#I don't know how to put it into words why

[pearlymel]

Sylus remembers clearly the day he found out you were both having twins. Twins, as in two babies as yours and his first children.

How you almost passed out when the doctor delivered the news, but he was quick to tell you that everything would be okay.

He's going to be the best husband for you, and for the twins..?

they sure were going to be a handful.

“Sylus!” Sylus' head snapped towards the kitchen, where your voice had come from, “come get your son before i cook him!”

He knew that you were joking. Probably.

the kitchen, one hand holding his little girl's hand guiding her along. "Now, now," he called out as he entered the kitchen, "No cooking the children, sweetie.”

You let out a sigh when you watch the boy run away while letting out giggles, his face and hands full of white flour.

Seeing this, Sylus let out an exasperated sigh as well, his gaze shifting from his running figure to the mess of flour on the floor. "Sorry about the mess he made," he muttered before looking over at you, a sheepish smile on his face. "Go to your brother,” he urges the girl next to him, she nods slowly before running off to him.

“I'll feed him to the ducks one day.” You say with determination, still focused on trying to make this dinner a success after the mess.

But Sylus chuckled at your threat, knowing all too well that you were only half-serious. He could see the twitching in your eyes, but he also knew that you loved both of your children dearly, even if they could be a handful sometimes.

”Though I suspect he would probably find a way to befriend them and make a mess with them.”

“.. why are you right?”

“because i know my children,” he says proudly, then makes slow steps from behind you to not alert you so suddenly, his arms snaking around your waste with his chin resting on your shoulder, “what are you making?”

You smile, “dinner.”

"Smartass," he teased, "I meant what kind of dinner are you making?” he whispers calmly, a soft conversation between you two, with his thumb rubbing ideally on you.

“hm, i could be dinner… but oh well.” you sigh dramatically and he laughs quietly.

You couldn't even continue because you hear a faint “ewwww.” Coming from the corner.

You both glance back at the two heads peeking out from the wall, and you roll your eyes.

"and here I was, having a moment with your mother," he said to them, his voice still low yet amused. "You two really have a knack for interrupting, don't you?”

Your little girl was the first to speak, “it was his idea.” She started quietly, her fingers fidgeting together, but her brother only gasped, “she's lying!”

"Oh, really now?" he’s skeptical, and he approaches both of them with his arms crossed, “Hmm, it's always the innocent ones who lie, isn't it?”

“but I'm not—”

“liar.” The little one huffs and looks away with annoyance, but the minute he could hear his sister im the verge of tears, he knew he messed up.

Sylus was quick to notice her distraught demeanor, his heart clenching slightly at the sight of her on the verge of tears.

"you," Sylus pointed out at the other twin, his voice firmer and authoritative, "did you cause the mess?”

…

Sylus let out a deep sigh, his stern expression softening slightly. He knew he was just being a mischievous little boy, but he also had to nip such behavior in the bud.

"You know better than to blame others for your pranks,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. "Apologize to your sister.”

The girl sniffled, the threat of tears subsiding as she accepted her brother's apology. She wiped away her stray tears with the back of her hand, a small smile forming on her face.

Sylus nodded approvingly, he patted both of them on their head gently. "There we go, now go back and play together.”

This whole time you were watching the scene with the biggest smile on your face, and Sylus was already prepared for your upcoming teasing words.

“and the father of the year goes to.. you.” ... except he didn't expect this rare sweet statement of yours. He's reminded of why he put a ring on it in the beginning.

"What can I say?" he replied, his voice filled with pride. "I have a talent for handling troublemakers." He placed both of his arms on the counter to your sides, boxing you in, "though, to be fair, they get their mischievous streaks from their mother," he added, and you gasp before turning around. burnt dinner it is.

[jadedbirch]

Gather around, my young friends and fellow dinosaurs, let me tell you about some BULLSHIT no one ever tells you about. I'm talking about menopause and perimenopause. Now, menopause has a very stringent medical definition. You have to not have had a period for exactly 12 months and a day to be considered in menopause. All the bullshit before that day once you start going through The Change is considered perimenopause. Here's some bullshit you might experience that people actually talk about when you're in perimenopause:

- shorter time between periods

- irregular periods

- hot flashes and/or cold flashes

- fucked up sleep

- OMG NIGHT SWEATS

- Vagina as dry as the Sahara desert

- lighter periods and/or endless bleeding like it's The Flood but it's in your pants

- lack of interest in Adult Fun Times

This time of joy can last anywhere from a couple of years to a god damn decade and there's no medical way right now to predict it.

Here's some of the REAL bullshit they don't tell you about but your dinosaur aunt is here to let you know:

- You can start perimenopause in your 30s, don't listen to idiot doctors who tell you you're "too young" because they don't know your body like you do.

- Perimenopause will make you HELLA DUMB. Seriously, I'm talking Bigly broken brain. Brain fog? Check. Short term memory? Wave goodbye to it. Ability to make words form out of thoughts? Yeah, good luck to you.

- Perimenopause can cause horrible fatigue because in addition to losing estrogen, you're also losing testosterone. Oh and that also leads to muscle wasting, cool cool.

- Things might suddenly hurt more because estrogen is known to be neuroprotective.

- If you're super lucky like I am, and like to collect rare illnesses, you might even get Burning Mouth Syndrome 💀

- And meanwhile, while you're going through this bullshit, you'll be getting gaslit by doctors who are operating based on 30 year old debunked data about how HRT causes breast cancer (not really) and that they shouldn't put you on it until you're in actual menopause. (Data shows starting HRT early can potentially prevent Alzheimer's in later years.)

- There are entire online clinics right now (I use Midi Health) focused on providing care for peri and menopausal patients and they will happily prescribe you HRT even if your regular PCP or OBGYN do not (if you meet the criteria). I've been pretty impressed with how holistically they view the patient. For full disclosure, I learned about them from my integrative health doctor and they do not accept Medicare (yet).

I'm 46 years old right now and I've been symptomatic for perimenopause for the last 8 years, although it's gotten the most dramatic in the past 2 years or so, which I hope means I'm almost done, holy hell. Yeah I was on the early side, but if it can happen to me, it can happen to you, so it's never too early to think about these things. And I hope to at least spare some of you the mind-fuckery I've been through because no one told me about most of this stuff, including my own mother who just DOESN'T REMEMBER what happened to her and now I completely understand why. And because I also have a connective tissue disease, I used to just dismiss my pain and fatigue as being caused by that illness rather than the loss of hormones.

Anyways, this is why we need Elders in our lives, so they can do Grandma Story Hour like I just did and validate you when the entire medical field tries to gaslight you. I hope you've found some or all of this educational/useful. Please share with your friends because we really do NOT talk about this stuff enough. (Ewwww Moon Blood!)

Stay well, and don't let the bastards grind you down!

[smollsmule]

Ok my queue spit this out after I saved it for later, so let me add some nuance here. Because this is a very importand issue, actually.

Of course nobody is prohibited from readin the books they enjoy. Hell, I like me some easily digestible fluff too! Some of my favourite book series are ya (and genuinely great books despite being “easy to read”).

There is something to be said however about limiting yourself to only engaging with that level of difficulty in reading. And before you come at me, I know that many people don't read at all and to many others reading is simply a hobby to unwind after a long day, where they just wanna turn their brain off and have some fun. Which is a totally fair reason to read. BUT. Reading (or more broadly, literacy) will never be just that. You live in an age of (mis)information and you WILL be confronted with texts (speeches, video clips, what have you) that are hard to dissect. Especially the ones that don't seem like it at first glance.

Media literacy is not only about how quickly you can summarise a paragraph or being able to pull quotes to show how maybe a character could be read as queer (although both of those things are a very good indicator of having advanced literacy). It's the VITAL skill of filtering and assesing information presented to you before so you can make an informed choice to internalise or discard it. It's being able to understand the information in the first place by grasping a complex thought presented to you in writing or in a speech because the simple truth is that not all truths are simple.

Media literacy gives you the ability of identifying that someone is trying to make you believe something and parsing why they're doing it by identifying the tools they are using. Which means you also need to know the tools they have at their disposal. It also means being able to connect points brought up before in the same or different texts to see if there is inconstencies or leaps in logic or if the argument someone is making only looks good because they use big words and a sentence structure that “feels” smart, but actually falls apart as soon as you poke at it a little.

Forgive me sounding alarmist, but if you can't read at that level people who have these tools WILL have power over you and you won't even have the tools to notice that they do. Even if people are not actively trying to harm or manipulate you, if you're unable to engage with their ideas you will get left behind in certain vital discussions and that not only feels like shit because everybody gets it but you, but it also again makes you incredibly vulnerable to those who do have bad intentions!

Now does that mean you only get to read Proust from now on? Of course not! I still do believe that a piece of literature can directly and fundamentally change your life. I know it has for me. However, that is a personal opinion and it doesn't mean I can force anyone to engage with deep philosophical manifestos on what it isto be human in this world. And even less that I want to do that, despite me thinking that literally ANYONE could benefit from reading that kind of thing. But you NEED to be able to read complex texts outside of your comfort zone for honest to god survival. I am so fucking serious.

And, hey! The good news is that this is not some secret mystical power you either get blessed with or not. It is a skill you can train, by reading challenging material. Books with more complex sentence structures, more nuanced ideas or arguments. Books that force you to think about them. I hate to say it but the only way to get better at reading is to read. It doesn't have to be fiction but i will be very real with you, I doubt that - if you're putting down a book because it's unreadable to you based on the chosen perspective - you'll be the type to pick up scientific essays or anything like that.

Don't cut yourself off from vital skills by locking your mind in a box. You are capable to handle those more complex texts, and I'd wager you'll even enjoy it once you find your niche (yes! you still get to have preferences!). You just need to give yourself a chance to learn.

[amiableness]

Peonies ; part five

Pairing: Theo Nott x Fem!Reader

Summary: Everything is a mess after Mattheo visits the infirmary.

Word Count: 3833

Warnings: Unrequited love. The chapter is just full on angst, honestly. Mentions of drugging? Y/n is used once. Let me know if there’s more!

A/N 💌 This is short and mainly focuses on Mattheo, but the next (and final!) chapter will be even more satisfying because of it. Even though a lot of you are mad at Mattheo, hopefully this makes up for it. As usual thank you to @moonpascal for reading and giving me feedback, I don't know what I'd do without you.

SERIES MASTERLIST <3

“I don’t understand. He seemed fine when I left.” Theo mutters under his breath, his voice tense and barely audible over the sharp echo of your hurried footsteps bouncing off the stone walls as the three of you head to the infirmary.

“I don’t know,” Pansy sighs, her voice low and laced with frustration. “Everything seemed normal when I first got there, but then he just… snapped. It didn’t seem like anyone had said anything to set him off; everyone looked just as shocked as I was. He was so worked up—angry, completely irrational—that we all decided to take him to the infirmary. We thought maybe he’d hit his head or something.”

“But he didn’t.” You mutter, a sinking feeling settling in your stomach as Pansy’s words echo in your mind. A love potion. Veronica’s been giving him a love potion. The thought replays, each repetition tightening the knot in your chest.

“No. It didn’t take long for Madam Pomfrey to realize he’d been given a love potion. One so badly brewed that it’s been fucking with his emotions.”

Pansy shakes her head, her expression twisted in frustration. “Veronica came in, putting on her best worried girlfriend act. When I first confronted her about a love potion, she played innocent, swearing up and down she’d never hurt him because she ‘loved’ him.” Pansy scoffs, anger simmering in her eyes. “But after enough yelling, she finally admitted it. She’d been giving him a potion, and things only went wrong because she tried to make it stronger—his feelings had started shifting, and she couldn’t stand it.”

A wave of sickness washes over you—anger and frustration curling together in a tight knot. For a moment, you consider darting to the right, heading straight for the restrooms to lose control in private, but you force yourself to steady your breath. This isn’t the time to fall apart.

For a brief, unsettling moment, you wonder if that’s why he confessed his feelings for you—not because he meant it, but because of the love potion’s influence. The thought stirs something confusing and hollow inside you, but now isn’t the time to untangle it. As you step into the infirmary, nerves coil tight in your stomach, but Theo’s hand slips into yours giving a reassuring squeeze, soothing you. You’re grateful for the touch—it’s the only thing keeping your anxiety from overwhelming you entirely.

“How is he?” Pansy asks, her voice tense as she strides ahead of you and Theo, reaching out to take Blaise’s hand. Draco and Enzo are there too, still in their practice clothes, looking out of place in the sterile, quiet room. Madam Pomfrey is nowhere in sight, but your eyes immediately catch the vial on the table next to him—whatever it is, it’s been left there, untouched for now.

You glance at Draco, casually leaning against a pillar near Mattheo’s bed, and Enzo, perched on the edge of the bed parallel to him. Neither of them looks particularly worried, which eases some of the tension in your chest. In fact, Draco seems to be listening intently as Enzo quietly details the reasons he’s been feeling off about Veronica. 

Then you finally allow your eyes to shift to the bed, where Mattheo lies back, his curls a wild tangle against the pillow. Dark circles shadow his eyes, and you can’t help but wonder if the love potion is to blame. His brow is furrowed, his gaze fixed on Enzo with a look of confusion, as though he’s struggling to piece something together.

“A little out of it,” Blaise says with a gentle smile, his eyes softening. “Pomfrey gave him something to counteract the potion.” He glances over Pansy’s head and spots you, offering a sympathetic smile your way. “He’s been asking for you.”

“I don’t know..” You trail off, your voice barely above a whisper, unsure of how Mattheo will react to seeing you. The last couple of months had clearly been tense and distant between you two—what was stopping him from starting another argument? The last thing he needed right now was more stress. But at the end of the day, he was your friend—he had been for years. What kind of friend would you be if you turned down his request to see you, especially when he asked for you specifically?

But it's too late to make a decision—Mattheo’s eyes shift, locking onto you. It’s immediate, the way he sits up slightly, his eyes brightening with recognition, and a loopy smile forming on his lips. “Hi, my love,” he says, his voice soft and warm as if nothing else matters in the room. 

Draco and Enzo both turn their heads toward you and for a moment, you stand frozen, your lips parted as you scramble for the right words. 

My love. 

It’s hard to know how to respond to that, and your friends don’t seem any more certain, their eyes darting nervously toward Theo as they exchange uneasy glances.

You take a step forward, letting go of Theo’s hand as you approach the edge of Mattheo’s bed. A twinge of guilt runs through you as you release his hand, but you push it aside, not wanting Mattheo to see the two of you together yet. Not in this state.

