other parties. It was not unknown to him at all. In fact, this evening had been perfectly enjoyable up until that moment he had been so rudely separated from her.

She was still leaning casually against that wall, the only difference being that he was too far away from her now. To be fair, any distance that exceeded an arm’s length was too far for his taste. She on the other hand did not seem to mind his absence much, as someone else had already taken his place by her side to engage her in what appeared to be a most entertaining conversation. Not one glance did she spare him, while all he could focus on was the ludicrous attempt to will himself back into his old position, close to her. So close that her breath would waft across his neck again as she spoke, the heat of her body crawling over his skin. Maybe her hand would find him by accident—or intentionally, which would be all the better. After a moment he would return the favour, finally giving in to his longing to feel the smoothness of her skin against his fingertips.

Instead all he could feel was his mouth opening as she brought the glass to her lips and took a sip of champagne. Would he be able to taste it on her tongue if she allowed him to kiss her? He almost hoped he would not be, because what he really desired to taste was her, the exquisite, singular flavour only she possessed.

And still, that would not nearly be enough to sate his hunger. He wanted to taste all of her. Her lips, her skin, the moist heat at the apex of her thighs. He wanted her so much he could feel his mouth drying up upon the ardor of his wish, no, need for her.

What would it be like to have her? He had imagined it a thousand times over and yet there were so many questions still left unanswered. Would she voice her pleasure or enjoy in silence? Was it her wish to be the director of their passion play or did she want him to lead the way? Would his name glide over her lips in a soft moan or would she scream in ecstasy when they had finally reached the peak? Would she stay serious, caught up in desire, all the way through or would there be giggles and laughter? And what then, after they had given themselves to each other completely? Would she leave, seeing this as an experience best enjoyed once only? Or would she stay, her naked body resting against his in peaceful slumber, and allow real intimacy to begin?

If it were his choice to make, he would know exactly what to choose. But he could not blame her if she opted for something different. Commitment was tough, and there had been times when he had thought that he, like so many others, was simply not built for it. But watching her now, he could not recall how he had ever been this blind about himself in the first place.

It had been strange at first, that sense of belonging that always befell him when she was around, completely unexpected. But ever since he had felt it for the first time and realised its true meaning, it was as if he had discovered a law of nature, complex and yet so easy to understand, as if it had always been an inherent part of him.

Once again, the dryness he had felt earlier returned to his mouth, more demanding this time, until it had managed to push every other thought aside for a moment. Instinctively he set the glass to his lips, his eyes not once leaving her until he had lifted the bottom high enough to block his view. It had only been for the blink of an eye, but now he found himself almost choking on his final gulp when his eyes returned to find her spot against the wall empty all of a sudden.

Leaving without a goodbye was childish, she knew, but she just could not shake this nagging feeling that had befallen her out of the blue, that being in the same room with him without talking to him or being able to at least be near him without looking as if she was running after him like a duckling was far worse than not being here at all.

With a sigh she set down the glass on an empty table she passed on her way to the exit. What a waste, as it was almost half-full, but somehow it did not taste quite right, and so she left the rest of her drink behind, like the dream that she would ever be to him what he was to her.

It was dark as she entered the hallway and the air felt uncomfortably cool in contrast to the air inside that had been heated by all those bodies. Their chatter was still following her now, echoing from the walls left and right.

It must have obscured the noise of his steps, or maybe they had not made any sound at all. Otherwise she would have recognised their rhythm from a mile away. But instead, she only realised that he was there as his warm hand closed around her wrist and gently brought her to a stop. And despite the fact that she had halted her steps almost instantly, she had not expected him to be this close now as she turned, so close that she could see the startled expression of her eyes reflected in his own. So dark, so green.

