#I am forever looking so sideways

[fruitzbat]

I CHOOSE VIOLENCE

19. you're mad/ashamed/horrified you actually kind of like...

In the context of CR, the thing I think I approach the closest to with this concept is that I don't know how much I think Essek was wrong to do what he did with the beacon, which makes me mad as hell bc I am RARELY in the twink apologia camp.

This is a tangent, but I always thought it was kind of fucked that Essek, who handed off a holy relic bc someone agreed with him that it might have other properties and the religious aspect was in the way of potentially helping people (I am oversimplifying but not by much IMO, I'm not sure what exactly Ludinus et al TOLD him) was the one shamed and forced to walk the earth in penitence without any promise of safety while...Caleb, I mean, from what we know, had a childhood and adolescence full of turning religious minorities into pâté and ends the story with a home and a cozy teaching job. For all the jokes about Essek being a war criminal, I never felt like the fact that Caleb very much hatecrimed a shitload of people that he wasn't related to came up within the narrative.

Why does he get a second chance and not all the people rotting in jail because of him? We focus so much on the tragedy with his parents -- and to be clear, what happened to Caleb and his parents and Astrid and Eadwulf and their families is a tragedy -- yet I never felt like we got much focus on all the other people hurt and lives ruined by them. It ended up coming off, to me, like he was hurting not because he was angry at the system for making him a weapon against the vulnerable, but because that blade that was supposed to protect him was turned inward and dug into him in the process.

[aaksuitac]

[3:00am] fatam viam invenient.

wc: 3.6k

a/n: tagging @dilemmars because wifey delivers, and @thatlittlered bc i promised and @baniniheas because i’d love to know y’all’s thoughts on this one! (i love viktor in fluff + comfort aaa he's the loml shutup)

when the clock ticks and reverberates through the wide empty halls in the middle of the night, coincidence strucks at three am sharp.

why, of course it is purely coincidence that you happen to be passing by the lab so late into the night. what else could it be, when fate doesn’t exist?

the lights still on inside the lab catch your attention. no one to blame but the shiny blue that crosses below the door, almost as if it was calling your name, therefore, no one to blame —maybe the cat dead to curiosity, if it could be counted— when you decide to poke your head in, and unsurprisingly to your mind, you find viktor still working at his desk. your heart doesn’t seem to agree, for his sudden presence makes it jump in your chest, sheepishly excited.

“oh?” he asks, hearing the door open and turning to face you with a newfound grin that threatens to crinckle the corner of his eyes and form dimples on his cheeks. “well, well, well,” he smiles, “look what the cat dragged in.”

you bow teasingly, flamboyant arm movements accompanied by giggles that churn viktor’s weak heart. his voice turns softer when he speaks again.

“what are you still doing awake?”

“oh,” you snort. “did you know heimerdinger snores?” you smile, closing the door behind you by laying on it, and then pushing against it to move towards him.

viktor blinks, snorting as well. “heimerdinger… he… woke you up?” he giggles. “really?”

“nah, i was being funny,” you chuckle, taking your headphones off, discarding them on the table near. “am i interrupting something mildly interesting?”

“not really, no.”

“bummer. wanted to.” you fake a pout, taking the chair that rests away from him and sitting on it, spinning and pushing against the floor to move around with its wheels.

he shakes his head sideways and smiles at you, looking up from his notes. his heart giggles, sitting on the edge of his chest even if it had already fallen for you more than once —and more than twice—, kicking its little legs as it watches you roam around.

and in the moment where you push against the floor and your chair bumps against his ever-so-slightly, your arms resting on the backrest of it as you lay your face there comfortably, it jumps and falls again, seconds after your wide, ginger, and always cheeky smile.

“would you mind if i stay here for a while?”

would you please stay here forever, he doesn’t say, even if his heart swoons and curses, curses at him almost as much as it curses at jayce when he was left alone, trying and failing to decypher the lame politician’s hideous caligraphy.

“i wouldn’t mind.” he settles for. he sees in your eyes another cunning tease brewing, but his heart jumps into his throat before he can control it. “i’ve been cooped up in here for so long, i haven’t spoke to a person all day.”

it takes you by surprise, and it shows. not only by how he can tell the menacing shimmer in your eyes dims, but because of how you blink, slightly puzzled, letting out a breathless chuckle.

“missing other humans?” your head no longer rests on your forearm, even though your posture on the chair remains the same, but instead tilts on a way that makes viktor mentally coo at you. “what have you done with viktor?”

“haha, very funny.” it kind of is. the thought slipped out, even if it isn’t a common thought in his pragmatical, scientific mind. but maybe now there’s something different on his eyes too, because yours soften, and your arm moves from the chair to his wrist.

it’s then when the feeling hits him, and it’s because how much he has missed you. he doesn’t realize just how much until he has it surrounding his pale skin, and he doesn’t want you to let go. he’d carry you on his back all day if it meant you could stay there with him, you, your warmth, and your silly giggles.

your eyes pry from him to finish his train of thought —because he always teases back—, not knowing that he has lost it completely. “i’m just…” he pauses for a moment as he searches in the depths of his mind for the right word.

weirdly enough, he frowns. he doesn’t find it. he sighs instead, shaking his head.

“i have a lot of research and experiments i’m trying to get done all at once.” he lets out a humourless chuckle, turning side to side in his chair, streching his arms. “besides, jayce isn’t around to chat with as much as before,” or not even a bit, “so it get’s lonely.”

and the silence that follows clicks. not like his walking stick against the floor, because he doesn’t believe he’s experienced something similar to this feeling that takes ahold of his heart all of a sudden and makes his eyes droop.

he’s… exhausted.

viktor is exhausted, and the realization comes with an impending dread that looms over him the same way dark clouds start to cover a sunny day. he hasn’t even thought about it before. how much he has missed your warmth because he locks himself up in the lab for days. how his only human company had better things to do that rot with his chronically ill partner in a disheveled laboratory, and instead dwell in a world of politics that viktor couldn’t care less about. how his eyes look darker in the reflection of the window each passing day, his body screaming as his exhaustion gnaws his bones and claws his skin, his soul weary, for no one, not even him, has even noticed this before.

you see it on his face. as if a mask’s thread was pulled off, his eyes burn dents on the table, even if he isn’t reading anymore.

“viktor?”

messing around, having fun. that’s you and viktor. genius and madness, heimerdinger would pompously tease with his light accent. but when his eyes, lost, teary and dull, turn to look at you, his mouth parted and his hands limp on the chair’s armrests, as if he was pressed and locked on the surface, you lose it.

you’re not really thinking about the fact that viktor isn’t used to physical affection —focus on those first words: you’re not really thinking—, not when you stand up from your chair, hearing it squeaking away as you move viktor’s away from the table and you link his hands with yours.

it dawns on you that you’re scared because his eyes have never looked at you like that. like if there was a train coming for him, viktor wouldn’t know if he should move away. like if the ground was starting to fall from under his feet, he wouldn’t know if it was just a random tuesday. and you’re scared, because your only instinct is to hold his hand and hope that he can understand what you’re trying to express. that you understand that when he’s on a tall wall and he looks down he feels the need to get a little closer to the edge. that you understand if he sometimes showers for hours because he needs to sit down under the lukewarm water. that you understand, that you’re here for him, and that if the train comes, please move.

none of this is said or mentioned. your eyes hold each other the way a shore soothes the waves when the sea turns wild, and lets them hide under a heavy little stone wall to calm down for a short while. and your no-conversation ends when he swallows dry and holds your hands just a bit tighter, squeezing them softly, making you smile at him softly.

you don’t really let go of his hands. you act purely on instinct when you lead them behind your neck and you pass your legs over his thighs, and you let your hands trail soft pathes on his back, as if carving out a map that would get him out of the sudden dark pit he has fallen into.

when he lets out a quiet, shuddering gasp at your touch, you let out a soft snicker. he hadn’t expected it, but at the same time, it feels like it has been so long since he has felt the touch of another that his heart swears it’ll make him cry if you stop. obediently so, he doesn’t fight it, as your hands begin to rub against his muscles, working out the tension that had built up from sitting hunched over a desk all day. viktor lets out a soft sigh, letting his head fall forward as you work.

your fingers continue, applying just the right amount of pressure, making him melt against you, his shoulders slump down as he lets out another shuddering breath. you whistle teasingly, letting out a soft chuckle.

“what’s got your panties in a bunch, vicky?” you smile, your hands trailing soothing patterns on his back, absentmindedly going up and fixing his collar.

“i just… i have so much to do,” he mumbles, his eyes closing as he allows himself a rare moment to relax. there’s a lump in his throat that he forces himself to swallow. “i want to advance hextec and use it to help people, but… it feels like there’s too much to do, too much pressure to do it, and it just…” he groans in the end, and then relaxes his face, sighing.

your hands turn softer and stroke his back before heading upwards again, not back to his collar but to his hair instead, softly threading it through your fingers. he leans his head against your shoulders with a soft groan, his arms softly daring to surround and hug your waist, and for a moment, you can hear his breathing turning heavy with sleep depravation, his eyes not daring to open again, not even attempting to as his touch-starved self melts on your fingers.

“’m sorry,” he lets out in a mumble, eyes still shut. “barely slept,” he sighs, gingerly trying to find a way to lean in a way that there’s no distance between you.

“what if you take a break, mister science?” you smile, almost as much as him when he hears the nickname you use for him. he opens his eyes again and stares through the big window in the lab, not moving to look at you, but instead leans into your touch and your arms before replying, watching the grey clouds move through the nightsky, covering some stars.

“i didn’t say anything about stopping.” you grin before he can protest. “just… putting it on hold, if you will. for a minute.”

he lets out a soft hum and seems to think on your words. eventually, he lets out another sigh. “i can do a minute,” he mumbles, and leans his head, nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

“there we go,” you giggle softly, still stroking his hair.

it was nice to get him to let down his guard a bit and relax. he leans against you like some kind of tall, touch-starved puppy. you hum lowly, stroking his hair absentmindedly, careful not to pull on it.

you can hear him breathing quietly, his chest slowly rising and falling against you. like this, he seems so relaxed, a sight you rarely see. after a few minutes of silence, viktor speaks suddenly, in a low voice.

“can i ask you something?”

“oh, sure. thought you were asleep.”

he fidgets with your fingers in his hand. “not yet,” he mumbles. he’s quiet for a moment afterwards. thinking about how to say what he wants to say. but then he speaks again, his voice even quieter, and somehow vulnerable

“it’s something personal.”

you just blink, waiting, and he feels you nodding, your hair moving and tickling his face.

“…do you think i’m… a bad or unfeeling person?” there’s a silence that mortifies him after he lets out what had been eating him alive for a while. “like, i only care about work and stuff… you know. i just- i wonder how i’m perceived by others.”

“is this prompted by something that happened today?” you ask softly.

he hesitates, frowning. “yes… no? yes.” he purses his lips, collecting his scattered thoughts. “i… overheard a conversation. about me. my work. and how i do nothing besides that. and… i don’t know… it just…” he sighs. “it made me wonder if everyone felt that way about me.”

he bites his lip, groaning lowly in frustration. “…i don’t know. i’m sorry, forget i said anything, it’s stupid.”

“no, just out of character. but that’s alright.” you smile, not letting him slither out of your embrace, to which he resigns and smiles at your giggles while he finds solace hiding his face further in the crook of your neck.

“it isn’t foolish if it made you feel some type of way,” you pause, stroking his hair. “are you a focused, driven man? yes. does that take time away from you to do other things? also yes. it’s how time works, mister science.” you teased tenderly, hugging him tightly.

he lets out a humouless chuckle, moving from the crook of your neck just to squint his eyes at you. “you’re so funny, smarty pants.”

“i mean it,” you snorted. “what would you do if you couldn’t do this?”

“i would…” nothing. he never even thought about it before, simply because it wasn’t on the equation. this was it. science was his thing. and if he couldn’t do it, he would just not do anything. he’d… colapse.

you shoot at him a toothy smile that charms him. “that’s why it is called is a spark.” you stated softly. “it lights us up from the inside, and it burns inside us, but if we don’t use it, it smolders, fills us with smoke, and we suffocate.”

he lets out a quiet shudder, his shoulders hunched as your words sink in. he’s silent for a moment, closing his eyes.

he ponders your words, and you can’t help but stare at him. nothing comes over your mind as your eyes trace his features the same way the breeze passes by the tree’s branches, playing with the leaves that have fallen. you pause, pressing a kiss on his temple, not wondering why is it called that way anymore as you press a softer, second peck over it, worshipping his sole existance the way the greeks clung to the goddess, as if he was nothing far from those ancient beings, crafted by their worshippers and deserving of praise that languages couldn’t reach.

maybe that’s why it is called temple. to worship and care as softly and as unnoticeably as salt links with water. you blink, pecking his cheek now with a silly smile on your face.

“whatever you choose to do doesn’t make you lesser of what you are, vicky. and you are a little human, who loves to tinker in his lab with extreamly dangerous and explosive magic elements with dubious procedure. and no one can take that from you.”

his heart beats like crazy inside of him, diminishing those from those so-called explotions you mentioned before, for in his mind and to his retched heart, nothing could ever compare to the remnants of you.

“…so you don’t think i’m cold or unfeeling?” he mumbles, but before you can answer, he continues. “i’ve been told i was unfeeling before.” he lets out, fidgeting with the ends of your hair. “that i’m like some sort of… machine.”

“nonsense.” you spit out too quickly, so quickly as if you were baffled by the statement.

which, you are. the man that had melted beneath your fingers and in your arms, the man that had begged you to stay in his office because he missed having company around, the man that minutes ago was about to drown on his own thoughts had you not been there, the man that had kissed you like crazy on the very same chair you two were sitting on just because he wanted to, the man that was inteligent to such a high degree that he harnessed the ability to interpret magic runes… thought he was… ‘unfeeling’, and was unable to see why the fuck he wasn’t?

he blinks at you, and you huff.

“okay. let’s play this your way: scientific method. want me to prove it?”

interested was a fair statement. his eyes open and he stares at you, nodding, humming in acknowledgement, and shifts a bit against you, in a sort of childish way of asking for more attention.

“how will you?”

with a smile, you wink at him, moving away from his lap and grabbing back your previously discarded chair, moving it as close as you can from him until it bumps with his, and you sit down. he blinks, a rosy tint unable to hide away on his pale skin as you start to stroke his face, taking your hand to his cheek, cupping it.

poor little viktor doesn’t even attempt to control the need to lean closer into your touch, the feeling of your soft hand against his cheek comforting as a blanket on winter and as an open window with soft chilly breeze on summer. warm. so, so very soft.

and slowly but surely, he’s a goner when you press your lips against his. he inhales sharply, surprised, but never does he so much as think of pulling away. instead, he leans into the kiss, returning the gesture with a softness that weakens you and a hunger that kills you.

you peck the tip of his nose. his forehead. his cheeks, the right one then the left one. he giggles, closing his eyes, and you press kisses on his eyelids too. then his forehead again, but lower this time, in the point where the eyebrows separate and the bridge of the nose ends. you want to kiss him all over. if you could be paid for it, you’d be a millioner. billioner, even.

and in your eyes, as little of a scientific fact that could be, viktor feels. his mind wonders if there could be anything already built that could decypher the exact words the colour of your eyes is telling to his golden ones. he’d buy it. maybe you could buy it for him, if kisses could give someone money.

in his eyes, you find a speck of disbelief. as if whatever he’s feeling is something he never thought he could feel before.

“you feel, yes?” you grin, stroking his nose with yours. “then whoever said you were like a machine can eat slugs,” you snicker.

he lets out an airy chuckle at your words. for the first time in a long time, he doesn’t seem to be as tense or grumpy as before. he still feels exhausted, but the anger flew away.

and you remained.

he exhales again, and turns in his chair, cheekily moving his leg and helping theother one to now sit over your parted thighs, and happily nuzzles back into your touch, kissing your cheek. “thank you,” he doesn’t say.

the train doesn’t come, but he would’ve moved away.

he seems very into the feeling of running your fingers throught hs hair and shoulders. he seems comfortable and relaxed, sitting in his newly-found position, with his legs dangling, as he surrounds your shoulders and nuzzles on your neck, his tippy-toes touching the floor.

“your hands feel nice,” he mumbles next to your ear.

“try to sleep, silly,” you chuckle lowly.

his eyes are slipping close as he mumbles “not silly…”

he’s half asleep already, though he’s fighting so desperately to keep chatting nonsense with you. but he really is tired, so you don’t even think of blaming him when eventually he gives in and settles his head on a comfortable position between your shoulder and your neck and starts breathing slowly.

he snuggles close to you as he slowly slips further asleep, his body almost completely lax against you, all of the tension now completely gone. a far cry from how he works himself to exhaustion.

you sigh, stroking his back tenderly.

he hums quietly, nuzzling his face against your hand. you never would have though of viktor as a big snuggler, and taking a wild guess, you assume neither would he, as he just seems to enjoy your touch and your attention.

“don’t leave…” he mumbles drowsily, almost too quiet to hear, as he leans comfortably against you.