“Hi,” you murmur, your voice soft. Theo watches as Mattheo pats the spot next to him, an unspoken plea in his gesture, hoping you’ll come and lie beside him. Theo prays—desperately—that you won’t, that you’ll stay exactly where you are. It already hurts more than he can bear to have you let go of his hand, but if you climb into bed with Mattheo, it’ll feel like you’ve ripped his heart from his chest. And the thought of Mattheo calling you ‘my love’—he can’t even bring himself to think about it.

“The love potion must still be lingering in his system,” Draco mutters, his gaze flicking toward Theo. “That explains why he’s been so jealous of you two. Veronica messed up the potion so badly, he ended up falling for Y/n instead.”

The rhythmic click of Madam Pomfrey’s shoes fills the room as she enters. “The effects of the love potion have worn off, Mr. Malfoy,” she says crisply, her voice professional. “Whatever he says now is simply how he truly feels.” With a swift movement, she places a bowl on the bedside table, setting a cool cloth on Mattheo’s forehead with a practical, “For the fever.”

Mattheo flinches at the shock of the cool, damp cloth on his forehead, shooting Madam Pomfrey an irritated look, which she ignores entirely.

“Fever?” Enzo questions, and she gives a swift nod.

“As I mentioned, the effects have worn off,” she explains, “but his body still needs time to purge the potion from his system, which is why he has a fever. It should break by morning, and he’ll be back to himself.”

Madam Pomfrey dips the cloth back into the water, preparing to place it on Mattheo’s forehead again, but he turns his head, ducking away. Her gaze shifts to you, and she extends the cloth with a small, knowing smile. “Perhaps it would be best if you handled this.”

Part of you wants to tell her you can’t. It feels wrong to tend to Mattheo, especially with Theo standing right there. A few months ago, you’d have agreed without a second thought. But things are different now—distant and messy in ways you don’t quite understand. Still, with Madam Pomfrey watching you so expectantly and now Mattheo’s gaze fixed intently on you, saying no feels impossible.

So, you step forward, taking the cloth from her hand before carefully settling onto the edge of his bed. Leaning in, you dab his forehead gently, your movements cautious and deliberate. Mattheo watches you intently, but you keep your gaze firmly on the task, avoiding his eyes as you work. 

“You know,” Mattheo murmurs, his voice soft and a little slurred, “I think you’re perfect.” For a moment, you freeze, your eyes darting to meet his.

“Oh.” It’s all you manage, the word slipping out as you quickly refocus on dabbing his forehead, ignoring the warmth spreading through your veins. Embarrassment prickles over you, knowing your friends are standing there, their whispered reactions confirming they heard every word Mattheo said. But when you glance up and catch Theo’s expression, your heart sinks—he heard it too.

Theo meets your gaze, and you silently hope he understands—you’re sorry. Sorry that you’re the one Mattheo wants right now, and that if you could pass this task to Enzo, you would. But guilt tugs at you, knowing that Mattheo’s emotions have been chaotic because of the love potion. Could you truly hold his actions against him?

Mattheo’s fingers brush lightly against your wrist, drawing your attention back to him. His gaze is unwavering, soft with a raw vulnerability that you’ve rarely seen in him. “You’re so perfect,” He repeats. “And I’ve only ever wanted to be good enough for you.” His fingers brush against your skin, and you freeze—shock, guilt, and frustration rising within you. You swallow it all down, forcing yourself to keep calm as you murmur for him to rest, resuming your task of blotting his forehead.

Theo watches as you continue to take care of Mattheo, who continues to brush his fingers against your free hand as he looks up at you as if you’re the only girl he’s ever loved. A wave of nausea rises in Theo as he watches his best friend touch you, gaze at you as if you’re an angel—the girl he loves so fiercely it hurts. His jaw clenches, a subconscious effort to keep his mouth shut and prevent himself from snapping at Mattheo to keep his hands off you. He knows he has no right to be jealous—not when you were never truly his to begin with.

The thought hits him so hard and painfully that he feels like he can’t breathe. Without a word, he turns and walks out of the infirmary, and no matter how badly he wants to turn and look at you, he doesn’t.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

By the next morning, Mattheo is back to himself—at least, that’s what everyone’s been saying. Theo knows this because it’s all anyone can talk about. He’s not sure how the news spread so fast, but he’s willing to bet Pansy had something to do with it. Not intentionally, of course; he just knows she tends to speak loudly when she’s worked up, and he’s been aware of her suspicions about Veronica for months. You’d told him all about how Pansy had been convinced something was off with Veronica, but you hadn’t wanted to get into the details.

After spending the entire morning catching snippets of gossip, Theo decided the library would be his refuge for some peace and quiet. For a while, the back corner had offered him just that—until two girls settled on the other side of the bookshelf. Unfortunately, that meant he could hear every word they said, and it didn't take long for their chatter to break the silence he'd been craving.

“Did you hear about Mattheo Riddle?” An eager voice asked, accompanied by the screech of a chair being dragged out.

“You mean how his girlfriend slipped him a love potion?” Came the bored reply, the words dripping with indifference.

“Uh huh,” Theo pictures the first girl nodding. “I’m not surprised though.”

“Amelia,” The second voice sighed. “That’s an awful thing to say.”

“I just mean because even when he was with Veronica, he was still chasing after Y/n.” Theo feels his stomach drop, the urge to get up and leave washing over him. He starts to pack his bag, his movements quick and automatic, but then their next words slow his movements. He freezes, his hands stilling midair—he’s listening closely now.

“I thought she was dating Theo Nott.” The second girl speaks, her voice tinged with confusion, clearly already tired of the conversation.

“I think that’s just a rumor.” Amelia denies, and even though she's technically right, Theo feels a surge of defensiveness rise within him.

“Oh,” Girl two murmurs. “I could’ve sworn they were.”

Amelia hums, “No, I think she’ll end up with Mattheo.”

That pushes Theo into motion. He hastily stuffs everything into his bag, determination flooding through him, though his stomach twists with nerves. He has to tell you how he feels. He wants a chance—even if you choose Mattheo, at least he’ll never have to wonder what might have been between you two.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

When Theo finally spots you, he wishes he’d stayed in the library. You’re sitting on one of the couches, your back turned to him, but he can tell by the open book beside you—left unread—that you’ve long since lost focus. But that isn’t what bothers him.

No, the real problem is Mattheo, seated right beside you, facing you fully, his gaze intense and longing, “Please, love.”

“Mattheo—”

“If there’s even a part of you that feels something for me, just give me a chance,” Mattheo says, his voice low, edging closer to you. Theo’s stomach tightens as he watches. “I know I should’ve told you sooner—before any of this.”

“It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours,” you murmur, your eyes drifting to Mattheo. “I think you need to focus on resting, clearing your head before we can figure any of this out.”

“I’ve got a clear head, love,” he insists, his voice steady despite the weight of it all. You sigh, your gaze dropping for a moment. 

“Honestly,” he continues, his words softer, “you’re the only thing I’ve ever been clear-headed about.”

You fall silent for a moment, your gaze fixed on the flickering flames in the fireplace. Theo watches Mattheo watch you, a quiet tension in the air. He’s thankful for the shadows that stretch across the room, hiding his frame, because if they didn’t, Mattheo would no doubt see him standing there.

Mattheo whispers your name, his voice heavy with longing and desperation, the sound so raw it nearly knocks Theo off balance—mirroring the same ache that's tearing through him. “If you were mine…” Mattheo pauses, his gaze locked on yours. “I swear, I’d never give you a reason to regret it.”

Theo fights the overwhelming urge to make himself known, to grab your hand and plead with you to choose him instead. He’d fall to his knees and beg if it meant even the slightest chance with you—though he knows you’d never have to ask. He’d do it willingly, without hesitation, dropping down and promising you the world if only you’d agree to be his. 

He wants to tell you to remember these past few months, to think of last night’s kiss. To tell you he’s certain he fell in love with you the moment he saw you—that every vision he has of the future has you at the center of it.

But instead, he watches, a cold sense of dread settling in his chest, as you slowly reach out and intertwine your fingers with Mattheo’s. You don’t say anything, but it’s clear to him that words aren’t necessary—because at this moment, he realizes he has never stood a chance.

It was always going to be Mattheo.

It feels like a cruel echo of last night—that same sinking realization that no matter how hard he tries, he’ll never be what you want. It feels like he can’t get a proper breath in, so he turns and leaves, unwilling to stay and hear just how deeply your heart belongs to Mattheo.

He hadn’t seen your face, but if he had, he would’ve noticed the unease and discomfort in your expression as you turn to look at Mattheo, preparing yourself to turn him down as gently as possible.

“Mattheo, I can’t,” you whisper, your voice soft but steady as you squeeze his hand. The words come slowly, carefully, as if you’re afraid of shattering him. “I really can’t, and I’m sorry.”

He swallows hard, his jaw tightening as he looks away, frustration flickering in his eyes. When his gaze returns to you, it’s filled with a quiet vulnerability. “If I’d made a move… before all of this,” he asks softly, “would you have said yes?”

“Yes,” you admit softly. He sits up straighter, and you can already see the determination flickering in his eyes, ready to argue, ready to convince you. But you press on before he can speak. “But everything is different, Mattheo—Veronica, us drifting apart...” You pause, your voice faltering. “...Theo.” You roll your lips together, trying to suppress the wave of emotion that just saying Theo’s name stirs inside you.

Mattheo sighs, a subtle shake of his head as his gaze drops to your intertwined fingers, his thumb grazing the back of your hand. He watches it with a quiet intensity, as if he’s trying to memorize the feel of it, and your heart cracks at the sight, the ache of it almost too much to bear.

“I’m sure you knew,” You start, embarrassment coloring your tone. “For the longest time, I had feelings for you. I spent so much time hoping—wishing—that you'd feel the same. That you'd stop with the one-night stands and realize that you wanted me just as much as I wanted you. I was convinced, you know? Convinced that because I understood you better than anyone, or at least I thought I did, that you’d finally feel safe enough with me to let me in.”

“But I did,” he says, his voice thick with regret. “The whole time, I wanted you. But Gods, the way Theo’s always looked at you... I couldn’t make a move. I knew it would tear him apart if we got together. So I waited, told myself I was giving him time to make his move—but he never did. I built myself up, so many times, ready to ask you out, to make you mine. But then I’d always freeze, thinking, ‘What if things don’t work out?’ And I’d lose both of my best friends.”

He shakes his head, refusing to meet your gaze. “But then Veronica started giving me that potion, and I—I had feelings for her, but every time I’d see you, it was like that’s all I could focus on. And then suddenly, you’re with Theo, holding his hand, spending the night with him, and it felt like I was losing my mind. It hurt, seeing you with him. And maybe it’s selfish, but I had to know, had to see if there was any chance left with you. Because watching you two together made me realize that what I was really afraid of was losing you completely.”

You’re at a loss for words, your mind failing to catch up to the fact that Theo has feelings for you- and he has for years. So you offer Mattheo a weak, sad smile, the tears gathering at your lashes threatening to spill over. He squeezes your hand, and you sigh, squeezing it back. You’re both sat in the quiet common room, except for your occasional sniffle, for who knows how long, holding each others hand and watching the flames dance.

Mattheo clears his throat, a slight tension in his shoulders as he glances over at you, “When are you going to tell him you love him?”

You hesitate, a knot forming in your throat as your words trip over themselves. “I don’t—I’m not…” You falter, but Mattheo sends you a knowing look. “It’s just... too soon.”

“It’s not.” His voice is firm. 

“How do you know?” The question slips from your lips before you can stop it, and immediately, guilt lances through you. It feels wrong to ask, especially after he’s just laid his feelings bare.

“Because he’s been in love with you for years,” Mattheo smiles, but it’s nothing you’ve ever seen from him before. “Trust me, it’s not going to be too soon for him to hear.”

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

He’s on his way to practice when your voice cuts through the quiet hum of the common room, calling his name. His stomach sinks, the realization hitting hard—he’s going to have to face you after days of successfully keeping his distance. Reluctantly, he turns toward you, and there you are, seated comfortably in one of the plush chairs near the fire. A sweet smile on your lips, and resting on your lap is a book—likely the same one he noticed you holding when you were talking to Mattheo. That puts a bitter taste in his mouth.

There’s something different about you. His gaze lingers, tracing the way the soft flicker of the flames paints your features in warm, golden light. You look gorgeous, as always, but there’s an unmistakable lightness about you now, a brightness that wasn’t there before. A taunting thought creeps into his mind: this is his doing. You look happier—because you’ve finally gotten everything you’ve ever wanted. Mattheo Riddle.

“I haven’t seen you much.” You say, leaning forward as he slowly walks towards you.

He shrugs, slipping his hands into his pockets with a casual ease that doesn’t quite match the tension in his voice. “Yeah, I’ve got a lot going on.”

You knew this already. Every time you asked the boys about him, there was always a new excuse for why he hadn’t been around: He’s behind on his assignments. He’s gotten detention. He isn’t feeling well. He’s taking a nap. 

“So I’ve heard.” You say lightly, teasingly. “I actually wanted to know if you wanted to go to Hogsmeade, since we didn’t last time.” A soft smile curves at the memory of him taking you to the flower field.

You saw the look on his face that day, the way he was clearly bothered by you taking care of Mattheo. But you figured spending time together would be the perfect opportunity to set things straight. To tell him it meant nothing, that you turned Mattheo down, and that all you truly want is him. It’s a surprisingly good feeling, better than you imagined, knowing that Mattheo is aware of your feelings for Theo—and that he actually encouraged you to go for it.

His eyes meet yours briefly before darting away, and he rakes a hand through his hair, a nervous edge to the motion. “Oh, uh... I can’t.”

“Oh, okay.” You respond, your voice barely hiding the disappointment. An awkward silence settles between you, and Theo avoids your gaze, leaving you sitting there, a little wounded.

“Actually, dolcezza,” he says softly, and your heart flutters at the familiar nickname, hope sparking in your chest. But then his next words land like a blow. “I can’t spend time with you anymore.”

Your heart sinks, the statement feels like a bucket of cold water to the face. “What?” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

“I’m glad you’re happy,” he continues, his tone heavy with sincerity, “but I can’t be around you the way we were before. Not when you’re with him.”

please please please consider reblogging or leaving a comment! it keeps me motivated to write, and reblogs help to spread my work. likes don't spread posts on tumblr 🤍

[sturnlsstuff]

PANCAKES | chris sturniolo

in which you made your boyfriend pancakes, later finding out he doesn't like them.

fluff, no warnings, based on this request !!

you've never felt more stupid in your life than when you found out from the new triplets' Q&A video, that Chris doesn't like pancakes. which was ridiculous, you made him chocolate chip pancakes three weeks ago while visiting him and he didn't say a word.

you just found out about it while watching their video on your flight to los angeles for your second visit. wondering how you didn't notice it, but how were you supposed to, when he ate the pancakes with a smile on his face and gave you a kiss on the forehead, telling you how yummy it was? but you still felt bad, you've been in a long distance relationship with chris for almost two months now, thinking that you already knew him better than that, but clearly not.

having spent the entire day at the triplets' place with chris, it was finally evening and you both got hungry. you were now in the kitchen wondering what you wanted to eat, when you decided to see if he would lie to you again.