He did not utter a single word. He did not have to. She knew when his grip on her loosened and his fingers softly glided between hers. She smiled, and so did he. And then, slowly, they began to walk.

taglist:

@rosecentury

@lowkeysimpinloki

@fightmespideyboy

#hozier x reader #hozier x you #hozier #hozier imagine #hozier fanfiction #hozier fanfic #hozier rpf #against the wall

119 notes · View notes

irrealisms · 9 months

Text

diptych || a c!crimeboys web weave

[sources and IDs under cut]

The first collage is a collection of 14 images.

Image 1: A human hands a raccoon a gun. It is the same image CC!Wilbur sent CC!Tommy with the caption "Me passing the dirty crime boy title to you."

Image 2: Question 4 of 15 Do you love your brother? Answers, please choose 1

Image 3: WILBUR: This isn't just a silly river delta to me anymore, it's got a name, it's got a story, it's— it's L’Manberg, and it's … to me it's, it's you.

Image 4: A painting of Cain and Abel. Cain holds a club in one hand and Abel's wrist in the other as they walk forward. While it is in the background and mostly covered by the other images, their faces and hands are visible.

Image 5: Question 5 of 15 Liar. You feel guilty, don't you? Answers, please choose 1

Image 6: A screenshot from The Fall by SAD-ist. Wilbur has his hand on Tommy's shoulder and is leaning forward to speak to him. Tommy looks anxious.

Image 7: "Am I my brother's keeper?"

Image 8: A piece of paper pinned to the wall, reading "Someone is looking up to you. Don't let that person down." In the context of the collage, it is pinned onto Wilbur's sleeve/upper arm from the SAD-ist screenshot.

Image 9: Question 6 of 15 But you're the one that left him. Answers, please choose 1 [check mark next to the selected answer] I wanted to and I wanted it to hurt him so he could let go of me.

Image 10: WILBUR: I’m glad, Tommy! You know what, I’m glad! Because me and you were never good for that server. We just weren’t!

Image 11: When I close my eyes I'm climbing in the dark Trying not to fall apart Sometimes I get so high Falling is the only out I see And I don't wanna take you down with me

Image 12: a softer world comic. the text reads "At my worst, I worry you'll realize/you deserve better./At my best, I worry you won't."

Image 13: Question 7 of 15 Do you think your brother loves you? Answers, please choose 1

Image 14: WILBUR: Tommy, come over here, please, I— Tommy, I was scared I wouldn’t see you again if you didn’t forgive me. And I didn’t want to not see you again.

The second image is a collage of 11 images.

Image 1: WILBUR: You love it, don’t you, Tommy? You love… L’Manberg…

Image 2: a softer sea comic. the text reads "You're my brother and I love you./That's it./No punchline."

Image 3: A painting of two men standing next to each other. they look similar. the one on the right puts his hand flat above both of their heads, sheltering them; the one on the left has his hand up to touch the hand of the one on the right. the painting is titled My Brother's Keeper.

Image 4: I will stand in the dark for you I will hold you back by force I will stand here right outside your door I won’t see you disgraced I will protect your name and your heart Because I miss my friend

Image 5: A screenshot from Final Waltz by SAD-ist. Wilbur has his hand on Tommy's shoulder. Tommy looks up at him.

Image 6: In essence, the entire Bible is written as an affirmative response to this question.

Image 7: TOMMY: I believe that everyone’s got a little bit of good in them. And I know that Wilbur had good in him. Alright?

Image 8: This is no garden. This is my brother and I need a shovel to love him.

Image 9: A collage of an open book with forests, butterflies, etc. the text reads: i care for you still and i will forever.

Image 10: A painting of two young boys wading in the ocean and holding hands. The smaller one has spiderman swim trunks.

Image 11: TOMMY: It’s not about chances, Foolish. It’s about making sure you don’t give up on the people you care about.