“i won’t,” you whisper, kissing his temple.

that seems to put him at ease, because the moment your lips touched his temple he went out cold against you. he inhaled deeply, before mumbling something else in a half asleep state.

viktor is passionate with his work, and sometimes feels like he isn’t doing enough. but when you both wake up slightly sore and then crash on the sofa in the lab, sleeping with tangled legs until the sun rises, that’s okay.

sure, maybe his politic-involved friends can get done more by ten am than him in a whole day, but it doesn’t matter, because if he wakes up at nine fifty nine and kisses the outline of your lips, he feels like he has done enough, and threatening or killing no one in the process.

“what are you thinking?” you nudge him softly, a silly smile plastered on your face.

he just smiles, dumbfounded, feeling like his mind is a mess, but just hugs you a bit tighter, tickling your face with his hair, knowing he's got all the time in the world in here with you because no one dares to bother him.

maybe fate does exist after all. not because of how he thinks that otherwise, how else could he be so lucky to have you, but because unbeknownst to him, you’re thinking the same thing, too.

~k.k. (☆) ‘viktor nation, how we feelin?’

aaksuitac, december 2024 ©

[fluentmoviequoter]

Kojo Bradford, Wingman

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader (+ the one and only Kojo)

Summary: Tim is (still) a bachelor, until Kojo decides to change that.

Warnings: FLUFF! Kojo's thoughts (italicized) are from 101 Dalmatians

Word Count: 1.4k+ words

A/N: KOJO!!!

It was plain to see that my old pet needed someone. But if it were left up to Tim, we’d be bachelors forever. He was married to his work. Catching bad guys… Oh, he’s intelligent enough, as humans go. And I think you could say that Tim is a rather handsome animal in his way. I could see no reason why my pet didn’t deserve an attractive mate. At least, I was determined to do my best. Of course, dogs are a pretty poor judge of human beauty. But I had a rough idea of what to look for… It was a problem. A real problem… Well, now that’s a bit more like it! It was almost too good to be true… Ah, they’re heading for the park. A perfect meeting place, if I could only arrange it.

Kojo has the frisbee in his mouth, and Tim is squatted, waiting for him to return with it. Suddenly, though, Kojo sprints in the other direction.

“Kojo! You- Boot, get back here!” Tim yells, running after him with the leash in his hand.

✯✯✯✯✯

The park is one of your favorite places to hang out and relax. Sitting on a bench, you glance up from your book when you hear the water in the small pond ripple. You don't, however, see a dog slowing as he trots toward you.

I couldn’t depend on Tim. He’d settle on the grass, and that would be it. No, it was all up to me. Well…

Something lands in your lap, and you move your book to the side to look.

“Oh, hi there,” you say, smiling as you pat the dog’s head.

At first, I had no particular plan, just anything to attract attention.

“Who are you supposed to be with, buddy?” you ask, running your hand over his collar until you find his name tag. “Kojo?”

His tail wags and your smile widens as you look around for his owner.

“Kojo!” someone yells.

You look away from Kojo, who doesn’t move his wide, puppy gaze from you. The man stepping around the tree searching for Kojo is undeniably attractive, and you smile when his eyes meet yours.

“I think I met a friend of yours,” you say as he hooks Kojo’s leash to his collar.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologizes.

“No need, Kojo’s a sweetie.”

“Well, thank you.” 

Nodding, you return your attention to your book as Kojo lifts his head to look at his owner.

“What were you thinking, buddy?” the man asks quietly.

Glancing at your watch, you notice it has gotten later than you realized. Sliding your book into your bag, you stand and walk in the opposite direction of Kojo.

For a while, it seemed to work. At least they had seen one another. Things were going along first-rate. But for some strange reason, she left!

✯✯✯✯✯

Kojo pulls on his leash, moving as quickly as possible toward your retreating figure. He's practically dragging Tim, but he needs to catch you.

“Kojo! What is your problem? Stop!” Tim demands, holding the leash tightly as he follows Kojo as well as he can.

But I wasn’t giving up. I was determined that, somehow, they just had to meet.

Kojo catches up to you, and Tim notices a moment too late what Kojo is doing.

✯✯✯✯✯

You hear Kojo bark lowly just before he walks before you, his leash digging into your legs as he keeps circling. As you turn with his movement, you run into his handsome owner from a few minutes ago. Your hands are on his chest as his arms instinctively wrap around you.

“I am so sorry,” he apologizes, trying to get Kojo to walk back around.

“It’s fine,” you promise. “Just don’t-“

Before you can say ‘tip over,’ he leans too far, accidentally falling backward and pulling you with him. You land on top of him, his arms still around you.

“Oh my gosh, are you okay?” you ask.

Kojo barks, and you look at him, smiling as you see his tail wagging quickly.

“I’m fine. Are you?”

Nodding, you move sideways so one of your hips is on the ground as you reach down and uncurl the leash from your joined legs.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. Standing, he offers his hands and asks, “Please let me help.”

“Thanks.”

“Kojo,” he chides. “I really don’t know what made him do that. He’s never done anything like this before.”

“Well, no, I can’t imagine he has. He’s a sweetheart.”

“You- are you not mad?”

You laugh, and he soon joins you. Now that he thinks of it, the situation really is funny. Kojo sits beside you, looking like he’s smiling.

Offering your hand, you introduce yourself.

“Tim Bradford,” he replies, shaking your hand kindly. “And you’ve met Kojo.”

“I think Kojo might have done that on purpose,” you whisper. “In which case, he’s a pretty good wingman.”

Tim smiles at you as he agrees, “Yes, he is.”

✯✯✯✯✯

✯✯✯✯✯

“Kojo!” you call, setting your bag by the door.

He makes a lot of noise as he runs to greet you, but you still hear Tim’s grumbled complaints.

“Always want to see my dog before me,” he says.

“Hey, without this beautiful dog right here, I wouldn’t even know you and you’d still be devastatingly single.”

Tim rolls his eyes, offering a hand. He wraps his hand around yours, pulling you into his chest and kissing your forehead. Kojo barks, looking toward his leash, which hangs by the door.

“I don’t know what’s worse, that you won’t let me forget Kojo introduced us or that he seems to know,” Tim muses.

“He’s a good boy.”

Shaking his head, Tim clips Kojo’s leash on, holding it in one hand while the other wraps around your shoulders.

Once you're at the park, you sit on the grass beside Tim, watching him and Kojo play. When Kojo gets tired, panting heavily, he walks to your side and lays down, placing his head in your lap just as he did the day you and Tim met.

“Just don’t knock us over this time,” you tell him, laying your hand on his head as you pet him.

“I wouldn’t be completely opposed to it,” Tim hums as he joins you.

✯✯✯✯✯

“What is Kojo wearing?” Angela asks. “And why is Kojo here?”

“He’s wearing a tie,” Tim answers. “I didn’t choose it, don’t ask. And he’s here because we’re on our way somewhere.”

“You’re proposing,” Angela realizes.

“Yes,” Tim answers as Kojo barks once in reply.

“That is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen and I will never let you live this down.”

“I- I can’t even care right now.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Kojo, my handsome boy!” you yell, kneeling so Kojo can run into your arms. “Tim, my other handsome boy.”

Tim asked you to meet him in the park after work, and you’ve been looking forward to it all day.

“Kojo, lead the way,” Tim calls.

You furrow your brows but don’t hesitate to loop your arm through Tim’s and follow Kojo down a path to the bench where you first met Tim. Fairy lights are strung in the tree above it, and while you watch Kojo jump onto the bench, you miss Tim pulling his arm from yours.

When you turn toward him, Tim is kneeling on the path, looking up at you with a small velvet box in his hand.

“Tim,” you gasp.

“This was Kojo’s idea, too, but let me finish before you say anything, okay?”

Nodding quickly, you can’t bring yourself to look away from Tim even when Kojo nudges his head against your hand, arriving at your side.

“Even though I didn’t know what I was missing, meeting you completed me, you completed me. And I will never be able to tell you enough – or thank Kojo enough,” Tim says, licking his lips when he sees the tears in your eyes. “So, will you do me…” Kojo barks again, and Tim adds, “me and Kojo the honor of marrying me?”

Unable to speak, you drop toward Tim, trusting him to catch you as you cling to him, nodding excitedly as tears stream down your face.

“Kojo,” Tim warns.

You laugh when you feel a leash drag across your side. Tim catches him by the collar, bringing him into the hug.

“I love you,” you whisper. “And I love you, Kojo. Thank you, buddy.”

[callsigns-haze]

A pilot? Again?

Pairing: Jake Seresin X detective, single mom reader

After investigating a crash at Top Gun for four hours, Detective Y/N, who lost her husband Daniel four years ago, finds no evidence of foul play and deems the case closed. During her time there, she reconnects with Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, Daniel's younger brother, and meets his charming wingman, Jake "Hangman" Seresin. Hangman flirts with Y/N as he walks her to her car, and for the first time in years, she feels comfortable with the attention. Before leaving, Y/N gives him her card with her number, leaving the door open for future contact. Hangman promises to text, sparking the potential for a new chapter in her life.

This chapter contains references to past personal loss and emotional themes. It features characters dealing with grief and the aftermath of a tragic event.

Two Weeks of Silence

It had been two weeks since the funeral, but the house was still suffocating. The silence was unbearable, the only sounds coming from the occasional babble of 14-month-old Keith or the quiet shuffle of Logan, who had been eerily quiet since his father’s death. It was as if the life had been drained from the walls along with Daniel "Griffin" Bradshaw, Bradley’s older brother by two years.

Y/N stood in the kitchen, gripping the counter with trembling hands, her back turned to the door. The numbness hadn’t left. It clung to her like a second skin, tightening with every passing day. She had held it together at the funeral—everyone had said she was so strong. Strong for the kids. But now, without the distraction of people offering meaningless words, she felt nothing but an empty ache.

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw had been coming over almost every day since the funeral. Not that she’d asked him to. He just showed up, like he was trying to step into Daniel’s shoes. But he wasn’t Daniel. He never would be.

She heard the familiar creak of the door behind her. She didn’t bother turning around. She already knew who it was.

“Y/N,” Bradley said, his voice quiet but rough, the usual edge missing.

“What is it, Bradley?” she asked, her tone sharper than she intended.

“I came to check on you,” he said, stepping into the kitchen with a heavy sigh.

Y/N gritted her teeth and turned to face him, her arms crossed. She looked exhausted—dark circles under her eyes, her face pale and drawn. “You don’t have to keep coming here, you know. I’m not your responsibility.”

Bradley’s jaw tightened. He didn’t like the way she was pushing him away, but he wasn’t about to argue with her. Not now. Not after everything. “I know. But I’m here anyway.”

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Right. You’re always here.”

Bradley stared at her, his eyes flicking to the half-empty bottle of whiskey sitting on the counter. “Have you slept at all?”

“Why does it matter?” she snapped. “Sleep doesn’t change anything. Daniel’s still dead. I’m still stuck here raising these boys on my own. You think a nap’s going to fix that?”

Bradley didn’t flinch. He just nodded, the muscles in his jaw working as he tried to keep his emotions in check. “No. It won’t.”

Y/N turned away from him again, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. Keith’s babbling came from the living room, a small reminder that her youngest son needed her, even though she felt like she had nothing left to give. Logan, too, had been withdrawn, watching everything in silent confusion. He was too young to understand why his father wasn’t coming home, but old enough to sense the weight of what had happened.

“What am I supposed to tell them, Bradley?” she asked, her voice breaking slightly. “What do I say to Logan when he asks about his dad? That he died on some mission that went sideways? That he’s never coming back? When I do he asks why. How am I meant to know!?”

Bradley exhaled sharply, running a hand over his face. “I don’t know, Y/N. I wish I had the answers. But Logan’s going to need you to be honest with him. You can’t shield him from it forever.”

She let out a shaky breath, blinking rapidly to fight back the tears. “He’s only seven, Bradley. He shouldn’t have to grow up like this.”

Bradley stepped closer, his voice softening. “You’re right. He shouldn’t. But he’s tough—just like his dad. And you’re tougher than you think.”

Y/N shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “It'll ruin the kid. I’m just so damn tired.”

Bradley stood there, not sure what to say. He wasn’t good at this—the comforting, the emotional stuff. That had always been Daniel’s role. But Daniel wasn’t here anymore, and Bradley was all Y/N had left. He stepped forward, cautiously, until he was right next to her.

“You don’t have to do it alone,” he said quietly. “I’m here for you. For Logan. For Keith.”

Y/N didn’t respond at first, just kept staring at the floor, the weight of everything crushing down on her. After a long pause, she finally spoke, her voice tight with suppressed emotion.

“You’re not Daniel, Bradley. You were barely ever here before that either.”

The words cut deep, but Bradley nodded, accepting them for what they were. He wasn’t Daniel. He couldn’t replace his brother, no matter how hard he tried. But he could be there for the family Daniel had left behind.

“I know,” Bradley said quietly. “But I’m still here.”

Y/N finally looked up at him, her eyes red and tired. There was no fight left in her, no anger, just a raw, aching grief that mirrored his own.

“Logan asked me yesterday if his dad was a hero,” she said, her voice barely audible.

Bradley’s throat tightened. “What did you say?”

She swallowed hard, her gaze dropping to the floor. “I didn’t know what to say. Fourteen times in my life I accused pilots of doing something wrong but never Daniel. I just told him… I told him his dad loved him. That was all I could get out.”

Bradley nodded slowly, his chest aching with a familiar sense of loss. “It’s enough. Logan doesn’t need the details. He just needs to know that his dad loved him. That’s what matters.”

Y/N’s eyes met his again, and for the first time since Daniel’s death, there was something other than anger or numbness there. Maybe it was acceptance. Maybe it was just exhaustion. But she didn’t push him away this time.

“I don’t know how to do this,” she admitted quietly.

“You don’t have to figure it all out today,” Bradley replied. “Just take it one day at a time. I’ll be here. For whatever you need.”

Y/N nodded, her shoulders slumping as the weight of it all threatened to overwhelm her again. But this time, Bradley was there, standing beside her, ready to catch her if she fell.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough for now.

-----

Four years had passed since Daniel’s death, and life had moved on, even if it still carried the scars of that day. Y/N had thrown herself into her work, rising through the ranks until she became a detective, often working with specialized units like CSI. Her job demanded precision, focus, and a cool head under pressure—traits she’d developed while learning to balance being a widow and a mother to two boys.

It was 6:00 AM, and the alarm blared from her phone. Y/N groaned, stretching in her bed before she turned it off and rubbed her eyes. Another day, another case to solve. She threw the covers off and padded to the bathroom.

Standing in front of the mirror, she stared at herself. She turned on the faucet and grabbed her toothbrush, squeezing a small amount of minty toothpaste onto the bristles. The rhythmic motion of brushing her teeth was oddly soothing, a routine that anchored her at the start of each day. She brushed methodically, starting from the back molars, working her way to the front, the fresh taste of mint chasing away the dregs of sleep. After rinsing, she ran her tongue over her teeth, appreciating the smooth, clean feeling.

Next, she grabbed her brush and began working through her hair. Her hair had grown longer than she usually kept it, but she liked the way it looked now—professional but still a little wild. She worked through a few tangles, brushing from the roots to the ends until her hair was soft and smooth. She tied it back into a sleek ponytail, the style that was both functional and neat for her long days on the job.

Returning to the bedroom, Y/N opened her closet. She ran her fingers over the hangers, choosing a black tailored blazer and matching pants. A crisp white blouse underneath kept the look sharp but professional. Sliding the pants on first, she tucked in her blouse and fastened the blazer, making sure everything sat perfectly. She moved over to the full-length mirror by the closet door, adjusting her collar and sleeves. Her badge was clipped to the belt, a constant reminder of the responsibility she carried.

Finally, she walked over to the small safe tucked discreetly in her nightstand drawer. She spun the dial, opening the metal door with a quiet click. Inside sat her standard-issue Glock. The cold metal felt familiar in her hand as she checked it over, ensuring it was loaded and ready. She slipped the gun into its holster at her side, concealed beneath her blazer. One last glance in the mirror—she looked like a detective ready to take on whatever the day threw at her.

But before she could leave the house, there was one more challenge: waking up her boys.

Y/N headed down the hall to Logan’s room. At eleven, Logan was already turning into a miniature version of his father. He had Daniel’s stubbornness, for sure, and waking him up in the morning had become something of a battle over the years.

She knocked gently on the door. “Logan, it’s time to get up.”

There was no response. She sighed, opening the door and stepping into the room. Logan was buried under his blankets, only the top of his messy brown hair visible. His room was a mess, toys and clothes scattered across the floor, his desk cluttered with books and school papers.

“Logan,” Y/N said again, this time with more authority. “Get up. You’ve got school.”

A muffled groan came from beneath the blankets. “Five more minutes,” he mumbled.

Y/N smirked, walking over to the bed and gently pulling the covers down. Logan blinked up at her, his face creased from the pillow, eyes squinting in the early morning light.

“You said that yesterday,” she said, tapping his shoulder. “Come on. You don’t want to miss the bus.”

Logan groaned again, rolling over onto his back. “I’m not a morning person, Mom. You know that.”

“I do know that,” Y/N replied, crossing her arms. “But it doesn’t change the fact that you have to get up. Now.”

With a dramatic sigh, Logan finally sat up, rubbing his eyes. He stretched, his arms reaching above his head, and yawned loudly. “Fine, fine. I’m up.”

“Good,” Y/N said, walking back to the door. “Get dressed. Breakfast is in ten minutes.”