"i can make the chocolate chip pancakes if you want... y'know the ones i made the last time i visited you," you say, leaning against the counter and watching him closely, seeing how he pauses for a second, but then turns to you with a smile on his face. now you knew it was a fake smile.

"sounds so good, ma, but maybe we could eat some pizza?" he swallows, trying to sound casual and turns back to you, clearly avoiding your gaze and he grabs a can of pepsi from the fridge. "s'late anyway, maybe you could do the pancakes tomorrow morning, hm?"

narrowing your eyes, this time you can clearly see that he doesn't like these fucking pancakes. makes you wonder how you could be so stupid, not to notice what your own boyfriend likes or dislikes.

"i kinda feel like eating pancakes though," you say only to see if he's gonna finally say the truth or not. chris looks back at you, the wheels in his head racing, trying to think of any reason not to make these pancakes. he felt bad really, but he just loved you so much, he was ready to eat something he doesn't like again so as not to make you upset.

"a'ight, fine." he nods, taking a sip of his soda before putting it down and already starting to look for ingredients. "whatever y'want, baby."

the little smile he gave you, the way he was ready to actually do it, makes your heart race. it was a little thing, but the fact he'd actually force himself to eat something he dislikes and not say a thing, was making you feel bad for him and at the same time love him even more.

"chris." you say bluntly, walking closer and taking the bowl from his hands onto the counter, causing his attention come back to you. "why are you doing this?"

"what?" a frown appears between his eyebrows as he looks down at you, his blue eyes intense, "'cause we're hungry? and you wan' pancakes—"

"no, not that." you sigh and confront him, "i mean, you don't even like pancakes, so why do you wanna make them with me anyway?"

"huh?" he immediately starts denying it, "that's not... what are ya talkin' about--?"

"i watched the new video." you confess, seeing how his expressions changes from confusion to understanding and then guilt. seeing him want to interrupt, you shake your head and continue, "why didn't you tell me that you don't like pancakes? i made them for you and you just ate them, not saying a simple word—"

"it's not..."

"...you could just tell me, i would make something else! it was enough to say that you're not a big fan of them and it's fine, i would immediately..." chris tries to cut off your yap, but you just keep going, "... and then i'm looking on tiktok, realizing even your own fans know, but not me when i'm supposed to be your girlfriend, which means i don't know you at all, which means i'm a terrible girlfriend and i feel stupid and i'm awful and—"

the feeling of his hands cupping your cheeks and his lips pressing against yours, shut you up. you hum in response as he kisses you, your hands fall to either side of your body. a few seconds later he pulls away slightly, looking into your eyes and raising his eyebrows, "you done?"

you just pout, still feeling awful, while chris continues cupping your cheeks. "call y'self a bad girlfriend again and i'll fight you," he says sarcastically, but then adds more seriously, "s'just pancakes. and yours were really fuckin' delish, so stop callin' y'self awful."

"but you don't like pancakes..."

"yeah, i don't, but..."

"so why didn't you just tell me?!"

chris sighs, now feeling guilty that you found out the way you did, causing you to feel bad of yourself. "what, was i supposed to break your heart and not eat the food y'made f'me, when you were so excited?"

"chris, i'm a big girl, i would survive it." you roll your eyes, "i wouldn't wanna force you to eat something you don't like. especially lying to me that it was good—"

"hey." he cuts you off, "relax. i didn't lie, it was in fact really yummy."

giving him a glare, you mutter, "now you're just saying that to make me feel better..."

"no." he shakes his head, "m'sayin' that 'cause it's true. i don't like pancakes, but you did a great job. end of story."

he steps back, while you keep pouting. you wanted to believe him, but he probably wouldn't even tell you if the pancakes were awful, so as not to upset you.

chris sees that you're still unsure, so he speaks up again, before taking a sip of his pepsi, "listen, baby, i'd tell ya, yeah? at some point... but that was your first visit here, you took time to make me breakfast 'n you were so happy. that's why i couldn't spit it out." he glares at you, "but i mean it when i say it was good. if i had to eat it again, i'd chose you to make 'em."

your face finally lights up with a little smile, which causes chris to grin as well, "there she is..."

"next time i wanna know from you if you don't like something. not from the internet. got it?" trying to look scary, you point your finger at him, but it only causes chris to chuckle.

"yes, ma'am."

"now gimme some eggs, i'll make waffles..." then you pause, giving him a suspicious stare, "you do like waffles?"

"yes. oh god, yes i do." his eyes sparkle when he opens the fridge and starts giving you the ingredients you need. "if y'make me some waffles, i'll actually take you out on a date tomorrow."

"perfect."

@certifiedstarrr @chrislovespepsi @le4hsblog @sturnsxbitvh @sweetlikesug4rvenom @xaristhings @mattsfavbitchhh @lvrsturniolo @r0s3luvr @madisonsturnioloss @chrispillowprincess

[frownyalfred]

Hi, you said "no I don't know him"/"he's my dad" and dealt me immediate psychic damage please say more words that hopefully make this better

(spoiler alert: nothing can erase the inherent tragedy of this)

the ask/prompt was about Dick and Bruce not acknowledging each other in the League, right? so kind of playing with this identity porn idea of Batman and Nightwing both being separate vigilantes working with the League with no outward, immediately obvious, or self-professed connection between them other than both being from Gotham (which might not even be something they reveal, for OpSec reasons).

Why would they choose to do this? Maybe Bruce wants to eliminate any connections between them to make it even harder to guess their secret identities. Having two pieces of the puzzle always makes it easier to solve than if you only have one.

Maybe Dick wants to be his own vigilante, separate from Batman's influence, and stand on his own with the League. Maybe he wants to put space between him and Robin, and asks Bruce not to fully acknowledge him outside of Gotham.

Maybe it's a mix of both? Or maybe it just never truly comes up, and both of them are too smart and well-trained as a default to give anything away in front of the League. Maybe the League knows that they know each other, that they've worked together before, but nothing more than that.

And what even ties Nightwing to Batman, really? Funding, the suit, the relationship to Robin, but none of those are immediately apparent. Gotham is a common denominator, but there are multiple vigilantes in most major US cities and Nightwing largely operates in Bludhaven. Training/fighting style? Also hard to identify without being in the know. Essentially, if they don't say anything to the League, how much can the average person even infer, much less notice?

So those two lines stuck out to me. In response to a well-meaning or confused League member asking if Dick knows Batman, he really only has two possible responses: "No, I don't know him" or the truth.

That there is a connection between them, and it's actually damn near sacred. He was, is, Batman's partner. He knows Bruce like almost no one else does. They're spoken about in the same breath. Or they were, once upon a time. They have mirrored beginnings, twin motivations. They fallback on each other, even when they're fighting bitterly. Dick is still who Alfred calls, when Bruce is in a self-destructive rut. And vice versa.

But what would prompt Dick to break that code of silence? I guess it depends on why it exists. And so for that second response -- "That's my dad" -- I was thinking of a situation where it was because of Dick's need to be separate from Batman. And Bruce obliges the secrecy, because it's logical and also Dick asked. But one day Bruce is injured on a mission, or hurting somehow, and the League is panicked trying to figure out what to do and Dick is right there. Batman's partner is a foot away and nobody knows. And Dick suddenly has to make a decision that is, in that instant, more easy than anything he's ever done.

"That's my dad."

[jweekgoji]

Can you do another part of yandere D-16, please 😭 I love the stories so much! Make us pleasure him so bad until he's wimpering, then tons of aftercare! And make us love him, not just a one-night stand 😭

Yandere!D-16/Reader

tw: some minot changes in canon, slight yandere themes, valve fingering (MDNI), gn!reader, D-16 has a valve, sub!D-16, soft dom!reader, power dynamic cogged!reader/cogless!d-16. word count: ~1650 a/n: this can be considered as a second part to this. but I think (??) it also can be related to this. probably somewhere between the other two I wrote before. there are a few similar requests about d-16, but I want to do all of them differently as much as my creativity lets me. tagging since I was asked: @that-one-weeb-buts-its-the-main

The day D-16 met you felt like experiencing one of those vivid dreams he constantly had. His whole body was in pain; the loud ringing in the processor made his optics see the tiny stars circling around him in the air. Thank you, Pax, this is exactly how he wanted to spend his day! And totally not to ogle your sleek, shiny alt mode from his seat..!

Oh no, oh, Primus. You probably saw it all too, aren't you?

D-16 groaned in pain as he tried to sit up. He leaned his frame against the wall, holding onto the dented shoulder. Orion left him waiting here, all alone, as the blue-and-red mech tried to endlessly explain the situation they were in. The optimism this guy sometimes had...he can only pray in his mind that somehow you hadn't seen him failing on the race.

Maybe you had never noticed him, just passed through without paying attention. Yeah, this is more like true. After all, he's so  gray in every sense of the word; among all the other miner bots, how is he any different? Too small in this world to be noticed.

The day was a disaster of any means. The cold looks he received from other racers as he waited for the repair, that awkward meeting with Sentinel, and of course, Darkwing just had to be there too. The moment Orion and him leave this area and go back to mines, there's no escape from their supervisor. How much more lucky does he get today again?

D-16 was nervous to the core of his spark. The thoughts of “Why did I even follow him...especially on the day when Sentinel Prime arrived?” or “I hope they don't know it was me” flooding his mind.

Another worst thing was, you hadn't even won the race! Chromia got before you just in mere seconds, and the possibility of him, being the reason behind this fail only made D-16 sigh in disappointment. 

“You and your friend put on quite a show today,” your voice suddenly came from beside him.

D-16 almost jumped up from his seat at the sight of you, and for a moment, his spark stopped beating. He barely had time to process what you told him before suddenly, the little miner rises to his feet and looks up at you with those big optics.

You saw that his mouth was open, but not a single word came out from his mouth. The poor thing was so scared, he had so many thoughts running through his head, but he couldn't pick a single one to voice it to you. You could only calm him down slightly by holding your hands in the air, trying to show that you didn't mean any malice.

“I'm sorry, I probably ruined your chance of winning this race,” his optics ran his eyes around as if he was trying to find the right words to say to you. “I'm a big fan, and I would never want-”

“I was going to say that you two actually made this race a little more interesting than usual,” you interrupted him. “Racing against the same bots isn't as interesting as it used to be. I admire that.”

You admire him. D-16 falls silent again, but even though he's stopped saying anything then, his optics perfectly captured all the thoughts in his processor. Love.

He never thought he'd ever meet a bot in a higher position than him who would treat him with a speck of kindness. That brief moment when the Sentinel shook his hand was the first such occasion. His idol, standing right next to him, shook his hand. Somebody pinch him harder!

Then there was you. Someone who had always held a special place in his spark. So small, incredibly fragile in your hands, but every time D-16 is near you, it beats so hard, as if your mere presence is enough to give him more strength.

He doesn't know what you see in him. He's an ordinary and insignificant miner, there are hundreds if not thousands like him. Even Primus didn't give him any bright colors.

He never had a chance to think about standards of beauty, certainly there was barely enough time to rest after hours of non-stop work. There were one time he could hear the conversation between the supervisors as they discussed the celebrities of Iacon. Blurr, Windblade, Rosanna, they all just glowed in relation to the dull, battered frames of his coworkers, definitely not the ideal of beauty that exists on Cybertron.

And yet, here you are, right next to him, and your hands are holding him so gently, so close to your chassis. He moans softly as you move your fingers inside him. Only two, no more, no matter how often he begged and whimpered for you to add another, you always denied him.

“Just relax and feel every touch from me,” you kiss the corner of his mouth softly.

Right. Calm down, D. You're already giving him too much time, begging you for more would be wrong, he doesn't want to seem pushy to you. If this continues, you'll just get disappointed in him and walk away.

“Mgggh...!” D-16 instinctively arched his back. A loud, needy moan once again escapes his lips.

Sometimes he feels like, aside from your obvious charm, you can definitely read his mind, and your every slightest movement is calculated to make him forget his rank.

He's so wet, the lube coating your fingers and already managing to slowly flow down his inner thighs. For a second, you think about just flipping him over on his back and burying your head between his legs, making him scream and beg to give him a break from the endless round of overloads you're giving him.

But no, that would be too much for the first time, wouldn't it? You don't want to scare the poor, little miner away with your twisted thoughts. Not now, anyway.

In the time it takes you to give yourself to daydream, D-16 only gets more impatient. Moving his hips, he practically fucks himself with your fingers. His head is thrown back, and the servos cling tightly to your shoulders, squeezing gently, each time he lowers his own body down.

He feels so full, but that small, carnal desire for more can't help but pollute his mind. More, more, please give him more. Perhaps because of a sliver of fear that you're about to leave again, he'll be left alone and with nothing, and all he'll have are memories. He wants to get as much as he can while there's still a chance.

“Careful, or you'll hurt yourself,” you gently lay your other servo on his waist.

Tiny. You can't help but want to run your finger over every little bump on his body, every little rough edge...something about him fascinates you, that slight naivety and eagerness to make you proud. He's just hard to say no to.

You gently guide his movements. He's inexperienced, but the desire for something more, even though he hardly knows what he's doing, clouds his mind. You feel his tight, small valve squeezing your digits like a vise. His initially quiet, needy meows grow louder, and by the little blush on his cheeks, you realize he's embarrassed.

“Can I overload? Please,” he whimpers shyly, hiding his face in the curve of your neck. “Ahhh...I'm so sorry, I can't take it anymore.”

How sweet. You've convinced him so many times that it's okay, he shouldn't have to keep hiding his pretty face every time you hold him like this. You don't care what position he takes, miner or not, you want him to feel like an equal. He deserves to be pleasured just as much. To love and be loved.

You nod, making a mental note to talk to him about it later. His habit of pleasing bots ranking above him just kills you.

D-16 wraps his arms around your neck, leaning slightly closer, as much as he can. He so wishes it was your spike instead of your fingers, stretching his valve with every thrust.

But he'll never admit it, he'd rather take whatever you offer him, because he loves you so much. Every touch from you, every glance in his direction, it's all so overwhelming.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you-” he repeats over and over, his hips desperately meeting every thrust of your fingers inside him.

You feel him squeeze your digits again, his breathing halting for a moment before he exhales heavily and then nearly collapses on top of you.

D-16 leans his forehead against yours, closing his optics to slowly gather his thoughts. You barely move your fingers, still deep inside him, and even a slight twitch earns a whimper from him. Still very sensitive, you should definitely work on his stamina.