#mcyt #dsmp #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #crimeboys #c!tommy #c!wilbur #c!crimeboys #wilbur #tommy #web weaving #web weave #collage #my edit

369 notes · View notes

ziggyyyystardust · 6 months

Text

I’m sorry but I hate the way people completely disregard the fact that Luke is a Jedi, like he’s literally the og Jedi?? I’ve seen a lot of people talk about how much “better” his new Jedi order would’ve been because he would’ve removed the attachment rules or whatever, and I think that that type of characterisation really disregards the essence of Luke’s character and what he stood for. People seem to cite him bringing his father back from the dark and being close with Leia but that doesn’t mean he’s attached to them in the way Jedi view attachment, he cared about his father because Luke is a caring person and wanted to help him, acting as if it’s only because Vaders his dad really disregards a lot of the character development Luke went through from a new hope till return of the Jedi.

Also it seems really odd to ignore it as he 1: shows a genuine want to become a Jedi and all that being a Jedi involves 2: (mainly rotj) cares what Yoda and Obi-Wan have to say and the advice they give him 3: says word for word “I am a Jedi” sure he may not have the training of a Jedi but it’s pretty clear that he really does care.

On a similar note - I’ve seen people talk about it but people also tend to disregard the fact that Luke was part of the rebellion?? It’s treated like “oh silly sunshine boy just wants to fly ships he doesn’t know what politics are🥰🥰” it completely infantilises his entire character, his beliefs and what he cares about. We see in ANH that he has interest in the rebellion, knows of the clone wars and vaguely of the Jedi, and in the deleted scene with Biggs they both talk about defecting to the rebellion and fighting against the empire. These scenes clearly show his political beliefs and how he was against the empire even before they killed his Aunt and Uncle. It does him a disservice to ignore who he is as a person and to treat him as if he’s just a child who likes ships, it removes any sense of agency or conviction when he’s treated that way

Point is I wish more people would treat him like a mature adult who is capable of making his own choices and is an actual Jedi who follows the code.

#rant post #luke skywalker #pro jedi #the rebellion #the empire #master yoda #obi wan kenobi #pro jedi order #Jedi Luke Skywalker #return of the jedi #please just write him like a mature adult that’s all I ask

360 notes · View notes

foranpo · 1 year

Text

ੈ˚☆ how they look at you. #2

anon asked: May i request p2 of how they look at you, with hunting dogs

fandom: bungou stray dogs.

characters: jouno, tetcho, tachihara.

reader: gn!

genre: headcanons.

content: fluff.

word count: ~200 each // ~600 total

cole's note: i am sorry for the long wait but i do hope you enjoy this second part and tysm for the request <3

ੈ♡˳────── enjoy the reading <3 ──────

˚ʚ jouno.

as if the entire universe was silent.

silence. rest. peace. finally, in your presence, the entire universe was submerged in a vast sea of tranquility that guided Jouno to the detailed pleasures of life. finally, nothing. after years of being violently assaulted by the most macabre noises of humans and the most cruel sounds in the world, there was, at last, a calm, an emptiness, a vast and pleasurable paradise of pure silence.

in your presence, nothing else existed for Jouno. the entire universe ceased to exist. there was no sound or smell to draw Jouno's attention away from you; any perverse attempt by the cosmos to expel you from Jouno's life was only futile, vain, useless when fate itself had the both of you intertwined in a timeless thread that transcended any reality.

Jouno looked at you with encyclopedias at his fingertips, love songs and poems to be recited in every touch Jouno gave you, in every smile he threw at you; Jouno looked at you, as the moon looks at the vast universe: silent and hopeful; a dreamer of what could exist beyond, a believer of what was experiencing and in love, so in love, with whom it admires, with whom it decided to devote itself.

ੈ♡˳─────────────────────

˚ʚ tetcho.

as if he was a student of the renaissance.

as it is certain that the sun rises every day, it was also certain to find a little bit of you in Tetchou; a new mannerism, a stray word, an infectious smile or a shared nightmare; nothing that was yours was alone when Tetchou was with you; nothing that was yours was neglected, not when Tetchou promised you, swore to you, whispered to you that everything in you would be part of him. today. tomorrow. in the future that was uncertain. • dedication. nothing but pure dedication was seen in Tetchou's fiery eyes. perhaps because of the novelty of the feeling, perhaps because of the intensity of the emotion, or simply because you were the object of his affection; but the truth is that no one could deny the truth of his feelings when all other lovers looked silly compared to the looks and smiles that Tetchou reserved only for you.