Logan gave a half-hearted nod, already shuffling towards his closet as Y/N left the room, leaving him to his slow morning routine.

Next was Keith. At five years old, he was still small and full of energy, but mornings weren’t his strong suit either. Y/N stepped into his room, where Keith was curled up in his bed, clutching his favourite stuffed animal—a well-worn bear named Buddy.

“Keith, time to wake up,” she said softly, kneeling beside his bed.

Keith stirred, his big brown eyes fluttering open as he looked up at her. He yawned, stretching his tiny arms out as he rubbed at his eyes. “Morning, Mama.”

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Y/N said with a smile. “Let’s get you ready for school, okay?”

Keith nodded sleepily, still half-asleep as Y/N helped him sit up. She pulled out a pair of pants and a T-shirt from his dresser, guiding him through getting dressed. His little fingers fumbled with the shirt buttons, so she crouched down and helped him fasten them.

Once he was dressed, she scooped him up and carried him to the bathroom, setting him down gently on the step stool by the sink. Keith blinked blearily as Y/N handed him his toothbrush, squeezing a bit of kid-friendly toothpaste onto the bristles.

“Here you go, buddy. Let’s brush those teeth.”

Keith obediently brushed, though his movements were slow and clumsy. Y/N kept a watchful eye, making sure he didn’t miss any spots. Once they were done, she wiped his mouth with a washcloth and gave him a quick kiss on the forehead.

“All set, champ. You’re ready for the day.”

Keith smiled, still a little groggy but looking more awake now. He reached for her hand as they left the bathroom, heading downstairs to join Logan for breakfast.

Y/N leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping her coffee and watching as her boys sat at the table. It was a non-uniform day at their school, which always meant a little more chaos in the morning, especially with Keith's boundless energy. The five-year-old was practically vibrating in his seat, bouncing up and down as he eagerly shovelled toast into his mouth.

"Keith, slow down," Logan said in a calm but firm voice, his tone carrying the weight of someone much older. At eleven, Logan had always been the quieter, more serious one—a reflection of his father in so many ways. While his younger brother practically buzzed with energy, Logan was a calm presence, though he often seemed like he was carrying the weight of the world on his small shoulders. she told Bradley everything would ruin him.

Keith barely paid attention, his legs swinging wildly under the table. “But it’s a non-uniform day! We don’t have to wear the stupid ties and stuff! And we’re bringing money to school! Can we buy sweets, Mama?”

Y/N smiled at the contrast between her two boys. Keith was practically bursting with excitement, his eyes wide and full of life. Meanwhile, Logan sat quietly in front of his cereal, poking at the milk with his spoon, his face expressionless.

“I gave Logan a tenner,” Y/N said, looking at her older son. “He’ll pay for both of you.”

Logan sighed and pushed his hair back, not too thrilled about his role as the responsible older brother but accepting it with his usual calm. “I’ll take care of it,” he said in his usual, even tone. “But Keith, you’ve gotta calm down. You’re gonna knock something over.”

Keith, of course, ignored the warning. “Can we buy, like, five packs of candy, Logan? And maybe some chocolate too!”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “No. That’s not what it’s for. We’re paying for the non-uniform day, not having a candy shopping spree.”

Keith pouted dramatically, crossing his arms over his chest, but he didn’t argue back. He knew better. “Fine,” he muttered, but within seconds, he was back to fidgeting in his seat, still brimming with excitement.

Y/N shook her head in amusement. “Logan’s right. The money is for school, not to load up on sweets. But maybe I’ll get you something after school if you both behave, okay?”

Keith perked up immediately. “Okay, Mama!”

Logan merely nodded, his expression unchanging. He took a slow bite of his cereal, clearly not as enthusiastic about the day as his younger brother. Y/N knew it wasn’t just about today—Logan had always been more introspective, more serious. He carried a quiet sadness sometimes, though he didn’t like to talk about it much. She knew he missed his father, even if he didn’t say it aloud. The weight of responsibility that had fallen on his young shoulders wasn’t something a boy his age should have to deal with.

Y/N glanced at the clock on the wall, mentally going through her schedule for the day. “I’ve got to work until four today,” she said, placing her mug down on the counter. “So Penny’s going to pick you both up from school, and you’ll hang out with Amelia until I’m off. That okay with you guys?”

Keith immediately bounced in his seat again. “Yay! I love hanging out with Amelia! She’s gonna let me play her video games, right? She said she would last time!”

Logan just nodded, taking another slow bite of his cereal. “That’s fine,” he said, his tone still calm and measured. “We’ll be okay.”

Y/N walked over and ruffled Logan’s hair, earning a slight frown from him as he smoothed it back down. “I know you will. You’re always a big help with Keith.”

Keith grinned at his brother, clearly not picking up on the subtle tension in Logan’s face. “Logan’s the best!” he shouted, practically bouncing out of his chair now. “He’s gonna let me sit with him at lunch too!”

Logan sighed softly, glancing at his younger brother. “Yeah, sure. Just… calm down, okay?”

Y/N chuckled, finishing the last of her coffee before setting the cup down. She leaned against the counter, watching her boys—so different from each other, but in some ways, inseparable. Keith was a bright light, always full of energy and joy, while Logan had become her steady, serious boy, even though she wished he’d let himself be a kid more often.

“Alright, you two. Finish up your breakfast and get your shoes on. We need to leave in ten minutes,” Y/N said, gently nudging them along.

Keith practically jumped out of his chair, already halfway to the hallway to grab his sneakers, while Logan moved with his usual calm, taking his time to finish his cereal before he stood up.

Y/N glanced at Logan, her heart aching just a little as she watched him. “Logan,” she said softly, causing him to pause and look up at her. “You don’t always have to be the grown-up, you know. It’s okay to just… be a kid.”

Logan shrugged, his eyes dropping to the floor. “I know,” he said, but there was a distance in his voice, like he wasn’t quite convinced.

Y/N sighed softly, resisting the urge to push further. Logan was like that—quiet, introspective. He’d open up when he was ready, and she’d be there when he did.

“Alright, let’s go,” she said with a smile, trying to lighten the mood. “Non-uniform day and no rushing. It’s a good start to the day, don’t you think?”

Logan gave a small, barely noticeable nod, and together they all headed out the door, Keith still chattering excitedly about his plans for the day while Logan walked quietly beside him, always the calm to his little brother’s storm.

---

Y/N had barely finished her second cup of coffee when her phone buzzed with a new case. She was standing in the precinct’s break room, chatting with her rookie partner, Officer Miles Daniels, when her phone went off. Glancing at the screen, her stomach sank as she read the details. A crash at Top Gun—the United States Navy Fighter Weapons School.

“Miles, grab your gear,” Y/N called over her shoulder as she quickly gathered her things. “We’ve got a case. We’re heading to Top Gun.”

Miles raised an eyebrow, still fresh-faced and eager after joining the detective unit, but he moved quickly, following her lead. “Top Gun? Isn’t that, like, military?”

“Yeah, it is,” Y/N responded, slipping her badge and gun into place as they made their way out of the precinct. “But if there’s civilian criminal activity involved, or something suspicious, we get pulled in. Plus, this isn’t just a crash—it’s a potential aircraft destruction case.”

As they made the short drive to the base, Y/N filled Miles in on what they were walking into. The pilot was in stable condition, but there was suspicion that the crash wasn’t just an accident. With a $15 million aircraft destroyed, the stakes were high.

When they arrived at the Naval base, the military security waved them through after checking their credentials. Y/N parked the car outside the main lobby of the base, and the two of them stepped out into the bright morning sun. The sprawling complex of hangars, runways, and state-of-the-art fighter jets stretched out in front of them.

Inside the lobby, they were met by Sergeant Tim Bradford, a stoic and no-nonsense detective who had recently transferred from LAPD to work more closely with specialized cases involving military personnel. Y/N had worked with him on a couple of cases before. He was tough, by the book, and not someone to mess with.

“Bradford,” Y/N greeted him with a nod as she and Miles approached.

“Detective Y/L/N,” Bradford replied, giving her a quick, respectful nod. His sharp blue eyes shifted briefly to Miles, sizing him up. “This your rookie?”

“Yeah, Officer Daniels,” Y/N introduced her partner. Miles nodded politely, though he seemed slightly nervous under Bradford’s scrutinizing gaze.

“Alright,” Bradford said, moving straight to business. “Here’s what we know: A pilot, callsign ‘Raptor,’ nosedived his F/A-18 Super Hornet straight into the runway early this morning. He’s in stable condition at the hospital, but that jet? It’s totalled—$15 million down the drain. The Navy’s doing their own investigation, but we’ve been brought in to determine if this was an intentional act or negligence.”

Y/N’s brow furrowed as she listened. “Any indication so far that it was deliberate?”

Bradford shook his head. “Not yet. The pilot claims he lost control, but there’s speculation he might have been pushed into it—pressure from his CO, maybe. And if we find anything that points to foul play, the Navy’s going to press charges for destruction of government property. That’s where we come in.”

Y/N nodded, exchanging a glance with Miles, who was taking everything in, trying to piece it all together. “Alright,” she said. “Let’s get to the crash site.”

As they made their way across the base toward the crash site, Y/N kept her eyes sharp. The walk was long, but it gave her a chance to mentally prepare. Aircraft crashes weren’t her usual territory, but the stakes were high, and she was used to pressure.

“I read up on the case file on the way here,” Miles said as they walked. “The pilot’s got a clean record—nothing disciplinary, no indication he’d do something like this on purpose.”

“Keep that in mind, but don’t jump to conclusions,” Y/N replied, her tone firm but patient. “We’re here to look at the evidence, not get caught up in speculation.”

As they neared the crash site, the wreckage of the once sleek fighter jet came into view. The front of the aircraft was crumpled, its nose smashed into the runway with debris scattered all around. Military personnel were already on the scene, cordoning off the area, but the sheer destruction was undeniable.

Y/N knelt down near the wreckage, scanning the area. The nose of the plane was completely destroyed, and the force of the impact had created deep cracks in the runway. It was clear that this hadn’t been a controlled landing.

“Jesus,” Miles muttered under his breath, his eyes wide as he looked over the wreckage.

“Yeah,” Y/N agreed grimly, standing up. “This wasn’t a small mistake.”

She turned to Bradford. “Have they ruled out mechanical failure?”

“They’re working on it,” Bradford said, crossing his arms as he surveyed the scene. “But so far, nothing obvious. It’s more likely a pilot error, but the pilot swears he was fully in control before the nosedive.”

Y/N nodded thoughtfully, walking around the wreckage. Her mind worked quickly, analysing the scene, looking for anything that didn’t quite fit. “We’ll need to talk to the ground crew who prepped the plane and the other pilots who were flying with him,” she said, glancing at Miles. “Something doesn’t add up here.”

Bradford nodded. “Already got the names. Ground crew’s being interviewed, and the flight team’s in the ready room waiting for you.”

Y/N exchanged a look with Miles. “Let’s get to it. The faster we figure out what happened here, the better.”

As Y/N and Miles made their way toward the hangar, they passed a group of aviators, all wearing their flight suits and looking equally serious and exhausted. Among them, a familiar face caught Y/N’s eye. The short moustache, the tousled sandy hair, and that unmistakable stance—it was Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat for a moment. She hadn’t seen Bradley in years, not since Daniel’s funeral. He looked older now, more worn by the weight of life, but still very much the kid brother of her late husband. Her heart squeezed at the sight of him, a wave of memories flooding back.

“Bradley?” she called out, her voice hesitant but filled with recognition.

Bradley turned at the sound of his name, his eyes widening as he saw her. “Y/N?” he said, a mix of surprise and relief crossing his face. “I can’t believe it. What are you doing here?”

They approached each other, and Y/N gave him a warm smile. “Detective now,” she explained, gesturing to her badge. “Working a case on base.”

Rooster gave a small smile, his eyes softening with a mix of nostalgia and respect. “It’s been a while.”

“Too long,” Y/N replied, though the weight of that statement hung between them. The unspoken grief over Daniel was still there, lingering in the air. But this wasn’t the time or place for a deep conversation about the past.

Bradley shook his head, a half-smirk playing on his lips. “I should’ve known you’d end up kicking ass as a detective.”

Y/N chuckled softly. “I try. And you—you’re an instructor now, huh? Flying with the best of the best?”

Bradley nodded. “Yeah, something like that. Let me introduce you to my wingman.” He turned, motioning toward a tall, confident-looking man standing a few feet away. “This is Lieutenant Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin.”

Jake stepped forward, offering a charming grin that seemed to light up his entire face. “Pleasure to meet you, Detective Y/L/N. Heard a lot about you,” he said smoothly, extending his hand.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, taking his hand and giving it a firm shake. Jake’s grip was strong, but not overbearing. There was something about his demeanour—equal parts charm and arrogance—that made her feel like she needed to stay on her toes around him. He had that aura, the kind of guy who was used to turning heads and getting what he wanted.

“I hope it was all good things,” Y/N replied, her tone lightly teasing.

“All good,” Jake said with a wink, his southern drawl coming through in a way that made his words linger just a little too long. “Rooster’s mentioned how tough you are. Seems like you two go way back.”

“We do,” Y/N confirmed, glancing at Rooster with a fond smile. “Family.”

There was a pause as the moment settled between them, and then Jake spoke up again. “So, what brings you to our little corner of the sky? I assume it’s not just a social visit.”

Y/N shifted back into professional mode, nodding. “We’re investigating the crash. The pilot—‘Raptor,’ I believe—is in stable condition, but there’s a possibility this wasn’t just pilot error. We need to determine if this was deliberate or negligence. My job is to figure out what went wrong and, if necessary, who’s responsible.”

Rooster exchanged a look with Jake, both of them clearly intrigued but also guarded. “We’re the instructors for this group,” Bradley said. “But we don’t know much beyond that. Raptor’s a good pilot—this isn’t something you’d expect from him.”

Jake nodded in agreement. “Yeah, kid’s sharp. Cocky, sure, but we’ve all been there. He’s not the kind to pull a stunt like this unless something went wrong.”

Y/N folded her arms, considering their words. “So no inside information? Nothing unusual in his behaviour or flight patterns before the crash?”

Both men shook their heads. “No,” Rooster replied. “Everything seemed normal during the briefing and take-off. Whatever happened, it must’ve been in the air.”

“Or in his head,” Jake added, his expression thoughtful. “Sometimes it’s hard to tell what’s going on up there, even with the best pilots.”

Y/N nodded, appreciating their input. “Alright, well, here’s what we’ve got so far,” she said, launching into a detailed explanation.

“The crash happened early this morning. Raptor nosedived into the runway, and while he’s alive, the aircraft is totalled. The Navy’s investigating the mechanical side, but they want us to assess whether there was any human interference—either pressure from above, negligence, or if this was intentional. The stakes are high. A $15 million jet destroyed can’t just be written off as an accident without a full inquiry. We’re looking into everything: the ground crew, flight logs, maintenance records, and Raptor’s personal state of mind.”

Bradley listened intently, his arms crossed over his chest, while Jake’s eyes narrowed, taking it all in. “That’s serious,” Rooster finally said, his voice low. “If there’s any suspicion of intentional sabotage or negligence, he’s looking at major charges.”

“Exactly,” Y/N agreed. “We’re trying to avoid that if it’s not warranted, but we need to be thorough.”

Jake leaned against the side of a nearby truck, his expression a mix of intrigue and something close to admiration. “Well, Detective, you’ve got your work cut out for you. Anything we can do to help?”

Y/N smiled at him, though her mind was already racing with the possibilities. “Just stay close in case we need anything. I might need to talk to the other pilots too.”

Rooster nodded. “We’ll be around. And hey, it’s good to see you again, Y/N.”

“You too, Bradley,” she replied softly before glancing back at Jake, who gave her one last charming grin as they walked away.

“Don’t be a stranger, Detective,” Jake called after her with a wink.

---

The four-hour mark at the crash site. The long day was wearing on both of them, but Y/N was no stranger to gruelling hours. She had spent countless days on crime scenes, sifting through endless evidence, and poring over tiny details that could make or break a case. Yet, this one seemed different—something about it felt dead in the water.

They had examined the wreckage from every angle, spoken to the ground crew, double-checked the maintenance logs, and even consulted with the flight team. But nothing substantial had emerged to indicate foul play. It seemed more and more like a tragic case of pilot error, despite the nagging feeling in Y/N’s gut that something wasn’t right.

She straightened up from where she had been crouching near the debris, wiping her hands on her jeans and squinting in the fading light. Miles walked over, notebook in hand, looking exhausted but still eager.

“What do you think, Detective?” Miles asked, his voice quieter than usual, likely from the hours of tension.

Y/N sighed, her eyes scanning the crumpled remains of the jet one last time. “I think this is a dead case for us,” she admitted reluctantly. “There’s no solid evidence of foul play, no suspicious activity leading up to the crash. It’s looking more like a tragic mistake than anything else.”

Miles nodded slowly, clearly taking her lead, though he looked a little deflated. “So, we’re calling it?”

“We’ll let the Navy finish their mechanical investigation, but as far as our end goes, yeah, I’m calling it,” Y/N said, her tone final but not unkind. “You did good today, Miles. I know it’s not the ending we were hoping for, but sometimes cases just don’t pan out the way you think they will.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, scratching the back of his neck. “I get it. But it’s frustrating.”