You gently take his chin, tilting his head up to give him a small kiss. He moans softly, but reciprocates the kiss.

D-16 has never seemed plain to you. Unusually strong despite his height and lack of t-cog, his body covered in many scratches after cycles of hard work. But now you are treating him with such care.

 He cherishes it so much. Sometimes he wonders if you have any idea how many times he's touched himself, with you in mind? How an embarrassingly lot of pictures of you he keeps plastered all over the wall? I guess that's a question for another day.

You may not have won the race, but you got more than that today.

[flowerbunnyboo]

FUCKING THE BESTFRIEND’S BROTHER | back

starring: niki x male reader

summary: Niki is Mn’s brothers best friend and Mn has always had a crush on Niki. Niki spots Mn alone at a party and takes him away from the loud noise only to fuck him on the deck

nsfw

a/n: when can he fuck me?

Mn could never gather the courage to speak to his brother’s best friend. Mn would only stare, stare long at that handsome face with those sharp features.

“You should talk to him, Mn, he doesn’t bite”, Jay pushed his brother ahead. Mn shrugged his shoulders and made his way out of the practice room where Niki was practicing. However little did Mn know, a pair of sharp eyes were eyeing him.

Niki sauntered through the crowded party, his chiseled features and athletic build drawing admiring glances from both guys and girls alike. As the star quarterback of the high school football team, he was used to being the center of attention. But amidst the sea of familiar faces, one figure stood out to him - his best friend’s brother, Mn.

Mn sat alone on a couch, nursing a beer and looking utterly out of place among the revelers. Niki knew the boy well; quiet, bookish, and perpetually tongue-tied whenever Niki was near. It wasn't lost on Niki that Mn had harbored a secret crush on him for years, though he'd never mustered the courage to act on it.

Niki made his way over to Mn, a friendly smile on his face. "Hey, man," he said, plopping down beside him. "Having fun?"

Mn looked up, his eyes wide and nervous behind thick-framed glasses. "Uh, yeah...it's okay, I guess," he replied, fiddling with his beer bottle.

Niki noticed Mn's agitation and decided to put him at ease. "Listen, why don't we ditch this scene and grab some fresh air? The night's young, and I could use a break from all these people."

Mn's eyes lit up, though he quickly masked his excitement. "S-sure, if you want to," he stammered.

Hand in hand, they slipped out of the house and onto the moonlit lawn.

Niki guided Mn towards the edge of the property, where a narrow path wound its way down to the riverbank. The water glistened silver in the moonlight, creating a peaceful backdrop for their impromptu escape.

As they reached the bottom, Niki turned to face Mn, his gaze intense. "You know, I've always wondered about you, Mn," he said, his voice low and sincere. "Why you're always so quiet around me, what's really going on in that brilliant mind of yours."

Mn's cheeks flushed a deep crimson, and he looked away, unable to meet Niki's piercing stare. "I-I just...appreciate you, Niki. As a friend, as a person. You're amazing, and I feel lucky to know you."

Niki's heart swelled at Mn's words, realizing just how deeply Mn cared for him. He reached out, gently tilting Mn's chin upwards to force eye contact.

"You're amazing too, Mn," Niki whispered, his thumb tracing the soft curve of Mn's lower lip. "And I think maybe there's more to our friendship than either of us realized."

Before Mn could respond, Niki closed the distance between them, capturing Mn's mouth in a passionate kiss. Mn melted into the embrace, his lips parting eagerly as Niki explored the warm cavern of his mouth.

They broke apart for air, chests heaving, eyes locked in a smoldering gaze. "Fuck, Mn," Niki breathed, "I want to fuck you so bad right now."

Mn nodded frantically, his own desire evident in the bulge straining against his jeans.

Without another word, Niki scooped Mn up into his arms and carried him towards the old wooden dock jutting out into the river. He laid Mn down on the weathered planks, his body pressing against Mn's as he captured his lips once more in a searing kiss.

Their tongues danced, exploring each other's mouths with growing urgency. Niki's hands roamed freely over Mn's slender frame, mapping the contours of his torso, teasing the sensitive skin of his sides.

Mn arched into Niki's touch, his fingers digging into the strong muscles of Niki's back. He moaned softly into the kiss, his hips rocking against Niki's in a desperate bid for friction.

Breaking the kiss, Niki looked down at Mn, his eyes blazing with lust. "Tell me you want this, Mn," he commanded, his voice rough with need. "Want you, Niki," Mn gasped, his chest heaving. "Need you."

Niki grinned, a wicked gleam in his eye. "Then let's make this happen," he growled, leaning down to nip at Mn's earlobe.

He worked open Mn's belt and zipper, sliding his hand inside to wrap around the hot, hard length of Mn's cock. Mn cried out, his back arching off the dock as Niki began to stroke him slowly, savoring the velvety texture.

"God, you feel incredible," Niki murmured, pumping Mn faster. "Can't wait to be buried deep inside you."

Mn's eyes rolled back, his grip on Niki's shoulders tightening. "Please, Niki...touch me everywhere..." he panted, his hips bucking into Niki's fist.

With a swift motion, Niki stripped off his own clothes, revealing his chiseled physique glistening with sweat in the moonlight. He positioned himself between Mn's spread thighs, the head of his cock brushing against Mn's slick entrance.

"I'm gonna take you slow and easy, baby," Niki promised, his voice husky with anticipation. "But once I start, I won't stop until we're both screaming with pleasure."

With that, he pushed forward, sinking inch by delicious inch into Mn's tight heat. Mn's back bowed, a strangled moan tearing from his throat as he adjusted to the sizeable intrusion.

Niki paused, giving Mn a moment to acclimate, before beginning to move. He set a leisurely pace, withdrawing almost completely before plunging back in, his thick shaft stretching Mn deliciously with each thrust.

Mn clung to Niki, his nails raking down Niki's back as he met each powerful drive with an eager lift of his hips. Their bodies moved in perfect sync, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing across the riverbank. “Fuck your hole is eating me up”, Niki moaned as he saw his dick go in and out of Mn’s pretty pink tight hole

Niki leaned down to capture Mn's mouth in a fierce kiss, swallowing his lover's whimpers and moans. His hands slid beneath Mn's ass, gripping the firm globes and pulling him closer, allowing him to piston deeper into Mn's welcoming heat.

“Ni-ki…fuck”, Mn could only mumble as he felt his ass being stretched by Niki’s big dick.

The pressure built, coiling tighter and tighter within them until finally, with a hoarse cry, they came undone. Niki's cock pulsed as he spilled his release inside Mn, while Mn's orgasm rocked through him, his vision blurring at the edges.

As the aftershocks subsided, Niki collapsed onto Mn, their chests heaving in unison. They lay entwined, basking in the afterglow of their passion.

After a moment, Niki lifted his head, gazing down at Mn with a tender expression. "That was incredible, Mn," he said, his voice filled with awe and gratitude. "You have no idea how long I've wanted this."

Mn smiled up at him, his eyes shining with happiness. "Me too, Niki. More than you can imagine."

Niki pressed a gentle kiss to Mn's forehead. "We should probably get cleaned up and sneak back inside before anyone notices we're missing," he suggested, reluctantly disentangling their limbs.

Mn nodded, sitting up and reaching for his clothes.

As they dressed in comfortable silence, Niki couldn't help but steal glances at Mn, marveling at the intimacy they had shared. He felt a sense of completeness, like a piece of him had clicked into place.

Once they were presentable again, Niki took Mn's hand, leading him back up the riverbank path. As they neared the house, he squeezed Mn's fingers reassuringly. "Whatever happens next, remember - you're mine now, Mn. And I'll never let you go."

Mn's heart skipped a beat at Niki's possessive declaration, a thrill of excitement mixed with trepidation coursing through him. He knew their relationship would never be the same, but he was ready to embrace whatever came next, as long as it meant staying by Niki's side.

©️ flowerbunnyboo 2024. all rights reserved to me. please don't copy my work or reshare without my permission and credit

[valkyrieromanoff]

God bless your dad's genetics… Dilf! Anakin x son’s girlfriend!reader

synopsis: when your best friend Luke asks you to pose as his girlfriend during his parents' 25th wedding anniversary cruise, you reluctantly agree. After all, you're single, he's desperate, and who can say no to an all-expenses-paid getaway? But what starts as a simple favor spirals into a tangled web of awkward introductions, suspicious relatives, and one undeniable complication: your growing, utterly inappropriate crush on Luke’s father, Anakin. Surrounded by the charming and chaotic Skywalker family, you’re forced to navigate the tricky waters of pretense, loyalty, and a passion you never saw coming.

warning: age gap (Anakin is 44 years old and the reader is in her early 20s), cheating, alternate universe, that's it for now, I'll add more warnings when the next chapters come out.

words: 1.1k

a/n: I confess that I've had this idea marinating for a while, and now seeing the latest photos of Hayden at comic-con, he's so dad coded. So, I decided to take a chance and start a story, I don't know how many chapters there will be yet, but I'm excited to see where it will take us... Slightly inspired by Fuck your boyfriend('s dad) by forcemeanakin, I'm obsessed with her writing… Anyway, that's it, I hope you like it ;)

CHAPTER ONE: CRUISE

you were meant for me to find

it's out of my hands

there's nothing left to do but

cruise and just enjoy the ride

“Wait a second, let me get this straight…” you interrupted Luke, raising your hands to halt his rapid-fire explanation. He’d been talking non-stop for nearly five minutes, and you were still struggling to piece it all together. “You want me to pretend to be your girlfriend at your parents’ 25th wedding anniversary? Why on earth do you even need a fake girlfriend?” You adjusted yourself on the bed, pulling a pillow against your chest for comfort, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Luke let out a long, dramatic sigh, raking a hand through his messy blond hair. “You know how my parents are… always in my business. And now with Leia bringing her boyfriend, I just don’t want to be the only one showing up alone.” He looked at you with those pleading puppy-dog eyes, his voice softening. “Come on, just this once. Please? Didn’t you say you wanted to go on a cruise someday? Here’s your chance.”

You arched an amused eyebrow. “So, what—you’re trying to bribe me now?”

Luke shifted uncomfortably, fiddling with a loose thread on his jacket. “Well, when you put it like that…” he muttered sheepishly. “Look, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. I—I trust you, okay? You’re the only person I can count on for this.”

His desperation was hard to ignore. You exhaled slowly, shaking your head. “Fine, I’ll do it,” you said, a reluctant smile tugging at your lips. “But only because of the all-inclusive package. Don’t think this means I approve of your ridiculous plan.”

A grin split across Luke’s face as he lunged forward to hug you. “Thank you! Seriously, you’re saving my life here.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered, pushing him back playfully. “But if this backfires, you owe me big time.”

Luke hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “Right, um… about that. I might have already put your name on the guest list.” 

Your eyes narrowed as you shoved his shoulder. “You what? Idiot.”

---

Now, a few days later, you found yourself standing on the pier, the midday sun beating down mercilessly. You checked your phone for the third time, scrolling through messages with a faint scowl. Still no word from Luke. If he left you waiting much longer, you were seriously going to kill him.

“Hey!” His voice cut through the buzz of the crowded dock. You turned to see him jogging toward you, a backpack slung casually over one shoulder. He looked a little too cheerful for someone who had left you baking in the sun.

“You’re late,” you called, crossing your arms as he approached. 

“Fashionably,” he quipped with a smirk, completely unbothered by your glare.

“thought you’d forgotten about me,” you teased, elbowing Luke lightly in the chest as he finally reached you.

Luke shrugged, offering a sheepish grin. “Blame my parents. They were running late because my dad accidentally packed the wrong suitcase for my mom. Total chaos—everyone was scrambling to fix it.”

You chuckled, imagining the scene. Though you hadn’t met Luke’s family yet, you’d heard plenty about them over the years. His parents were something of a legend in his stories: the perfect, if sometimes chaotic, couple who’d married young and raised twins.  

Padmé Amidala, Luke’s mother, was a force of nature. A federal deputy and professor of International Relations, she somehow juggled her demanding career with being a devoted wife and mother. Strong, brilliant, and endlessly busy, yet always managing to prioritize her family.

Anakin Skywalker, Luke’s father, was no less impressive. A retired army general, he’d left his military career after the twins were born to focus on raising them. Luke often spoke of how his dad spent hours tinkering in their garage, restoring vintage cars and building gadgets—a far cry from his days in uniform.

“Come on, let’s get moving,” Luke said, snapping you out of your thoughts. He grabbed the handle of his own suitcase and motioned toward the massive cruise ship docked ahead. 

You followed, letting him lead the way. The pier was packed with elegantly dressed guests, most of whom were likely Padmé’s colleagues—senators, representatives, and a mix of politicians from all corners. The line to board snaked back farther than you could see. 

“Do we really have to wait through all this?” you asked, eyeing the crowd and clutching the handle of your wheeled suitcase. 

Luke shot you a sly grin. “We don’t wait in lines.”

Before you could ask what he meant, he veered off toward the front of the queue, guiding you toward a set of stairs reserved for VIPs. You followed, struggling a little as your suitcase bumped against the steps. 

"Luke, get your girlfriend's suitcase," a strong, masculine voice called out from behind you, deep and commanding yet tinged with warmth. "Otherwise, she'll think I didn’t teach you how to be a gentleman."

Startled, you turned toward the source of the voice just as Luke, already at the top of the stairs, groaned in exasperation. He glanced back with a tired expression but made no move to help. 

“It’s okay, really, it’s not heavy,” you mumbled shyly, gripping the handle of your suitcase a little tighter. But as your eyes met the man addressing Luke, the words caught in your throat. 

Your lips parted slightly in disbelief. Gods… what a man. 

Standing before you was, without a doubt, the most stunning man you’d ever seen. Anakin Skywalker. His angular face was framed by sandy blond hair, slightly tousled with subtle waves that gave him a rugged charm. His piercing blue eyes—so vivid and expressive they seemed to pull you into a storm—were framed by faint lines that hinted at years of experience and a life well-lived. His presence was magnetic, his confident stance and the faint smirk on his lips radiating an almost effortless allure.  

“Come on, I insist,” Anakin said, his voice softening as he stepped closer. He reached out and gently took the suitcase from your hand before you could protest. His touch lingered just briefly, and the warmth of his hand sent a flicker of heat up your arm. “Not heavy, huh?” he teased with a wink, his tone laced with amusement.  

You managed a weak nod, your heart racing as you watched him carry your suitcase up the stairs with ease. Every movement was graceful, effortless, as though he hadn’t spent years off the battlefield but still carried himself like he could command a room—or a galaxy. 

Luke rolled his eyes at his father’s display, muttering under his breath. “Show off.”

Ignoring him, Anakin reached the top of the stairs and set your suitcase down carefully before glancing back at you with an easy smile. “Welcome aboard,” he said, his voice warm and inviting.  

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to keep your expression neutral, but your mind was racing. What the hell have you just gotten yourself into?

[scentedluminarysoul]

Yeah, gotta say as well, I'm not super excited to post new chapters sometimes. Like, I get comments, and it's great, some frequent flyers. But only on day one or two, rarely later. And then I just. Tend to forget honestly. Life goes on. And I think, maybe people just don't care.

But then I get a new comment, whether it be a newcomer or "an old friend" who's rereading, and I immediately want to publish more to get their opinions

But man. Even when I ask what people thought? Barely anyone says. I want to hear what you loved, what you didn't, what theories you have!

And I think this is in part due to creative work being reduced to "content". It's content people consume and then go to the next piece of content. People don't engage with fandom anymore. I'm old, I've been in fandom for 20 years, and it was so different back then. Now I have people just telling me to update, or asking why character X did Y. Dear readers: that's for you to ponder.

So I think in part it's also the erosion of good TV shows, actually. Used to be we had 22-24 episodes and the story unfolded slowly, questions left unanswered. Now? Shows drop all episodes at once, and only 6 of them, so we gotta speedrun, and we better explain everything every five minutes for the people on their phones.

Anyway, sorry, rambling.

Point is:

Tell an author that you liked their story!

If you're shy, or don't speak the language, that's fine! I have regulars who only comment emojis, or who comment in their native language (Spanish, Russian), or run their comment through translate to post in English.

It's fine! Emojis show emotion. And translators exist!

Just please, as a writer, I beg of you:

Comment.

Don't lock yourselves away, discussing a fic. If you like it, let the author know!

A friend of mine also spent so much time and effort plotting out a huge event in their fic, the grand finale, 30k+ words over multiple chapters, and they received barely any feedback. They were so bummed out and almost quit and deleted. They were depressed about it. And it was so good! You could tell they put so much soul into it to make it perfect. It just sucks when people don't say anything.

I often lack the energy for a long comment, so I'll just drop a short one. "I loved it! Thank you for writing!" and sometimes I go back later and leave a longer one when I have the spoons. But I want to leave something, because I know how it is

Because here's the other thing: fanfics aren't social media. You can still comment on fics that are finished and years old. I've seen people write new chapters on abandoned fics because of a single new comment!

Fandom creators provide fanworks for free. We put our heart and soul and whole pussy into it. And all we ask for in return is a little bit of appreciation

I apologize again for the rant

A writer friend told me something that broke my heart a little bit today; they're going to quit publishing their fanfic.

My instant thought was that they had been trolled or attacked or that something terrible had happened in their life because this person is so passionate about their writing. It wasn't any of that. Engagement with their works has been going down, as it has for many of us. Comments are like gold dust a lot of the time, and just looking through the historical comment counts on old fics on ao3 demonstrates this trend very clearly. It was not simply the comments dropping off which caused them to decide to stop posting, however.

My friend came across a discord server for their fandom (I should point out here that their fandom interest and mine diverged a couple of years ago, we stay in touch but don't currently read each other's posts because I'm not into their fandom and they would rather gouge their eyes out with a wooden spoon than read anything Star Wars) and specifically to share fic in that fandom. They joined, because we all love a good fic rec, only to discover that their latest multichapter fic, which has almost no comments and very few kudos, is being hotly discussed in this server as one of the best stories ever. Not one of these people has bothered to say this to them on the fic. When they asked, none of participants could see the point in telling the author of the fic they apparently loved so much that they love it.

This discovery has absolutely destroyed my friend's love of sharing fic. They share because they love seeing other people's enjoyment, and fic writers do that through comments and kudos/reblogs/likes because we don't get paid. There is no literary critic writing a blog post/article about how amazing the story is for us to copy and keep/frame. There is no money from royalties. All we have are the words of the people reading our works.

Those people on that server could have taken five minutes of the time they spent gushing about how amazing my friend's story was to other people and used it to tell the one person guaranteed to want to hear that praise how much they loved it. They could have taken a moment to express their opinion to the person who spent hours upon hours plotting, writing, editing, and posting those chapters. Instead, they deprived my friend of thing that keeps them sharing their writing, and in the process have killed their love of it. My friend now feels used and unmotivated.

I won't be sharing a link to their fic, they said I could share their experience but not their identity. I know they plan to post one final chapter. I know they intend to express their hurt at being excluded from the praise for the thing they created, and I know they intend to announce that as a consequence they will not be posting for a long while, if at all.

So please, I beg you, don't hide your love of a story from the writer. It's just about the only thing we have.

[lndsismaeverything]

I'm here | sylus x mc/reader

An: this came up bec it happen to me I frequently got nightmares. And the only thing that makes me go back to sleep is hugging my plushy and listening to some music

Words : 0.5k more or less

It was late at night as you sleep in sylus bedroom , sylus went out with the twins for a meeting leaving you alone.

You couldn't move .

Your body cold even when you have the blanket around you .

You couldn't wake up from this dream, you knew it was a dream but can't wake up. You wake up many times but can't get out of if. You are stuck in this sleep paralysis

You finally woke up when sylus came to the room and saw the discomfort on your face. He gently wakes you up. Softy shaking your shoulders to wake you up

" sweetie? "

" are you alright ? " you jolted awake you looked around your surroundings before you stood up from the bed, sylus gently warps his arm around your shoulder using his thumb to rub smooth circles.

Hes clearly worried about you

" yea...im fine now.. Just had a nightmare that I couldn't wake up, don't think I can sleep for the time being "

" is that so... I have a way to make you sleep better. Give me a minute , sweetie" with that sylus leave the room

He comes back with a cup of warm milk and handed to you.

He started to play one of his vintage record player as it plays some classical music.

" do you want to talk about your nightmare , sweetie? "

" it's just something stupid nightmare that hunts me everytime " sylus brow frown knowing this isn't the first time you've gone through it

" how did the meeting go ?" You asked putting the mug down next to the night stand . Changing the subject

" it went surprisingly well , I do have have another meeting soon" he changed his clothes and joins you on the bed

" they why are you changing ?" You asked curiously as he's switching for his usual work clothes to his sleep wear

" to get to bed, what ells kitten "

" but don't you have another meeting soon?"

" they won't mind if I move the date. " he pulled you closer to his chest and played with your hair

" you are more important right now, i can't go out without worrying you having another nightmare that you can't wake up from "

"Thank you...sy'' you snuggled against his chest wrapping your arm around him feeling his warmth

" shhh... Go to sleep"

" and don't worry I'm here "

As the night got darker, rain slowly made its way to the ground. The sound of rain and the sound of the music playing in the back and the warmth from sylus... It didn't take you long before sleeps takes over you

This would also suit for zayne x mx / reader too don't you think?

Sho I write it down?

[loveesiren]

Help Me (Pt. 2)

Rafe Cameron x Maybank!Reader

Synopsis: Rafe and Y/n admit their feelings for eachother.

Warnings: Fluff, language, mention of sex trafficking, mention of drugging

Word Count: 2.7k+

You opened your eyes to a dimly lit room you didn't recognize. Holding your breath as you scanned the room slowly, trying to remember what the fuck had happened. You weren't in a hospital. You definitely weren't in your room, or any bedroom on the Cut for that matter. The ceilings were high, the bed way larger and softer than your own. Your eyes made way to the chair beside you. You jumped slightly at the sight of someone sitting there but quickly realized it was Rafe.

He leaned back in the chair, gripping a pillow as he snored lightly. "What the fu-ahh!" You hissed as you tried to sit up, falling back down as a searing pain ripped through your core. "Fuck!"

Rafe heard you and woke up immediately. He was instantly by your side. "Y/N, you're up!" His voice was almost child like.

"Where am I Rafe?" You ask as you put pressure on the pain in your side.

"Tanneyhill," He responded. "My house."

"What? Why? What's going on?"

"Just rest for a second. Let me get you some water." He says, taking a glass from the bed side table and going to the bathroom sink to fill it.

You sit up slightly, leaning back against the pillow. You were starting to feel more pain running through the rest of your body. You ran your fingers over your face and traced the stitches that wrapped around your right temple. You pressed lightly on your cheek and winced as you felt the bruising there.

"Here," Rafe said, handing you the glass of water.

"Thanks," You say before chugging as much water as you possibly could, not realizing how thirsty you were.

Rafe stared at you intently. There was a sadness in his eyes. Pain, like just looking at you caused him physical ailment.

"I'm guessing my dad did this to me?" You ask softly, more of a statement than a question.

You could see a tear fall from Rafe's eye but he quickly tried to wipe it away as he nodded his response.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N..." Rafe's voice cracked.

"It's not your fault my dad's a dick, Rafe."

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. I'm sorry for how I treated you the last few days. I'm sorry for what happened with JJ. You didn't deserve the way I treated you and neither did he. You're the only person who has ever really cared and that scared me and I-"

"Rafe," You cut him off. You offer a slight chuckle. "It's okay. I forgive you."

"You do?" He sniffled, looking up to meet your eyes.

"Yeah, I do. People make mistakes. And, I'm not sure what exactly happened but it's obvious you've helped me considering I woke up in your house to you sleeping beside me."

Rafe smiled, relief washing over his face. You reached out and took his hand, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles.

"You're a good guy, Rafe. I've been able to see that since the beginning."

"I don't know about that," He chuckles. "But I do know I'd do anything for you."

You smiled softly up at him. His blue eyes glistened behind his remaining tears. Strands of his messy hair fell in his face. He was quite literally the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen.

You caught yourself staring and quickly changed the subject. "So, uhm, where's my brother?"

"He went to take care of some things." Rafe said, his demeanor changed with his sentence.

You squinted your eyes and bit your lip. "What things, Rafe?"

"Look, Y/N-"

"Rafe, tell me where my brother is."

Rafe sighs. "Your dad did something really fucked up. You're not safe right now. That's why we brought you here. JJ is trying to fix it."

You started to feel panic rise in your chest. JJ was impulsive. You didn't want him getting himself into trouble.

"I've gotta find him," You say as you pull the covers back and try to get out of the bed. You felt a sharp pain in your ankle and you were instantly on the floor. "Ah, fuck!" You cry out.

"Y/N, baby, no. You have to stay in bed. You need rest!" Rafe said as he scooped you off the floor.

Feeling his arms around you calmed you down. He was strong, really strong, but gentle. His skin was soft and warm. And his scent, oh God, his scent. He smelled like the ocean after a tropical storm, hints of lavender and eucalyptus. You realized you'd never been this close to him before.

"Listen, we can call JJ right now, okay?" He promises.

"Yeah, okay..." You said as he helped you get situated back in the bed.

"Just relax." He told you as he pulled out his phone a dialed JJ's number.

"Dude, hey..." Rafe began. "Yeah, she's awake...yep, yep she's fine." He said as he smiled at you.

"Let me talk to him," You demanded as you held your hand out for the phone.

"Yeah, here she is." Rafe said before handing the phone to you.

Y/N: JJ? What the fuck happened? Where are you?

JJ: Look, Y/N, I have some shit to take care of. I need you to stay at Tanneyhill.

Y/N: You need to tell me what you're doing. Why am I not safe? I need to know what's happening.

JJ: I'll explain later. I love you, okay? Just stay with Rafe.

He quickly hung up the phone. You could hear he was with the others. His lack of explanation formed a ball of nerves in your stomach.

You sighed and handed the phone back to Rafe. You knew if JJ had willingly left you alone with Rafe Cameron, something big was going on.

"Rafe..."

"Yeah?" He asked softly, knowing what was coming next.

"What did my dad do?" Your voice was shaky. Your dad had done a lot of fucked up shit but you could tell this was something much worse.

Rafe fiddled with his hands, unsure of how to get the words out. "He uhm..."

"Look, Rafe, it's obvious he beat the shit out of me. But what the hell is going on that I am being kept in your house for? I mean, no offense, you're great, but JJ would never have left me here if there wasn't something bigger going on."

"Okay, okay." Rafe said. "Your dad, uh, he drugged you. You've been out for like a day and a half..."

"Okay..." You said, waiting for him to continue. You knew there was something else.

"He, uh, h-he was trying to sell you, Y/N." Rafe's voice cracked.

Your jaw dropped. "S-sell me? Like...to traffickers?"

"Y/N, I'm so sorry. And I-I don't know if these guys are still looking for you or what, all I know is I have the house locked up tight and JJ and the others are trying to sort this out."

You looked down at your hands, trying to hide the inevitable tears. You knew your dad was trash. You always had. But you just couldn't believe he went this far. Selling you. His own daughter. He really, really, couldn't care less about you.

You brought your knees to your chest and hugged them tightly, hiding your face as you let the sobs escape your lips.

Rafe was silent as he crawled beside you in the bed and wrapped his arms around you. You leaned into him and clung to his arms as you let it all out.

"Shh, shhh, I know baby, I'm so sorry," He soothed as he rubbed your back.

"W-what am I gonna do, Rafe? I-I can't go home." You sobbed.

"You can stay here," Rafe said. "As long as you need."

"No, Rafe, I can't do that."

"Shhh, yes you can. There is plenty of space. JJ already got all your things."

You just sat and whimpered in Rafe's arms. He held you for what felt like hours until you finally stopped crying. You pulled away slightly and looked into his eyes. "Thank you," You whispered.

He gave you a small smile and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. "You know I'll always take care of you."

You smiled back at him. Your eyes flickered from his to his lips. The urge to kiss this sweet boy in front of you was undeniable.

"Uhm," You pulled away uncomfortably. "Could I like, take a bath or something? I feel really gross." You chuckle.

"Yeah, of course. I'll run it for you."

Rafe headed towards the bathroom. You heard the water begin to run and you rested your face in your hands. There was no denying the fact that you liked Rafe. You liked him a lot. But you just don't see how this could work. You were from the Cut and just being in his house made you feel so small and meaningless. You were sure his parents would kick you out the second they laid eyes on your broken body.

"Tangerine or grapefruit?" Rafe's voice took you from your train of thought.

"What?" You asked, looking over at him.

"Bubbles," He smiled, holding up two bottles of soap.

You laughed. "Uhm, grapefruit, I guess."

He smiled and returned to the bathroom.

You slowly made your way out of the bed and limped towards the bathroom. Your ankle was definitely sprained. You fell again. "Shit."

"Here, let me help you." Rafe said as he helped you off the floor and to the bathroom.

He sat you on the edge of the tub and you tried to catch your breath. You felt like you'd just run a marathon even though you had only taken a couple steps.

You began to remove your shirt from your body.

"Uhhh," Rafe mumbled as he turned around.

"Rafe," You start. "Look, I don't care if you see me naked. I-I need your help."

Asking for help was not something you did but your body was so weak.

Rafe turned to look at you. "Okay, I got you." He helped you out of your shirt and pants, placing you into the warm water.

He'd always admired your body. Seeing you naked was something he though about often but not like this. Large bruises covered your torso. Little cuts all over your body and dried blood surrounding your stitches. The fact that your beautiful body had been violated killed him.

"Oh, that feels so good." You sigh, closing your eyes as you sink down into the water.

Rafe smiles as he sits on the floor beside you. "Can I get you anything?"

You shake your head. "No, this is perfect." You say with a smile. "Thank you,"

"For what?"

"For taking care of me. I don't really like counting on others. And I'm not sure exactly what's happening but I know JJ wouldn't leave me here with you if it wasn't something important."

Rafe nods. "Do you think I could ever get JJ to like me?"

You laugh. "I don't know. He's stubborn as shit."

"He loves you so much," Rafe said.

You smile. "Yeah, I fucking love that kid too. Even though he's a fucking dumbass." You laugh.

Rafe smiles and looks down at his hands. You reach out and offer your bubbly hand to his. He takes it, rubbing lightly over the bruising that coated your skin.

"You're so beautiful." He whispers as he stares at you.

"Really? My head is split open." You laugh.

He leans in closer to you. "You're beautiful, no matter what Y/N."

You look him in the eyes, bringing your hand up to frame his cheek as he leans in and presses a soft kiss to your lips.

You smiled against his lips. He was so gentle. So careful not to hurt you. But you could feel the need. How much he wanted you.

"Y/N!"

Rafe pulled away from you as he heard JJ enter the house.

"Fuck, go!" You told him.

Rafe rushed out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He met JJ and the others on the stairs.

"Where is she?" JJ asks.

"She's taking a bath. She's fine." Rafe promised.

JJ still pushed passed him and headed to the bathroom in the guest room. "Y/N?" He asked, knocking on the door.

"I'll be out in a minute, JJ!" You said. "Could you ask Sarah and Kie to come in here please?"

You really wanted Rafe but you know JJ would lose his mind if he knew Rafe saw you naked.

"Hey," Kie said softly as her and Sarah entered the room.

"Hey guys, I'm sorry. Could you help me out?"

"Of course," Sarah said. The two girls were quickly by your side. Helping you out of the tub and drying you off.

They helped you into your clothes and took you back to the bed. Everyone was standing in your room.

"Hey, everyone." You said as you laid back down into the bed.

"Hey! How are you feeling?" JJ asked as he ran to you, pushing your hair out of your face.

"I'm good, J." You smiled. You glanced around the room. "Uhh, thank you all for everything. But could I have a minute with my brother?"

Everyone nodded and made their way out of the room. Rafe's eyes lingered on you for a moment and you offered him a small smile.

You turned to JJ. His eyes filled with tears.

"JJ, I'm fine, I promise."

He shook his head. "I'm so sorry I let this happen. I should have gone home with you."

"J, it's not your fault dad is a prick." You tell him, taking his hand in yours.

"I'll get a second job. I'll find us a place to live. I took care of dad. He's not on the island anymore. You're safe. I'll always make sure you're safe."

You didn't want to know what happened to your dad and quite frankly, you didn't care.

"JJ, listen to me," You said, forcing him to look you in the eyes. "Rafe said I can stay here for a while."

"No-"

"JJ!" You yelled, making him focus again. "I love you so much. More than anything, okay?"

JJ nodded.

"I like Rafe. He's really good to me. I'm going to stay here for a while. With him. While I heal."

JJ clenched his jaw. Hating the fact that you were involved with Rafe.

"Can you please try to get along with him?"

JJ looked down but nodded in agreement. "Okay. Fine. But if he hurts you-"

"JJ, he's not going to hurt me. I'm a big girl, I can make my own choices."

"I love you," JJ says.

"I love you, too J." You smile up at him. "Now go have fun with your friends. I'm going to get some rest."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Just, uh, tell Rafe to come back please."

JJ closes his eyes and bites his lip. Not enthused at all that you like Rafe. But he nods his head and heads for the door.

"Rafe," You hear him say as he opens the door. "Listen to me," You hear JJ as he pulls Rafe to the side. "If you ever do anything to hurt my sister, I'll hang your body from a fucking hook in my basement."

"I'll never hurt her, JJ." Rafe promised.

You chuckled at their exchange.

Rafe finally comes in the room, leaving the door open behind him.

"Hey, pretty girl," Rafe says as he sits next to you. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm sleepy." You admit. "Will you lay with me?"

Rafe smiles and nods, getting under the covers next to you and wrapping his arms around you lightly. You nuzzled into his chest as he ran his fingers over your skin.

JJ watched for a moment as you snuggled closer to Rafe. As much as he hated it, he swallowed his thoughts and walked off to meet the rest of the Pogues in the kitchen. All that mattered is that you were happy and safe.

_________

"You okay, JJ?" Kiara asks as he enter the kitchen.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm just glad we got this all sorted out."

"Is she sleeping?" Sarah asked.

JJ chuckled. "Yeeeup. With Rafe." He pressed his knuckles against the counter.

"JJ, I know you hate my brother. I fucking hate him too sometimes." Sarah laughs. "But, I've never seen him so distraught over anyone before. Rafe takes care of what he loves. And if he loves Y/N, she's in good hands."

JJ nods and offers Sarah a smile. "Guess I'll just have to get used to it. I want her to be happy."

"Come on," John B says, placing his hands on JJ's shoulders. "Let's go have a beer."

______

"I think your brother might actually murder me for holding you like this." Rafe whispered in your ear.

You giggled. "Don't worry, JJ knows I could kick his ass if he tried anything."

Rafe smiles against your shoulder. "Does it hurt?" He whispers, running his finger over the bruises on your arms.

"Yes," You admit. "But you make it better." You look up to meet Rafe's gaze.

He smiles down at you, tucking your hair behind your ear. "Can we finish what we started earlier?" He asks nervously.

You smile. "Yes please," You wrap your hand around his neck, allowing your fingers to graze his dirty blonde locks as you pull his lips to yours.

[band--psycho]

Sevika x Fem!Reader - Before Things Changed

So this is based off a request from @arevik2345 who requested an enemies - lovers trop with Sevika; but I decided to change it slightly to the lovers -enemies - lovers trope! (So don't worry there will be at least 4 parts to this series)

This is my first Sevika story so please be kind, reblogs are always welcome and greatly appreciated!

Requests are still open so if you have any ideas/requests, you're more than welcome to send them over (thank you to everyone who's requested a story so far, I'm working my way through them!)

I hope you all enjoy this! Thank you all for the continued support!💛

I do not give permission for any of my works to be copied or translated onto this site or other platforms!

Sevika Masterlist / Arcane Masterlist / Join My Taglist

Warnings: Overthinking!reader, mentions of loss, smut, fingering, overstimulation, dominating!Sevika, edging (18+)

You knew Sevika was angry, you could feel it radiating off of her even when the two of you arrived  home. 

You didn’t agree with what she said to Vander, about him being weak; but you understood why she’d said it.

Having the Enforcers down in the Lanes was making everyone uncomfortable. 

The disrespect the Enforcers showed everyone down here was horrible, but it wasn’t Vanders fault, the Enforcers were just arrogant shitheads. 

You also knew that Vander meant what he said, when he said that he would protect anyone in the Lanes; he wasn’t just protecting the kids because they were his kids, he was protecting them because they were from the Lanes.

Though you did have to admit that you could see how people were coming to this conclusion. 

“Don’t you think you were a bit harsh to Vander?” You asked Sevika softly from the sofa, watching as she grabbed a bottle of alcohol from the cupboard. 

“No,” Sevika answered bluntly, taking a large swig of the drink before sitting down next to you. 

A soft sigh left your lips as you shuffled slightly in the seat so that you were closer to her. 

“He’s just trying to do what he thinks is right,” you countered back, grabbing the bottle from Sevikas hands and taking a few sips of it before handing it back to her. 

“He’s wrong,” she stated bluntly, taking the bottle back from you

“He’s just trying to protect us." 

Sevika let out a small scoff at your words; as she turned to look at you, “You agree with him?” 

You did. 

Vander was your friend. 

You trusted him

Besides, you weren’t a fighter; not like Sevika..

You didn’t like the Enforcers, that was a fact. 

But you knew what another uprising meant. 

It meant that there was a risk of losing people you cared about…

It meant that you could lose Sevika. 

And you didn’t want that. 

So no, you didn’t want the uprising to happen. 

Did that make you a coward? 

Probably. 

But you didn’t care. 

You’d already seen enough death, suffered enough loss, that the thought of losing her, made your heart feel heavy.

“You know what happened last time…” you began, reaching out and tentatively stroking her arm, your eyes meeting hers, “I just don’t want to lose you.”

You watched  as a small grin grew on her lips as she placed the bottle down on the table beside her. 

“You worry about me so much, angel,” she hummed, savouring how delicate your fingers felt on her skin as she leaned in closer to you, “But you’re never gonna lose me.”

You wanted to believe her words; and put this down to your mind just jumping to the worst case scenario as it so often did.

But this wasn’t one of those scenarios. 

And no matter how much you wanted to trust the woman in front of you, you couldn’t. 

She was a skilled fighter, but that didn't make her untouchable. 

Your thoughts were halted when you felt Sevikas lips softly kissing up your arm.

“Sev, what are you doing?”

“Getting you outta your head,” she breathed, her lips trailing kisses up the side of your neck.

You hated how she could do this. 

How she could distract you from your thoughts with such ease. 

“Just relax, baby,” she whispered, her lips now only inches away from yours; as she ran her other hand under your oversized tshirt and up your chest to your breasts, “let me take care of you,”

 it was almost embarrassing how easily you complied with her orders. 

“Sevi,” you whined in response, laying back on the sofa,  the anticipation of her touch making your core ache with desperation. 

You needed her.

Needed her touch. 

Her lips. 

Something. 

Anything. 

You were so desperate for even the slightest touch.

It was all you could focus on. 

Sevika was all you could focus on; your thoughts and worries from earlier drifting further to the back of your mind with every blissfully torturous touch she left on your skin. 

“That’s it baby, just focus on me,” she praised, noticing how your body was squirming slightly beneath her, a clear sign to her that you needed more. 

“So needy,” she smirked with satisfaction. 

She’d barely even touched you and you were already a mess. 

She knew what she was doing to you; and she couldn’t help but revel in it. Revel at the little noises that were falling from your lips with every little touch she left on your bare skin; revel in how fucking beautiful you looked right now, with a look of desperation forming in your eyes.

Sevikas hand, the one that had been on your chest was now slowly drifting down to the place you craved to be touched the most. 

Even in the dimly lit room, you noticed a twinkle in her eyes as her thumb softly massaged your swollen clit. 

You could’ve cum just from that single touch alone; and you almost did, until Sevika quickly withdrew her hand from you. 

There was no denying that Sevika found it addictive, seeing you like this. 

But she needed to see more. 

That’s why she made such quick work of effortlessly removing your panties and oversized shirt  from your body, tossing them aside, so you were completely naked beneath her. 

She couldn’t take her eyes away from you; she was just staring at you, completely captivated. 

You opened your mouth, to beg her to just touch you; but your words morphed into a loud moan when she pushed two fingers inside your dripping pussy. 

You attempted to cover your mouth with your hand, but Sevika made short work of pinning both of your hands above your hand; her fingers pumping inside you at a relentless speed, ensuring to hit your sweet spot every time. 

“Need to hear you, angel,” she whispered in your ear before lightly biting the crook of your neck, eliciting another moan from you. 

You’d lost track of how many times you came. 

All you knew was that it was enough times to make your head feel all woozy. 

But Sevika didn’t stop; she just kept going. 

She kept pushing you over the edge again and again and again.

“Sev-Sevi-”you panted as you came down from another high, “I can’t-”

Sevikas pulled her fingers back to the entrance of your pussy, her thumb (unbeknownst to you) hovering over your clit once again. 

“Awh have you had enough, baby?” She teased, kissing the side of your mouth, flicking your sensitive nub with her thumb lightly, “I think you should be a good girl and cum for me again.”

You were so far gone; lost in the bliss of your countless oragasms, that you couldn’t deny her. 

Especially not when her fingers started pumping in and out of you again. 

Her words mixed with the fast pace of her fingers in conjunction with the occasional taps on your overstimulated clit, had your back arching once again.

“Sevikaaa fuck,” you moaned as she sent you tumbling over the edge of your own pleasure.

“Such a good girl,” Sevika praised against your skin, before placing a delicate kiss on your lips as she removed her fingers from your core. 

“So beautiful,” she whispered to you, making a tired chuckle fall from your lips. 

Beautiful? 

You were certain you looked a complete and utter mess. 

Despite your thoughts, Sevika just continued to whisper those words to you, as she pressed her lips over the bite marks on your neck as she laid next to you on the sofa, your legs intertwining with each others.

You were completely and utterly exhausted and you could feel yourself slowly drifting off to sleep, but you fought to keep your eyes open and yourself awake, desperate to give Sevika the same pleasure she’d given you. 

But when you went to touch her, she lightly grabbed your hand, halting your movements.

“Sevika-”

“Shh, just relax baby,” she muttered, pulling you closer to her. 

“But what about you?” You whispered softly as your thumb rubbed small circles into the back of her hand. 

“This was about getting you to relax,” she stated, nuzzling her head into the crook of your neck. 

You could’ve argued with her; but one, you knew that was going to be like fighting a losing battle and two, you were too tired to disagree with her. 

It only took a few minutes for sleep to take a hold of you; meanwhile Sevika was still awake. 

She understood your worries about another uprising; but things were getting out of hand now and someone had to do something about it, to protect the Undercity. 

Sevika thought Vander was that man, until tonight, now she doubted he was, which meant she needed to find someone who could do the job Vander couldn’t do. 

Tagging:

@xacatalepsyx @barbersjoy @conretewings @the-lone-librarian @cass-brightwood @fortune-fool02 @arielpanda1 @mothratic @simping-ella @stickyrice5096 @levis-butterfingers @lesbianinyourarea @vvampirelust

[vivwritesfics]

Hey! I would like to request a Jake Seresin x Reader fic (if you don't want to, that's no problem as well :))

I was thinking about Reader meeting Jake for the 1st time at the beach while he was playing dogfight football with the squad. They hit it off and after a few dates they start dating. But the thing is, that Reader's friends don't call him Jake, they call him Lt. Tits. Reader does not correct them because she thinks it's hilarious but she hasn't told him yet.