Tetchou looked at you like a student looks at the most complex books: curiosity aroused in Tetchou every time you entered the room, all his attention was voluntarily given to you and you alone; and his devotion, oh!, his devotion was something so common, so natural, as if he were created only to love you.

ੈ♡˳─────────────────────

˚ʚ tachihara.

as if a new fairy tale was being created.

the stars told your love to the various planets who yearned to hear your story; the moon confided the promises you had exchanged with Tachihara to the calmest lakes and gentlest rivers; the birds repeated your laughter in the hope of finding a love as beautiful as yours; and the world succumbed to Tachihara's love for you, eager to find something as true, as meaningful, as your love.

Tachihara's eyes couldn't escape the grace of your soul; it was a passion far beyond carnal desire, a feeling that corrupted the soul and bound it with a glue of passion and admiration that would last for centuries on end.

Tachihara looked at you as if a new story was being written: without fear of making mistakes, with nothing to hide; a pure innocence that overflowed from the smiles cast and the promises uttered; it was an emotion that contoured your soul, sculpted your essence and embraced your conscience, calming your person, comforting your identity, cradling your spirit.

ੈ♡˳───── feedback is appreciated <3 ─────

#;bungou stray dogs constellation;#jouno x reader #jouno headcanons #tetchou x reader #tetchou headcanons #tecchou x reader #tecchou headcanons #tachihara x reader #tachihara headcanons #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd headcanons #bungou stray dogs headcanons

554 notes · View notes

qwertyprophecy · 6 months

Text

The Illusion of Aggravating Player-ness

Pictured above: demo footage of me attempting to hit the Hero when their dodging program is turned to maximum. (I can only test this for so long before getting annoyed, which is exactly the vibe I'm going for.)

More about the feeling that has inspired The Dark Queen of Mortholme under the cut:

A couple years back I happened upon a tumblr post identifying a surprisingly common sentiment when playing Pokémon. The player has an edge over NPCs in battles for basically the entire game, because unlike those silly programmed losers we've figured out how to use healing potions. So upon getting to end game and witnessing our first case of the NPC trainer healing their Pokémon to full with a hyper potion, it feels like such bullshit. How come they get to do that? Only I get to do that!

There are instances of little details in many other games that evoke a similar emotion, like this one boss in Sekiro who can sneakily counter the player's charged attack with a move that till then only the player has been using. (Please let me know if you personally recall any examples!) The sheer audacity of non-player characters using player-only moves, being annoying as I am! It's a deliciously strong reaction that goes beyond the game's difficulty ramping up; I think it's about recognising ourselves, the essence of distinctly player-like behaviour in this fictional entity made from code.

While thinking about that I also happened to be mulling over what I considered a huge missed opportunity in the end boss of the game Katana Zero. Without spoilers, let's just say that it made me consider whether it would be even remotely doable to create a narrative boss fight against a player-like entity who appears to get to save and re-try the fight by themselves. In Undertale there's a brief illusion of a NPC saving and loading game states, but they don't quite do it like a player would.

The illusion would have to include a feeling that your opponent not only gets to try again but is learning from their mistakes. Furthermore it's specifically an advantage they have over you; you don't get to try again, nor do you get room to improve. And unlike them, your preprogrammed skillset is designed to have exploitable weaknesses and a static power level which can be surpassed.

No matter how skilled, you'd be doomed to lose against an opponent like that. The bosses we beat have it rough, huh. I myself am not particularly good at video games–when I try to get past a difficult boss fight in any game where those are designed to take a fair amount of attempts and learning, I feel in my bones that meta-level story of striving to overcome a seemingly impossible obstacle. It's a journey through various emotions from eagerness to frustration, culminating in the triumphant success.