“It is,” she said, giving him a small smile. “But that’s part of the job. Let’s head back. I’ll debrief with Rooster and Hangman, and we’ll wrap this up.”

Together, they made their way back toward where Rooster and Hangman had been waiting by the hangar. Y/N could see them leaning against the side of a truck, deep in conversation. When they saw her and Miles approaching, Rooster straightened up, his expression expectant.

“How’s it looking?” Rooster asked, his tone hopeful but cautious.

Y/N shook her head. “Not much to go on. I’m calling it a dead case for us. The Navy can finish their investigation, but we haven’t found anything that suggests sabotage or intentional destruction.”

Rooster sighed softly, nodding in understanding. “Alright, thanks for looking into it anyway. I know Raptor’s not going to be thrilled, but it’s better than a criminal charge hanging over his head.”

At that moment, Miles stepped forward, looking a little nervous but determined. “Actually, Lieutenant Bradshaw, I still have a few more questions for you—just to tie up some loose ends.”

Rooster raised an eyebrow but gave a nod, turning his attention fully to Miles. “Sure thing, Officer. What do you need?”

As Rooster and Miles moved off to the side, Y/N turned to see Jake “Hangman” Seresin watching her with that signature grin plastered across his face. His charm seemed almost effortless, like it was second nature to him.

“Well, Detective,” Hangman said, pushing off from the truck and sauntering over to her with a slight swagger. “Since Rooster’s busy, how about I walk you to your car? It’s the least I can do after you’ve been out here all day in the sun.”

Y/N chuckled, feeling the tension in her shoulders begin to ease for the first time in hours. There was something disarming about Hangman’s confidence. Normally, she would’ve felt guarded, maybe even slightly intimidated by a guy like him. But right now? For the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel that way.

“Sure,” she said with a smirk. “I wouldn’t mind the company.”

They began walking across the tarmac together, the gentle evening breeze cooling the hot air from the long day. Hangman kept pace beside her, his hands tucked casually into his flight suit pockets, his easy smile never faltering.

“So,” he began, his tone light, “you’re telling me that after spending four hours out here investigating a crash and coming up empty, you still manage to look this good? I’ve got to say, I’m impressed.”

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully, though she couldn’t help but smile. “Is that your best line, Lieutenant? You’re going to have to try harder than that.”

“Maybe,” Hangman drawled, his Texas accent coming through thick. “But I figure, why mess with what works?”

Y/N shook her head, but she was still smiling. “Is this how you charm all the women you meet?”

He gave her a faux-hurt expression. “Not all the women, Detective. Just the ones who look like they could outsmart me and outshoot me in the same day.”

Y/N laughed, a real laugh, and she realized how rare that had become. Jake was flirty, sure, but in a way that wasn’t overbearing or disrespectful. He wasn’t pushing boundaries—just toeing the line, making her feel lighter after such a long, draining day.

As they reached her car, she stopped, turning to face him. Hangman looked down at her with a playful spark in his eyes, clearly not ready to let the moment end.

“Well, thanks for the escort, Lieutenant Seresin,” Y/N said, her voice softer now. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her work card, handing it to him. “Here. This has my number on it—in case you ever feel like texting. I’m… open to it.”

For a moment, Jake looked surprised, but that charming smile returned quickly as he took the card from her hand. His fingers brushed hers lightly, sending a small spark up her arm. “Now, that’s an offer I won’t pass up,” he said smoothly, tucking the card into his pocket. “You can expect a text soon, Detective. Count on it.”

Y/N felt a strange flutter in her chest as she smiled at him one last time, sliding into her car. As she closed the door and started the engine, Jake stepped back, giving her a two-finger salute before watching her drive away.

For the first time in years, the idea of someone flirting with her didn’t make her feel guarded or anxious. Instead, it felt… nice. Maybe it was Hangman’s easy-going confidence, or maybe it was just time for her to feel something other than the weight of responsibility. Either way, she wasn’t opposed to seeing where things might lead.

As she drove away from the base, Y/N glanced at her phone in the cup holder. And for the first time in a long while, she found herself hoping that a certain charming fighter pilot would follow through on his promise.

[rainkays]

girl please i am on my knees give us another rain x reader the fics are running drier than the sahara desert on this app

at ur service 🫡🫡 (also so sorry for the inactivity ik ive been taking forever to answer asks but i PROMISE im getting to them rn ily) SPOILERS BELOW !!

A LITTLE DEATH | RAIN CARRADINE X FEM! READER (alien romulus)

SYNOPSIS: separated from rain and facing certain death, how far is she willing to go to save you?

WARNINGS: (mentions of blood/death, swearing, kissing)

NOTE: this is gonna be a rain x fem! reader & will be slightly au with reader taking kay’s place during the scene where she’s being chased by the xeno, hope u enjoy <33

THE NEIGHBOR WAS KNOCKING, YEAH.

BUT NO ONE WOULD LET HIM IN…..

everything went sideways faster than you ever could’ve imagined. it was already off to a rough start when navarro had come rushing into the cockpit, frantically searching for her bag before you’d handed it to her.

never in your wildest dreams could you ever have imagined what you witnessed. the sound of a cracking ribcage and blood splatter all over the ships walls were the last thing you could remember.

you weren’t sure how long it had been when you woke the next time, head pressed against the grates on the bottom of the ships floor. smoke rose around you, the sound of the ships alarms blaring as you pushed yourself off the ground. you had to hold back your tears as you passed by navarro’s body, lifeless on the floor.

it was deathly silent, save the alarms, the sound of electricity crackling as you walked through the hull of the ship. you didn’t know where you were, the ship having crashed at any part of the station as far as you knew.

it was only a few steps before you saw what looked like some sort of snake skin on the floor, the sight sending a chill up your spine. you spotted something you couldn’t even begin to explain growing out of the wall, a step closer before you were pulled backwards.

your scream was silenced quickly as you whipped around, turning to face bjorn. you silently exhaled at the sight of him, glad to finally see someone you recognized. he shushed you, removing his hand from your mouth as he looked over at the wall.

he walked closer to it, lightening prod in his hand, the same one you’d seen him grab from the station earlier. you held your breath, your heart beating faster as you watched him turn up the current on the weapon.

it was over nearly as quickly as it started, the loud sound of electrical cracking and smoke as he attempted to kill the creature in front of you.

you could only stand still, frozen as the creature began to burn him, his hand pointing you towards the door. all you had left to do was run.

your hands shook as you made your way to the door, repeatedly pressing the unlock button and failing. your comms were somehow still functioning, static crackling in your ear as you turned it on in hopes of anyone hearing you.

I WANT YOU TO TOUCH ME THERE

MAKE ME FEEL LIKE I AM HUMAN…

rain had never felt like crushing suspense weighing on her chest before. she walked through the room, quiet as humanly possible, the clicking sounds of the same creatures that had attacked navarro all around her.

she could’ve sworn her heart nearly fell out of her chest at the sound of static over the comms. it was you. it had to be you, right?

it quickly caught the attention of tyler and andy, both turning around to see what was so urgent.

“please, please, somebody help me. there’s some fucking- i don’t know what to do, please.”

the voice was distorted, but she would recognize it anywhere. she could practically hear the tremors in your voice over the comms. she quickly put the headset on, speaking into the microphone.

“where are you, what’s going on?”

“oh, jesus christ. thank god, rain. i’m at some door, the ship crashed in this hangar and i can’t fucking get it open.”

“there should be a key somewhere, okay? just look for a key, there has to be one, that’s the only way to get it open.”

there was a moment of silence, rain attributed to your search of a way to open the door.

“i found it, i found it.”

she exhaled, hearing the sound of the door hissing open, before the static crack of the comms cut off your voice again.

she shot a look to tyler, the 3 of them picking up their pace as he tracked your heat signature. there was only a glass door separating you, the relief that washed over both your and rain’s faces evident.

“oh thank god. please, open this fucking door. there’s some kind of security clearance on it, and i can’t get it open.”

rain turned around, ushering andy toward the door as she walked closer toward the glass.

“we’re gonna get you out of there, okay? just trust me, you gotta trust me.”

rain spoke, head against the glass as you glanced over your shoulder. your heart thrummed against your chest as you watched andy stand still, both rain and tyler pleading with him to open the door.

“guys, please. please, what are you doing? come on, open the door. open the fucking door! please!”

you felt the blood drip from the wound on the side of your head, the sound of metal creaking altering you of a presence behind you. you watched as the color in rain’s face drained, andy’s face stoic.

“rain, please open the door, please. please, you have to help me, okay?”

“you’re gonna be fine baby, we’re gonna get the door open, okay? just keep your eyes on me, don’t look away.”

your chest rise and fell rapidly, the sounds behind you growing closer. you watched as rain’s fists gripped the collar of andy’s suit, pleading with him. his eyes looked between the two of you, your hands pressed against the glass.

andy walked closer to the door, looking at the keypad. you turned around, no sign of anyone in the room with you.

“andy, please, please. please, you have to let me in, please.”

rain looked up at him, her hand on his arm as he reached for the keypad.

“fuck, thank god.”

the door hissed and slid open as you squeezed your way through the crack as it did. you fell into rain’s arms, the sound of the door beginning to close once more as something smashed into the glass.

“i got you, i got you. you’re okay.”

rain spoke into your ear, hands smoothing over your back as the two of you fell to the floor. she pulled the two of you up, hands steadying on your shoulders. there was ringing in your ears, the sound of your heartbeat destroying her words as she spoke.

she grabbed your hand, leading you to the elevator. she silently thanked god that andy opened that door for you. she held onto you, hands gripping the material of your t shirt. she wouldn’t let you go again.

MAKE ME FEEL LIKE I AM HUMAN, AGAIN….

[echantedtoon]

A war riddled Lover returns- Some Kokushibo content based off the fanart above found on Pinterest, also an Xmas gift for @gilded-sunrays / @crescent-blades

@supernovacoffeestop

Warnings for death and blood mentioned.

"You look at me with cold eyes. You see me me and turn away as if you didn't know me."

"...Do I know you?"

"You know that I couldn't have shown you me. Gave you me. I couldn't show you my weakness so I put on a mask to see you but I still want you. A flower that resembles you blossomed in this garden of loneliness. I wanted to give it to you as I rip off this mask. But I know this can't go on forever."

Her eyes still gazed at the ground. Her body small but still so strong as to crush his soul. Rip his heart out to serve on a platter to herself but somehow still rejected the notion she could do that. The whole world sitting in her grasp yet she was completely naive to it or didn't care she had it.

"I will not satisfy your desires for more than what was agreed. I can accept your apologies but I cannot forgive."

"I have made peace with that notion. But I am not here to beg for forgiveness that I will never receive, for I have hurt you and I accept you're stubborn enough to always hold that grudge."

Her form was ever calm. Looking at him for what felt like a millennia of wait. Time vanishing and space darkening except for the gravitational orbit of beauty that revolved around his mind and shown through his sights since the day he laid his eyes on her visage.

"Then what is it do you seek from me, Michikatsu?"

"It's not what I seek. It's what I desire. Wishing that love is as perfect itself. Wishing all my weaknesses are hidden." The room fell sideways in his mind. An oozing feeling on continuous falling for her over and over again. Swallowed by the monster that demanded he claim and the beast that roared at him for everything he did wrong to be made right again. "In a life where nothing was ever genuine, you carved a piece out of my heart that will never feel complete unless you yourself abide by it's beating."

Her answer a head tilt. Eyes grazing the state he was in. Clawing through bodies. Ravaged by the onslaught of the horrors of war. No doubt such a sight she disliked but was more than ready to accept given the circumstances.

"What desire do you want that I haven't already given to you?"

Blood ran black fading to a possessive desire. A stark contrast the dripping liquid made compared to the delicate object the palm held out. Staining it purity by the blood of the slain and war. Presented to her gaze which widened slightly at soft petals. A beacon of softness in the blight around them.

A flower.

So delicate and small. It's once pure petals soaked in his tainted blood like some offering. The blood he was covered in was his own, caused by an enemy in battle no doubt, and karma for hurting her by leaving in the first place.

"Accept my devotion and become my wife. A place not beneath but beside me. For we were lovers before we were ever born in this world. My name shall be your own, your blood shall be mine, and all combinations of life will be one. Accept all of me, as I already have all of you."

She stared at him like that he told her was the most foolish thing he ever said. Heart racing. Eyes staring. Her hand slowly reaching out to him. His eyes widening as the desire he's been wanting finally being fulfilled- Until she stopped.

Her lungs filled with a shaking breath. "....Finish talking if you must, but I have no intention of bowing to a king who wears a crown studded with the jewels of every sin he committed. Who's hands are stained with every life he's taken."

For once he looked taken aback stopping just a few steps away from herself. "I-....Can not leave so easily."

"Then why?" Her face as cold as the blade he used, cutting him to the core with just her eyes. "It was so easy the first time."

"Why? You have got the arms I want to be wrapped in. You have got the eyes I want to get lost in. You have the smile I can never resist. You have got the voice I want to listen to for hours. I decided on you. I want you and only you."

"I fell in love with your words! Unfortunately they were all lies!"

"No. That's not true." His face unwavered as he approached her once more. "I didn't lie that I love you. It wasn't a lie before and it certainly isn't a lie now."

Her body did not give him the satisfaction of an embrace nor the courtesy of a smile as his other hand caressed her cheeks.

"You're a dangerous man."

"The most dangerous person is the one who listens, thinks, and observes."

"And that means what to me?"

His face unchanged as did hers as the two stared. Both in familiarity and as strangers to each other. Bound by a string he continued to refuse to be cut to untie them.

"I'm not so sure yet myself but for now..my mind is unchanged."

[oneshotnewbie]

Olivia Benson and Reader break up. Two weeks after that, they're distant towards each other even though Reader is working with the SVU. Two weeks after Olivia breaks up with Olivia, she sees Reader dancing with a stranger and she is jelly. Maybe she goes to Reader, takes her by the hand without saying a word and brings her to the next room or something and then... it's up to you! Fluffy, Angst and maybe pre-smut pls?

⚠️Trigger Warning⚠️ This one-shot includes pre-smut and the plot is presented. That's why I only recommend reading it if you are over 18+. If this triggers you too easily or you just can´t handle the subject, I urge you NOT to read this work. I am NOT embellishing this topic under any circumstance. Read at your own risk.

Authors note: Woah.. Lets say I got carried away. I had to cut out a whole section to keep it suitable for my younger audience, even though it hurt my heart to delete my work. There is still a bit of pre-smut like you requested. But I hope you like it anyway ♥

ᕚ---ᕘ

The hum of the neon lights on the ceiling and the roar of the air conditioning mixed with the muted clacking of computer keyboards seemed louder than usual in the busy Special Victims Unit. The air was heavy with unspoken words and broken promises. Everyone in the room felt the change, even if no one said it out loud.

The office was usually a place of hectic activity, where phone calls, keyboards, and hushed conversations formed a constant backdrop. But today was different.

You sat at your desk, eyes glued to the screen in front of you, the words of the report blurred before your eyes. Your mind was far away, on old memories of happy times before everything fell apart. On the woman who had broken your heart. Olivia Benson, Lieutenant and steadfast leader of the team, had been more than just your superior. She was your partner, your confidante, the love of your life. But now she was just your boss, and the distance between you was painfully real.

Since splitting up with Olivia, everything had changed. The dynamics in the office, the atmosphere, even the way others looked at you - everything was different. She had been your rock. Strong, determined, and unwavering. She had always held the team together, been a leader, and the one who never backed down, no matter how hard it was. But now there was something in her eyes that you had never seen before - a coldness, a distance that hurt every time your eyes happened to meet.

You only spoke to each other when necessary, and the times when you had worked as a harmonious team seemed far away. The rupture in your relationship was reflected in every aspect of your work. Cases that were once solved with ease now dragged on. Decisions that were once made instinctively and together now had to be laboriously and formally agreed upon.

Olivia sat in her office, the door only half open. She had tried to throw herself into her work to fill the emptiness in her heart, but it didn't help. Every time she looked up, she saw you - and every time you looked at her, it hurt. Your eyes met briefly through the glass before both quickly looked away again, unable to hide the feelings that still burned within you.

Detective Amanda Rollins, who was sitting at her desk next to Fin Tutuola, sighed quietly and shook her head in displeasure. She and the rest of the team had noticed the unspoken tension and cool politeness between the two of you. "Have you noticed?" she whispered quietly so only her partner could hear her. He nodded, his eyes fixed on the monitor. "Yes, it's hard to miss. It's as if a dark cloud is hanging over the office. Rain is pouring down on us."

"I thought they would stay together forever," she said sadly, more to herself, watching you with a sideways glance. "They were the perfect couple. Why did they have to split up?"

"Sometimes love alone isn't enough," Fin murmured, his voice heavy with life experience and knowledge of the complexity of human relationships. Amanda pushed her chair back and came to your desk, sitting on a corner of the wood, her arms folded under her chest. "What's wrong with you two? You're like two icebergs meeting in Antarctica." she began her conversation, giving you a questioning look.

You sighed and rubbed your eyes. "It's complicated, 'manda. It wasn't exactly a nice break-up. Just leave it, please?"

Amanda shook her head, her face showing compassion and understanding. "I know it's hard, but you both have to find a way to deal with it. It's not just a burden on you, but on the entire team."

You nodded, but you knew it wasn't that easy. The rifts that had developed between you and Olivia were deep and painful. It wasn't just a professional challenge, but a personal catastrophe that you both tried to overcome in your own way.

Meanwhile, Olivia had made her way out of her office, a stack of files in her hands. She moved through the room with her usual determination, but there was a certain rigidity in her posture. You could see her shoulders tense as she crossed the room to your desk. In the past, you would have known how to calm her down and take away her nervousness, would have known what words and gestures she would have needed. But those days were over.

"Y/n, I need you in my office," she said, not looking directly at you. She handed you a report, your fingers touching briefly before you stood up, your heart beating faster at the thought of being alone with her. The tension between you was palpable as you followed her and closed the door behind you. She sat down while you stood across from her, the desk as a barrier between you.

"We need to talk about the case, you're the lead investigator," Olivia began, her voice professional but cool. "The evidence is thin and we need a new strategy."

You nodded, trying to focus on the conversation, but her proximity made it difficult. "I agree. Maybe we should question the witnesses again and see if we missed something."

Your eyes met again, and for a moment everything else was forgotten. The attraction, the passion, the love - all of it was still there, just beneath the surface. But you both knew it wasn't that easy. Too many things stood between you, things that couldn't be overcome so easily. "We have to stay professional," Olivia said finally, her voice breaking. How she would love to hug you right now. "The team needs us to be strong."

You nodded again, your eyes heavy with unspoken feelings. "I know. But it's hard, Liv. Working with you every day and pretending everything is fine when it isn't."

"We have no choice," she whispered, visibly tense. "We have to find a way to deal with this. For the victims who are counting on us.“

The following days were torture for both of you. You worked side by side, your interactions brief and distant. Each of you tried to remain as professional as possible, but the unspoken feelings and the broken relationship between you and Olivia weighed on you.

One evening, when most of your colleagues had already gone home, you stayed late at the office. You worked on a strategy, trying to distract yourself. Olivia was still in her office, the light on, casting a lonely shadow in the large room you were sitting in.

Finally, you stood up and went to her. You knocked softly on the door and entered when she invited you in. "Olivia, we need to talk," you began, your voice quiet but firm. She looked at you, her eyes tired and sad. "I know, y/n. But I don't know what to say. It's all so... messed up."

"Just tell me it hurts you as much as it does me," you said, your voice growing more intense with each word. "Tell me you regret it."

"Of course it hurts," she replied, her voice shaking as she placed her sweaty and shaking hands on her lap, leaning back in her chair. "I still love you. That will never change. But you deserve better."

Tears glistened in your eyes as she reached out an arm to you, your hand enveloping hers before pulling you to her side. "I love you too, Liv. I don't need anything better, I need you."

Olivia hugged you, tight and desperate, as if she never wanted to let you go. In that moment, you both knew that the love between you was strong, but the reality of your situation demanded more than just feelings. She knew she had to find a way to balance your situation and your work so as not to put further strain on the team.

ᕚ---ᕘ

Two weeks had passed since Olivia Benson ended her relationship with you. Two weeks of stolen glances and feelings that remained unspoken. But life and work must go on, and so Olivia threw herself into her duties while you behaved just as professionally. The team continued to sense that not everything was settled between you, but no one spoke openly.

That evening, the team was at Club Delirium, a popular downtown nightclub, to conduct an undercover operation. The goal was to break up a human trafficking ring, and you had volunteered to act as bait. Olivia watched the scene from a secluded table, her eyes always fixed strictly on you.

The music blared and the lights flickered in different colors. You, in a tight, black, low-cut dress and perfectly styled hair, looked stunning. You were dancing with a strange woman whose hands were on your hips. Olivia felt a stabbing sensation in her chest. Jealousy mixed with the pain of separation burned inside her. A dangerous combination.

Every step you took, every movement, every smile you gave the stranger felt like a slap in the face. Olivia knew it was part of the mission, but it didn't make the situation any less painful. Her hands clenched into fists as she tried to keep her emotions under control.

The plan was simple: get the suspect, a ring leader, to give you information by gaining her trust. But Olivia couldn't focus on the details entering her brain through an earpiece while she watched the woman she loved give herself to someone else, even if only in appearance.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you gave a signal. The suspect had given up the information, and the team moved in to arrest her. The club turned into a chaos of flashing lights, loud music, and cops suddenly appearing. Amidst this chaos, Olivia kept her eyes on only one thing - you.

As soon as the mission was complete and the suspect was taken into custody, Olivia looked for you. She found you at the edge of the dance floor, away from the crowd. She walked up to you, grabbed your hand, and wordlessly pulled you into a side room of the club that served as a storage room.

You were roughly pushed inside, Olivia closed the door behind her and turned to you. Her eyes sparkled with unspoken jealousy. "What were you thinking?" she hissed, her voice lower but charged. You looked at her in surprise and confusion. "It was an undercover mission. I only did what was necessary."

"Necessary?" Olivia stepped closer to you, her presence overwhelming. "It looked like you enjoyed it."

Your eyes widened in shock and anger. "It was part of the job, Liv! You know that better than anyone." you said and she grabbed your wrist, pulling you closer, your bodies almost touching. "I know," she whispered, her voice rough. "But that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt me to see you like this."

You took a deep breath, your eyes searching Olivia's. "I'm sorry," you said quietly. "I didn't know it would hurt you so much. After all, you broke up with me, remember?"

Olivia ran her fingers over your wrist, then your arms, until she reached your hands. "I don't want to lose you, y/n. I can't bear to see you with anyone else, even if it's just for a mission."

The tension between you was almost palpable as Olivia leaned even closer to you. "I need you," she whispered before pressing her lips to yours, possessive and desperate. You returned the kiss, your hands grasping Olivia's hair as the passion between you ignited.

In that moment, everything else was forgotten - the separation, the mission, the world outside that small room. There was only the two of you, your love, and the incessant longing that drove you to each other. Olivia pulled you closer to her, her kisses intense and demanding, as if to make up for lost time and broken promises.

You parted, panting, your foreheads leaning against each other. Olivia pulled back a little, her hand sliding to your neck, encircling it with a determined gesture. Her thumb gently stroked your skin while her dark, sparkling eyes searched your gaze intensely. "You're mine," she murmured, her voice deep and possessive.

You trembled under her touch, a soft gasp escaping your lips. "Yes, Liv," you whispered, the words full of desire and devotion. "Only yours."

Olivia pulled you closer again, her lips found yours once more, the kiss stronger this time, even more demanding than the one before. Her hands slid down your back, reaching for you as if she never wanted to let you go again. She pushed you against the wall, her body pressed tightly against yours.

"Tell me you want me," Olivia demanded, her voice dark and rough, gasping for air. "I want you, Liv," you answered, your pupils blown with desire. "I only want you."

Olivia's mischievous and dark giggle filled the small room and she continued to glide her hands over your body. Her lips found your neck, leaving hot kisses on your skin.

Your breathing quickened, your hands grabbed at her shoulders, holding her tight as Olivia continued to kiss and touch you. The world around you faded, there was only the two of you, your love and the burning desire that drove you to each other.

The intensity of the moment seemed to stop time, every touch, every kiss was a promise, a proof of her unbroken love for you. Olivia's hands slid down your sides, finding their way under the dress you wore, leaving a trail of passion on your skin.

"I need you," Olivia whispered, her voice hotter with pure desire. "Now." You nodded, your eyes closing as you surrendered to her. "I'm yours, Liv."

The heat between you was overwhelming, the passion you felt was all-encompassing. In that small room, shielded from the world, you and Olivia found yourselves again, your love and desire for each other stronger than ever.

[furybymoonlight]

Power

Pic credit: LFC

Warning/Genre: romance, fluff, tiny tiny angst, slightly suggestive scene in the end

Pairing: Trent Alexander Arnold x OC/Reader

“You have so much power over me…sometimes it kind of scares me.”

Author’s Note:

As usual, apology in advance for all errors since I am not a native.

Trent rubbed his eyes, walking groggily along the dimly lit corridor of his house. He had been asleep when he suddenly woke up, reflexively reached to the other side of the bed and found his girlfriend missing.

“Babe…are you here?”

He entered the quiet living room. Finding it empty, he continued to seek her from room to room with no avail, when he noticed something through the grand window of his living room.

The lukewarm summer night wind greeted him as he stepped out to the patio. He found his baby girl lounged on the outdoor sofa, holding a cup of coffee in her hand. She smiled as she saw him, putting the cup on the coffee table before sliding to the side to make way for him. Sitting beside her, he drew her to him, making her sit sideways on his lap. He hated having distance between them, no matter how short.

He kissed her softly before smiling at her, one large hand cupping the side of her face. She smiled back at him again, but a hint of melancholy adorned her beautiful face. He frowned, muscled arms tightened around her midriff. Something was not right.

“You should be sleeping….what is going on angel?”

She nuzzled him on the cheek before tracing the worry lines on his face, down to his nose, then to his plump lips. As always, her heart fluttered inside her chest whenever he was in the vicinity.

“I love you.”

She said softly to him and she felt the tension in his body lessened, but not gone.

“and I love you…so what’s wrong?”

It was hard to think with her securely wrapped in his arms. Everything felt so perfect for her, he was so perfect for her, so right, too right, that she feared when the ground finally shifted, she would just fall into a deep abyss and never resurface. She was a planner, she had a great career and she felt like her life was mapped out. She wasn’t used to feeling like this…like she was not in charge of her life.

“You have my heart Trent…and I’ll do anything for you…you know? I just…don’t know what I’d be without you…if you leave me...”

She felt instantly cold at that possibility. She kissed him then, fleetingly, as if just wanted to assure herself that he’s still there with her.

“You have so much power over me.... sometimes it kind of scares me.”

There, she said it. She sighed and closed her eyes. Great, now she sounded like those clingy whiny overly dependent girlfriend character in those tv soap operas, which she hated by the way. The calling of her name in his deep low voice made her open her eyes.

“Princess…I am not gonna leave you...besides, if the table turns, you think I am…what? I’ll be just fine without you?”

“Well…not in the beginning, but eventually…I mean…you’re Trent…you have everything in life, world class football player, the whole world knows who you are, people worship you, dub you generational talent, you even have a mural in this city, honestly.”

The scouser couldn’t believe his ears. He had loved her for what felt like forever, she was a part of him, air-level essential to him, didn’t she realize that? He cupped her face between his palms and looked straight at her.

“Baby…football is a large part of my life…it’s true, and I know I am blessed to live this life...”

He kissed her then, suddenly felt he needed to convey his emotion in more than words. Pressing his forehead against hers, he looked into her eyes and continued.

“You said I’m living my dream and that’s true as well…but having you by my side is part of that dream. Baby girl…football is my present but you, you’re my present and my future. I love you...to the moon and back.”

“You do?”

Her eyes brightened with love and affection as dimple appeared in her soft cheeks. His heart skipped a beat. It didn’t matter how long they had been together, she would always have that effect on him. He pressed her against him, though they were already as close as they could be, and claimed her lips in a fervent kiss.

She was his and he’d always be hers. She said he had so much power over her? Well, she ruled him, completely. His eyes darkened as he considered the possibility of living without her. It was unthinkable, and the length that he’d go to for her was limitless, he’d even give his legs, and more, to keep her safe by his side.

“Of course I do baby…”

He whispered against her lips, which were now swollen due to his ministration. His palm slipped beneath her t-shirt, caressing the smooth skin of her back. His lips tugged into a naughty smirk as he felt her shivered beneath his touch, the worry in her eyes gone, replaced by pure passion.

“I can of course, perform a demonstration…to fully convince you.”

He devoured her mouth then, all the while carrying her back to their bedroom and proceeded to do exactly that.

End Note:

Wrote this because I just need to escape the gloomy situation of LFC transfer window yet again.

Hope the boys win today!

Anyway please check out my other Trent fics:

See Me (Now)

Master of Assists

Thank you for reading <3

So….thoughts? :3

[kathlare]

where the heart belong

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Amelie Dayman faces her nerves as she joins Lando Norris and his family for an intimate Christmas Eve gathering in London. Amid festive warmth, lively chatter, and a few heartfelt moments, she navigates the delicate balance of blending into his world.

Wordcount: 2.8 k

Warnings: just fluff

request over here!

December 24th, 2023 - London, United Kingdom

Amelie Dayman stood in front of a beautifully decorated townhouse in London, her breath forming clouds in the crisp December air. Snow lightly dusted her hair as she adjusted her scarf, gripping the small gift bag in her hands like it was a lifeline. She was about to step into Lando Norris’s family home for Christmas Eve, and despite the cozy warmth emanating from the windows, she felt like an icicle.

—Relax, Ames,— Lando murmured as he stepped closer, gently placing a hand on her lower back. His voice was soft and reassuring, but the cheeky grin tugging at his lips gave him away. —You’re going to be fine. They love you.—

—Do they, though?— she shot back, her tone hushed but sharp, her dark eyes darting toward the house. —I haven’t seen them since... since forever. What if they don’t like me anymore? Or what if—

—Amelie,— Lando interrupted, stepping in front of her so their eyes met. —They’re going to adore you. And I— He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper. —already do. So you’ve got at least one ally in there.—

Amelie rolled her eyes playfully, but the nerves still fluttered in her stomach. Her relationship with Lando had been through quite a few stages—friends, a casual situationship, and now, here they were, officially together, but keeping things under wraps. The public didn’t know, and most of their friends didn’t either, but those who did were ecstatic for them. It was still early, but with each passing day, Amelie couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if the world found out.

—Yeah, but... it’s different with your family, Lan. They’re your family, and I haven’t seen them since... 2021. I barely knew them then, and now it feels like I’m a stranger. What if they think I’m... weird? Or not good enough for you?— She was rambling now, her thoughts tumbling out in an anxious stream.

Lando chuckled, his hand still resting on her back, the warmth of his touch doing little to ease the tension in her shoulders. —Ames, you’re way too hard on yourself. You’re perfect for me, and I don’t give a shit what anyone else thinks. Besides, my mom already loves you.—

Lando smirked at her, clearly amused by her discomfort. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his touch lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. —Just be yourself. And hey, if anyone gives you trouble, I’ll kick their asses. Not literally, obviously. But you know I’d stand up for you.—

Amelie chuckled weakly, her nerves easing slightly. —Yeah, well, that makes me feel better. Can’t wait to meet the legendary family of Lando Norris.—

Lando grinned. —They’re not so bad, I promise. And I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised. My mom’s been asking about you non-stop. She’s been dying to meet you again, especially since I told her you’re still in my life.—

Amelie let out a shaky breath, glancing back at the townhouse as if it might bite her. The snow underfoot crunched softly as Lando gave her a gentle nudge toward the door.

—All right, fine,— she muttered, clutching her gift bag like it was her sword and shield. —But if this goes sideways, you owe me a week of massages.—

Lando laughed, his dimples flashing. —Deal. Now, come on. It’s freezing, and you look like you might actually turn into an icicle.—

He pushed open the door, the warmth from inside immediately spilling out to greet them. The scent of pine, roasted turkey, and something sweet—maybe mulled wine—filled the air. Amelie stepped inside, her cheeks flushed from the cold and her nerves, and was immediately struck by the cozy, lived-in charm of the house. Fairy lights twinkled around the bannister, and a massive Christmas tree dominated the living room, its ornaments glittering under the soft glow of the firelight.

—Lando!—

A high-pitched squeal preceded the appearance of Flo, Lando’s little sister, who barreled toward her brother, throwing her arms around him.

—You’re finally here! And... Amelie! Oh my God!—

Flo’s excitement shifted immediately to Amelie, who barely had time to react before she was pulled into a hug.

—Hi, Flo!— Amelie managed to squeak, laughing nervously. —It’s been a while.—

—Too long! You look amazing! And oh my God, you were touring with Taylor Swift! We need to talk about everything!—

Behind her, Lando groaned softly, his hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. —Flo, give her a second to breathe, yeah?—

But before Amelie could reply, another voice joined the fray.

—Amelie, darling! It’s so good to see you again.—

Lando’s mum, Cisca, appeared in the hallway, her smile warm and welcoming. She pulled Amelie into a gentler, motherly hug.

—You’ve been keeping busy, haven’t you? Every time I turn on the telly or check the papers, there’s something about you.—

Amelie blushed, glancing at Lando for reassurance. —It’s been a whirlwind, honestly, but I’m so happy to be here. Thank you for having me.—

—Oh, nonsense, we wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re family now.— Cisca gave her a knowing smile, making Amelie’s cheeks flush even more.

Oliver appeared next, his wife Sav trailing behind with their daughter, Mila, who shyly peeked out from behind her mum.

—Well, well, if it isn’t the Amelie Dayman,— Oliver teased, his tone light and playful. —Lando’s told us so much about you.—

—Has he?— Amelie raised an eyebrow, glancing at Lando, who was now looking anywhere but at his family.

—Only good things,— Sav assured her, smiling warmly. —It’s so nice to finally meet you properly. And Mila’s been dying to say hello.—

Mila peeked out a little more, clutching a stuffed reindeer. Amelie crouched down, her nerves momentarily forgotten as she smiled at the little girl.