However, one day, she introduces Jake to her friends and one of them accidentally calls him Lt. Tits. Although they brush it off and change the topic quickly, it's on Jake's mind for a long time.

You can take this in any direction you want to.

P.S bonus points if they pronounce Lieutenant the English way and not the American way lol

Thanks and have a great day/night!

"Oh my god, it's really Lieutenant Tits!"

In her defence, Mallory hadn't meant to say it so loud. It was supposed to be between the two of you, not something for Jake to hear.

Lieutenant Tits. You wanted to die. You wanted the ground to swallow you whole right then and there. Your friends looked equally as embarrassed, but they recovered faster than you, giggling as they looked between you and Jake.

"Huh?" Jake couldn't help but ask as he looked at you, head cocked t the side. "Lieutenant what?"

Don't repeat it. Don't repeat it. Don't repeat it.

"Tits!"

You didn't know who shouted it, but you could have killed them. But, since you didn't know who it was, you levelled them all with a glare. "I hate you all."

Jake's hand was warm on your back. Maybe he was trying to be comforting, but you couldn't bring yourself to look at him. "Who is Lieutenant Tits?" He asked, but you were almost certain he knew. He wasn't the dumb slut he tried to portray himself as.

You finally looked at him. "Who do you think?"

He pointed at himself and you gave a nod.

Jake stepped closer to you. His hands were on your hips and he held you close as he looked at your friends, wearing that ever charming smile. "So, why am I Lieutenant Tits?" He asked, squeezing your hip gently.

Shit, you really liked this guy.

"Well," Mallory started, grinning. "Miss missy over here-" She pointed at you "- told us about how you two met at the beach. She literally couldn't stop talking about you, but the only part any of us remembered was 'The tits on him!'" She used air quotations for those last four words, watching as your embarrassment grew.

"The name just stuck," Jess continued, shrugging her shoulders. "Every time she went on a date with you, someone would put 'How is Lieutenant Tits?' in the groupchat."

Jake stood up straighter, seemingly puffing out his chest. Proving them right, it looked like.

"Oh my God!" Shouted Harriet. "He really is Lieutenant Tits!"

[nikki0606]

my best | Bakugou X reader

reader; quirkless midway | part 1 (had this published back in 2021- which is why the storyline is just dramatic, some parts were just cringe to read (near-death-experience-cringe-level)-- and have edited it now, used to be a reader-favourite)

"Don't you dare, Bakugou Katsuki!" you barely manage to push him back and hurry to help Midoriya.

"Fucking bitch, who the hell do you think you're pushing, eh?" it's always the boys around in his gang who begin the retaliation, not even Bakugou himself.

"Oh, did I put a scratch on your pretty little boy? Run off if you don't intend to have broken bones before you reach home!" your eyes narrow dangerously and you step forward.

Many of them scoff. Bakugou's gaze stays deadset on your face, however.

"A quirkless bitch on you can barely lay a finger on me." one of the boys steps towards you pushing his sleeves back but you're quick to kick his shin hard and land another one in his abdomen.

If there's one thing living alone has taught you, it's being quick with your reflexes and actions because that in itself is the sole way you can overpower people in danger.

"Looks like a person with a pitiful quirk doesn't get a say." your words are a lot more vicious than intended– quirks has always been a sensitive topic for you to begin with.

Your parents put you up with quite the torture when you didn't inherit either of their quirks.

Something between a scoff and a snort escapes Bakugou's lips, he turns away.

"Dude– did you see that?" the others turn to him in frustration, "She pushed you and even hurt Makoto!" the boy speaking opens his mouth again but lets out only a hiss when you stomp his foot.

The reason they don't fight back is because Bakugou told them not to, you're aware of it.

Bakugou doesn't want anything on his record before he joins U.A. and so he wouldn't ever physically hurt you, a girl, although he does have quite sharp of a tongue himself.

"And?" his head turns back to you momentarily, you find an odd twitch behind the blood-red orbs.

"Does mister wannabe hero want one too?" you sugar-coat your words with venom.

"I could kill you in a second." he says coolly.

Internally, you're amazed by the sheer confidence and power in his voice as well as with the odd, rigid tenderness he can word his power in but like every single time, you don't show it.

Because no matter how admirable the rest of his personality is, Bakugo Katsuki is only a bully to you. You'd never let him be more.

"Mh?" you let out a challenging hum, "Go on then, try."

Bakugou stares at you for another moment before lightly shaking his head and turning to the other boys, starts shouting, "The fuck sort of extras are you to be beat up by a fucking stupid little quirkless shit like her, huh?!" his head turns back to you, "And you, cheeky little bitch," he grabs your arm, "come with me." and drags you along too fast for you to stop him.

"What the fuck?" you pull yourself away the moment he's slowed down and notice only now that the both of you are behind the school building.

"Try, huh? You think you'll fucking survive a blow of mine?" he closes in angrily making you step further and further back until you're against the wall, then lets his lips tug upwards in some sort of a smirk.

"A-And what makes you think I won't?" you try your best to keep composure despite the shock from unexpected behaviour from him.

Truth be told, Bakugou can kill you. Whether he will or not, you don't know.

You may find him really cool at times, but then again, he's only just a bully and your trust for him lies in the negative.

"You're quirkless, bitch. You go running your little shitty mouth around like this and someday someone's going to punch it shut." his eyes narrow, "You think you can defend yourself from people with quirks like mine? The only thing you can do is let someone protect you– "

His words pinch you in the wrong spots.

A sheath of clear fluid fills your eyes, "So says the big old bully– well here's the truth for you, Bakugou– " words fall out of your mouth before you can process them, "you will never become a hero! I'll tell you if I have to– a fucking bully like you is already a stupid, mean villain and you can't ever change that!"

The only thing I can do is– ah.

Living alone has taught you another thing; no one can do anything without a cost. This protection would be at cost of every ounce of life left in you.

Your parents left you because you didn't inherit their quirks– what phase in life they were in to need you to have it, you don't know. All you are sure of is that those responsible for your origin didn't "protect" you.

The only one who has ever protected you is you yourself.

"You think U.A. will ever like an asshole like you to ruin their reputation? Wake the fuck up, Bakugou Katsuki, you're already walking down a villain's path– you're already torturing and hurting your own childhood friends. Who in their fucking right mind would trust you as a hero?"

Bakugou's eyebrows have furrowed, his lips twitch but not a sound escapes them.

"I keep running my mouth around? Fucking blame me– there's shitty excuses for human beings like you walking around as if they actually mean anything to any fucking person and you expect me to shut up and sit quiet?! Let me get punched if that's what'll happen, I'm not having a stupid fucking villain's bullshit bullying at my watch!"

Pure silence echoes in the air for a moment, only the sounds of your long, irregular breaths fill this gap.

"Big words." Bakugou's voice has never been smaller, you barely can make out how he's processing your words, "Really big words.. "

"You're a dick." your lips tremble, eyes venting through rivers of tears, "I fucking hate everything about you– you're so pathetic, Bakugou. You're such a.. disgrace."

Something twirls in his eyes again. This time, it's an emotion you've never before seen him have.

"Only you and your little puppy Deku aren't disgraces, everyone else is, no?" his characteristic hostility is absent, you don't know what to make from this but barely care at the moment.

"Izukkun is already more of a hero than you can ever become." you try to push him away from you, "You fucking bastard, all you do is bully him like any cheap street thug– "

On instinct, Bakugou push you back.

What he doesn't realise is that you're much more frail than you look, and that he's much stronger than he does.

His push is strong, you're rammed into the wall hard and hiss out in pain clutching the back of your head and losing balance instantly to fall onto your knees.

From this position, you see his feet take him away.

That's the last time the both of you exchanged any contact at all that month.

Every time you'd look his way, Bakugou would avert his gaze. Everytime you'd pass by him in a corridor or require to approach him for classroom chores, he would pull up a perfect act as if you'd never existed in the first place.

An odd feeling of uneasiness keeps growing inside you by the passing moment and you barely know how to handle it let alone handle this odd situation with Bakugou.

Of course, all thought lead to only a single solution– confront him.

You've come to accept you spoke too much that day and that maybe his warning of not running your mouth too much was indeed something you should have thought upon.

Bakugou Katsuki may be a bully but you don't think of him as a villain at all. You know for a fact that nothing can take him down that line.

Words said that day were aimed to hurt him and the past month proves that they did.

All you did was under influence of your anger and naturally, you find yourself regretting everything.

You catch him leaving school the next day.

He doesn't turn on your call but his gang of boys do. They look more annoyed than ever– you know at this point they all hate you more than anything, especially considering how they keep on getting kicked by you and are unable to respond because of Bakugou.

"You're going to pay for being such a cheap little bitch." one of them hisses out, "You've got Bakugou mad now, he's going to blow your head to bits."

"A kick each isn't enough for you all?" you hate them all equally, "Looks like I'll have to do overtime handling a bunch of bratty kids with no shame."

"Shut that trap of yours, you little hoe." another one seems too far fed up with you, "Go suck your boy Midoriya's dick– he's the only one who wouldn't be able to handle your shitty self."

Bakugou stops at that and turns to the boy. There isn't an expression on his face.

An odd hope in your finds yourself wait for a minute to see if he replies to the guy by at least saying he's going too far but Bakugou does nothing.

A frown settles on your lips as the other boys start talking shit too.

"Looks like you're really enjoying this." your gaze and words are directed solely on Bakugou's face.

He doesn't bother turning to you at all but you can tell he knows who you're talking to and intentionally keeps his expressions turned away.

After your words however, a ghost of a frown mimics yours on his expression but he turns his head back too quick for you to see and starts walking off.

His minions walk off too though they keep on muttering cusses along the way.

"Yeah, go away, coward!" you hear yourself call out to him, "Fuck off!"

And this worsens your original purpose of the interaction– Bakugou doesn't talk to you for another week.

Midoriya has been noticing things being awry with you since some time now. It took him barely a moment to figure out this concerns Bakugou too.

He could tell you've noticed his observations and so have begun to avoid any sort of confrontation from his side about the chronic sour mood you've had.

At first, Midoriya was only just concerned. He'd assumed you'd eventually figure it out like you figure out most stuff but this didn't happen.

When this didn't seem to happen, he tried asking you but you wouldn't tell. Slowly and gradually, you began avoiding him to avoid the confrontations.

This made no sense to him, you'd never do anything of the sort in even the worst of situations.

Midoriya knows only one other way to understand what has happened and that is Bakugou Katsuki.

Bakugou Katsuki thinks not.

"You damned Deku–" the boy is slammed against a wall in an alleyway, "You think you're fucking something? You think you're gonna be a hero, eh?"

"K-Kacchan– I.. " Midoriya can't stop trembling under the sparks going off over his head, "I-I.. I just want to know– (Name)– " but the boy seems to only get madder at your mention.

This confirms Midoriya's observations.

"You think you're fucking better than me?" there is more than the usual twinge of emotions in Bakugou's words as he says this every time. Midoriya wonders through his panic about what all could have gone wrong.

"H-He is.. " a small broke voice makes the both of them snap their necks to the side only to instantly freeze in shock.

"(Name).. ?" it's Bakugou who manages to call you out and not Midoriya whose shock is prolonged, "What.. Wh-What the fuck did you do.. ?" he begins towards you.

You barely manage to stand straight and look at them with the bleeding leg and swollen eye. There is a haywire of messages of pain in your brain from all throughout your body and you can barely process anything.

"What.. " Midoriya's foot takes a first step, stopping once again at the sight of the shirt you're wearing almost torn off, " .. Hey.. "

Bakugou clearly doesn't know what to do– he's reached you already but is just examining every one of your wounds, his eyes and hands twitching in urge to do something.

"Asshole.. " the word just rolls out of your tongue as Midoriya approaches and you let yourself fall against him, "Why.. Why'd you let them do this?"

Bakugou doesn't understand. Midoriya doesn't either.

"I.. th-thought you told them not to hurt me.. " you cough out some blood but this isn't because of the violence you've gotten yourself into.

The boys both stand in shock for a moment now having realised what happened to you. Bakugou's eyes thunder with an odd mix of guilt and something you can't identify.

Midoriya's expressions change too– it seems your words are enough to give both the boys an idea of what happened.

Bakugou in particular looks shaken, you assume because he was aware of how much his group of lackeys hated you.

"I.. I'm sorry.. "

You're surprised hearing the words, you'd never thought he had it in him to let them out.

The look on his face alone proves all they said was bullshit– Bakugou Katsuki did not allow them to hurt you, they did it on will and only used his name.

All the things they said about him are probably untrue too.

A massive boulder lifts from your chest, the knowledge of Bakugou not actually thinking of you as the terms they said he did is a massive relief.

Flickering red orbs contrast against flickering green. Your hazy gaze knows not to focus on either.

"I.. should've.. " Bakugou looks peaky.

If you didn't know better than to hope from him, you'd assume he's guilty for not being able to protect you against the others.

"W-We," he swallows drly, "will be going to the doctor right away." he swiftly picks you in his arms, and struggle to hold you as you protest, "You're fucking bleeding all over– just calm down, (Name)– "

"Please.. " Midoriya has tears in his eyes, "Just do as he says.. we're going to a doctor right away!"

For this once, you decide to listen to him.

.

"You have visitors." the nurse comes in, an odd pity in her eyes.

You nod shortly not at all interested to know who would come to meet you. All you care about is meeting Midoriya and Bakugou once more before time runs out.

Maybe some words before you leave the world forever might stick by Bakugou and he stops bullying Midoriya?

You'd always been pretty tough against everything in life not at all bothered about what consequences will follow because of one sole fact.

Ever since you were little, you've been diagnosed with some terminal illness which your parents never cared to get treated because you were no use to them.

A bunch of boys beating you up didn't matter– what had hurt you back then was when they had said Bakugou allowed them to.

It was only later when you actually ran into Midoriya and Bakugou that the realisation surfaced that he, in fact, would never hurt a girl let alone hurt you of all people.

Bakugou Katsuki for some reason doesn't dislike you, not even the way he dislikes Midoriya.

This is odd considering you're the one annoying him more mostly.

You're not complaining, however. It's good living in this delusion of partially believing he probably is kinder to you than most people, that's the most care you're getting out of him.

Ah.. him of all people.

People often realise things they've been in denial with for ages once on the deathbed. You have too, only, this "realisation" for you is acceptance that maybe admiration for Bakugou Katsuki wasn't just admiration.

Maybe, the reason why it hurt you as much when he bullied was because you internally constantly are pleased by the few kinder moments from him.

"May we come in?" a man you don't know but find oddly familiar opens the door. Bakugou entering right after confirms your doubts.

"Hello (L/n) (Name). I'm Bakugou Masaru, Katsuki's father. We couldn't find any method to contact your parents." he lets Bakugou sit on the chair by your side, "Can we get any of their numbers or something else?"

A moment of silence precedes your words, "I don't live with them anymore.. they left me when my quirk didn't develop."

You've never before told anyone this part but it doesn't matter anymore if you're not going to live anymore. You wonder if the doctor has yet told Bakugou Masaru about your illness– there shouldn't be a reason for him to questioning anything from you then, no?

He nods at you, then tells Bakugou to take care before he walks out to talk to the doctors.

You turn to the boy once he's out of sight, " ..Bakugou.. "

He doesn't look up at you but lets out a small hum acknowledging your call.

" ..I'm sorry.. " you hear yourself say, mood shifting within the fraction of a second and eyes brimming with tears now, " ..for everything."

"Don't act like those stupid extras.. " the words are way too calm and low from his words to sound offensive in any way, " ..don't cry."

But you can't stop crying now.

It's the end of your life and a guy you unknowingly developed a bunch of feelings for is the one who would bid you off. The only desire you'd have is to meet your best friend Midoriya but that's not too tough to get managed but now as you sit on the bed covered in bandages and waiting for the end to draw near within a few weeks as predicted, you can't help but want to live.

The world looks so beautiful all of a sudden.

It's such a waste to die this way.

"Oi.. " Bakugou is shifting in his seat. He has lifted his head up finally and you can see his expressions– he looks distressed.

You've never before seen the ruby-red orbs flicker with such a broken gray behind them, it's almost painful to watch.

"I told you to not cry, didn't I?" his voice is butter-like, it complements the sweet fragrance swimming in the air around me, "Quiet down now."

"Bakugou.. " your breath hitches several times when you turn you him, "I.. " but it seems he already knows must of what you'll want to convey.

"You're going to be okay.. " there's an unusual heaviness in his voice, "You're.. Y-You're going to make through this."

Your eyes twitch, "What.. are you talking about?"

"Ah fuck.." his hands clutch his head, he shifts forward and leans closer to you, "Don't die on me, (Name).. I– " Bakugou Katsuki's lips quiver, "I don't know what I'd do."

The words take a moment to settle in his head. You stare at him with eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"What d-d'you mean what would you do?"

The distressed expressions on his face seems to worsen.

"Don't die on me." you've never before heard someone sound as broken, "Please.. "

Years and years of knowing him, years of observing everything he'd do, years of developing feelings for him an yet this one moment tells you more about him than any time of your life has.

"You know.. " he does know about the illness. He doesn't need to confirm it for you to know.

You swallow, "It will bother you if I'm gone?" you doubt this is a question to him. It sounds more affirmative to your own self.

For a moment, he only just stares into your soul through bleeding red irises.

"You know it will."

But you want to know, "Why?"

"You know why."

"No I don't, Bakugou– " he cuts you off before you can complete your words.

"Call me by my first name, for God's sake, (Name). Th-There's no knowing if.. " his eyes tremble, " ..you'll.. make it though the surgery."

Something melts in your heart only to freeze the very next instant.

"Wait– what surgery?" despite all the wounds, you manage to push yourself straight, "What do you– no.. wait a fucking second you son of a– that's.. "

Something between a scoff and a snort escapes his lips. Bakugou leans back in his chair and rubs his eyes harshly.

You can tell by the irregular breaths that he's feeling much more than what he expresses.

"I-I.. " he clears his throat, "I called my old man. He's getting the surgery done, he only came in earlier for legal permission from your guardian but there probably is no guardian."

A "y-yeah" from a dry throat replies to him.

Bakugou snorts a few tears out, "That explains you being mannerless as shit."

"You're mannerless too." your eyes fill up to the brim, "You don't get the right to point me out, Bakugou."

"Katsuki." he breathes out airily, "And.. just.. "

You know what he wants to say, "Okay, Katsuki." a moment of silence passes before the words fall out of your mouth themselves, "I won't die on you.. I promise."

He blinks a couple of times then rolls his eyes back to you, "I don't like people who break promises, (Name). You.. better not join that list."

"You know me, don't you." so many years of fighting each other and yet still bonds formed underneath all that are stronger than one would imagine, "I don't ever give up.. I'll try my best."

For a moment, Bakugou just watches you.

You could be wrong about it but the look he has on his faze is of someone who wishes to print something into their mind– he's trying to save the moment into his memory forever.

Bakugou doesn't want to see you go.

Whatever this indicates to, you wish to hear out loud.

Whatever this indicates to, Bakugou wishes to say out loud too.

Because he knows, he might just never get a chance later.

He opens his mouth but shuts it immediately and funnily, it's not because he is at loss of words. Bakugou Katsuki always knows what to say deep inside, him not letting that out on tongue ever before is a different story.

He doesn't speak because there is more than just words to be spoken from his side.

Getting up from the chair and sitting on your bedside, he leans in, hand grabbing your chin ever so gently and pulling your face closer, "This is to all the times you wouldn't stop staring at me throughout the whole fucking day.. " and before you can deny his words in embarrassment of being caught, a gentle contact on your lips sends down a cloudburst of sparks through your body.

"This is to being just so.. " he seems to love the awed look you have on your face, " ..fucking hot." his lips meet yours once more and they press more that they did before.

"This is for all the time we've had.. though I'm still pretty mad you'd chosen that shitty Deku over me." and he finally stops with the teasing kisses.

For a brash guy like him, Bakugou Katsuki is a feather-like kisser. Even the rough, passionate movements feel cushioned and elating.

When he parts away, there's a loud ringing in your ears and all blood has settled in your face and ears.

After another moment of silence, Bakugou inhales deep, "I've.. always only.. bothered you because I don't fucking understand what that Deku has over me. I don't get why you'd choose him when you could just.. be with me."

His ears resemble his eyes in colour, you'd never thought you'd see his cheeks as ripe.

"I like you.. so damn much. Don't leave me hanging like this, (Name)."

The smile that slips onto your face wouldn't come under control despite all efforts, your hands cover your face in embarrassment.

Ages of arguing against this boy over everything and now you've lost all sense to him shamelessly.

"I really like you too, Katsuki."

"I really like the way you say my name.. " he adds, voice hurried as someone seems to be standing outside the room's door, "Oi.. say my name once more, and promise me.. "

"I promise you, Katsuki.. " adoration fills in your eyes, "I'll try my best to get through this.. plus I'll have to pay your dad back later too so I better live."

He snorts tearfully, "Cheeky little bitch, you've always been."

And before the doctors can step inside, "Be kind to Izuku, okay. I never chose him over you, I chose him over a bully. Don't be that bully, Katsuki. Tell him he's the best friend I can ever have."

"And then what the fuck am I?"

A smile adorns your face, "What are you, Katsuki?"

The doctors step inside, Bakugou Masaru follows them closely. You're told the operation begins within an hour and then you have to be taken away from preparations.

"How about we talk about that once you're back." Bakugou gathers all courage within him to let the words out without a hitch.

"Let's do that." you smile.

.

__________________________________________________________

Part 2 will be out a little later.

[wutheringwisteria]

Chapter 2

[ 1 ]

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Curly's sleeping schedule was a mess.

It has been five days since he dropped the bomb, and the Tulpar crew couldn't be any more awkward.

Anya was relatively the same, but became more saddened as the days go by. Swansea was still his gruff self, albeit a lot more harsh towards the intern, Daisuke. Daisuke, on the other hand, kept his smile up.

He still talks to Jimmy, because he's his friend and it was literally impossible not to since he's his co-pilot. But you... no matter how many times he tried to bring himself to do it—he can't.

Those little talks you both guys had in the past now reduced to little to no communication at all. And it was killing him. Sure, he'd only get a simple sentence and a flat tone from you—hell, maybe even a scowl if he's unlucky.

But he didn't mind, not at all! Showing anger or anything makes you human, after all.

His heart feels heavy when he walks past your quarters. Tonight was another sleepless night, and no matter how many tosses snd turns he does, the warm embrace of sleep could not reach him.

So he goes out for a small stroll on the upper deck.

He finds himself in the main lobby. From there, he could see another figure sitting on the long couches, staring up at the fake moonlight of the large screen.

Anya.

Wordlessly, he sits down. Just a few meters away from her.

"You doing okay?" He asked, voice soft.

Her dark gaze looks back at him. After a moment's silence, she speaks up. "Yeah. Can't sleep."

"I know how that is. I just toss and turn, or stare at the ceiling all night." Curly chuckled, but it was brief.

"I actually kinda like the night time window screen," replied Anya. She looks back up. "If you can believe it. So I just come look at it sometimes. If you look really, really close, you can see there's a dead pixel in the upper right corner."

"That so?" Curly blinked. He looks up at the giant screen, squinting his eyes. "Hmmmmmm..."

"Nope. Don't see it."

"In the back of my mind, it's always there."

Curly huffs, leaning back against the couch. "Now I'll go bonkers looking for it. Cheers." His eyes slowly travels back to the screen, a small smile making its way to his face. "...I don't think it ruins the illusion, though. It's peaceful. But maybe I'm just used at looking at the bigger picture."

Anya doesn't tear her eyes away from the screen. "How many days of transport do we have left?"

"Ah, let's see. Off the top of my head... around 237 days. Just under—"

"Eight months." Anya finished the sentence for him. But her voice gets quieter. Curly remains silent as the nurse finally looks back at him. "Hey. Why do you think Pony Express put a lock on the medical room door but not in the sleeping quarters?" She suddenly asked.

"Hmm." Curly thinks. "I suppose for the same reason they put a lock in the cockpit. Safety."

Anya pursed her lips together, furrowing her eyebrows.

"I see."

🫧

"I'm pregnant."

Two words. Two simple words was all that it took for your whole body to freeze, still as stone. You turned around slowly, folding the corporate's letter Curly had nights prior and placing it inside your chest pocket. "...Repeat that?"

Anya visibly tenses up, her hand finding its way to grab her sleeve. "I'm... I'm pregnant—for about a month now." The words felt like bile, waiting to be vomited out. She could feel your stare piercing through her skull, and the slightest part of her wonders if telling you first was a mistake. A grave, and horrible mistake that she just had made.

"For a mo—..." you trailed off, making your disbelief known. For a moment, you just stay still, trying to process what Anya just revealed to you. A lot of questions ran in your mind, but all you could utter was a simple, "Who?" You couldn't picture anyone else besides one person, and by the looks of it, it seems like it wasn't consensual.

Which made you even more angry.

But you kept calm for Anya's sake. To show that you have been working on your anger management. "Anya," you call her name with a voice more leveled this time. "I need you to tell me. Who's the father?" Who is he so that I can kill him?

She hesitates, her dark eyes casted downwards and glistening with unshed tears. You take a step forward and she flinches. Sucking in a breath, you took another step and wrapped your arms around Anya and giving her a much needed hug.

Anya couldn't contain it anymore. She sobbed, burying her face in your chest and letting her tears soak your uniform. All while you try to console her by patting and rubbing circles on her back. The nurse was trembling, it was now clear to you that she had been a victim of sexual assault.

And her abuser roams free on the ship.

"Shh, shh, it's alright, it's okay, I got you..." you whispered, your other hand mindlessly running through her dark locks. You feel every tear that escapes her eyes, every breath she sucked in, and every time her body shudders that's followed along with a sob.

"Just... just tell me the name, and I'll go tell Curly about it," you shifted slightly, pulling away and cupping her face. Anya meets your eyes once more, her lips quivering as she brings a hand up to wipe away her tears.

"It's... it's Jimmy..."

🫧

Daisuke peeks his head into the main lobby. No other people present, that's good. He slowly steps inside and makes his way over to the kitchen.

He had been watching the cake making process since Curly's birthday. If he could just operate it, he would be able to snag one of those sweet, sweet, sweeteners.

"Okay, so I just press this... and then this..." he goes around, pressing some buttons and just completely winging it. Daisuke didn't even take a time of his day to look at the instructions that were literally plastered in front of him.

After a lot more pressing, the food dispenser dinged and Daisuke immediately went over to it. "Haha, it worked!" he cheered. The sweetener was there, in all of its glory. He could practically taste the sugary contents in his tongue.

But before he could even rip the pack open, he was spooked by a voice calling him. "Daisuke,"

The intern whips his head around, almost breaking his neck. He frantically hid the sweetener behind him, forcing a smile. "Oh, hey, Y/N! What's up?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

"Do you know where Jimmy is?" You asked without a second thought.

"Jimmy?" Daisuke tilts his head, trying to think about where he last saw the co-pilot. "I think he went looking for something down on the lower deck. I don't really remember."

You nodded. "Okay, thanks." You left the main lobby without another word, leaving Daisuke a little dumbfounded.

"Okay, now where was I?" Daisuke turned his attention back to opening the sugar packet, only to jump at another voice calling him.

"Boy," Swansea suddenly appeared, panting heavily and looking like he ran a hundred marathons. "Where is she? Where did Y/N go?"

"Y/N?" Daisuke blinked. "She went to the lower deck, I think. She was asking about Jimmy."

Swansea cursed under his breath. "Damn it," he wasn't in his prime anymore. Running would only exhaust him even further. "Look, kid. Y/N just took the axe without asking. And if I know her well, she might just do something that'll get us all into trouble."

"What do you mean?" asked Daisuke. "I don't think I understand, boss—"

"I mean that she's going to try and axe Jimbo in the face!" Swansea brings up a hand to wipe away the sweat on his forehead. "Be useful for once and help me catch her before things get outta hand!"

Now that set alarms inside Daisuke's head. "O-On it! Oh, I didn't know she was going to kill Jimmy!" He was feeling guilty because he had just endangered his superior's life. He pocketed the sweetener and immediately ran out of the room, with Swansea following behind sluggishly.

Meanwhile...

"Hey, Anya. Have you seen Y/N? I looked everywhere but I can't seem to find her." Curly asked upon entering the medical room, where Anya was stationed at her desk and was reading over some papers.

The nurse puts the papers down and looked up at Curly. "No, I don't think so. Maybe you should ask Swansea—"

A blood curdling scream cuts her off. Anya flinches as Curly whipped his head around at the direction of the sound. "...What the hell was that?"

For a moment, Anya's eyes began to widen. No, you couldn't possibly...?

Curly looked back at Anya with a serious expression. "I'll go check it out. You stay right here, okay?"

He didn't wait for her response as he immediately turned on his heel and sprinted out the medical room.

Anya remains stunned in her place, her mind running with countless thoughts. Now that she thinks about it, Curly seemed unaware of her... situation. It only means one thing, that you didn't tell him. And it also means that... you took matters into your own hands.

"Oh, god..." She stands up in a frantic manner, her body inclined to follow Curly. "Please, please don't be doing what I think you're doing, Y/N..."

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Requested tags: @ninastasia0