But from the boss's point of view, that story takes a very different shape, involves different emotions, and (assuming the player keeps playing) invariably culminates in a predestined loss. Sounds unfun. So obviously, that's the experience I aim to provide! (Unfun games really are my forte, with my previous work simulating jubilant experiences such as job hunting blues! anxiety! exam anxiety! trying to fix a spaceship engine that's killing you!)

Who wouldn't want to enjoy being the most powerful being in their universe until some little dipshit bursts in and locks you in an unending battle till they’re satisfied and you’re dead?

#the dark queen of mortholme #indie dev #game dev #game development #dev blog

149 notes · View notes

kiestrokes · 8 months

Note

i like had this thought in the back of my head of like what ateez would be like with an S/O who has a physical illness bcs i actually have one which causes a lot of pain to my bones and i'm like in a constant state of pain and discomfort, been going on for about 12 years HELL YA ✊🏻, if i don't keep up on my meds (currently don't have the proper meds so it only tides me over for a little while-) then im basically fucked so IDK i feel like there isn't a lot of stuff written about this kind of stuff (im a sucker for shit i hardly ever am able to read abt) ALSO IM NOT 100% SURE IF YOUR REQS WERE OPEN BCS I DIDNT SEE ANYTHING POSTED ABT IT SO- YA- if you don't want to write it obviously you don't have to !! no pressure at all lovely

ATEEZ Caring for You: Chronic Illness Edition | SFW

Pairing: ATEEZ x Gender Neutral!Reader/You/Yn Rating: SFW Genre: fluff, slice of life, headcanons, imagines, scenarios. Warnings: chronic illness + immunocompromised talk.

🗝️ Note: Hey atiny anon! You actually asked the right person; I have fibromyalgia combined with a few other annoying chronic illnesses. Because you can't just have one 😓 I hope that you can find a decent fucking doctor and get on the proper medication soon. That's the biggest part of the struggle, finding a physician that will listen and is competent enough. I hope this was enough, I tried to assign each member a caring task that I felt fit them! Has not been beta-ed.

Disclaimers: This is a work of fiction; I do not own any of the idols depicted below.

Seonghwa

He’s here to help you prevent all the chronic pain that he can. Booking you massage visits. Trips to the hot springs. All the arnica rubs. Silly little games the two of you play, to keep your mind off the pain and depression spirals. His favorite is seeing who can build their new Lego set the quickest. Hwa is the biggest advocate for you, he would never return a dish at the restaurant when its wrong. But he will fight for you at every appointment, every pharmacy, wherever you need him to. Because he knows you've grown tired of fighting all the time.

Hongjoong

HJ's specialty is flexibility. You have a sudden burst of energy? He’s down to go explore that new pop-up market with you. You’ve come down with a bout of bone numbing pain? That’s cool, you’re getting changed into comfy clothes and piled up on the couch. Swaddled in your heating pad with all the snacks. Where he falls asleep on your shoulder. HJ never gets frustrated with your rapid change in mood or plans. Nothing but the most understanding partner you could ever have asked for, and boy is he so cute and snuggly when dozing on you. Small hands seeking your face for drowsy kisses that soothe your aches just a smidge.

Yunho

The quiet presence, the one who knows what you need before you say it. Passing you tissues, making you a cup of tea and most importantly holding you so that you can cry. Shedding angry tears about how frustrated you are with your own body for betraying you. For feeling weak. For missing out on things. He's gently calming every frayed nerve in your brain. Reassuring you that you're exactly where you need to be in this moment, and he will bring all of the fun to you. And he does, in small, manageable doses.

Yeosang

His way of caring for you is through caring for your outside. All the skin masks, hair treatments, skin softening lotions because if you feel cruddy, at least he can make you feel cute and comfortable. They do heal though, in their own way. The extra moisture of the humidifier and every cream and essence he buffs into your skin helps keep some of the aches away. Subsiding the itchiness of the nerve pain, just a little. And you can’t get over how cute Yeosang looks in each animal themed headband or with his hair tied back into teeny space buns or how nice his hands feel every time they glide over your skin.