—Hi, Mila. I love your reindeer. What’s his name?—

The little girl’s eyes lit up. —Rudy! Like Rudolph!—

—That’s such a good name. Can I say hi to Rudy too?—

Mila nodded eagerly, holding out the stuffed animal for Amelie to inspect. Lando watched the interaction with a soft smile, his heart swelling at how naturally Amelie fit in with his family.

Dinner was a lively affair, the dining table overflowing with festive dishes and the chatter of voices overlapping in cheerful chaos. Amelie found herself sandwiched between Lando and Flo, while Mila, perched on a booster seat, beamed at her from across the table.

—So, Amelie,— Oliver started, grinning as he carved into the turkey. —What’s it like touring with Taylor Swift? I mean, that’s not exactly your average day job.—

Before Amelie could answer, Flo chimed in. —Yeah! Like, do you ever get nervous performing in front of that many people? And how is she? Is she as nice as everyone says?—

—Guys,— Lando interjected, his voice slightly strained as he leaned closer to Amelie. —Maybe let her eat before you interrogate her.—

Amelie placed a hand on Lando’s arm, a small smile tugging at her lips. —It’s fine, Lan. I love talking about it.— She turned back to the eager faces around the table. —Touring with Taylor has been surreal. She’s honestly one of the kindest and most hardworking people I’ve ever met. And yeah, performing in front of thousands of people can be terrifying, but it’s also the most exhilarating feeling in the world. It’s like… this electric connection with everyone in the crowd.—

—That sounds incredible,— Sav said, her eyes sparkling with genuine admiration. —You must have so many stories.—

—Oh, tons,— Amelie laughed, her voice light and relaxed now. —Like the time one of her cats somehow got onto the stage during rehearsal. That was... interesting.—

The table erupted in laughter, and Amelie glanced at Lando, who was watching her with an expression that made her stomach flip. It was a mixture of pride and affection, and it made her feel more at ease than she had all evening.

As the meal continued, Mila insisted on showing Amelie every ornament she’d made for the tree, while Cisca asked about Amelie’s plans for the new year. Oliver and Flo teased Lando relentlessly, recounting embarrassing childhood stories that made his ears turn red.

—Remember when Lando tried to impress that girl at school by jumping off the garage roof?— Oliver smirked, his voice dripping with mischief. —And he broke his arm instead?—

—Oh, come on!— Lando groaned, burying his face in his hands. —Do we really need to bring that up right now?—

Amelie couldn’t contain her laughter, her hand slipping under the table to squeeze Lando’s knee. —You’ve always been a risk-taker, huh, Lan?— she teased.

—Yeah, well, some risks pay off,— he murmured, his voice low and warm, sending a shiver down her spine.

After dinner, the group migrated to the living room, where Mila insisted on showing Amelie her new toys. The little girl was particularly enamored with a set of miniature ponies, which Amelie enthusiastically named alongside her. Lando’s sisters hovered nearby, peppering Amelie with more questions about her career and travels.

—Okay, I need to know,— Cisca, Lando's younger sister, said, her eyes wide with curiosity. —How do you even start acting? Like, did you always want to do it?—

Amelie chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. —Honestly, it kind of just happened. I was really young when I got my first role, and I fell in love with it. But it wasn’t easy. There were a lot of auditions, a lot of rejections. It’s a tough industry.—

—And now you’re dating my brother,— Cisca added cheekily, earning a groan from Lando, who had just walked back into the room with a glass of wine.

—Can we not make this about me for once?— he muttered, shooting his sister a warning look.

—Oh, come on, Lan,— Flo teased. —You’re the one who kept talking about her non-stop back in the day. It’s a miracle we didn’t figure it out sooner.—

Amelie raised an eyebrow at Lando, who avoided her gaze, his cheeks tinged pink. —Non-stop, huh?— she teased, leaning closer.

—They’re exaggerating,— Lando grumbled, but the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth gave him away.

Later in the evening, as the fire crackled and the conversations mellowed, Lando’s mum found a moment alone with Amelie in the kitchen.

—You make him happy, you know,— Cisca said softly, her hands busy arranging leftovers.

Amelie blinked, caught off guard. —I... I hope so. He makes me happy too.—

Cisca looked up, her eyes warm and kind. —It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him this content. You bring out the best in him. And I can tell he’s trying to bring out the best in you too.—

Amelie felt a lump form in her throat but managed a smile. —Thank you. That means a lot.—

When she returned to the living room, Lando was sitting on the floor, playing a game with Mila. His eyes met hers across the room, and he smiled—soft and genuine, the kind of smile that made her feel like she was exactly where she was meant to be.

—Come here, superstar.—

Amelie grinned, crossing the room to settle beside him. Mila glanced over at her, her sleepy gaze brightening.

—Amelie, look!— she murmured, holding up one of her ponies. —Rudy and Buttercup are friends now.—

—That’s amazing, Mila,— Amelie replied, leaning in as if it were the most fascinating news she’d heard all night. —I think they make the perfect team.—

Lando chuckled, resting his chin on top of Mila’s head. —You’ve officially won her over. I’m not sure she’ll let you leave tomorrow.—

—That makes two of you,— Amelie teased, her voice just loud enough for him to hear.

Lando’s hand found hers, their fingers lacing together in a way that felt as natural as breathing. For a moment, the chaos of the day faded, leaving just the warmth of his family, the crackle of the fire, and the steady rhythm of Lando’s thumb brushing against hers.

—Mila’s not the only one who doesn’t want you to leave,— he murmured, his voice low and filled with something she couldn’t quite name.

Amelie glanced up at him, her heart skipping a beat. —You’re lucky I like you, Norris. Otherwise, I’d be on the first plaine back to Mexico.—

Lando smirked, his dimples on full display. —Lucky doesn’t even begin to cover it.—

As the night wound down and the house grew quiet, Amelie found herself snuggled under a blanket with Lando, Mila asleep in her father’s arms across the room. Flo and Cisca had retreated upstairs, while Oliver and Sav whispered softly by the tree. It was a scene out of a Christmas movie, and Amelie couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by the warmth of it all.

Lando’s arm tightened around her, his lips brushing her temple. —Told you they’d love you.—

She smiled, resting her head on his shoulder. —Yeah, well, I think I love them too.—

He tilted his head to look at her, his gaze soft. —Good. Because you’re stuck with us now.—

And for the first time in a long time, Amelie felt like maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.

As the evening wound down, the family exchanged gifts in the living room. The atmosphere was cozy, the soft hum of Christmas music playing in the background. Amelie handed Lando a small, carefully wrapped box, her cheeks slightly pink as she avoided his curious gaze.

—This is for you.—

Lando took the box, his fingers brushing hers, and opened it carefully. Inside was a simple silver bracelet with a small star charm dangling from it. His eyes softened as he held it up, the firelight reflecting off the polished metal.

—Amelie, this is...— He paused, his voice thick with emotion. —It’s perfect. Thank you.—

She smiled shyly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. —The star is for luck. I know how much you care about racing, and I thought maybe it could be a little reminder of me when you’re out there.—

Lando leaned closer, his voice low so only she could hear. —I don’t need a bracelet to remind me of you, love. You’re always on my mind.—

—Okay, your turn now,— he said, pulling back with a grin as he handed her a carefully wrapped package.

Amelie peeled back the paper to reveal a leather-bound journal embossed with her initials. Inside, on the first page, Lando had written a note in his messy scrawl:

"For all the stories, songs, and moments worth remembering. Love, Lan."

Amelie felt her throat tighten as she ran her fingers over the words. —Lando...— she whispered, looking up at him with wide eyes. —This is beautiful. Thank you.—

He shrugged, but his eyes were shining. —Figured you might need a place to jot things down. You’re always scribbling on napkins and receipts.—

She laughed, the tension of the day melting away as she hugged him tightly. —I love it. I really do.—

They stayed like that for a moment, wrapped up in each other, the soft hum of Christmas music playing in the background. It was a quiet, intimate moment in the midst of the holiday chaos, and Amelie found herself feeling grateful—not just for the gifts, but for Lando and the way he made her feel so seen, so understood.

[sunnysidesevenup]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THIS MENACE TO SOCIETYYYYY. TILLY I LOVE YOU

he’s 25 but here’s a foxglove fic about his 23rd birthday where I drop some random lore lmao

tag list (lemme know if you wanna be added!!): @kirexa @gimmeurmoneyagh @lallopsyou

fic under the cut! :D

“When’s your birthday, anyway?” Fellow asks. He’s not particularly interested, but he’s known Tilly for long enough that it likely should have come up by this point.

The two of them are sitting on the floor of Fellow and Gidel’s small apartment (honestly better suiting the term single room than apartment, the damn landlord a full on scammer if Fellow does say so himself). They’ve each got a coat in their hands, sewing supplies spread across the floor as they carefully repair holes in the fabric. It had finally gotten cold enough that they could no longer simply layer clothing, and thus the yearly time to sew up clothes is upon them. Tilly, since he’s there often enough, is obviously required to help—while Gidel gets to happily draw in the corner.

Said man hums to himself, swaying back and forth a bit while he sews, tongue stuck out in concentration. “Dunno.” Tilly finally says.

“How do you not know?” Fellow scoffs.

“Well, I don’t have parents or anything like that! So how would I know?” Tilly glances up from his work, shaking his head at Fellow as if he’s disappointed. “Silly.” He scolds.

The beastman glares at him, “You told me you were 22!” He argues, affronted.

Tilly grins at him, “Hmm, yeah. It just felt right. Maybe I’m older than you, though?” His grin turns a little devious, and he tilts his head. “You’d show me more respect if I was older, right~?”

Fellow tosses one of the coats at him, hitting him in the face with it.

In typical Tilly fashion, he instantly collapses backwards, whining about being injured. Gidel, the traitor, giggles at him, while Fellow only snatches up the coat the other was repairing.

He observes the stitching, and scoffs immediately. “This is terrible.” He says, already removing the clumsy attempts.

Tilly finally pauses his dramatic whining, pulling the coat off his face but remaining laid on the ground—although he rolls sideways to better look at the man. “I’ve never sewn anything before, I was simply guessing.”

Fellow rolls his eyes, “You’re really useless on your own, you know that? How have ya’ even survived this long?”

“I’m very lucky.” Tilly says seriously.

“No, you’re not.” He shoots back. “Get up, I’m going to teach you how to do this. You’ve got to know some life skills! Ya’ can’t just live in your little fantasy world where everything goes right for you forever, you know.”

The purple haired man sits up, toxic green eyes staring widely at him. “But my fantasy world is so nice!” He coos, leaning closer to observe what Fellow is doing. Then, in a considering voice, he adds: “Although if it was a real dream world, you’d probably be wearing a maid dre—“

Fellow smacks him in the face with the coat again.

While Tilly whines from where he’s laid out on the floor once more, the beastman stares down at him with absolutely zero sympathy. “There’s no way you’re older than me when you act like that.” He states, voice dripping with condescension and annoyance.

“You’re so rude to me.”

“You deserve it, you absolute buffoon.”

Tilly sits up again, shaking his head. “How people act has nothing to do with their age, ya’ know! I could very easily be 4 years older than you and you’d never know.” He taps his chin in contemplation, a smirk crossing his face. “In fact, I think that’s what I’ll go with from now on! Please show me the respect a senior deserves.” He puts his hands on his hips, a proud look on his face as if Fellow would respond in any other way than bafflement.

“You can’t just change your age!”

“Why not? It’s not like I know when I was born in the first place.”

Fellow sputters, “Wh— No! No, I am NOT having you claim to be OLDER than me!”

“Aww,” Tilly puts a hand over his heart, his eyes widening in false sympathy. “The lovely younger man under my care seems to be struggling, how shall I help him?”

This time, Fellow forgoes the coat in favor of simply tackling Tilly to the floor. Gidel, of course, ignores them rolling around and wrestling, far too used to this behavior from the two of them.

Finally, he manages to pin Tilly down, and he contemplates using the coats to just suffocate him and end his misery already. The other man, meanwhile, just pouts at him. “This isn’t fair at all, you’re much taller than me.” He says.

“And older.” Fellow declares firmly, glaring at him. “Say it, I’m the older one.”

“Only children fight over who’s the oldest.” Tilly says, like he wasn’t just participating in exactly that.

Fellow just squeezes his pinned wrists in response, and finally the man sighs, giving in. “Alright, I’m 22.”

The beastman grins victoriously. “Good.” He says, finally moving to get off him. He suddenly stops, however, as a thought occurs to him. “Huh, wait. How do ya’ decide when you age if you don’t know your birthday?”

Tilly laughs. “Well, whenever it feels right, of course!”

“That’s a terrible way to do things.” He shoots back immediately.

“You wound me deeply, ya’ know?” The human sighs. “And from such an Honest Fellow, too! Surely you must be correct, of course.”

Once again, Fellow is reminded that he HATES Tilly saying his name. There’s just something so infuriating about it.

“Just pick a date for your birthday, and be done with it.” He growls instead, choosing not to acknowledge the goading. Nothing good ever comes from acknowledging Tilly’s taunts, he’d learned long ago.

“Hmm, maybe.” He says, but Fellow can tell from his uninterested tone that Tilly likely won’t follow his suggestion at all. It’s typical of him to ignore perfectly reasonable advice, no matter how annoying and illogical this course of action may be.

A fantasy world he lives in, truly.

Tilly’s words a few minutes ago pop into his head again, and Fellow hurriedly gets back to his sewing. Why he insists on taunting him like that specifically, he doesn’t get. Not that he gets much about the guy in the first place.

Tilly sighs, also going back to the sewing. However, he simply stares at his work for a bit, and then glances back over to Fellow. “You’re right, I’m bad at this.” He admits dejectedly, but then nigh instantly perks up. “I’ll just get you a new coat, problem solved!”

Fellow points his needle at him. “Life skills, remember? Try living in the real world, ya’ sound like some pampered rich kid.”

The man gasps, “Take that back.”

“Get to sewing, then.” He smirks at him, pointing to the stitching. “C’mon, it’s not that difficult. Even Gidel can do this.”

“Well, Gidel is much better than me at a lot of things.” Tilly states, looking over to the corner where said boy has been ignoring them. “Aren’t you?”

Gidel nods.

“At least we agree on one thing, then. Gidel is much better than you in every way.”

“Aww, you say that like you love him more than me…”

Fellow gives him a disgusted look. “I don’t love you at all, in fact.”

Tilly doesn’t seem particularly troubled by his words, not that he expected him to be.

Still, his eyes feel a bit piercing as they observe Fellow. The toxic green color had always made his gaze just a little too intense, after all. It’s almost like he’s calling him out for something, although Fellow has no idea what it could possibly be. It’s not like he was lying.

Tilly finally looks away, wandering instead over to Gidel to see what he’s drawing. Fellow debates scolding him, since he was JUST telling him to learn how to sew, but he lets it happen. They’ve got plenty of time, and he’ll just make the man be the one to go without a coat for a while as punishment.

(Whether or not this ends with Tilly roping him into sharing his own is inconsequential. He’ll make sure not to give in this time, no matter how annoying he gets or how much he begs.)

The bigger question, however, is Tilly’s birthday. Just randomly deciding when to start saying you’re a year older does sound like something the strange man would do, but just as Fellow had said, that was a truly awful system. He would never go about things like that, which is why he’s the rational one who is doing much better for himself, obviously.

So, if Tilly wouldn’t decide on a date, Fellow would. A very simple solution! He’d even get him a gift so he couldn’t protest. A full proof plan, surely—and then Tilly would be required to get Fellow something for his own birthday in compensation. A win-win, as one would say. Quite smart.

(He ignores the little voice in his head that asks why he’d even care about this in the first place. No need to think about it too hard.)

-

“There you are.”

Tilly glances over his shoulder as Fellow approaches, perched on a crate in a random alleyway. He’s got a deck of cards in his hands, and what he could possibly be doing Fellow doesn’t know. He doesn’t move from his position, simply shuffling the cards, and flashes the beastman a grin. “Pick a card!” He says, holding a splayed hand out to him.

Fellow frowns at him. “Not right now, I’ve got something for you.”

Tilly frowns right back at him, raising an eyebrow. He then reaches out a hand, his fingers sliding into Fellow’s hair. Right before the man can swat him away, he’s already pulled back, a new card in his hand. He twirls it around, and then adds it to his deck. “You’re so boring.” He says.

The beastman stares at him, wide eyed. “Don’t do that.” He tells him.

Tilly tilts his head, a sly grin on his face. “Do what?”

“You—ugh, you’re distracting me.”

“I’m distracting?” The man bats his eyelashes, and Fellow rolls his eyes.

“Here.” He says instead of acknowledging his words, and pushes a box into Tilly’s chest.

He raises an eyebrow, a confused look on his face. “What’s this? Are you proposing? Well, I suppose I can accep—

“It’s a birthday gift, you fool.” Fellow cuts him off, crossing his arms.

“….It’s my birthday?” Tilly asks.

He nods back at him, confirming. “Today’s your birthday.”

“Oh!” Tilly’s eyes light up, and he stares down at the box. “I’ve never had a proper birthday! Is it normal to propose on them?”

“It’s OBVIOUSLY not a proposal!”

The man’s lips quirk up into another smirk, an obvious indication that he’s taunting. But his attention quickly goes back to the box, a simple little thing that doesn’t even have wrapping paper or any type of decoration. He stares at it like it’s gold, and after a bit of this, Fellow begins to become uncomfortable. It’s just a cheap gift, after all.

“Go on then, open it. I don’t have all day.”

Tilly hums, acknowledging him, and sets his deck of cards aside to better look at the box. “You didn’t have to get me anything, you know.” He says, and it’s a strange thing to hear from a man who’s been known to beg strangers for a multitude of items.

“I’m not heartless. You looked so pathetic when we talked about your birthday, I just had to get you something.” Fellow says, waving away whatever weird idea Tilly might have in his head. His words don’t seem to convince him of anything though, as the way he opens the gift is almost reverent.

“Oh.” He says upon seeing the gift.

It’s a cheap pair of gloves, probably not the quality of the one’s the man wears even now—but Fellow has never seen him take off the pair in the first place. How a man who wears so many different styles of clothing could wear one pair of gloves with every single one of them alludes him, but it did give him the idea to buy him some more.

Much to his surprise, Tilly instantly pulls them out and then proceeds to take his current pair off.

He’s never seen him without them, and the sight is shocking for a variety of reasons. From the nonchalant way he performs the action, to the scars that are revealed as he slides the fabric off—crisscrossing along both his palms like someone ran a knife over them multiple times, forming a strange, morbid star.

He pulls the new pair on, face unreadable as he flexes his hands, and Fellow chooses not to comment on it. “So? How are they?” He asks instead.

“Hmm. Scratchier than my other pair.” Tilly says, and Fellow is instantly annoyed again, suddenly free from the spell of the strange moment.

“Tch, give them back if you don’t like them, then!” He scowls, grabbing Tilly’s hand to pull the gloves off himself. Annoying, ungrateful brat! He could at least pretend Fellow’s gift was good, he’d bought it with honestly earned money!

“Wow, hey!” The man grabs his hands right back, lacing their fingers together as a way to stop him. There’s better ways, definitely, but when has he ever done anything normally?

“Don’t do that.” Tilly says, glaring at him. “These are mine.”

“Wh—I bought them for you.” He protests, caught off guard by the odd handholding they’re now engaging in.

“Yeah, and now they’re mine.” Tilly’s green eyes soften, then, and he smiles. “Thanks.”

Fellow has seen many of Tilly’s smiles. He seems to never run out of them—a plethora of different moods and falsehoods. Mischievous grins, false masks of innocence, the flirty smile he gives men and women when he wants something from them. Somehow, he’s never seen this one from him. It feels more honest—a genuine emotion he’s never quite seen. It feels forbidden, and weirdly precious all at once.

The beastman rips his hands away, spinning on his heels so his back is to Tilly. “You better get me something good for my birthday, now.” He says seriously, and then immediately stalks away. There’s no movement behind him, so the chances of being followed are low. Good. He can only tolerate Tilly’s presence for so long, after all!

The minute he’s sure he’s out of the other’s eyesight, he releases a breath and tugs a hand roughly through his hair.

What was THAT? He thinks. Why do I feel embarrassed?

“It better be worth it when my birthday comes around.” Fellow mutters to himself, leaned against the wall of an alleyway.

He ignores the part of him that claims it was already worth it. That’s foolish—what did he get, a smile? That wasn’t useful at all.

[cowboylikeyouu]

i finally watched the making of deadpool & wolverine and wrote down every thought that popped up into my mind while watching, have fun lol

god hugh jackman is gorgeous

they’re talking about all the different ideas they had for this movie and honestly??? i would eat up every single one of them they should still do it lol

god hugh jackman is GORGEOUS

man i missed them sm i haven’t watched dp&w in TWO MONTHS?????

i will never shut up about the deadpool suit in this movie it’s SO AWESOME it’s a blessing for my eyes every time it’s on screen

"that’s what we were striving for with rdj in endgame, is to give this iconic fictional character an amazing ending." yeah well only that endgame‘s ending SUCKED and i will never forgive anyone for it <3

ugh hugh jackman is gorgeous

i could watch him speak forever

i‘m SO glad ryan made that "i should use his body as a weapon" pitch bc GODDAMN that opening scene will never get old

ahhhhhh i love that we‘re getting some insight in the stunt/fight stuff, SO interesting !! the shitty iphone test videos are hilarious

they should’ve made a "he ACTUALLY broke his toe when he kicked that helmet!!!!" reference when ryan kicked logan‘s skull lmao

the marry puppins SNOGGING ryan bts clips will never get old lmao funniest shit ever

THE SUIT LOOKS SO GOOD UGHHHH am i having a gender or a sexuality crisis over it???? guess we’ll never know

EMMA CORRIN ILYSM

shout out to british people gotta be one of my fav genders fr

all the different lines ryan screamed out of the honda????😭😭 honestly they should’ve just kept all of these idc about logic

EMMA CORRIN

"and i knew the fans would love it" ohhh hugh i think we all love it a bit too much

"and yet, i wouldn’t say wolverine is a straight man" awesome, thanks, case fucking CLOSED.

"which i don’t recommend, sending a 10 minute voice memo to anyone"

*me looking at the five 10-20 minute voicemails i send my friends every single day*

THE SUITS LOOK SO GOOD TOGETHER (their asses do as well)

GOD hugh jackman is gorgeous

"what we refer to as the van fight" no babe that’s the honda odyssey sex marathon actually!!

"violence is our love language" ITS CONFIRMED (everyone knew. BUT STILL)

choreographing this scene (all the deadpool vs wolverine fight scenes really) must’ve been SO FUN like UGH just coming up with all this violence knowing that it won’t affect your characters in the long haul and you can add of many of it as you want????? THE DREAM

THEM HUGGING IN THE HONDA???😭😭 brb gotta cry

I LOVE YOU EMMA CORRIN

CHRIS EVANS LOML

it’s unfair how attractive he is i‘m gonna throw up

reminder to myself to finally learn johnny‘s monologue i wanna be able to randomly hit people with it

OHHHH i actually did NOT realize that was hulk‘s bed from ragnarok??? which is weird bc i used to watch that movie religiously. but hey that’s so cool!!

channing tatum talking about gambit is so heartwarming man so happy for him😭

jennifer garner is so pretty i‘m so gay lord help

me

dafne keen‘s voice sounds SO different when she’s not playing laura, CRAZY

EMMA CORRIN MY LOVE

just once just ONCE i wanna walk through a street filme set like this UGH it looks so cool & surreal

"this is our baby yoda" i have to be this annoying person i‘m sorry but HIS NAME IS GROGU

i don’t know shit about music but i could listen to people talk about movie scores for hours on end (how did you know sideways is my fav youtube video essayist???)

good fucking god hugh jackman is gorgeous

lmao they should’ve kept the "zoooombies wake uuuppp" again, idc about logic

EMMA CORRIN ‼️‼️‼️

ohh hugh jackman is gorgeous (put your greasy tits away you preening slut)

ugh i‘m getting emotional help

well that was awesome, gonna cry myself to sleep now byeee

(have i mentioned how gorgeous hugh jackman is?)

[romanscool]

Hey I love ur stories so I was wondering if u could give me recommendations for the best AO3 MAXIEL stories you've read if u don't mind, thnx 💜💜

hi anon! thank you so much for this ask!! I always love recommending maxiel stories,,,

i have way too much, but I've tried to skim through them and pull out the ones I could read over and over again without ever being bored of it. so anyways, here you go, my fav 13 maxiel fics in no particular order:

I know your name (but not who you are) by @prongsofficial (rated G)

“Hi, Daniel,” the man at his door says, tentative with a sideways smile. There’s sweat on his hairline and two cage-like boxes in his hands. He hears a meowing come out of them when he shifts to set them down. “Max,” Daniel breathes out, floored and caught in the way Max rubs at his own arm awkwardly. Max just smiles. -- Based on the Stick Season (Forever) album by Noah Kahan

a hauntingly beautiful nine-chapter non-linear fic about what could've happened if Daniel had to retire after his hand injury in Zandvoort 2023. Gorgeous. Just the right amount of angst, fluff and crushing dialogues.

dead heat by @powerful-owl (rated E)

"Oh my god. Okay, you’re an alpha. Yeah, Max? You’re an alpha?” Max looks up, tongue lapping at the webbing between Daniel’s fingers. He waits for his thoughts to print into words: paper roll unfurling, sticky nozzles stamping please, need, yours. He just nods. “You’re an alpha.” Daniel laughs, reedy and weird. “Max, what the fuck. Why are you on your knees?”

I'm not usually into a/b/o fics but this one. this hit and still hits me everyday. I have read it almost three times now (keep in mind this is a 35-chapters/200k words fic) and I can't believe how well written it is. the smut is beautiful, angsty and punch-to-the-gut. worth every seconds spent reading it. I also really liked the fact that this is not your traditional a/b/o dynamics, with the little weak omega getting roughly fucked by perma-rut alpha. nope. it's so much more.

breaking every rule for you by @magicalrocketships (rated E)

Daniel's always been competitive. He's never backed down from a challenge, even if it's one he doesn't understand the rules of and doesn't remember signing up for. But he knows this: if Max sends him a dick pic, then Daniel sends one back. Or, it’s Daniel's first year at Renault, and Max hasn't spoken to him in months.

soul-cushing, kink-finding, whatever the fuck even fic. no words to describe this one I think. it's messed my brain up. anyway. 200k words of max and Daniel being idiots, max with a girlfriend he doesn't love and Daniel not accepting he's in love with max. all that while sending dick pics everyday. hot. beautiful. made me cry and bite into my own arm because of how I wish I could just grip both their heads and smash them like barbies so they can kiss.

that's where I am by @flawlessassholes (rated E)

“Her name is Emily,” Daniel says softly. Max’s eyes snap down to the baby, still sleeping on Daniel’s chest. It’s—she’s snoring a little. In that snuffly way that babies snore. “Short for Emilian.” His eyes snap back to Daniel’s face, so serious, and Max knows it’s a joke, of course, but he still opens his mouth to say— Then Daniel’s face breaks into that wide grin, the real one, the one Max hasn’t seen since. Well. In a while. It feels at once so familiar, and also like seeing something rise from the dead.

There’s a month between Melbourne and Baku. A month to convince Daniel to return to racing. A month to learn and relearn how to love. A month for everything to feel right amidst a season that has felt nothing but wrong. A month to create a family, and a month to maybe lose it all.

daniel has a baby and max learns how to deal with that. all that while Emily (dan's kid) is the cutest baby ever. made my heart ache in the best way, had me having a baby-fever for 8 chapters. the smut is gorgeous, the story had me weeping and I could not believe how someone could even come up with such a well-rounded idea. gorgeous.

haven't you heard what becomes of curious minds? by vivienne_xoxo (rated E)

Daniel is on the verge of quite possibly nothing in his last year of high school. Max is on the verge of everything in his sophomore year. The one thing that connects them is soccer, squash, and track and field. Being at different schools, they only see each other once per season for games. However, they find themselves meeting in the spaces between, unknowing of what it all really meant. As Daniel nears graduation with a GPA of a whopping 2.0, a sexuality crisis, and a blonde twisted in his bedsheets and his brain, the one thing he really knows is that he's so, so fucked. OR: A sports rivals with benefits, strangers to lovers Maxiel fic that no one really wanted. Literally just the school I go to right now but with changed names.

everything a teen!maxiel fic could ever want to be. teens in love, max and Daniel going through everything that comes with that. sexuality crises all over the place, hormones, too. love it. this is the fic that made me want to start my own teen!maxiel. it's funny, angsty, has way too many crack-worthy dialogue. I love it.

a sure thing by @thewindowatkirkland (rated E)

Afterwards, once they’ve headed back inside on unsteady legs and showered in Max’s insane ensuite, Daniel pulls on his clothes and watches Max do the same. He’s always quieter after sex, once the adrenaline and dopamine have receded some. Daniel gets it, the whole hooker thing is more awkward for most people once the fucking is actually over. “How much do you charge for a full night?” Max asks, after he transfers the fee for today, the little notification pinging on Daniel’s phone. M. E. Verstappen has sent you a payment. Daniel doesn't bother to check the amount, Max will have rounded it up to the nearest thousand anyway, just like he always does. OR: daniel is an escort, max is a five time world champion, and also one of his regular clients. (aka, the hooker!dan au)

gorgeous. no words. 30k of hooker!Daniel that had me going a little crazy. so many good smut scenes, so many insane dialogues, so many insane angsty moments that aren't angst but feel like it... love love love it. I've read it a couple times already and it always has me on the floor. beautiful and breathtakingly so.

growing sideways by @thewindowatkirkland (rated E)

“We’re in Monaco,” Max says, “and you haven’t lived in either of those places for a very long time, Daniel. Since 2013.” It must be fucking amnesia, Daniel reasons, because when he went to bed last night it was July 2012. And here a grown up Max Verstappen is, telling him 2013 was a very long time ago. OR: daniel wakes up in a bed he doesn’t recognise, next to a man he doesn’t know.

what if Daniel woke up as his 2012 self with braces and awkward limbs but he's in his 2024 self bed, next to his 2024 self boyfriend (max) and he can't understand how any of this is happening? that's it. that's the plot. loved the little references, the race watching, the max trying to make Daniel learn everything they've had since 2012. the virgin smut. hot. but. everything about this fic is so, so sweet. it's gentle. like a hug after a long day, it takes you in and you never want to let go, especially because it has Daniel's fucked up teeth/braces in it. (joking but you know how I am with teeth, right?)

(just let me) adore you by @sillystappen (rated G)

One night, Max confronts the monster under his daughter's bed. Turns out, that monster is a very kind mothman called Daniel.

adorable. mothman!daniel (beautiful, beautiful, woah) takes car of max's daughter because other monsters might want to hurt her. so, so sweet. max is gentle but obsessed, and who can blame him even, Daniel is gentle, gentle, gentle, and caring, and so. argh. sorry. I'm obsessed with the fluff, the daughter, the developing bond between max and moth!Daniel. short and so cute.

auditory stimulator by togenkyo (rated E)

There are no rules for falling in love. It can happen to anyone, anytime, anywhere. Max may not be well experienced in love, but he's pretty sure that "Falling in love with a guy you met when you accidentally picked up the phone at a sex hotline." should be a rule.

so funny. had me giggling in a public space over silly roommates trying to get max laid/in a couple. so fun and quirky, really had pulled in from seeing 'Phone Sex Operators' in the tags. I'm glad I read this. great dialogue, story and characters.

hey, remember that time by @powerful-owl (rated E)

There’s a snowstorm outside and a snowstorm in Max’s head. “Yes, okay. What.” “I think I’m gay? Pretty sure. Or like. Hella bi. Cause I think I’d still – if you were a – sorry. My body likes you, Max.” — (Max owns an inn and Daniel has amnesia.)

so funny... love, love, love. I always love those kind of stories, the AU with amnesia and all, but this one is genuinely the best I've ever read. I love all of @powerful-owl 's fics, but this one. it has me in a chokehold. read it again during the holidays for the snowy/angsty/smutty vibes and the scenes always have me giggling or crying. sometimes both at the same time. can't believe she has the power to write such good scenes like the bathroom one. description is just gorgeous, smut is always really good and goofy and. yeah. love it. can't say I've ever been let down by one of her works.

new wave (new emotions) by nothoughtsjustvibes (Kitkatieb) (rated G)

In which Max realizes he’s in love with Daniel and flies to Colorado to make it Lewis’s problem. Lewis just wants him to leave – preferably on a plane to Australia.

so so fun. lewis' POV, which is always really fun to read, especially since it's maxiel. just. lewis objective on the whole 'yes max, Daniel is in love with you, too' situation without actually saying it out loud. cause max has to figure it out for himself. really, really cool and original. loved reading.

two's company, three's a crowd by Whippasnappa (rated E)

“I need to be good at these things so it does not matter when. When they see.” Max says. He's- Daniel's chest feels like its caved in. Max looks so fucking ashamed, and his eyes are wet, lashes fluttering like he’s trying to blink away tears. “See what? Max?” He can’t- there’s nothing about Max that Daniel could imagine would be so off-putting that someone wouldn’t want him. Clearly there’s more to it, then, the reason why Max hasn’t hooked up before. “It is small.” Max says.

whippasnappa is a genius on this one. small dick!max is alway shy fav max but this one,,, gorgeous. breathtaking. couldn't stop staring at y screen even if I died. could've died actually. had me having three heart attacks. have never come back from this one. arghhhh

we predict blue skies and tight pants by dontburnme

The sight just made him dizzy. The hottest man he’s ever fucking seen flipping off a cliff into the murky Oslo waters twenty seven meters high up. Or, Daniel’s a Red Bull high diver and Max experiences an out of body experience watching him.

in which, Daniel is a diver and max watches him dive. and dies, a little. it's crazy, crazy good. had me a little crazy, pulling my hair out by the end of it. I, too, had an out of body experience. crazy, crazy, crazy, and such a fun concept. alway love me some short and sweet AU-fics.

bonus!!: high and dry by @jermeows

real cowboys ride cock, y'know right?

technically not a fic but. it's such wonderful fanart I HAD to include it. maxiel cowboys; what more is there to say...

[doki-doki-imagines]

Hello! I came up with an idea for bi-han and Tomas. What would your reaction be like waking up naked next to your secret crush? As if they had a dinner with more friends the night before and they overindulged in alcohol, which led them to this situation. You don't have to do it if you don't want to ;)

bonus at the end!

Bi-Han: -Waking up with a headache pounding in your head is already terrible. -But also turning around and having your crush face at one inch of distance, nose already brushing against each other, is a heart attack inducing experience. -You don't scream, soul already left your body long ago, but you stop breathing, worried you may wake up the grumpy grandmaster. -You don't remember anything about the previous night, but you still have clothes on. -But these aren't yours. -This is gonna be remembered as the day you grew more than one lock of white hair. -You spot your clothes on a chair, so you lift up slowly as you can, trying to regain your clothes and possibly disappear without leaving any trace. Forever. -"What do you think you are doing?" It's a voice you recognize way too well. The clearness of it not matching the owner face, tho. Eyes half closed and hair perfect as a nest. His very cold hand grabbed your ankle, stopping you in your place. "Home? Under the ground? Disappear?" -Now he looks better at you, onyx eyes piercing your body, mouth slightly open trying to elaborate your words, like you just said the dumbest thing on the planet. -"Nothing happened yesterday night, go back to sleep." "Can you elaborate a bit more?" You politely ask, still not feeling same. -"Yesterday you got drunk like a some dumb teenager and never stopped clinging to me. I just helped you." He groans, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. "Why am I wearing your clothes then?" "You poured your nth drink on yourself, and I didn't want your dirty and sticky clothes in my bed." "Oh." A few seconds of silence, his hand now pulling your ankle towards the bed, getting more forceful. -"So, you took care of me! You have a soft spot for me!" You shout in excitement, making Bi-Han groan again "Ohhh do you have a crush for me, Grandmaster?" His pillow hit you straight in the face. -There must still be alcohol running in your blood because you would never be so brave in daily life. -"Don't worry, it's the same for me!" And something clicks in Bi-Han's mind, you see it in his eyes, now awake, mouth slightly open; he almost looks awestruck. -"Go back. It's too early now." He grumbles back, eyes close again and head on his pillow, yours thrown somewhere in the room after hitting your face. -You plop next to him immediately. After all those trainings, you are sure he wouldn't mind if you use his biceps as a pillow.

Tomas Vrbada: -You wake up in his arms, trapped in his hold. Not because he is actually holding you, his arms are simply heavy, and you are too tired to move them. -You want to die, worm your way out of his bed, and pop away in a cloud of smoke. -Maybe your thoughts are too loud, and soon you hear a groan, greyish eyes now open, looking straight into yours. -"Oh! Eheh. Seems like we got closer again while sleeping." You gulp, your mouth still dry. "What happened yesterday?" -You sit up, and he follows you, trying to keep the same eye level. "It was an…intense night. Maybe it's better if we talk in the kitchen." You nod. "The? Coffee?" You tell him your choice, now you are standing up, noticing that you aren't wearing the clothes of yesterday night, but what it seems a layer of Tomas' usual suit. -"Yesterday you drank too much, and kept clinging on me." "…" "Then when I brang you to my house, you poured on your clothes the water I gave you." "Wow I was a fucking mess." "Well I can't say the opposite. That's why you are wearing a part of my suit." Tomas says, turning sideways. There a fat red hickey catches your attention. -"I must have ruined your fun." You say, chuckling with death in your heart. "What do you mean?" He replies, furrowing his eyebrows. You point at your neck, where his hickey should be. His eyes widened before looking down bashfully, making you feel even worse. -"This…you made this." -WHAT. It's the turn of your eyes to widen. "You were a bit touchy-feely yesterday." -You felt like barfing, and not for the alcohol. "This is terrible Tomas! I'm so sorry." You say, voice full of sorrow for your actions. "D-Don't worry. But you need to promise me this-" "I swear I'll never drink again, I'll never bother youo, I-" "No, please listen. I think we need a bit of distance between us." -Straight to your heart. Hit and sunk. -"Don't misunderstand. I-I have a crush on you." Tomas says holding your hand, but eyes still on the ground. "Yesterday hurt like nothing else. I wanted to kiss you back and love you. But I didn't want to take advantage of you. It just isn't right." Now his grey eyes look back into yours, expression serious. -"I don't want our friendship to be ruined because of my feelings-" "I like you back." Tomas' mouth hangs open. You don't give him the time to reply. "I have been for a long time. That must be why I kept clinging to you yesterday. Now, if you want distance because I did something wrong I agree with you. But if you want distance because your crush may not be reciprocated, I have to deny your request." Your head still hurts like crazy and you don't know with which strength you are able to talk with such determination in your voice. -Now both your hands holding. Heart beating in unison. -"N-No, I mean. It's the second case. Like…do you really have a crush on me?" Tomas's cheeks get more and more red each second going by. His voice a bit higher than usual. "I do." -He releases your hands, now covering his face. "I can't believe this. You really have a crush on me?" "If you ask again I may change my mind." "No! Okay, you have a crush on me." "I do. You too?" "Absolutely." -"So…don't I look cute?" You say twirling around, his suit fluttering when you twirl on your place. "Yes, you do." He finally looks at you, but looks at you for real. Your bedhair, makeup smudged and his suit makes you look absurdly cute. -"Don't you think cute things should be kissed?" He nods. "Tomas?" "Mh?" He replies, mind clearly elsewhere. "Kiss me." This time the message was delivered. -Thankfully you both forgot to have morning breath.

bonus under the read more!

I know that with "you" you meant the reader, not my opinion in waking up in such a scenario, so I'm gonna write down here what I would do LOL.

Bi-Han: I can't believe that I would sleep with him even if intoxicated. But if it happeend I'll just crawl away and hope to never see him again. If he notices me I'd say something along the "I thought you were Johnny Cage". At that point I'm sure that I would be able to exit his house, dead or alive. Probably dead.

Tomas: Oh-I forgot what happened, maybe we should remake what happened yesterday night *twirling hair*. Maybe once won't be enough? Let's go for twice. You know what? Three is the perfect number, are you ready. 1-2-3 go!

[hannahssimblr]

“Hey! Well- Yeah? Well, you shouldn’t have had your foot there!” 

I snatch Jen away from the girl she has trodden on in the centre of the heaving crowd. It’s so hot. Sweat covers every single person as they become impatient. As I elbow past one guy in a vest, our arms stick together in an odiously intimate sensation. We look at one another with matching expressions of disgust and horror.

“Come on, come on!” I say to Jen.

“Okay, bossy.”

The space around the stage is filling in, and a sea of blurred figures churn around us like liquid, us and every other body shoving towards the barrier. We’re not far anymore. I can see it glinting, tantalising, in the sun.

“Move!” I bellow, and the person blocking my path flinches out of the way. It’s each man for himself. Well, and Jen. I need to take care of Jen. 

And where’s-

“Keep going!” Jen is punching my back now. “Don’t turn around. We’re so close.”

“Um, sorry, but some of us have been waiting here for ages,” a girl with a nasal voice informs her as we wrestle past. “You can’t just butt in anywhere you like.”

“Okay! Shut the fuck up!” Jen says brightly. 

“Sorry, what?”

“I said shut up, it’s bloody hot.” She hisses, whirling on her, “and do you actually think I want-”

“Jen!” As my palm finally makes contact with metal, I snatch her and heave her toward me. “No fights, right? Not this weekend.”

“Did you hear how that girl spoke to me?”

“You’ll never see her again, c’mon.” I push sideways against the others at the barrier to pry a few inches of space for us. “There.”

We crane our necks up at the stage, big, black, and empty, with nests of wires scattering the floor, hanging over the edge. 

“Wow, it was worth it for this spot, wasn’t it?”

I look behind her, a vast sea of faces stretching back for forever. There’s likely no chance we’ll find the rest of our friends now, having abandoned them at the start line in pursuit of this barrier. But right before I give up, I spot Evie. I’ve got a radar for her, it seems. She’s struggling through the hoard elbows first, though unsuccessfully. It appears she is going for the polite approach, trying her best to slip through small gaps between people, but they keep shrugging her off. She will need to be more aggressive than that. 

“Evie! Up here!”

Relief floods her face. “Oh! God! Yeah, hi!”

“Hi!” I grab her hand and yank her through an especially stubborn group of hipsters. “Come on, you can stand here.” Someone else is trying to squeeze into my space, but I just shove him. He moves, barely, leaving only space for one person, but we’ll make do. I pull Evie into place and stand behind her as the gap behind us closes. My body is pushed forward just a little bit, enough to close that careful, intentional space between Evie and me. I breathe through my nose very slowly. 

Are you alright?” I murmur. My face is close to hers, and my palm rests on her shoulder. I don’t move it. She nods. 

I stare at my hand for ages. It’s just there, on her, her bare skin warm under my fingers, and neither of us has acknowledged it. I fantasise about moving my thumb just a few inches and stroking along that graceful curve that joins her shoulder with her neck. I could even tilt her head to the side and put my mouth against the pulse by the corner of her jaw. God, that’d be weird. I would never do that, but I should stop thinking like this before parts of my body begin to assume I will. 

As my eyes dart to Jen, I am relieved to find her striking up a conversation with someone next to her. She’s constantly befriending strangers at events, and normally it annoys me, because she insists on following them to some crusty afterparty in a house with cigarette butts and dried vomit in the bathroom sink, but I’m grateful for this particular trait today, because if she had seen me staring at Evie’s neck like some kind of demented vampire, I would have a hard time getting her to drop the issue. 

When the band come on stage, the crowd erupts into cheers, and I join them at first. I usually love concerts for this reason, this feeling of being part of a collective, me and thousands of other bodies together, seeking the same rush, sharing the same love of music. This is a good band, and I had been excited to see them when I knew they’d be performing, but this fact, every thought and feeling and interest in every niche piece of information I’ve ever read about them while perusing music magazines at the newsagents evaporates into the ether the moment that Evie rests against my chest.

I stay very still. Surely, this is accidental, but I don’t move a muscle, afraid to make it clear I have noticed it. I am resisting the empty feeling she’ll leave when she moves away.

As she hums along to music she doesn’t know, her voice vibrates through her ribs and into me, and when she lifts her hands to clap for the end of a song, she puts them back on the barrier, perhaps just a little closer to mine that they were the last time. I spend three more songs wondering if it was intentional. 

And the band plays, and the crowd cheers and dances and sways to these songs I’ve rinsed a hundred times on my iPod, but I stand with her, so incredibly still, my hands on the barrier on both sides of her, my chin resting upon her head, and I don’t recall a single melody. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

Corresponding LG Chapter

[echantedtoon]

His Heart

Just some good ol yandere Neuvillette content. I don't support yanderes irl, etc. @trancylovecraft

"You look at me with cold eyes. You see me me and turn away as if you didn't know me."

"...Do I know you?"

"You know that I couldn't have shown you me. Gave you me. I couldn't show you my weakness so I put on a mask to see you but I still want you. A flower that resembles you blossomed in this garden of loneliness. I wanted to give it to you as I rip off this mask. But I know this can't go on forever."

Her eyes still gazed at the ground. Her body small but still so strong as to crush his soul. Rip his heart out to serve on a platter to herself but somehow still rejected the notion she could do that. The whole world sitting in her grasp yet she was completely naive to it or didn't care she had it.

"I will not satisfy your desires for more than what was agreed. I can accept your apologies but I cannot forgive."

"I have made peace with that notion. But I am not here to beg for forgiveness that I will never receive, for I have hurt you and I accept you're stubborn enough to always hold that grudge."

Her form was ever calm. Looking at him for what felt like a millennia of wait. Time vanishing and space darkening except for the gravitational orbit of beauty that revolved around his mind and shown through his sights since the day he laid his eyes on her visage.

"Then what is it do you seek from me, Neuvillette?"

"It's not what I seek. It's what I desire. Wishing that love is as perfect itself. Wishing all my weaknesses are hidden." The room fell sideways in his mind. An oozing feeling on continuous falling for her over and over again. Swallowed by the monster that demanded he claim and the beast that roared at him for everything he did wrong to be made right again. "In a life where nothing was ever genuine, you carved a piece out of my heart that will never feel complete unless you yourself abide by it's beating."

Her answer a head tilt. Eyes grazing the state he was in. Clawing through bodies. Ravaged by freezing cold. No doubt such a sight she disliked but was more than ready to accept given the circumstances.

"What desire do you want that I haven't already given to you?"

Blood ran black fading to a possessive desire. A stark contrast the dripping liquid made compared to the delicate object the palm held out. Staining it purity by the blood of the slain and war. Presented to her gaze which widened slightly at soft petals. A beacon of softness in the blight around them. A rose 

"Accept my devotion and become my wife. A place not beneath but beside me. For we were lovers before we were ever born in this world. My name shall be your own, your blood shall be mine, and all combinations of life will be one. Accept all of me, as I already have all of you."

She stared at him like that he told her was the most foolish thing he ever said. Heart racing. Eyes staring. Her hand slowly reaching out to him. His eyes widening as the desire he's been wanting finally being fulfilled- Until she stopped.

Her lungs filled with a shaking breath. "Kill me if you insist on finishing what you started, but I have no intention of bowing to a king who wears a crown studded with the jewels of every sin he committed."

For once he looked taken aback stopping just a few steps away from herself. "Kill you? Oh, dear me. Is that what you thought I came here for?" His head shook swaying ivory locks. "No, no, no. That wouldn't be beneficial to either of us."

"Then why?"

"Why? You have got the arms I want to be wrapped in. You have got the eyes I want to get lost in. You have the smile I can never resist. You have got the voice I want to listen to for hours. I decided on you. I want you and only you."

"I fell in love with your words! Unfortunately they were all lies!"

"No. That's not true." That gentle smile was back as he approached her once more. "I didn't lie that I love you. It wasn't a lie before and it certainly isn't a lie now."

Her body did not give him the satisfaction of an embrace nor the courtesy of a smile as his hand caressed her cheeks.

"You're a dangerous man."

"Ah. But you see the most dangerous person is the one who listens, thinks, and observes."

[peydawgz]

STAY WITH YOU || MOIRA O’DEORAIN X READER

Content: you were caught in an attack on the base,, moira wasn’t there to save you. now she won’t leave.

for @resident-cake-anon !!!

You awake from a deep sleep, the first time you’ve opened those beautiful eyes of yours since your terrible fate. At first, Moira looks like she’s stalking you, a clipboard dropped from her hand. She steps towards the foot of your bed, an angry, empty look on her face that you aren’t used to as she gazes upon your wounds. She’s towering over you now, muttering something under her breath that you can’t quite hear, using her healing powers against your wounds, repatching you up.

“It took you long enough to wake up. I don’t know how much longer I could have seen you like this...” She speaks up, her fire fueled words coming out softly. “And why am I always the one fixing everything up at the end? Who would take care of me if I were to fall?” She lets her frustrations out, tying the bandages around you.

“Moira-“ you speak up in a whisper, your mouth dry. Her expression softens, and she leans over you, getting some water with a little straw for you. She pities you, she couldn’t be mad at you like this… she felt like it was her fault you weren’t protected. She wasn’t there.

When she’s done fixing you up, she remains sitting on the bed with you, just looking at you,, hurting her own feelings with her thoughts.

“Moira, you’re so kind to me.” You say, and she kind of laughs. Kind was not a word used with her name often. “I would save you.” You let her know, looking at her endearingly. You love her, even when she can have her crazy moments. Your words make her smile, like it’s something she’s been needing to hear.

She doesn’t ever leave your side, talking to you about how she’s been taking care of you since the couple days you’d been out. She apparently hadn’t left you then, either. She loved you just as much as you loved her.

She brings you little snacks, coffee, tea, anything you requests she will be back in less than ten minutes. You don’t really want to be alone anyways…

She started to move closer to you each time she returned, until you were laying together eventually, just watching something together on the tiny screen provided.

You fell asleep in her arms, your bodies warm under a blanket together. Usually, she would just fall asleep in a seat pulled up next to you, but this was the next best thing. She has a little healing ball orbiting around you as you nap. Perhaps it would give you good dreams…

You awake, sitting up and seeing Moira had moved out of the bed. After a couple moments of adjusting, you try to get up out of the bed, throwing your legs over and holding onto something nearby to stand. You are weak, your legs shaking as they struggle to hold your weight with the striking pain shooting up your spine. You collapse, falling sideways back onto the bed as you groan in frustration. Why can’t you just be better again already…

At hearing your noise, you hear a noise and fast footsteps moving into the room. Moira is there, holding a little tray with cups and a teapot and she sets it down, hurrying to be next to you. She helps relieve your pain with some medicine, helping you get comfy again. You’re expecting an outrage already, so you speak up. “I’m sorry, I thought I could-“

“It’s okay. You’ll get your strength back, I promise you. Don’t try to push your limits, okay?” She smirks a little, and kisses your head after you start to feel better.

She pours you a hot cup of tea, handing you the little thing on a tiny plate- so fancy. “It’s your favorite. Don’t be unmotivated, my sweet. I’m going to stay forever.” Her tone is defiant, her search for immortality seeping into the conversation.

“Forever? Do you mean that?” You ask, and without pondering a second she responds, “Most definitely, yes. I’ll stay with you forever.”

Who knows… maybe if she breaks the limits of death it is possible. She seems very confident, so you might start to look forward to it.