San

Where Yunho is quietly attentive, San is passionately attentive. You cry, he cries (while holding you). Quite literally your pain, is his pain and he’s here to be with you through each step. No judgment is ever passed when he has to pick up your extra chores around the house. Because to him, that is the smallest act of service he can perform for you. San is the one who wishes he could take on your pain, that he could fight it and destroy it and it pains him that he cannot. So he will simply have to do everything else.

Mingi

He thrives on making you laugh and smile through tough days, because he understands feeling burdensome. Mingi never wants you to feel that way, he wants to make sure you verbally know that your presence is needed and welcome. His favorite thing is cuddled up in bed with you wrapped in your heated blanket watching shows. You looking so small in his arms, giving him the feeling of protecting something. He reassures you constantly, because he himself seeks constant reassurance. Mingi never tires of this, he will reaffirm every single self deprecating thought with a compliment even on his worst days.

Wooyoung

He cares for you with his skinship, which is incredibly healing. His happy heartbeat encourages yours. His strong hands make you feel loved and needed. Who would cuddle him if not you? Woo often reminds you, whispering the phrase into your ear as he traces his nails through your hair, or while rhythmically drawing circles on your spine. Making you float into dream land and anchoring you in the moment with him at the same time. Woo also loves making you whatever dish you’re craving, knowing you need energy to fight off fatigue and pain. And cooking is one of his many, many love languages.

Jongho

Needing to hoard all the extra rest you can get; you seek out solace at Jongho’s place for nap time. Jongho has taken notice, he’s also taken inventory as to which blankets of his you prefer, the pillows that keep you asleep the longest, what temperature you prefer the room to be based on what you’re wearing. All your favorite snacks before or after. New blackout curtains. He’s made his place your ultimate nap zone. New heated blankets. Duplicates of your fave lounge wear and socks. And he takes his payment in cuddles. Holding you tightly in his bed or sprawled on the couch. Sometimes he falls asleep himself and flips you onto your back to bury into your side like a full-sized teddy bear.

163 notes · View notes

bluginkgo · 2 months

Text

Depression is hitting hard, but you know what hits harder? Eternal Dream with the context of ep7

I kid you not, I was doing regular chores and brain said "Hey, pssst, eternal dream is HELLA depressing now."

...

BRAIN I DID NOT NEED THAT-

So here's me dissecting Eternal Dream yet again but with images from ep7 just to cope ;w;

Spoilers duh

(indicate my thoughts/ramble/not part of the lyrics)

I am tired of this dream Will it ever end for me?

(Betrayal after betrayal, the general tiredness of being let down over and over)

I don't have the will to know... Can you help me see?

(This verse remains a bit up in the air for me, as it always has been. I'll try a jab at it though. This is Uzi asking for help. She's tired of the horrors, the secrets, and betrayals. She needs someone else to help her see that this is not a waste of time. She needs N to help her see that there is going to be someone to encourage her.)

Let my body keep you warm Let my essence be your breeze

(So, technically, these images are rather hard to connect. But going with "Let my essence be your breeze" everything that N does in the fighting scene is to get Uzi to return to herself. Her entire being and personality is what is driving N to fight so hard. And in turn her "essence" becomes his "breeze" and will to fight back in situations that seem hopeless.)

Can you hear me calling? Please look out for me

(And he does, despite fighting to the death, he still continues to look after her TwT)

Can you set me free? Will you take my soul away?

(I keep going back and forth on this one. But the more positive one would be if N could set Uzi free from the Absolute Solver, like he has done in ep4 and helped in ep7.)

Casting me in cold Bury me in bones Rest eternally

("Bury me in bones" was first made me think of even doing this silly thing 😅 Because Uzi is literally going to be buried in the grave of Absolute Solver cores and humans that the solver snagged during the core collapse.)

Will you take me home? Can we see the moon again?

(I'm mostly pulling on the moons because they're seen in the background. This can be taken also as a way of asking to go back to the old times. To the times when none of this happened before.)

Dancing in the dark

(Hey, I know I've overused this, but I still can't stop thinking that this was a nod back to ep3. Their entire fight seems like a dance... a brutal, angst-filled, dance ;w;)

'Till we fall apart

(You know, I WAS THE ONE THAT FELL APART TwT. In all seriousness, they did fall apart. Fell/forced apart by the events of ep7.)

I can't end this dream

(This is not the end. Despite being ready and accepting of death, I- personally, so feel free to yeet this into the void- believe her job is not done. She still has something else to settle. And this dream will not end until Uzi finishes that job.)

Does this make any sense? I reckon not. But I needed Eternal Dream out of my head, and this is the only way I could think of getting rid of it ;w;

134 notes · View notes

retrocesosdestacion · 5 months

Text

HOLLOW-HEARTED PHASES | daniëlle van de donk.

daniëlle van de donk x reader

genre: fluff

warnings: 🤷‍♀️

notes: written for this request.

SUMMARY: Danielle finds herself in frustration after a match. You are the only answer for her.

In a way, you are poetry material; You are full of cloudy subtleties I am willing to spend a lifetime figuring out. Words burst in your essence and you carry their dust in the pores of your ethereal individuality.

kafka.

❝ Will you tell me what happened? ❞ You don't expect Daan to be comprehensible right now. Yet it's worth a try.

❝ Nothing. It was just an misfortune. ❞ She answer in a not-so-assertive tone. It was kind of obvious how difficult it was for the Dutch woman to lie to you.

❝ It wasn't just this, you got a really bad yellow card, Liefde. ❞

Van de Donk and accident in the same situation was something common, relying on the point of view. And a lot of those times, it was funny.

She was tired, you were too; Sweating and ravenous, you too; Danielle was completely worn out from the match, and so were you. Mutually in post games, that was what made you two so close.

Playing alongside the midfielder every week managed to be entertaining, mainly due to each unusual circumstance that Danielle brought to you.

Settling such complications was your job. And at this moment was not different.

❝ At least explain it to me, please! ❞ You beg, pulling the first stool you could get and sat down in front of your partner; implying you wouldn't be leaving anytime soon until you resolved this.

❝ Do you think bumping into someone is so reckless as to get a yellow card? ❞ She started. ❝ Nowadays they are accepting anyone as a referee! ❞

She gestured every second, her dutch accent made the whole situation even funnier.

The only reaction you could have was to laugh at it all. ❝ It contigent on the intensity, actually. ❞ You say amidst giggling. ❝ And well, I know you. ❞

❝ I didn't do anything wrong! ❞ Danielle sounded like she wanted to prove a point. ❝ It’s not my fault if she unexpectedly appeared near me... ❞

❝ Okay, I take your word for it. ❞ In fact, your lips were a little erroneous, you saw how the midfielder purposely pushed the rival player at that time and could uncertainly defend Daan.

She raised her eyebrows involuntarily and jiggle her face, not hiding the evidence that she didn't fall for your fallacious chit-chat.

You gradually reached for the dutch woman's hands, probing each of her fingers; then caressing them.

Suddenly Van de Donk was equal to a carefree sea; a pelago that had just experienced a storm. The midfielder's eyes were devoted to yours, glinting more and more with each passing second.

Even though Danielle always left in a temper after incidents like this, you had the unparalleled ability to alleviate her. Whether just with your presence or caresses.

❝ How about… Next time you bump into someone more carefully, hm? ❞ You muttered, bringing your face inches closer to the midfielder. ❝ Or better yet, not bumping into the person is also a great option! ❞

Your thumbs slowly slid over the skin of other woman’s fingers, trying to comfort her while at the same time considering a clarification for all of this.

❝ In conclusion, not retaliating to a provocation is what you're telling me. ❞ Danielle articulated calmly.

❝ ...Yeah, almost that. ❞ You replied, withdrawn from your previous speech. ❝And also, you’ve been a lot… ❞

❝ Stressed? ❞ She concluded by cutting off your words, even though she was aware that such emotion was not true.

❝ I wasn't going to say that. ❞

❝ Yes, you would. ❞

You took a while to answer, since deep down it was more of a truth.

❝ No… I was going to say that you have been very frustrated and nervous lately. ❞

❝ It's the same thing. ❞ Daan had a silly smile on her face, clear how she was enjoying a game with you.

Your lips locked before commenting something, daring extra time to think of words to please her.

The palm of your left hand was the first touch to the dutch woman's face after disregarding her fingers, now giving light gentle taps. ❝ Who knows, maybe behind your little face it’s all the same! ❞

Van de Donk's fortunate laugh was delightful to hear, like a pleasant sound you rarely find amidst the chaos of an urban city; like your girlfriend.

The dutch girl got a enjoyable laugh out of your face whenever she could, and you got the occasional warm fervor. It was a cycle, and you had everything to do with it.

❝ I'll take that as a compliment. ❞ Daan articulated happily, slowly pressing her own fingers over yours; those who were snuggled against the dutch woman's face.

❝ Better now? ❞ You ask, wondering how Danielle was calmer than before.

❝ Possibly yes. ❞ She reply, inhibited by previous actions.

The shorter woman looked down demurely. But honestly, anyone gets irritated, especially by situations like this. Daan had every right to be upset about this, after all, you would be there.

Your fingers, from both of your hands, placed themselves on the other woman's face. You compress lightly so that you could move the other person's face closer to you.

Danielle had her typical confused look, but also aware of the affectionate attitude. A short beam shines on your face, accompanied by a pleasant chuckle before your lips touch the other person's skin.

You placed a short peck on the tip of the dutch woman's nose, immediately going to her lips, giving her another peck. Centimeters away from the other person's face, being able to even feel de Donk's warm and agitated breath.

❝ If that's okay, how about we get together with the girls, then we go out for drinks and find something to eat. ❞ You murmur after the affectionate act.

❝ If you say so… We can. ❞ Daan answer, sounding like she's still trying to recover from the affection; with the silly smile printed on her face. ❝ To be honest, I'm hungry. ❞

One or twenty years can pass, the dutch woman always becomes the silliest person in the world when she receives your affection.

❝ How about that new restaurant that just opened? ❞ You make a suggestion. ❝ Vanessa felt like eating pasta these days! ❞

Despite Van de Donk being a difficult woman to deal with on the pitch, off there and for you, it was like an easy puzzle to put together.

Danielle could stress a thousand times, but you would always get her back no matter what.

❝ Sounds fun! ❞ She responds one last time before gradually rising from the bench where she was sitting.

The midfielder pulled your hands, so she could help you when you got up. It didn't take long for you to act and do the same, even though you were extremely tired.

Daan still had her index fingers intertwined with yours, her eyes needed to make minimal effort when looking up, where she could look affectionately at you.

She took a while to say something, and honestly, Danielle's eyes darted to your face and without saying anything made you a little nervous.

You gave a confused grin.

❝ Thank you for that. ❞ Van de Donk mutters.

❝ …For what, exactly? ❞

❝ For being with me, by my side. I don't know how I would react to things without you. ❞ She articulates through the small laughs she lets out.

Without realizing it, your confused smile became happy, small compliments coming from your girlfriend were a relief; a victory.

Your silly smirk that burned your cheeks didn't allow you to answer, but made you act embarrassed. Your lefty raised up, so you could try to camouflage this stupid smile.

❝ Why are you smiling so much?! ❞ Daan chortled, tilting her head confusedly to the side.

❝ Nothing, nothing. ❞

ᅠ

#woso #danielle van de donk x reader #danielle van de donk #daan x reader #devd x reader

103 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs