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dollishsz · 18 hours ago

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HOW DIFFERENT BATBOYS APOLOGIZE AFTER A ARGUMENT ── .✦

a/n: Lowkey I feel like I’m like slightest but problematic in arguments (not me exposing myself) but srs I got this request by a anon! (Here) So yeah tysmm, I won’t be writing the argument because lowkey, I can’t do angst at this time 💔😞

(Tags: how different batboys apologize after a argument)

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

The "I'm Sorry, But…" Apology: Bruce’s apology might be a little stiff at first. He’s not great with words when it comes to his emotions, but he does know how to make up for things. His apology might start with something like, "I know I’m… difficult, but I didn’t mean to hurt you." The real comedy comes in when he tries to "fix" the situation by throwing money at it—like suggesting an extravagant dinner or buying you a new wardrobe because, "I know it will make you feel better."

Trying Too Hard to Be ‘Normal’: He might try to act like he’s “not Bruce Wayne” for a second, attempting to be goofy to show you he’s truly sorry. Picture Bruce awkwardly trying to make a joke: "I’m sorry I made you feel like I was ignoring you. How about we go out… without my bodyguards this time? You know, like a normal date?"

The Silent Apology: More often than not, Bruce will show you he’s sorry with actions, like preparing your favorite meal or doing something thoughtful (such as leaving you a handwritten note or taking care of something you've been stressing about). But if you press him for words, he might simply mutter, “I’m not good at this… but I am sorry,” and leave it at that.

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

The Full-On “I’m Sorry, Please Forgive Me” Routine: Dick is extremely sorry whenever he’s messed up, and he knows how to make it entertaining. He’ll show up with flowers, chocolates, or maybe even your favorite ice cream. And then, with a totally sincere but dramatic flair, he’ll say something like, “Listen, I know I was an idiot, and I have no excuse except that I’m clearly emotionally stupid when I’m upset. So please, for the love of all things holy, let me make it up to you.”

Humorous Apologies: Dick might also make you laugh with his over-the-top apologies. Maybe he tries to outdo himself by setting up an elaborate “romantic” date, only for it to completely go awry (think spaghetti noodles flying everywhere or a very unromantic “romantic” location). He’ll laugh it off, saying, “Okay, so maybe that’s not exactly how I imagined it… but you have to admit, it’s unforgettable.”

The Super Dramatic ‘I’m Sorry’ Speech: After an argument, Dick is not shy about admitting when he’s wrong. He’ll deliver a heartfelt, exaggerated apology, something like, "I was a fool, and I see now that I was wrong. You are perfect, and I am definitely not. How do you put up with me?" Then, he might give you puppy-dog eyes, as if expecting you to immediately forgive him.

JASON TODD ── .✦

The “I Know I Messed Up, But… Here’s a Gift” Approach: Jason is quick to apologize, but it’s not usually with a heartfelt speech. Instead, he’ll show up with a gift—maybe something small but thoughtful, like your favorite snack or a new book he knows you’ve been eyeing. He’ll casually hand it to you and say, “Alright, alright, I messed up. But you know I’m not great at this, so here’s my attempt at being a decent human being.”

Comedic Self-Deprecation: Jason, knowing he’s not always the best communicator, might start with a little self-deprecating humor. "Look, I’m sorry, okay? You’re right, I am a jerk sometimes. But hey, at least I didn’t set anything on fire this time, right?" He’ll try to make you laugh with his inability to fully express himself, but you know he means it.

The “I’m Sorry, Now Let’s Get Back to Normal” Routine: Jason might awkwardly try to move past the argument, brushing it off with a gruff, "Look, I’m sorry for being a pain. Can we just… go back to how things were?" It's not the most eloquent apology, but it’s Jason, and it’s his way of saying he wants to make things right without diving too deep into feelings.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

The "I Overthought This" Apology: Tim is a perfectionist, so when he messes up, he’ll overthink how to apologize. He’ll probably try to do something really thoughtful, like writing you a letter or planning a whole day dedicated to making it up to you. But the real comedy comes when he gets so wrapped up in planning that he’s awkward about it. "I, uh, made you a list of everything I could do to make it up to you, starting with… well, taking you out for dinner. You like sushi, right? But if you prefer something else, I can also—"

The "What Do You Need?" Routine: Tim might also take a very logical approach. He’ll ask, "What would you like me to do to fix this?" but in a way that makes it seem like he’s creating a spreadsheet of ways to apologize. "I’ve compiled some options for you to choose from. Option one: Dinner. Option two: A walk in the park. Option three: Let me do your laundry for the next week…”

The 'Nervous, Over-Apologetic' Tim: Tim is likely to be the one who apologizes over and over again. He’ll say “I’m sorry” about a dozen times in a single conversation, with increasing levels of anxiety. "I really didn’t mean it that way. I’m so sorry. Are we okay? You don’t seem mad, but if you are, I understand, and I’m really, really sorry."

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

The Reluctant Apology: Damian isn’t one to apologize easily, and when he does, it’s more formal. He might say something like, “I apologize for my behavior. It was uncalled for.” And then he’ll awkwardly pause, before adding, "I... didn’t mean to upset you." The comedic part comes when he clearly doesn’t understand how he’s hurt you. He might ask, “Is there anything I can do to make it right? Or… was this just another one of your moods?”

The Unintentional "Nice Guy" Apology: Damian will give you something as an apology—perhaps a bouquet of flowers or something that he “found interesting,” but he’ll likely be very stiff about it, saying something like, “This is for you. I thought you would appreciate it. It’s… an apology gift.” He’ll be surprised when you react positively, since he’s convinced that you’ll just think it’s lame

A Small Gesture of Remorse: As an apology, Damian might ask you to join him for a quiet walk or for tea, giving you a rare moment of sincerity. He might even throw in a joke (but it’ll be one of those very dry ones), saying, “The tea will be of the highest quality, so I suppose that should count for something."

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nyrasproblm · 2 days ago

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The uncertainty of coexistence

Ambessa Medarda x fem!reader

Summary: Can a warrior become the object of her general's affection?

Warning: mentions of war, typical canon violence, big age difference (reader is in her 20s and Ambessa is in her 50s), power imbalance

Word Count: 1,5K

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE.

To be born in Noxus was to be certain that one way or another you would end up on the battlefield. Without knowing the reason or purpose, a Noxian would do what your generals told you to do. To honor your blood and ancestry. It was better to be a warrior than a slave or a prostitute. That's what you think, at least.

You had never been to war, though. It had been less than three years since you had become a warrior. Because you were inexperienced, the higher-ranking officers were more harsh on you and the younger ones.

The training sessions led by Rictus were tiring, but they were intended to prepare you for the imminent war that your general was preparing.

Your general, Ambessa Medarda. Lady of War. You had only seen her up close a few times, but it was enough for you to know that she was impressive.

You turned your attention back to what you were doing when you felt a strong blow to your ribs, making you gasp and fall to the ground. Shooting a irritated look at Carissa, your friend and training partner, you stood up, grabbing your stick.

"We're not at war yet and I'm not the enemy, you don't need to use so much force." you complained.

"I didn't use much force." she smiled smugly. "You're weak."

You almost raised your eyebrows at her teasing, then looked out of the small training cabin, seeing Rictus distracted with his runic tablets. Taking the opportunity, you ran and threw yourself at Carissa, making a dry noise on the floor, then tried to grab her hands, which proved difficult as she began to struggle, the smug look still present on her smiling face.

"Do you surrender?" you asked, letting out a low chuckle. She let out a louder chuckle when you managed to grab one of her hands.

Distracted by your play, you didn't notice the familiar sound of heavy boots behind you, at the entrance to the cabin.

"It gives me great pleasure to see the youth of Noxus rejoice in being a part of my army." the authoritative voice spoke, causing both of you to freeze momentarily.

Quickly standing up, you lowered your head, looking down at your bare feet on the wooden floor, you saw Carissa doing the same out of the corner of your eye.

"General." you both spoke at the same time, your voices sounding shaky.

Ambessa walked in, approaching and stopping near the two of you, her heavy presence silencing the entire room. She exuded a dark power without having to do anything.

"Don't stop, go back to playing, we have plenty of time." she spoke again, her voice vibrating closer. "Isn't it?"

You swallowed hard, your hands starting to sweat. Ambessa was known for her determination and violence, she had no patience for mistakes and distractions. A thought about that ran through your head and made you breathe heavily.

She walked a few steps, starting to circle around the two of you. She stopped next to Carissa and tilted her head down.

"Out," she ordered, her voice sounding colder.

Carissa swallowed and nodded, leaving without another word. Ambessa walked a few more steps, stopping in front of you, making you feel smaller than ever, in every way.

You felt your face being held and lifted by a large hand, Ambessa looked at you for a moment before letting go of your chin.

"You looked intimate the way you were riding her." she spoke again. "I suppose I don't need to advise you on the hazards of professional entanglements."

"I sincerely apologize, General. It won't happen again." you said, your voice sounding small.

Ambessa looked down from above, let out a satisfied sigh, and left.

You grunted as you delivered two consecutive blows with the blade to the inanimate doll's neck. Carissa was no longer your training partner. Now you trained individually in the training room that had the worn-out wooden dolls.

Sighing, you pulled out the large blade of the knife that had stuck in the wood. As you stepped away to stab the doll in the stomach, you heard the door open and heavy footsteps enter the training room, followed by the deep voice you had heard from very close by a few days before.

"Haven't they ever told you not to stand with your back to the door?" Ambessa asked and you turned in time to see her pick up one of the large knives that was laid out on a table in the corner.

She wore her training clothes, the sports bra that showed off her toned belly, her arms covered by cloth armbands.

You straightened your posture and tilted your head slightly, "General."

"Leave the doll alone, let's see if you can land your blows on me." she ordered, approaching you.

"Pardon?" you frowned, confused.

"I don't like repeating myself, child," she said, her voice heavier this time. "Fight me."

You swallowed hard, knowing you couldn't disregard her orders. Biting your lower lip in insecurity, you advanced on her, moving the blade in the strokes you were used to making.

All to be knocked to the ground in almost the same second, the blade being ripped from your hand.

"You’re sloppy and predictable. Everything the enemy expects.” Ambessa hovered above you, holding both blades in her hands. “You’ll die the second you step foot in the war.”

She threw the blades to the ground and pulled you up by your arm, before starting to randomly strike you with her hands, making you put your hands in front of your body to defend yourself.

She pulled one of your arms and raised her body, passing her legs over you, hitting your face with her right foot. You fell again, feeling your nose bleed.

Training with her continued for weeks. Weeks where you felt anxious whenever the time to see her approached. At one point, you longed to be near her, her body heavy on yours when she pinned you to the ground while teaching.

Learning from a war veteran proved to be rewarding, as you improved and improved a lot. But no reward compared to seeing her almost every day.

As unbelievable as it may seem, Ambessa was patient at one point, her voice softening as she taught you something you didn't already know.

This made your heart beat faster.

Your breathing was faster and you could feel your lungs burning, but you couldn't stop. Ambessa's blows didn't slow down, she advanced violently towards you. Using one of your legs to unbalance her, you used the tip of the spear to make a tiny cut on her cheekbone, making her freeze for a moment.

Realizing what you had done, you opened your mouth to speak and reached out your hand towards her, who stood up on her own and walked towards you, leaving almost no space.

"General, what-" your words were cut off as she brought her large hands to either side of your face and bent over you, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss.

You brought them to her shoulders, sliding them down to the sides of her face. She gave light bites to your jaw and chin as she pulled away from your lips.

"You have a lot of courage for someone your size," she said without pulling away. "You've proven yourself worthy."

"I want you to be proud of me." you blurted out without thinking properly.

She let out a deep laugh and pulled away, taking the heat of her body away from you.

"You left a scar on me, that is honorable," she said, pulling the gold piercing from her lower lip. "Someone honorable should wear a symbol, a symbol that shows they are on my side."

She approached you again and fitted the gold piece to your lower lip, running one of her thick fingers over it.

After that day, you no longer stood among the other warriors. Ambessa allowed you to walk beside her, as Rictus. You proudly wore the gold piercing on your lower lip.

At the moment, on her orders, the army was moving from the fixed base to Viktor's hideout, crossing the unguarded bridge that connected the Noxian installations to the rest of Piltover. Of course she wasn't going to blend in.

You turned your face and looked down, seeing how far the bridge was from the water. A fall wouldn't kill, but drowning was imminent.

You turned your attention forward when you felt Ambessa's large hand on your waist, making you look at her with a frown, to which she continued with the same stoic expression as always, looking forward.

Suddenly, you felt the thud on your legs and your body being thrown out of the limits of the bridge, the only thing that kept you from falling was the large hand that held only one of yours.

Eyes wide with surprise and despair you looked up, finding Ambessa's sharp eyes staring at you coldly. She didn't say anything for a moment, the sound of the water below was the only thing present, as the army had stopped marching.

"What-" you groaned, feeling your arm start to ache, your legs swinging slightly. "Please."

"I warned you of the hazards of professional entanglements." she said simply, her voice devoid of any emotion.

You froze, feeling your chest hurt. But of course. How could you have been so stupid?

A warrior does not grow like this in the eyes of their general.

With your delay in responding, Ambessa stared at you for a while longer before pulling you up, leaving you hanging on your own, struggling to climb up the bridge.

When you managed to get up, you were breathing quickly, your heart was beating fast and she had already started walking again, with her army following her.

#writers on tumblr #writing #arcane #arcane fandom #arcane fanfic #ambessa x reader #ambessa #ambessa medarda #arcane ambessa #ambessa x you #ambessa fanfic

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misswynters · 3 days ago

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Seb complaining to you after a days worth of work

short drabble

requested. by anon

Seb’s broad shoulders sagged as he shuffled inside, his gills flaring faintly with every irritated breath. Door creaking as he stepped inside still in his uniform, which carried a lingering dent of zauns smog and dust. He muttered something under his breath, probably about the day he’d had, as he unbuckled his utility belt and tossed it onto a nearby chair with a loud clunk.

You watched from the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a glass of water in hand, already bracing yourself for the incoming storm of complaints. Which he always does. He sure does love to complain about his job as enforcer.

“Long day?” you asked, breaking the silence.

Seb turned his wide, fish-like eyes toward you, his lower lip jutting out in an exaggerated pout. “You have no idea,” he groaned, flopping down onto the couch like a deflated balloon. His fin-like ears twitched as he rubbed at his temple, his webbed fingers dragging down his face dramatically. “I swear, if one more rookie enforcer tells me, ‘It’s just shimmer addicts, Seb,’ I’m gonna lose it. Like, yeah, Brad, shimmer addicts who could gut you with a rusty knife in two seconds flat. But sure, act tough.” (idk who’s brad lol, just a rando)

You bit back a laugh, crossing the room to sit beside him. “Brad again, huh?”

“Brad always,” Seb whined, throwing his head back against the couch and staring at the ceiling like it held all the answers. “It’s like babysitting with a badge.” He gestured wildly as he spoke, his fins flicking in irritation. “And don’t get me started on the paperwork. Hours of chasing down some punk, and then I have to sit there and write about it. I didn’t sign up for this. Well, okay, I did, but still.”

You leaned closer, resting your chin on your hand as you watched him rant. There was something endearing about the way he vented, his deep voice rising and falling with every exaggerated complaint.

“And then,” Seb continued, throwing his hands in the air for emphasis, “this shimmerhead threw a bottle at me. Me! Do I look like the kind of guy you throw a bottle at?”

You raised an eyebrow, pretending to think. “Well, you are pretty intimidating.”

Seb scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Oh, come on. I’m a catch.” He paused, his lips twitching upward as he caught the unintended pun. “Literally.”

You snorted, nudging him with your elbow. “A very dramatic catch.”

“Hey, someone’s gotta keep things interesting,” he said, finally cracking a small smile. He turned his gaze to you, his big eyes softening. “You’re lucky you’re cute, or I’d really start whining.”

“Start whining?” you teased, earning a half-hearted glare.

Seb sighed, leaning back into the couch and letting his head loll toward you. “You know,” he murmured, his tone quieter now, “it’s not all bad. Coming home to you? Best part of the day.”

Your cheeks warmed at his sudden sincerity, and you reached out to take his hand. “Glad I can make it better,” you said softly.

He squeezed your hand, his usual dramatics replaced by a rare moment of tenderness. The two of you sat there in silence, his complaints forgotten for now. Seb might be a whirlwind of grumbling and theatrics, but you wouldn’t trade him for anything.

taglist. @diffusebread @xxblairslairxx

banner. @anitalenia

#arcane #arcane masterlist #seb x reader #arcane fanfic #arcane drabbles #arcane x gender neutral reader #arcane x reader #arcane fic #arcane spoilers #arcane x y/n #arcane x you #arcane characters #arcane imagine #arcane writing #arcane fluff

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dollyhyuckii · 22 hours ago

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drabble- late night calls⋆୨୧˚

the fight earlier had left a bitter weight in your chest. hours had passed, but the tension still lingered, thick and unrelenting. you toss and turn in bed, replaying every word exchanged, every raised tone. the argument wasn’t even about anything important, just something trivial that spiraled into something bigger.

your phone buzzes on the nightstand, the vibration cutting through the quiet. his name lights up the screen. jungkook.

you hesitate, staring at the phone as it rings. the hurt is still fresh, but so is the longing. finally, you answer, pressing the phone to your ear without saying anything.

“my baby,” his voice comes through, soft and cautious, yet so unmistakably him. “are you awake?”

you don’t reply right away, your silence speaking volumes.

“pretty girl,” he says gently, “are you still mad at me?”

your throat tightens, the sound of his voice unraveling the wall you’ve tried to keep up. you close your eyes and exhale, letting the quiet hang between you.

“i hate when we fight,” he says after a moment, his voice dipping lower, almost vulnerable. “i’ve been sitting here, thinking about it. thinking about us. and i was wrong, okay? i overreacted.”

the knot in your chest loosens just slightly. “you did,” you say softly, not to hurt him but because it’s true.

“i know,” he admits, his voice barely a whisper. “i just… i don’t like when we’re not okay. it messes with me, baby. i can’t stop thinking about it.”

his honesty chips away at the last of your defenses. you sigh, your fingers gripping the edge of the blanket. “i don’t like it either, jungkook.”

there’s a pause on the other end, the sound of his breathing filling the space. “can i come over? i need to see you.”

you shake your head, even though he can’t see you. “it’s late.”

“i don’t care,” he says firmly. “i’ll stay outside your door if I have to. i just want to make this right.”

tears prick at your eyes, the sincerity in his voice overwhelming. “we’ll be okay,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

“promise?” he asks, his tone softer now.

“promise.”

he exhales in relief, and you can almost picture the small, shy smile tugging at his lips. “i love you,” he murmurs. “more than anything, pretty girl.”

“i love you too, jungkook.”

the call ends, but the weight on your chest feels lighter. you curl back into bed, your heart finally at peace.

𝗯𝗮𝗻𝗻𝗲𝗿 𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗱𝗶𝘁𝘀 𝘁𝗼-@khaer

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silcoitus · 3 days ago

Note

Hello! I think I'm doing this right but if not, I'm so sorry:

What do you think Silco would do if he found out, years later/during Act 2, that a fling he had when he was alot younger and dumber, resulted in him having a Son/Gender neutral child living in Piltover?

(how this is discovered can be completely up to you)

Would the angst of them being a Piltovian(?) citizen permanently leave their relationship undefined or would he push away his hatred of Piltover and try and meet them?

Better yet, how would Jinx react to this?

Just a bit of potential angst to spice things up I guess haha.

Thank you!

Thank you for this amazing prompt, anon! It's one of my favorite ones I've ever received! Why does writing angst soothe me? It doesn't make sense.

Summer's Ghost

Masterlist | AO3 link

Rating: Mature

Tags: Silco, original female character, original child character, angst, depression, reference to character death, character study

Word count: 2.7k

Beta reader: @juniper-sunny

Silco receives a curious letter from a Piltie boy claiming to be his son. Spurred by lingering bitterness and unresolved anger, Silco visits Topside for answers and to finally speak his mind to the woman who left him so many years ago.

Dear Mr. Silco,

I'm not exactly sure how even to begin this letter, so I’ll start with the part that is most relevant to you:

I am your son.

I know, I didn't believe it at first either. But if you keep reading, I can tell you how that happened.

My mother was a brilliant woman, born and raised here in Piltover. She was the top of her class and an artist. My grandparents tell me that, in her university days, she had a bit of a rebellious streak. She ran away from home to live in the Undercity. Over the course of a summer there, she met a man. And fell in love.

You probably know more about how the rest of this story goes than me.

After that summer, my mom had a change of heart. She returned home with a new bundle in tow: me. And while she never told me, I assume she left the Undercity in order to raise me here.

But you probably don’t care about all that. You just want to know why I’m writing to you.

Well, first off: I'm not asking for money. My mom (and grandparents) provided for me and I have a comfortable life here in Piltover.

I don't want anything from you. Not really. I wrote because… well… My mother died recently. It's actually how I found out about you. My birth was a closely guarded secret and it was only when I was cleaning her stuff out after her death that I learned. She had a box of things from her time with you: a diary, some photographs, a bracelet. I thought you might want them.

I don’t know what your relationship with my mother was like or how it ended, but this seemed like something she would want me to do. If I crossed a line, I’m sorry.

I've attached her obituary. It has her final resting place. If you want to collect the box, I've left it on her grave. If you haven’t taken it by next week, I’ll assume you want nothing to do with it. And that’s okay, too.

Sincerely,

P.S I also included a photo for proof. You can hold onto it. I already made myself a copy.

When finally Silco lifts his eyes from the letter, it's with slightly parted lips and inward curling eyebrows. Visions of memories long ago flick across his mind’s eye unbidden, released like water from a dam.

Setting the letter down, he retrieves the other effects in the pneumatic tube. Fingers tremble as they pull out a small photograph. It's worn around the edges and the ink has faded significantly, but the image is unmistakable: it's him in his early twenties, standing next to the woman who left him.

He remembers that summer clearly, the memories vivid and the feelings so strong it could power a Hexgate. He remembers the late nights talking, the sound of her laugh, the way she was always sketching in her notebook. He remembers the first time they kissed, followed quickly by the first time they made love.

Silco’s lips press into a thin line, something bitter bubbling within him.

He remembers his desperation when he ran through the Lanes, searching for her. He remembers how he couldn’t sleep for days, worried something had happened. That someone had taken her. Or worse. He remembers crying so hard that he could feel it in his teeth, his cheekbones feeling as if someone was pressing their thumbs to them with the aim of crushing them. He remembers drinking.

And drinking.

Drinking to cope.

Drinking to forget.

Drinking to wash down the bitter taste of the knowledge that he had let someone get so close to him so quickly, only for them to rip his heart out and slash it to pieces. And to add insult to injury—

My mother was a brilliant woman, born and raised here in Piltover.

He stares at that word again.

Piltover

Hand shaking violently, he picks up the pneumatic tube and hurls it across the room. It breaks on impact as it hits the office door, glass shards flying through the air.

Of course.

Who else could chew him up and spit him out? Who else but a Piltie? His home—his life—nothing more than a tourist attraction to her, a vacation away from her cushy, privileged life.

How could he have been so blind?

How could he have been so stupid?

He can feel his heart rate rising, chest heaving as his breathing grows unsteady. Good eye fluttering closed, he puts one hand out, signaling himself to stop.

Slow down.

Breathe.

He takes one long inhale through his nose, holding it for a moment before blowing it out his mouth through pursed lips. When he opens his eyes, his jaw is set, decision made.

He snatches the letter, photo, and newspaper clipping off the desk, shoves them into his coat pocket, and walks out the door.

As far as final resting places go, this certainly is one of the more luxurious ones. Even in death, Topsiders can’t help but preen and self-aggrandize, if not with their bodies, their tombs. Each gravestone seems to be attempting to outdo the next, growing larger and more gaudy in size as Silco walks down the rows of graves. Subconsciously, his nostrils flare and his mouth twitches into a snarl.

When he finds her name among the dead, he’s surprised to see not a tombstone but rather a park bench. Constructed out of blue pearl granite and polished to a brilliant shine, her name, date of birth, and date of death are carved into the back. The soil around the bench looks freshly turned over and the carved letters barely have any dust or dirt accumulated in them. Studying the dates, it would seem M did not lie; she had died two weeks ago.

And there—sitting on one end of the bench, waiting for him—is the box.

His chin lifts as his mismatched eyes scan his surroundings, looking over his shoulder, his ears alert and listening for any signs of other visitors. Certain no one is nearby or within eavesdropping distance, he turns his attention back to the bench.

He could just take the box and go. There’s no need for him to linger here. But as he stands staring at her name—carved with such finality into that unmoving stone—he can’t bring himself to leave.

And yet, it’s odd, addressing a bench. On his way over, he had envisioned himself spitting on a tombstone with great satisfaction. But now, as he’s faced with something as welcoming as a bench in a beautifully maintained cemetery, he feels stuck. Any anger that had been boiling in his abdomen before has simmered down, upended by the unexpected appearance of his former lover’s grave.

Reaching into his pocket, he retrieves the photograph. After propping it up on the bench, he addresses the woman who lies six feet underground.

“You…” He can’t even bring himself to say her name, both hands balled into fists in his coat pockets. “You’ve been here this entire time.”

Both eyes roll as he realizes the error of his statement.

“Not here, but in Piltover.” He brings one hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, good eye squeezed shut. “I searched for you for weeks. I didn’t sleep. I didn’t eat. I thought someone had taken you. I thought you had—”

Died.

Well.

It’s accurate now, isn’t it?

“Typical Topsider,” he spits out, one hand gesturing as if throwing something away, like the way she had thrown him away, “You come to my home, promising a bright and brilliant future, but all you do is leave destruction in your wake.”

He steps back, pulls his head back, and spits onto the freshly dug soil.

“Disgusting,” he snarls. “And to think, I had lov—”

He pauses, unable to finish the word.

He was young. He was ignorant. That was not love he felt for her. Nor adoration. That was infatuation; merely a young man’s naive idea of what love was.

What that was—it was Not Love.

Silco pulls his fingers through his hair, collecting himself.

“Why?” His hand curls into a fist again. His tone is bitter, full of anger, growing in volume. “I don’t care why you left; I know exactly why you left.”

As he continues to speak, his concerns about being overheard are overcome by the thundering emotions swelling inside him, churning and bubbling after years of dormancy. “You didn’t want your son to grow up to be a street urchin like his sumprat father. No… all I want to know is…”

His next words are bellowed out, the sound coming from deep within his lungs, each word punctuated with a pregnant pause, as if he means to put his entire body into every syllable.

“Why. Didn’t. You. Tell. Me?”

There’s a flurry of wings as nearby birds take flight, spooked by the sudden noise.

Silco’s good eye flutters closed again and he takes long, deep breaths, recentering himself. His hand comes up, forefinger pressing to his sternum. There’s a desperation to his voice now, a yearning. Mourning something he didn’t even know he had until a few hours ago.

“I had a right to know.” He opens his good eye, staring at the photograph. Staring at her. “He is my son. He is my blood. How could you have kept him from me for so many years?”

He gathers himself, eyes casting to the ground.

He had so much more he wanted to say. Years of anguish, torment. But now that he’s here, he’s forgotten them all.

He feels empty.

Finally, he slumps down on the bench, next to the box. It remains untouched beside him. He sits with his shoulders sagging forward, both elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together as his head hangs low.

It’s quiet in the cemetery.

He turns his face toward the photograph, addressing the woman in it with a whisper of a voice. “All I wanted was for you to be okay. For you to live a good life.” He lifts his head toward the great, open sky of the City of Progress, free from smoke and fissure gasses and ash. “And I suppose I got what I wanted.”

He hangs his head once more, speaking to the ground at his feet.

“You just did it without me.”

A stiff breeze blows through, tugging at his coat. He makes no move to bundle himself up further, letting the chill air surround him, seeping into his bones.

He sits.

And remembers.

After a few moments, he hears movement. Ears prickling and head whipping up, he spots a boy walking between some nearby tombstones. He looks to be a teenager, fifteen—maybe sixteen—years of age. The boy pauses at one of the graves, looking at it silently, his hands shoved into his pockets. After a moment, his eyes lift and meet Silco’s.

Silco meets his gaze, unblinking. The boy doesn’t seem at all fazed by Silco’s corrupted eye, giving him a small, polite nod. Silco nods in return before tearing his eyes away.

Ocean green and volcanic orange eyes pause on the small wooden box on the bench.

Mahogany. Expertly crafted. Like the bench, it’s beautiful in its simplicity. Unbidden, Silco’s throat bobs as he reaches for the box and gingerly places it on his lap.

After taking a deep breath, he lifts the lid.

The first thing he sees is a bracelet. Black in color and made of thin strips of leather with small circular charms along the strings, it’s plain and modest. The surface of the leather looks almost brittle, worn around its edges from frequent use.

Underneath, there’s a stack of photos. Lifting them, he recognizes the first as one he had taken. The late woman stands laughing beside The Last Drop’s jukebox, Felicia grinning widely next to her. Vander can be seen in the corner, caught mid-sentence as he speaks with whom Silco can only assume is Benzo. Setting down that photo, Silco’s eyebrows lift when he sees the next one.

He doesn’t remember this photo being taken at all, which is curious given the fact he’s the one and only subject of the photo. Silco—sporting long hair tied back in a low bun—sits at the bar, pouring over his notebook. His right arm is wrapped in strips of off-white fabric and in his hand is a pencil, which hovers over the page, posed to write.

Silco remembers this night.

It was the night Felicia told him and Vander she was pregnant with Violet. It was the night everything changed.

Funny, how the night he learns of one pregnancy happens to also be the night his lover leaves him because of hers.

He hums, continuing to study the photograph.

He had forgotten what he looked like at that age, so used to seeing his marred reflection in the mirror. So used to covering half of his face with foundation just to regain some semblance of normalcy.

Silco’s about to look through the rest of the box when he sees movement out of his periphery. Quickly, he shuts the box and looks up to see the boy from before, standing in front of him.

“Sorry,” he says, voice quiet. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You didn’t,” Silco replies simply. His good eyebrow lifts in silent question.

“Is it okay if…” The boy gestures to the empty spot on the bench.

Silco stands, hand offering the seat, the box neatly tucked under his arm.

“Oh, you didn’t have to leave,” the boy says, scooting over to leave some room. “I just wanted to sit for a little bit.”

Silco eyes him for a moment, then, against his better judgement, sits back down. The mahogany box feels heavy in his lap. The boy’s eyes look at it briefly before looking out into the rest of the cemetery.

The pair sit in silence, the only sound the rustle of the leaves as the wind rushes through the nearby trees. Silco’s hand covers the box, fingers idly smoothing over the carving of a rose on the lid.

He doesn’t know why he does it, compelled by a nagging curiosity, but Silco breaks the silence.

“Do you have family here?”

The boy nods. “My grandpa.”

Silco hums.

Silence falls between them again.

“Do you?” the boy asks, eyes lifting to meet Silco’s.

Silco’s lips press together, the tip of his chipped tooth catching the inside of his mouth a little.

“In a sense.”

The boy sighs. “At least it’s a pretty nice view.”

Silco follows his gaze.

“It is.”

“Well, except for that.”

The boy points to a large tombstone made of porcelain with gold accents all along its edges. Every inch of it seems to be covered in some sort of design, painted in blue. But the patterns come across as less elegant and more like visual noise; the eye given nowhere to rest, the senses overwhelmed by all the complicated shapes and textures.

Laughing, the boy makes a retching noise. “It’s so ugly.”

Silco’s lips pull into a smirk, head tilting.

“There’s no accounting for taste.”

“Yup.”

The boy abruptly gets to his feet, seemingly satisfied. Turning to Silco, he puts his hand out in offering.

“I’m Marlow, by the way.”

“Marlow.” Silco takes his hand and shakes it. “Nice to meet you.”

The boy nods, seemingly out of words. After offering a small smile, he turns on his heel, heading for the gates.

Silco continues to sit on the bench, thumb rubbing absentmindedly on the box’s carvings. After a moment, his eyes widen and he reaches into his coat pocket for the letter, eyes darting down to the bottom.

He looks up to find the boy has disappeared. He lets a short chuckle out of his nose as he shakes his head, rising to his feet.

After one final look at his ex-lover’s grave, he starts his trek back home.

He has a feeling this won’t be the last time he visits this cemetery.

And it won’t be the last he’s seen of that boy.

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s4bbatical · 3 days ago

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Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want | Part 3. (Rivals Declan O'Hara x Reader 18+)

Part 1. Part 2. Warnings: profanities, consumption of alcohol and cigarette use. hints of sex! age gap (reader!22) enjoy!

━━━━━━☆━━━━━━

You're at your desk when you hear the news, the entire office in commotion as Cameron, Tony and Declan appear after the wrap of Declan's newest episode.

"Rupert said yes?" You gasp, smacking Seb's arm. "Fucking brilliant, man." You say, grinning. "Declan's gonna take a chunk out of his neck, it's gonna be grand." You look over at Declan, who's clinking glasses with Tony in his office.

"I'm just grateful our efforts aren't going to waste. Christ knows how much time we put into this sleazy bastard." Seb grumbles, crossing his arms.

"Why you look so down on yourself Seb?" You ask, standing up straight from your previous position of leaning against the oak desk.

"I don't know, y/n. Maybe you can figure that out yourself." He says bluntly, walking away towards the common space.

Your jaw drops slightly, throwing your arms up. "What the fuck?" You whisper to yourself, grabbing the back of your neck. You had been turning down Seb's advances on you due to your clandestine actions with Declan, not realizing how much of an impact it really had on the ginger. You knew he liked you a little more than just friends, you just hoped he'd let go of it sooner than later.

As far as you were concerned, still no one knew about you and Declan. You tried to stay focused on your work and not overthink it much, although it was on your mind every minute of your waking hours. Not telling anyone, especially your new best friend Taggie, was taking a toll on you. How does one tell another that they find their dad very attractive, and also have been banging him in his office after hours? It wasn't an easy feat for anyone. You tried to remind yourself that it was okay to have a little fun, as long as no one else knew about it.

You jump slightly as you notice Declan standing by your desk, straightening out your blazer as you nod towards him. "Declan, hi. Congratulations on securing the interview with Rupert." You say, giving him a smile.

"Thanks, y/n. You've been a great help with it all, I wouldn't be as confident as I am without you." He says, a smirk growing on his face. "Would you mind doing overtime on Saturday? To help me with additional flawed research?" He asks, now properly smiling.

"Ah, I would, but your daughter has asked me to accompany her in catering for Baddingham's falconery that day. I'm sorry." You admit, shrugging.

"That's alright. Will you be coming to our home for dinner afterwards, then?" He asks.

You grin, tapping your chin in thought satirically. "Yeah, I guess so." You say, letting out a small laugh.

"Great, see you then." He says, a light tap on your bottom as he walks away.

You gasp lightly, looking around hastily to ensure no one saw. "Unbelievable." You whisper to yourself, sitting down at your desk.

As Saturday rolls around, you find yourself bright and early at The Priory, attempting to hold back your yawns as you prepare cheese and fruit platters with Taggie.

"Can I ask you something?" Taggie asks, rinsing a bowl of grapes.

"Course, yeah. What's up?" You say, slicing wedges of brie.

"Do you think my dad should go through with interviewing Rupert?" She inquires timidly, putting the bowl of grapes on the kitchen table.

"Rupert is an asshole. He deserves anything that is thrown at him." You say bitterly out of respect for your friend, and her father.

"Y/n, I don't think he should go through with it." Taggie says, meeting your eyes. "I'm afraid my father will ruin him." She whispers, frowning.

"Taggie," You start, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Where is this coming from?" You ask, worried about her concerns.

"I think Rupert isn't as horrible as everyone thinks he is. He sincerely apologized to me, and I can tell he wasn't just doing it out of spite for me or my father." She explains, sighing. "After you left before the party ended, we slow danced together and..." She trails off, seeming upset with herself. "We shouldn't've, I know. But there's something about him that isn't worth destroying him over." She finishes.

You furrow your brows and purse your lips. "I'm not the one to call the shots on this, Tags. You know that." You say.

"My father listens to you better than me, for some reason." She says, causing your breath to go still. "I don't know why, but I would like for you to try saying something." She pleas. "For me, y/n. Please."

You let out a deep sigh, letting go of your breath. "Fine, I will. Don't get mad if he goes through with it, though." You mumble, reorganizing the assembly of cheeses.

"Thank you." Taggie smiles, giving you a side hug.

"Course." You whisper, it was the least you could do considering what secrets you've withheld from her already.

"Taggie!" Declan yells, entering the kitchen. He is taken aback by our presence, perhaps not expecting you so early in the morning. "Y/n, hello." He smiles. "Have you seen my plaid shirt your mum put out to dry?" He asks his daughter.

"I folded it up in your dresser, dad." Taggie says, causing Declan to nod.

"Right, course. Thank you darling." He places a kiss on her head, secretly gliding his fingers across your lower back as he steps away. "See you girls later." He says, waving as he exits the kitchen.

"Why'd you look at my dad like that?" She queries, nudging you.

"Like what?" You say defensively.

"Like he was a piece of meat." She says, scoffing.

"Your dad's hot, that's not my fault. It's not like I'm doing anything." You exclaim, raising your hands.

"Good, you better not." She says jokingly, grinning at the banter between the two of you.

You laugh, trying to not frown at your inner thoughts.

Only if you knew, Taggie. Only if.

Declan is in the office, going through evidence against Rupert as he notices Charles Fairburn reorganizing his office. "Charles!" He says out of surprise.

"Oh, hello." Charles says. "I didn't expect to see anybody."

"I'm researching Campbell-Black and needed something from my office." He says, approaching Fairburn.

"I never thought I'd see the day when Tony Baddingham had Declan O'Hara doing his dirty work." The road of Baddingham's distaste for Campbell-Black is a long one, and quite complicated enough even for you to even know about.

"I have my own reasons for wanting to take that bastard down." Declan interjects.

"You know, in different circumstances, you and Rupert could've been friends." Charles says simply. "Both complicated, both stubborn, misunderstood." He jests, putting down office supplies on his new desk.

"Bollocks." Declan states. "What are you doing in on a Saturday?" He queries.

Charles clicks his tongue, "Moving offices ahead of my grand return." He says, now holding a clipboard. "Apparently, my recent coronary episode makes me a medical liability." He says, referring to the panic attack that happened on New Years. "Which is why Cameron Cook is now controller of programmes and I'm--"

"Head of Religious Broadcasting." Declan says, reading the new plaque on the door underneath Charles' name. He looks back and gives him a look of sympathy.

Charles scoffs. "I can't begrudge her too much. Climbing the greasy pole requires its own set of skills." He mumbles, sitting down. "Especially when the greasy pole in question, lives in Tony Baddingham's trousers." He says sarcastically. A moment of silence passes by.

"How's the heart?" Declan asks, redirecting the conversation.

Charles sighs. "Oh, you know, broken." He goes quiet for a moment. "How's the new journalist, Declan?" He asks, watching as Declan's face contorts into bewilderment.

"What'd you mean by that?" He asks, attempting to act confused by Fairburn's statement. Heat rose to his face as his heart began to race.

Charles gives him a weak smile before speaking again. "I'm sorry for what I saw at the New Year's Eve party. I was out in the garden and wasn't expecting to see you, especially with y/n." He says quietly, Declan staying dead silent. Fuck.

"I'm not telling anyone." Charles adds, seeing the worry in O'Hara's face. "Don't show Tony any weakness, Declan." He abruptly says. "Or this is what you get." He whispers sadly, referring to his new demoted office space.

Declan looks down for a moment, unable to find words as he slowly walks away. He looks back again at Charles Fairburn before he returns to his office, closing the door and running a hand through his dark curls.

Charles knew of Declan's dirty secret, but regardless of what assurance he is given, he has to keep it completely under wraps now. He has to be careful, and so do you.

He notices a folder on his desk, opening it to reveal a note from the sender mentioning of a phone call regarding Rupert Campbell-Black accompanied by a photo. He grins, his worries dissipating as more evidence has landed in his lap. He folds it up tightly, enclosing it in a new envelope with a devilish grin.

You find yourself back at The Priory with Taggie later that afternoon, your stomach unwell from seeing all the dead birds that day.

"God, it's astounding how they manage to eat and drink so much while killing those innocent creatures." You say, taking a leftover ham sandwich and taking a bite out of it.

Declan enters the house, returning after his time at the office. "Ah, how was the shoot?"

"Well, they killed loads of birds," You say, swallowing your food.

"But they liked my food." Taggie finishes the sentence for you. Declan chuckles. "Rupert stopped by." She adds, crossing her arms.

You watch in bemusement as Declan reacts poorly. You take another bite of your sandwich.

"Oh, Jesus Christ. Is there no place free of that man?" He exclaims, walking away.

Taggie furrows her brows, looking over at you to do something.

You sigh, taking the last bite of your sandwich as you follow her father into the other room. "I'll talk to him." You mumble to Taggie as you pass her.

After quickening your pace, you follow him into the master bedroom, where he begins unloading his blazer. "You shouldn't be so harsh on Rupert, y'know." You begin to say, closing the door behind you.

"And what makes you think you have any say in that?" Declan replies with an edge in his voice, putting a cigarette in his mouth and lighting it.

"Taggie's forgiven him, I think you can let it go-"

"Let it go?! Let go of the fact that he groped my daughter? That my own wife still wants to sleep with him even though he's a horrible fucking bastard?!" Declan yells, aggressively huffing on his cigarette.

"Look, I understand where you're coming from Declan, but this could backfire and then what happens to you, huh? What if he ends up burying you into the ground instead of the other way around?!" You try to explain, holding your place as Declan begins to undo his shirt, tossing it onto the bed. You stare at his torso as he breathes heavily in anger, his chest rising and falling. Time and place, time and place.

"He will not do any such thing." Declan mutters harshly, putting out his cigarette in the ashtray atop his dresser. "You know that Charles Fairburn knows of us, huh?" He says, leaning against a bed post.

Your eyes widen, taken aback by his statement. "What? How?" You ask meekly, guilt mixed with fear rising up your throat from the pit of your stomach. "But no one saw us?" You whisper, beginning to pace back forth.

"Well he did." Declan states flatly. He grabs your arm and halts your movements. "He said he won't tell a soul, but this means we have to keep it controlled or this can no longer happen, y/n." He whispers firmly, staring into your eyes.

"I think I'd rather quit than stop whatever this is." You mumble, turning yourself completely towards Declan.

The two of you stare deeply at one another, Declan placing a hand on your cheek. "I need to control myself." He whispers, leaning in close enough to have his lips hover over yours.

"No one can see us now, Declan." You remind him.

The two of you come undone in multiple positions. You find yourself cuddled up beside Declan as he lights a cigarette, inhaling as he strokes your hair.

"Thanks for that, I needed a good fuck." You joke, closing your eyes as Declan hums.

"My pleasure." He grins, inhaling his cigarette once again.

"Wait, shit." You say, sitting up abruptly. Declan looks at you with confusion. "Taggie is still here, she must be concerned why it's taking so long." You say worriedly, getting out of the bed and retrieving your clothes.

Declan watches you with a smirk, his eyes trailing over your exposed body as you shimmy your underwear and jeans back on, following with your shirt.

You run over to Declan's side of the bed, pressing a firm kiss on his lips. "I'll see you for dinner, Mister O'Hara." You tease, smoothening your hair as you exit the grand master bedroom. He simply laughs, inhaling his cigarette.

You hurry down the hall, slowing down your pace as you look for Taggie.

"Tags?" You yell, eventually stumbling across Declan's study.

She had opened his file of evidence against Rupert, abruptly closing it when she hears you approach. "I-I was just looking through it, I'm sorry. Please don't tell my father." She says hastily, getting up from the desk chair.

"Taggie, relax. It's okay." You say, hoping nothing about your appearance gives away what you had been doing for the past half an hour. "I tried convincing him, I really did. He wouldn't budge, Tags." You admit, sighing. "Maybe you can warn Rupert, I don't know. I think your dad has more dirt on him than we know." You warn, running a hand through your hair.

"Maybe I should talk to him, then." Taggie says, beginning to walk past you.

"No-!" You say, grabbing her arm. She looks at you with confusion. "He seems exhausted, I think he needs to be left alone to be completely honest." You say, hoping Taggie would drop the whole thing for today.

"Alright, then." She says, your grasp loosening on her arm. "I'm gonna start making dinner, then. Care to help?" She asks, walking slowly out of the study.

"Always." You say with a smile, following Taggie out the door.

As the evening rolled around, you found yourself around the dining table with Taggie to your left, Maud and Caitlin on the other side as Declan sat at the head of the table.

"This food is incredible, Tag." Maud muses, taking another bite of the dish.

"It's y/n's recipe, actually." Taggie admits, smiling at you.

"Oh, y/n. Lovely job, then." Maud says, sending a smile towards you.

"Thanks Maud. It's my mom's favorite dish. I ate it a lot growing up." You say, taking a sip of wine.

"Hmm, American culture doesn't taste as bland as I thought, then." She remarks, taking another bite.

"Be nice, Maud." Declan warns, glaring at his wife.

"Actually, my mom's from Greece. It's Mediterranean, not American." You correct her, trying to hide a shit-faced grin behind your glass of wine.

Caitlin stifles a laugh, earning a light kick of the shin from Taggie.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you." Maud apologizes, clearly embarrassed.

"No, it's okay. I agree, American food is god awful." You assure her, taking a bite of your meal.

"So, what's this big interview you've announced on live television about?" Maud says, looking over at Declan.

"Ah, I'm interviewing Rupert on Valentine's Day." He says casually, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

"That's it?" Maud persists, raising a brow.

"He wants to take him down, mum." Taggie interjects, Declan scoffing at the statement.

"I'm not doing anything that he doesn't deserve." He emphasizes, taking a sip of his glass.

"Declan, don't you think you're taking this a bit too far? They're calling you the Corinium Butcher, for god's sake." Maud exasperates, putting down her cutlery.

"I am doing the interview the way I want to and that is that!" He states firmly. "Now, can you all get off my arse about it and enjoy this lovely meal y/n and Taggie put together? Christ." He exclaims, picking up his fork and taking another bite out of his dish.

Everyone goes quiet, returning to their meals.

You feel a bit cold in the room, the peaks of your breasts hardening as you realize something dire-- you've left your bra in their bedroom.

You clear your throat, standing up. "I have to use the restroom, if you'll excuse me." You say, hurriedly exiting the room.

You make your way down the hall from the foyer towards the master bedroom, slowly opening the door and flicking on the overhead light as you scan the room hastily for your bra.

You get down on your knees, looking underneath the bed on the opposite side from the door. You see it just within arms reach, stretching your arm out as the door opens.

"What are you doing?" Maud says, causing you to smack your forehead against the bedframe, unable to grab ahold of your bra as you stand up hastily.

"I uh, Taggie was giving me a tour earlier and I thought I lost my ring in here. I was just trying to find it because I realized I lost it when I was going to the washroom." You lie out of your ass, smiling oddly at a very confused Maud.

"Oh, what does it look like?" She asks, not realizing this ring did not exist whatsoever.

"It's small, really small. Honestly it was super cheap it's not that big of a deal!" You force out, making your way towards the door. "Let me know if you find it though, it was from my mom." You laugh awkwardly. "I'm going to the washroom now."

You hastily exit the bedroom, leaving Maud behind as you run into the nearby washroom and close the door behind you. You panic as you stare at yourself in the mirror, whispering profanities to yourself. You wash your hands as if you had dirtied them with your actions, almost afraid to return to the table.

You take a deep breath and open the door, walking back out to the dining table as you practice breathing normally.

Maud had already returned to eating her meal, seeming disinterested in your bizarre behaviors from before.

"Is everything alright?" Declan asks you, referring to your tense aura now present in conversation.

"Yes, everything's fine." You say, taking a sip of your wine.

"Y/n was trying to find a ring she lost earlier in the master bedroom, maybe you can keep an eye out for it too." Maud says nonchalantly to Declan, whose face drops at the mention of you being in their bedroom.

"Is that so?" He asks, coughing slightly as he tries to swallow his food down. "That's a shame. I'll keep it in mind then."

You watch as Maud gives him a puzzled look, her eyes squinting at her husband with suspicion.

"Would anyone like dessert?" Taggie asks, standing up.

"Me!" You say abruptly, also getting up. "Let me help you with that!" You offer, following Taggie into the kitchen.

She suddenly stops right by the kitchen island, causing you to bump into her. "Something's going on with you y/n. You've been acting weird all day. Is everything alright?" Taggie asks, a look of concern upon her face as she grabs ahold of your hands.

"Sorry, I'm just stressed out about the whole Rupert ordeal." It wasn't a complete lie, ever since you landed this internship you've felt like putting your head in a door way and slamming the door repeatedly on it. You couldn't imagine how many grudges these Lords hold against each other, it would've been disputed in an instant if you were back at home.

"I shouldn't have brought it up, I'm sorry." Taggie says, sighing. "I tried getting Rupert to step down earlier at the falconery, but he wouldn't listen. He's convinced my father doesn't have the capability to take him down." She whispers, afraid of her father overhearing the two of you.

You quickly glance into the next room where Declan was speaking to Caitlin, Maud seeming very displeased in the middle. "I don't know if we have any more options, Tags. I think we have to let them go at it." You say remorsefully, looking back at her.

"I'm not giving up just yet." She says firmly, picking up a platter of desserts as you shake your head, bringing out another bottle of wine to share.

It was now Friday, February 14th. You and Seb were in mid conversation when Cameron Cook comes barreling down the office floor, yelling about needing coffee.

"You'd think the promotion would make her happy, but she's angrier than ever." You say, closing your folder. Your desk phone starts to ring.

"I'll get the coffee, you get the phone." Seb says, walking around from your shared cubicle.

"Hello, y/n y/l/n speaking." You say.

"Look, I'm going to make this very clear y/n." Maud says on the other line. "I know that you are seeing my husband." She says, causing your eyes to nearly pop out of your skull.

You laugh breathlessly, looking around as you sit down, almost whispering into the phone. "What are you talking about?" You ask, your body beginning to sweat profusely.

Declan's wife has called you, at work, on the day of all god damn days, to confront you about your affairs.

"I found your bra underneath my bed when I was looking for something else." She says, almost sounding too calm for the circumstances she was speaking of. "I know I am one to talk, but I insist if you know any better, that you no longer see him. His work already keeps him away from our family, god forbid someone at The Corinium starts doing the same." She remarks, her tone never wavering.

Your jaw drops slightly, unable to find your words.

"Oh, and good luck tonight. Don't ruin my husband's career." She says, the line going dead.

You are left in dismay, slowly putting the phone back down on the hook. You look around your workspace once more in complete mortification.

"Oh god." You whisper to yourself, getting up to retrieve a cup of coffee to mask the fear building up inside. You couldn't fathom the audacity Maud O'Hara had to tell you to leave her husband be when she was trying to get with every other well-off man in the county.

All personal feelings aside, you knew you had to listen to her wishes in order to keep your job, and Declan's. It would be unfair to both parties if you kept this up.

You shakily pour the coffee pot into your mug, putting one cream and one sugar in after before stirring it with a spoon. You stare at the ground, unable to gather your thoughts up properly as Declan quickly walks past the kitchen with his focus on papers in his hands, taking a step back when he notices you standing idly.

"Y/n, what're doing just standing there?" He asks boastfully, causing you to jump and spill some coffee on your hand.

"Fuck," You whisper, wincing as you quickly run your hand under the cold tap.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." Declan says, coming up beside you and placing his hand on yours. "Is your hand alright?"

You turn to face him, giving him a flat tone. "It's fine, thanks." You say, pulling away as you grab your coffee and step into the hallway. "I have work to do."

He grabs your arm. "What work? You've done it all already." He says, raising a brow. "Is everything alright?" He asks, his eyes full of concern.

"What? Haven't you heard the news?" You quip, staring at him with dread in your eyes. You hated yourself for developing feelings for Declan O'Hara. You were smarter than this, and to allow yourself to dig such an emotional hole was the last thing you needed for your brand-new career.

"Everything is fine, Mister O'Hara." You say, pulling your arm away from his grasp. His face drops when you refuse to use his first name. "Maybe you need to ask your wife the same question." You add bitterly, stepping away from him. His eyes widen at the mention of his wife.

"Elvis is about to enter the building." Seb says, him and Daysee both running down the hall past you two.

Declan looks you for a long, silent moment. "We'll discuss this later." He mutters, following them down the hall.

You close your eyes and sigh, walking away towards your desk.

You're now standing in the control room, biting your nails nervously as Daysee counts down Declan, now live broadcasting the interview. You exchange glances with Seb as Declan begins with mundane questions before hitting him with mildly offensive comments that will eventually snowball into something worse.

You cover your mouth as Declan brings up the topic of adultery, and how it must do Mr. Campbell-Black well for life within the Conservative Party.

"I'm sorry?" Rupert says with dismay.

"You know, sneaking around, lying, betrayal, sexual degeneracy." Declan lists nonchalantly, as if Rupert was born for such actions.

"Oh fuck." You mumble into your hand, Seb patting your shoulder with a sympathetic look.

"Remember, Declan's just doing his job." He reminds you.

"I'm no longer married." Rupert exclaims.

"Yeah, but you were, for six years! And yet throughout your marriage, your affairs were common knowledge." Declan states confidently, gesturing to the crowd. "I mean, one Gloucestershire peer has described you as 'rather a nasty virus that everyone's wife caught sooner or later.'" Declan reads off of a card.

"Well if you've seen his wife, it's definitely later." Rupert retorts towards the audience, causing everyone to laugh. Declan's jaw vividly tenses on camera.

You sigh putting your head in your hands. "Oh wow, that's great." You mumble to yourself.

"What a fucking arsehole." Seb mutters, crossing his arms.

"And that's the break in five..." Daysee begins counting down.

You nervously watch as Declan composes himself to announce the commercial break.

"That's time for break. When we return, who knows what Mister Campbell-Black might choose to share with us when we return." Declan says through a forced smile, looking directly at the camera. It felt like he was looking right at you.

"...and we're out." Daysee says.

"Thank fuck." You quickly exit the control room, needing to be elsewhere for the next three minutes. As you make your way through the halls, you run into Taggie.

"Taggie?" You say in a quizzical manner, causing her to turn and face you.

"Y/n, I'm here to talk to Rupert. Something's very wrong about this." She says urgently.

"Jesus, Taggie you can't-" You begin.

Rupert appears around the corner with his assistant. "Taggie, what are you doing here?" He asks her.

Taggie walks past you. "You need to go. Just walk out."

"Rupert, I advise you to not do that." You warn him.

Rupert laughs at you both. "Your father's not the first old socialist who's tried to catch me out." He reassures Taggie, putting his hand on her arm. "Whatever you're worried about, it's already out there."

"Taggie, you need leave-" You begin, tugging at her arm.

"No, I know him." Taggie says, ignoring you as she pulls away from your grasp. "He's saving the worst for later. When he wants something, he's ruthless." She warns him. "He'll do anything, I mean, he's-"

"He's just like you, Rupert." You say, pursing your lips.

"Exactly." Taggie says.

Cameron Cook appears, interrupting the conversation. "Minister, we need you back on set. The break's almost over." She directs Rupert, who keeps his gaze on you and Taggie.

"Listen to Miss Cook, Rupert. You have to go." You say.

"Just walk out of the building with me." Taggie interjects, pleading with her eyes.

"Minister!" Cameron snaps, glaring at Rupert.

"Screw this." You say, walking away from everyone. You return back to the control room, slamming the door behind you.

"What's going on?" Tony Baddingham asks, puffing on a cigar.

"Cameron has it under control." You simply say, returning to the corner with Seb and Daysee.

"What happened?" Seb asks quietly.

"Taggie's shown up to try and get Rupert to leave. She thinks Declan has more blackmail on him than we are aware of." You whisper, grabbing the back of your neck as you watch Daysee begin to count Declan back in.

"Where the fuck is he?" Tony says harshly, looking down through the viewing glass.

You hide your face behind your clipboard, unable to watch the scene about to unfold.

"Y/n look, Rupert's back." Seb says, tapping on your back to redirect your attention. You look over the clipboard at the monitors, watching Rupert Campbell-Black sit back down on the stage. Rupert begins to compare the interview to being back on the playing field.

"Seb, I don't have a good feeling about this." You say quietly, covering half your face with a clipboard.

"Just watch, relax." Seb whispers.

"It's an interview, there are no winners." Declan tells Rupert, who gives him a look.

"That's not true though, is it?" Rupert queries, looking towards the audience. "He wants to beat me." He exaggerates, giving a shit-faced grin.

Your eyes widen as Rupert begins to compare him to Declan, putting both of them under the same umbrella metaphorically. Declan brings it back around by repeatedly shitting on Campbell-Black, about to pull out an envelope from underneath his blazer as Rupert does something no one expected; admitting everything Declan has said to be true.

"Oh god." You whisper.

"I remember what it was like, to be the best. And what I was willing to do to stay there." Rupert says grimly. "What are you... willing to do?" Rupert asks in a taunting manner.

Declan goes quiet.

"To your family?... To yourself?" Rupert asks solemnly, the both of them having a stare down as the control room starts to light up in commotion.

You watch in fear as Tony urges Declan in his earpiece to take down Rupert, your eyes flickering between the multiple camera angles on a very, very quiet Declan.

"You're right." Declan finally says. "I'm a workaholic. And when I'm consumed by something... I can be, um... I can be a-"

"Monster." Rupert finishes the sentence, the both of them sharing a stare once again.

Rupert makes a comment about Declan being a better husband than he ever was, which causes you to look away from the screen when Declan argues against it. You couldn't help but feel as if you're one of Declan O'Hara's many flaws.

The interview starts to go in the opposite direction. You look back at the screen, watching Declan pull out his earpiece as Tony becomes enraged.

"If it's any consolation, we've made some really great television." Cameron Cook reasons.

"This would have worked if you'd just done your fucking job!" Tony yells at her, causing the rest of you to side eye him madly.

"Seb, I need to go home." You tell him flatly, putting your clipboard down.

"What? Y/n, the show isn't over yet! Where are you going?" Seb exclaims quietly, confused by your course of action. Daysee also gives you a look of worry.

"I just said home! I'll see you on Monday." You whisper aggressively, leaving the control room.

You hastily go over to your desk to retrieve your bag and coat. You glance over quickly at the viewing room the rest of the staff was in, your stomach tying in knots as the sight.

Heading down the hallway and the stairs, you push open the front doors and end up outside, where a massive group of fans stood awaiting Rupert Campbell-Black's return. They all share looks and noises of disappointment as they see you, an intern on the brink of tears instead of the acclaimed bachelor.

You push through the crowd, hurriedly approaching your car and unlocking it. You sit inside the beater and stare off in the distance. Your cheeks are stained with tears against your own will, your forehead resting upon the steering wheel as you begin to sob mercilessly.

You felt so hopeless amidst it all, no longer sure of yourself as you were before.

i will not lie this chapter was becoming so fucking long it's just gonna end up a continuation into the next part... also im lowkey too awkward to properly write out sex scenes because i give myself second hand embarrassment so forgive me this fanfic is plot driven over sex driven (':

as youve noticed ive started to follow by the episode plot line, it makes it easier for me to write and follow. thank you again for the support, and as always keep interacting with my works! keep me motivated ;)

much love,

isabel

#aidan turner #declan o’hara #declan o'hara x you #declan o'hara x reader #rivals fic #rivals 2024 #rivals

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writersdare · 1 day ago

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You Should Always Come First | Bang Chan 방찬 Drabble

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader (she/her)

Summary: Chan could no longer watch Y/N exhausting herself.

Warning: fluff

Word Count: 688 (drubble)

Author’s Note: For those who are worried about an upcoming exam, test or a job interview. You can do it, don't doubt yourself ♡

“Baby, what is it?”

Chan has noticed Y/N being rather tense that evening, yet, he didn’t want to get on her nerves with the same questions, as he pretty much knew the main reason of his girlfriend’s mood — the upcoming exams. Even though Bang Chan was sure that Y/N would pass them well, he could understand Y/N’s concerns. It’s never easy to be confident in your own abilities in general, and being under a stress it felt almost impossible at all. The idol learnt it from his own experience.

Chan understood that words such as "it’ll be alright" and "you know the material well, don’t worry" wouldn’t help much. Of course, support was important, yet, in the moments, when everything felt like a bare wire, each phrase should have been chosen very carefully. He didn’t want to give Y/N even more pressure — she was giving it enough herself. Chan tried his best just by saying small "don’t be harsh on yourself", "don’t forget to rest" and "I know you work hard, and it’s way more important than the result".

Yet, when he saw that Y/N was getting angry at herself for not being able to learn important terms once again, the guy decided it was time to interfere. Her brain simply refused to accept new information, as it simply had enough today. And yesterday, and the day before yesterday… His girl needed a break.

“It’s nothing, just can’t memorise it. I don’t know how I’m going to pass it,” Y/N sighed and closed the eyes, trying to keep herself together.

“Let’s get some rest, it’s been a while," Chan said softly. “I’ll help you to learn it after a break, okay?” he promised and stood up from his place to take a seat next to the girl. They were in his studio, but while Y/N was studying, the idol couldn’t really concentrate on music the last thirty minutes, being too worried for the girl. She’s been exhausting herself lately, and all Bang Chan cared about was Y/N’s well-being.

“You’re doing great, I promise,” the guy gently cuddled Y/N, trying to soothe her. Finally relaxing a bit, she went a little numb in his embrace and placed a head on Chan’s shoulder.

“I know rest is important. It’s just… I don’t have time. The exams are in few days, and it seems like I still don’t know anything,” Y/N admitted quietly, at the same time hating herself for the recent complaining.

“Learn as much as you can, but don’t exhaust yourself. It’ll make things only worse, Y/N," Chan reminded and patted her head lightly. "And just a lunch break isn’t enough. Let’s spend this evening together, not thinking of anything, okay? Tomorrow will be a new day, and you can start again," the idol pecked her cheek tenderly.

The girl sighed and nodded,

"Channie? I’m sorry I was a bit gloomy lately. I didn’t mean it like this. It’s just… the exams–" after a moment of silence she quietly mumbled, but Bang Chan didn’t let her finish.

"I know. Don’t worry about it, Y/N. And I know it’s not easy to get distracted, when all you can think about is your exam. I don’t mean to say it’s not important, you put value on it for a reason, yet, I don’t want you to forget that it’s not the only thing that matters. You should always come first," he smiled and lightly tickled her, so the girl shivered, and a quiet giggle left her lips – she was extremely bad when it came to tickling. However, Chan was no better. "Got it?"

"Mhm. I like how you can be serious for only few minutes, and then you are back to your normal self" Y/N joked and shrieked, when the idol tickled her side once again.

"Yah! I can be very serious, when it’s needed! Do you doubt me?!" the guy jokingly outraged, feeling a warmth spreading all over his body. He missed her sincere smile and silly little giggles. After all, it’s all what he needed now.

– photos and a gif aren’t mine and belong to the rightful owner, gif found here @chanstopher –

taglist: @yukichan67, @laylasbunbunny, @skz-streamer

All stories are original and written by me. Do not copy, trace and post anywhere without permission and credit. The stories are fictional, they do not correspond to reality and written just for fun ♡

Main Masterlist | K-pop Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

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ellouchi · 17 hours ago

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Jimmy dating headcannons (sfw/gn reader)

Disclaimer: this work contains unhealthy interpersonal practices and elements of abuse.

Side note: this was going to be LONGER and include nsfw but I've decided it's better to divide everything into parts. Finally getting this out because there is a critical shortage of Jimmy x reader works (cries and picks up a pen). Let me know if I missed something or made a mistake.

Enjoy!

— ok starting with the fluff: Jimmy feels too embarrassed to properly hold your hand, like some small shy boy. He will make it seem like you've the one who acts childish of course, holds your hand if you plead enough and only for a minute in public, for a bit more when in private. You can be lucky enough to tag after him holding his sleeve if he feels like it. Jimmy secretly loves to hold your wrist, especially in a tight grip, feeling your pulse beating under your skin (he is like a handcuff).

— Jimmy doesn't say "I love you", not in a usual sense. Instead it's always alternatives like common "You make me feel all warm and stupid inside" and the most rare "You mean a lot to me" spoken in a quiet sincere tone. Unfortunately "I love you"s are reserved for manipulation. He knows it gets people very compliant or/and defenseless. It doesn't do any harm anyway because he's merely speaking the truth. It's actually a litmus test if you love him or not, so be very careful with your words during those moments.

— primarily uses your name or alias you go with instead of pet names. Sometimes, Jimmy would use baby, babe, sweet cheeks (bear with me); dear, darling and love when he's pissed off or he tries to be condescending.

— Jimmy has a preconceived notion that your parents/family wouldn't like him, he has enough self awareness for that. Because of this, he'll try to make it seem like he's better than he is, so you better play along. If your family hates his guts, Jim doubles down, resulting in both parties wagging a war. Doesn't give a fuck about them at all after that disastrous first meeting. However, if somehow you family did take a liking to Jimmy, he's glad....but also puzzled. I think Jim has had shitty childhood, so when he is treated like a proper family member, he's lost. He doesn't want to see your family often because of his complicated feelings, but makes exceptions for the special occasions.

— Jimmy knows and remembers things about you to the points it's both scary and impressive: likes and dislikes, fears, dreams, ambitions etc. On the more positive side, this includes songs, books, movies, comics and anything like that — even if he doesn't like it, he has an understanding of what it is. If you call him out, Jimmy either says he doesn't care (he does, so much actually) or says "Of course I do, you can't shut up about [thing]" (lies).

— Jimmy doesn't have a lot of free time on his hands. If both of you are free, that means you are spending this time with him. No, your plans won't matter if they exclude Jim out of the picture. This involves discouraging you or outright sabotaging you. As per usual, he wouldn't find anything wrong with this kind of behaviour. You should just stop being unreasonable and spend some time with your lover. Look, he even went out of his way to find a movie you two would enjoy watching.

— birthdays with Jimmy are weird (if you could tell from the game). If you look forward to them, so does he; if you don't, well he congratulates you when the day comes and that's about it. It's much worse when the gifts are involved, because Jimmy will actually try to get what you want, and the more expensive it is, the more positive reaction he expects from you. He saved up throughout the year, denied himself pleasures and worked his ass off — if you don't shower him with appreciation and gratitude, he will make a scene about how selfish you are. On your own birthday.

— Jimmy keeps your gifts and trinkets in his drawer (if they small enough). He has some photos of you together, small souvenirs from trips, cute notes you left him — you name it. This habit will get creepy: the things having a lot of sentimental value to you, your trash like discarded perfume bottle and cream tubs, even your underwear. He wouldn't care if you made fun of him, but god forbid you misplace or throw away anything from that drawer.

— Jimmy loves when you rely on him. However, to a degree because this man quickly gets tired of running errands. If he offers to do something it's safe to agree, asking too much will get him worked up so don't overdo. With that said, Jimmy always does small things, like making your preferred beverage during the day, calling to remind you something, doing small chores unprompted, basically covering your bases. It's hard to feel unloved when you are remembered and cared for in that way. Also gives him an ammo for fights in case you forget how much Jimmy does for you.

— Jimmy insists on driving you everywhere (so people would know that you belong to him). Also it means Jim has lots of good punishments at his disposal when you two fight: lock the car from the inside? Leave you somewhere you don't know? Or just not pick you up altogether? Better leave all the arguments for later or don't bring them up at all...

— you are one of few people to see Jimmy's playful side: he just loves to joke around you. He wouldn't like it, but your sense of humour would rub off him greatly. If that wasn't enough this man loves to prank you in small ways: it's childish stuff most of times, like hiding or misplacing an item in your house and playing innocent. Other than that, Jimmy will whistle and catcall you when he sees you and will slap your ass in public when you leave. You are encouraged to prank him in return too, but you will be pranked harder next time. Grins, snickers and snorts a lot but laughs very, very rarely. However, it's one of the most healing things you could experience. Literally restores years to your lifespan.

— Jimmy doesn't like seeing you upset actually. He's not super soft or doting, he will pry the reason for your distress out of you whether you like it or not. If he deems it's unimportant, will tell you to suck it up, maybe even make a sarcastic remark. If it's serious business, he involves himself. Of course half the time it makes your situation worse and him angrier at himself which translates to Jim being angry at you.

— when Jimmy is upset, it's best to wait it out. I headcannon Jimmy used to have terrible anger issues but with years managed to control them to a degree. It doesn't mean he wouldn't lash out on you, his partner, it does get ugly. Him hugging you for comfort is actually more frequent than you would expect. As long as you don't address his tears or say much, Jimmy would calm down with little to no issue. Don't bring it up later too, he won't respond and will pretend it never happened.

— finishing with the reminder that you will be carrying Jimmy's emotional baggage as well as your own if you have any. I hope you have strong and healthy arms and back for that. If you're not careful enough or *cough cough* stay ignorant of Jim's bad influence on you, he will bring you to his level and mold you into who he wants you to be. But it doesn't work one way: in theory, you could "fix" some of his unsavoury outlooks but don't expect too much. After years of blood, sweat and tears it's possible to finally convince him to go to therapist. Praying he would continue on his own wouldn't be enough and you would need to actively encourage Jim to not give up on his mental health treatment. Way to go!

#the disclaimer was going to be bigger but half way i remembered i had a spine #mouthwashing #jimmy mouthwashing #jimmy mouthwashing x reader #x reader

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luckyyyduckyyy · 20 hours ago

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THANKSGIVING MOOTIE APPRECIATION ❤️✨❤️

Happy thanksgiving y'all! And a good time zone to all my non-US/non-Turkey day havers lovelies!

Tis the season of thanks and I'm a very thankful goober this year! I only started getting active on Tumblr about half a year ago and there's already so many people and things I'm grateful for from this site alone! I've enjoyed so much art and events, participated in yap seshes, tag games, and ultimately felt pretty welcomed and at home on this site, and it's thanks to all you! <3<3<3

Special thanks to the DCA fandom in its entirety as well! All the discussions, artists, writers, and shared reposts with all the silly notes are awesome! Y'all inspire me all the time and make me wish I was more outgoing than I am just so I can say hello to each and every one of you!!!!

The list gets long, so for the sake of those scrolling by, I have put it below! Have a lovely day everyone! <3333

@midnight-mourning Your writing is just wonderful. It's everything!!! I adore it so much and your CS boyos have wormed their way into my heart and refuses to leave. Some of my favorite songs even remind me of them! (Don't tell Moon this but I am very attached to CS Sun-)(Honestly gotta be my favorite Sun I've read fr fr) Also! Thank you for just being so supportive, thinking about me in tag games, and giving ALL the tag notes! They're a wonder to read and have me bounce off the walls! I'm always so happy we're mooties! ❤️❤️❤️ (Also, fun fact, you're my first mutual too! It's insane to me HOW DID THIS HAPPEN GUAHPHIAHDKA)

@pointyfruit You! Your art? Muah, wonderful. I don't even care if it's not dca related because it's so good. The shape language, art style, and just unique takes on just anything and everything blows my mind! Let's not forget COLORS. Oml they are so PRETTY. It's like an explosion I never want to end. 💥💥💥 Also! So goofy, so silly, and COTL enjoyer! Let's GOOOOO!!! I don't engage with the fandom much but I DO love the game and honestly I almost beat it, but still have not because I don't wanna do the final boss fight. It can't be over bros... Anyways when I see your posts I always wanna just wave like a neighbor seeing ya blow up 10 boxes of fireworks on a casual Tuesday afternoon. 👋👋👋:D

@divinit3a SPINS YOU!!! 🐶🐕🐶 Heya silly meister! In the midst of reading your work, gotta say? Muwah, Perfecto! The sillies are putting me on a rollercoaster and I'm stuck on the ride! While my ability to yap is a coin flip every hour, you happen to bring the yappening out of me with all the fun notes and posts you do--We've already had so many fun convos! Speaking of posts, the art is peak and will STAY peak! The designs? Muwah. The colors? Muwah. You make even the creepiest of goobers hauntingly beautiful! We've may not have known each other for long, but you're someone I look forward to seeing on my dash/notifications every time I open the app! ❤️❤️❤️

@sinister-sincerely Hi!!!! I'm still sometimes in awe realizing we're mutuals! I really love your work and if I'm in the mood to read something but I don't know what, I tend to turn to Aftersome often, even though I've read both the og and the rewrite! It's like you're the master of writing angst, bitter unrequited feelings, and the strange tenseness but want of confusing relationships. It's gut wrenching and I wish I could write something so evoking! All your stories are amazing and I seriously hope you know that, they're such heavy hitters that they have marked a place in my memory. ❤️ Your art too is wonderful! They don't pop up often but when they do it's a real treat! I love that you use grey scale in a lot of your works and the style is just so pleasing to look at. Whenever I see the DCA in your style I wanna give them the biggest hugs, even if they'd pry me off seconds later! ✨✨✨

@r0b0s-robos / @r0b0-wannabe Waving at you excitedly!!! It's always a pleasure to see your reposts, you always find the good stuff! Plus, you always are trying to help out others and it's amazing to see, your efforts are able to make great impacts. :333 You're also another writer I appreciate immensely, and I'm so invested in your botanist au. The sillies and their botanist who is desperately trying not to fall in love with them!!! ADORE THEM!!! I can't wait to read more! ❤️❤️❤️ The times you post about writing ideas or silly things about the DCA has me nodding my head with a smile. Also, the little notes you leave in tags, despite usually being brief, always makes me so happy! It's like seeing the kind stoic look at you from their seat, let out a small smile, and say "I love this"- and then suddenly it's a blast of blinding white light of endearment straight to my heart. K.O.!

@chickenchirps27 Welcome back!!! I've noticed you've been much more active recently and it's always fun to see what you got goin on! Obligatory art mention, but it would be criminal to NOT mention it. ITS!!! AMAZING!!! THEY LOOK LIKE ROCK CANDY!!! Colors!!! I love it so much, the goobers look delicio- I mean they look adorable and masterfully crafted in each piece of art! And your sona, ugh, she's so gorgeous and alien in the best ways possible. I've never seen anything like her and I am in awe of how you came up with all her little details. Those mantis arms are SICK and I want them!!! (Though drawing may be a little hard if I had em-)✨✨✨

@amarynthian-fortress / @amarynthian-chronicles Hehehe! Boops you! >:D Honestly, thank you for always being the biggest sweetheart around and being so welcoming. You're one of the people that made me feel able to crack my shell more and be more active on here! Your writing is whimsical, your reposts and comments are always so kind and feel-goody, and you just always show you care and the randomest times! Catch me off guard why don't you! I love all the snippets and treats you post, and I'm saving many of your stories to read for rainy days! ❤️❤️❤️

@ping-ski My reaction to us becoming mutuals was- 💥💥💥:OOOOO💥OO💥💥 I think I've followed you right when I started getting active on here and gah, your art is wonderful. So lovely, stylized, and colored so simply yet so appealingly that I can't stop looking. Your aus make me want to read them and their designs are always top tier! Also, I cannot forget to mention you are SILLAY!!! So silly! Your comments on reposts are goofy and I love to read them whenever they come up on my dash! Not to mention your own posts- I will never forget the 3-in-1 solid block of dca encased in ice. I was in awe of seeing them encased and I suddenly wanted my own dca ice cubes to put into a drink and try not to choke on. ✨✨✨

@quilteddreamz Your writing. Oh my GOSH your writing! It's wonderful, beautiful, gah, I can't wait for your advent calender! I wish I could do something for it but I got 3 more weeks of large projects tapped to my back. I am sending much luck your way and know that I am excited to enjoy some daily dca! Don't break yourself over it too! I may adore the goobers but you're most adored first! Take care and keep being such a whimsical person! Muwah! ✨✨✨

@flowysgonemad You are also! Silly!!! You are so fun to see popping around my dash and your doodles just make me go :333 every time! I love your aus and you're a very kind/goofy person! I don't even remember how we became mutuals but garsh diggity dang it, it's awesome to see ya and anything you yap about!

There are MANY more mooties I want to appreciate and show off, but I fear I am currently omw to go to a large thanksgiving dinner and I'm expecting to be there for the rest of the day. SO! If you weren't listed, please know that I AM thinking of you! Have a wonderful time zone, and just know that my heart is so full knowing that you're all there! I can't believe there is that many of you to begin with that I can't fit you all within the time frame! (Would you believe me if I said coming up with all the right words to say here took me 2 1/2 hours?)

So! To all my beloved writers, artists, and sillies alike! From the bottom of my heart, really, thank you! For being here, even reading this, and appreciating the things I do as much as I appreciate you! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️✨✨✨✨✨✨

#thanskgiving #mutuals #mutual appreciation #Happy thanksgiving y'all!!!#Y'all are amazing people!!!#Thank you to the community in general for being so kind and welcoming too! ❤️❤️❤️#Y'all should check out the people tagged here if you don't know em! They're all wonderful Fr fr!#dca community #dca fandom #Yapping #Mootie patooties

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insidekatmind · 2 days ago

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Under the Rain~Pope Heyward

You had always been a person of few words, but that evening, words seemed to escape you, as if you couldn’t hold them back. The rain poured relentlessly over Outer Banks, and yet, you couldn’t think about anything but him: Pope Heyward. His eyes, deep and full of passion, had always fascinated you, but tonight, everything felt different. You had spent days, weeks together, but that evening, under the heavy rain, you sensed something was about to change—something both of you felt in the air.

The deserted street was shrouded in darkness, and the distant streetlamps flickered faintly over the puddles. It was the kind of night where the rain never stops, the kind that makes you reflect on time passing and your life, but also reminds you that sometimes life can change in an instant.

“We should go,” you said with a shy smile, trying to ignore the stronger thudding in your chest.

Pope looked at you for a moment, as if he wanted to say something, but then he stopped. His face was serious, but his eyes reflected a tenderness you had learned to recognize. Slowly, he came closer, as though considering every move.

“I don’t want to go,” he said with a smile that made you shiver. “I don’t want to miss a single second.”

A deep silence fell between you, and in that moment, under the rain that showed no signs of stopping, the world seemed to pause. All that existed was you and Pope. His footsteps grew closer, your heart raced, and a part of you wanted to run away, but another part urged you to stay, to see where this tension would lead.

You found yourself so close to him that you could feel the warmth of his body through the rain. The water dripped down his skin, soaking his dark hair, but he didn’t seem to notice. His gaze was fixed on yours, and you realized he was breathing faster too. His hand brushed your face, gently, as if making sure you wouldn’t pull away. His fingertips caressed your cheek, and it was as if the whole world was shrinking into that single moment.

“Are you sure you want to leave?” he asked, his voice quieter, more intense.

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you let out a nervous laugh, but there was nothing nervous about the way he looked at you. His eyes sparkled under the streetlight, and in that moment, you felt time itself slow down. Then, without another word, without any more doubt, Pope moved closer and kissed you.

At first, it was soft, a shy kiss, as if you both were trying to figure out whether this was really happening. Then, slowly, it became more intense, more real. The rain continued to fall on both of you, but neither of you moved, as if the rain itself was something natural, inevitable, that only deepened the moment.

His taste was salty, not from the rain, but from the passion that poured into that kiss. Your heart pounded loudly, almost as if it wanted to leap out of your chest. When his lips parted from yours, for a moment, the world seemed to fill with emptiness. His hands were still holding you, tightly, as if trying to keep you in his embrace.

“I can’t stay without you anymore,” Pope said, his voice trembling but filled with a sincerity you had never heard before.

Your heart seemed to beat in unison with his, and without thinking too much, you clung to him, feeling that you had finally found someone who understood you, who truly wanted you. You sighed, your breath caught between the raindrops that kept soaking your skin, but in that moment, under the rain of Outer Banks, the whole world seemed a safer, sweeter place, and the future finally seemed bright.

“I can’t stay without you either,” you replied, before kissing him again, as the rain fell harder, like a perfect seal for the moment you had just shared.

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theallianceofcelestials · 1 day ago

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Okay, so apparently people have been harassing Kat, Earth's VA because they... don't like the characters she plays and how she writes for the show? The actual fuck?

Like don't get me wrong, perfectly fine to look at a character and decide you don't like them, even hate them potentially, but you don't go and harass the people responsible for making the character. That's just plain dumb. I hate/dislike characters from some of the shows (Bonnie from Moon and Sun Minecraft for example), but that doesn't give me the right to go and harass their VAs. BECAUSE IT'S JUST A CHARACTER FOR A SILLY LITTLE SHOW PEOPLE MAKE FOR FREE! IT'S NOT THAT SERIOUS! Sure I may rant about the character, but NEVER badmouth the actor, because them being able to achieve such a visceral reaction out of me by just looking at the character, makes them so incredibly talented.

Like how can you be so fucking terminally online, that you decide to harass someone because "I Don't LiKe ThE chaRacTeR"?! Like that's no valid reason to do that! Go and touch some god fucking grass, my god! I swear it's actually good for you!

Like this is just straight up disgusting behaviour in general. It's unacceptable, and shows just how much of a coward these people actually are, because there're no consequences for THEM. And well, they clearly don't fucking care about their fellow human beings, so like jfc.

And like the shit Kat does is for FREE! She doesn't charge us money for her services! She just went and did some amazing stuff for us, and now some idiots're feeling butthurt because they hate female characters or something.

I sincerely hope it was only a couple of individuals at worst, and a single person at best, because my faith in humanity is already rather fragile, and this is just ridiculous and pathetic.

So like, if by some miracle the person/people who harassed Kat is/are reading this, I want you to know this says more about to how sad and pathetic you actually are, and how you peaked back on the playground as a bully and didn't manage to develop into an actual fucking person, than it does anything about Kat. I hope you realise just how stupid you are, but I know you likely won't. Because people like you lack brains, so you can't comprehend basic fucking concepts like how the sky is blue, and 2 + 2 is 4. Or how grass is not your fucking enemy.

This isn't about just just Kat, because from what I've heard, other female characters' actresses get similar bs, and their characters get tremendous ammount of hate compared to male characters that potentially did incredibly horrid stuff, but I don't really follow the other TSBS to know what's going on. But my gods. That's so disappointing.

Why are fandoms nowadays so toxic? Back in my day, and I'm not that old myself either, and joined fandoms later than most people in said fandoms, since I'm a not native english speaker, but back in the day fandoms were so much more positive. Sure, there was the toxic minority, but they were just that. Loud small group of jerks. Like when did we start catering to these people? When did we decide that these toxic people were whom we should listen to, and explain every little thing we do to them? Like why do I have to explain why I like villian characters or whatever to internet strangers? I think people are more than smart enough to realise morality should not be taken from media!

And when did fanart and fanfic start becoming expectation, something the fanfic writer has to do, the fanart artist has to do? Instead it being the expression of joy and feelings the consumed media gave them? When did shipping become life or death? When did a headcanon or an AU become so fucking serious that lives apparently depend on it with how people jump eachother? Why can't we just relax and have fun? Like do what fandom is meant for?

This is obviously not for the people who didn't do any of this shit, but the fact I need to clarify that or someone will get offended is disheartening. Like people please deal with your anxieties! If it's not your shirt, don't put it on as a saying in my native tongue goes!

Sorry for the angry rant, it's just so disappointing, especially because Kat is such a talented person! I really enjoy how she plays these characters and I love her writing! So I thank her for deciding to not just quit altogether, no matter how understandable that would have been! I hope stepping back will make things better!

I just hope her mental health doesn't have to suffer more, because this shouldn't have happened to her in the first place. She's been doing amazing work, for free I'll say once again, and I'll forever cherish it! I hope things get better for her!

If by some miracle this reaches Kat, thank you for sticking with us for as long as you have! I hope things'll get better for you! Take care of yourself! :)

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willsimpforanyone · 1 day ago

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Hi first of all LOVE YOUR WORK KEEP IT UP!!

Second, could you (pretty) please write soft dom leo x sub reader where she’s had a long day and allows Leo to like, ‘try anything’??

If not that’s okay. Xoxo<33

okay i missed posting yesterday, me and schedules apparently don't work but! i'm gonna try write this fast before my grandma comes round lmao lets goooooo i'm gonna try writing in 2nd person, let me know if yall like it or not

this is smut so mdni! warnings: she/her pronouns for reader, cockwarming, softdom!leo, ig somnophilia? idk this got away from me like a rabid squirrel

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

The sofa has never felt more comfortable. Your body falls limp onto the cushions, head pillowed on Leo's thighs as your eyes close against the low light in the living room.

Leo hums, setting down his phone and carding a warm hand through your hair. "Hey, gorgeous," he smiles down at you, taking in your exhausted appearance. "Long day?"

"You have no idea," you mumble against his jeans, relaxing minutely at the soothing touch. "Do I have to do a job? Like, is it entirely necessary?"

"Nope." Leo grins down at you with a raised eyebrow. "Quit. Be my housewife, just lay around all day and let me love on you when I get home from work and give you presents."

You laugh tiredly, rolling so you're on your back with your face looking up at Leo. "In this economy? I'm just whining, babe, I'm just... tired, y'know? Everything was on my nerves, I felt like I was going insane."

"Well..." Leo begins, a finger delicately tracing the side of your face. "I can think of a few ways to help with that."

The temptation is there, interest simmering low in my gut, but you can just about keep your eyes open. You shake your head softly, apologetic eyes looking up at Leo. "I'm actually exhausted, honey, I don't think-"

"Then don't think." Leo cuts you off, gentle but firm as his finger traces down your neck to the neckline of your top. "Don't think, don't speak, don't worry, okay? Let me take care of my girl."

He says it so sincerely, eyes both wanting and earnest, and warmth starts to pool in your stomach at the idea of not having to do anything, just letting Leo touch you and make you feel good without any effort.

With a small but excited smirk, you bite your lip. "Well, I'd have to be crazy to turn that down."

"You are crazy," Leo teases, gently moving out from under your head to scoop you up off the sofa. "But you're my crazy, now shh, I'm busy."

Holding you in his arms, Leo makes his way to the bedroom and gently places you on the bed. With dexterous fingers, he undoes and pulls off your clothes, leaving you in your underwear on the bed. He ignores your questioning look when he leaves that on, instead finding one of his t-shirts and pulling it over your head.

"How can someone be so cute and hot at the same time, hm?" he murmurs, more to himself than you. He leaves you on the bed and returns from the bathroom with makeup remover, kneeling between your legs as they hang off the bed.

"Close your eyes, baby."

He carefully takes off your makeup, pressing kisses to your bare skin whenever he finishes with an area of your face. "There, now you can go straight to sleep when I'm done with you."

"That is the sweetest way anyone has ever told me they're going to tire me out," you laugh quietly, absently fiddling with the hem of the t-shirt.

Leo frowns, pressing a finger to your lips. "Shh, no talking; my girl has been talking all day, that voice is for moans and telling me if you want to stop, understand?"

You nod meekly, smile on your lips as you press a kiss to the tip of his finger. He smiles proudly, kissing your forehead in return. "Good job, baby."

His hands cup your face, bringing you into a sweet kiss that quicky turns heated. His tongue presses against the seam of your lips, groaning softly as you relent under the touch. You're pushed back onto the bed, Leo removing his hands from your face to move you backwards to he can join you on the bed, lips and tongue still moving against yours.

With one hand, he holds both of your wrists above your head, the other hand beginning to roam your body like he's learning it all over again. Leo's thumb finds one of your nipples through the fabric of the t-shirt, teasing lightly at it until it hardens and pokes against the material. He mirrors the action on your other breast, his lips trailing down your jaw just to he can hear the sweet gasps and moans that he was muffling with his mouth.

"So pretty," he breathes against your ear, leaving your hands above your head as both his hands grope and knead at your breasts, a smirk pressed against your jaw as he pinches your nipples lightly and making you gasp in surprise.

"Leo-"

He makes a disappointed sound, and pinches one of your nipples harder. "What did I say about talking, hm? You're not so tired you can't remember simple instructions, are you? I know my baby doesn't want me to spank her, right?"

Closing your mouth promptly, you shake your head quickly. Leo rewards you with another forehead kiss, his hands moving away from your chest to glide over your clothed waist to your hips.

"That's right," he hums, fingers hooking into the elastic of your underwear and dragging it down to throw it in the direction of the laundry basket. Bringing one hand back up, he taps two fingers against your lips. "Open."

Obediently, you part your lips, making a soft noise of surprise as Leo pushes three fingers into your mouth. He ignores it, pressing against your tongue and coating his fingers in spit before he pulls them out.

"Good girl," he whispers, kissing your still-open mouth and licking at the saliva covering your lips. The three spit-slick digits disappear from your sight, but rapidly draw your attention as Leo slips them between your legs.

"So wet for me," he coos, cupping and rubbing your folds and spreading the mix of your spit and arousal around your entrance.

Without warning, he shoves all three fingers inside you. You cry out and grip the sheets above your head, eyes wide as he pumps his hand in and out rapidly. His free hand cups your cheek, thumb smoothing over your cheekbone.

"Shh, shh, I wanna get you ready quickly, okay? I know it's a lot, but you can take it, can't you? Sweet girl, you look so gorgeous, my little hardworker all turned on and needy."

His fingers press in as deep as they can go, and he just holds them there, keeping them still as he pulls his hand away from your cheek and works on undoing his jeans. With one hand, he undresses his bottom half, cock freed from his underwear and slapping against his top. It leaves a tiny damp spot of precum staining the fabric, and your mouth waters at the sight.

Leo laughs as you lick your lips, curling his fingers inside you to bring your attention back. "You'll get my dick, babe, just not in that pretty little mouth."

He withdraws his fingers from you, and wraps his hand around his cock with a soft hiss. Stroking himself slowly and lazily, Leo manhandles you onto your side, coaxing you to lay your head on the pillows as he settles in behind you. He shifts so your hips are aligned, his free hand lifting your leg a little so he can nudge the head of his cock against your opening.

"Relax for me, gorgeous," he whispers, peppering kisses at the back of your neck as he sinks inside you, pushing his way into your tight, hot pussy with a low, throaty groan.

Your eyes flutter closed with a long, needy moan, pushing your hips back as he fills you up inch by inch until you can feel his hips flush against your ass. He pauses there, burying his face in your hair as he breathes slowly and deeply to get used to the feeling of you around him.

After a minute, Leo sighs, shifting a little to get comfortable. "There we go, baby, now you can sleep." You lay still for a second, mouth opening and closing, your desire to do as you're told and not talk warring with the desire to know what the fuck he's talking about.

Leo, knowing you inside and out, huffs a laugh against your shoulder, kissing it sweetly. "You heard me, sweet girl. You're gonna take a nap, and you're gonna keep my cock nice and warm for me." His arm is slung over your waist, his hand splayed over your stomach to keep you close.

Slowly, you nod. You're still exhausted, despite his actions, and it's... kinda nice, having him so close, warming you inside and out. Leo shushes you gently, arranging your arms and legs so you're comfy, both of you settling into the bed.

It's all too easy to doze off, your eyes fluttering closed again and your breathing evening out to match Leo's steady, rhythmic movements of his chest.

Leo is kind of proud of himself, having lulled you to sleep stuffed full of his dick, cuddling you close as you keep him warm and snug inside you. He can feel himself beginning to fall asleep too, and he buries his face against the nape of your neck with a content sigh.

You wake up slowly, groggily, your body rocking slightly as your surface from sleep. A soft, sleepy and slightly confused moan falls from your lips, and Leo answers with a sharper thrust of his hips.

"There you are," he purrs, his hands now gripping your hips as he fucks in and out of you. "You were pretty deep asleep, baby, laid so nicely for me while I used you."

The words and movements send pleasurable heat curling in your stomach, pussy fluttering around his cock as you surrender to the feeling without a moment's hesitation. Leo kisses and nips gently at your neck, one hand slipping down to gather some of your arousal on his fingers and beginning to circle your clit.

"That's it, just relax," he whispers, voice carrying a shaky edge as he nears his climax. "Let me take care of you, gonna make you feel so good, baby..."

Everything is hot and hazy, your mind only able to pay attention to the way Leo's cock bumps against that particular spot inside you every time he pushes back in, over and over and over. Pressure builds in the depths of your gut, your toes curling as Leo's fingers coax more and more sweet, half-awake noises from you, feeling your walls convulsing around him.

"You gonna come for me?" he pants, a needy, desperate sound that spurs you on. "Gonna come all over my dick, gorgeous? Yeah, I know you are, I can feel how close you are, baby, come for me so I can fill you with my cum."

It only takes a few more seconds before the tension in your body reaches a tipping point, and your lips part in a broken sob as you come around his dick. Leo murmurs praise into your ear, fucking you through it as he chases his own orgasm.

"Did so well for me, sweet girl, fuck, feels so fucking good when you come, looks so pretty- you're gonna let me come in you, yeah? Let me fuck you full of my cum like a good girl?"

You nod languidly, deliciously hazy and spent and wanting nothing more than to feel Leo finish inside you. He cuddles you closer, arms wrapping around your waist as he fucks inside you in a last few disjointed thrusts.

"O-Oh, fuck, yes, feels so good, baby, oh, my sweet girl, I'm coming, I'm coming-!"

Leo presses a guttural moan into your shoulder, his body trembling as he finishes inside you, painting your insides sticky-white. You groan softly, oversensitive but satisfied as you feel him fill you up.

Panting hard, Leo slowly comes down from his high, stroking your soft skin anywhere he can reach. He clears his throat, nose dragging against the back of your head. "How're you feeling, gorgeous?"

Breathing a laugh, you find one of his hands and lace your fingers with his. "Good. Better."

"Mm, good," he mumbles, pressing a smile against your hair as he squeezes your fingers. "...food?"

You grin, even as he gently pulls himself out of you. "Definitely."

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

and with 7 minutes to go before grandma arrives, i'm done! nearly 2 hours and i cannot tell if this is good or bad at this point, it completely got away from me, but i hope you enjoyed!

#leo valdez #leo valdez x reader #leo valdez imagine #leo valdez smut #leo x reader

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marzipanandminutiae · 3 hours ago

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I mean this fully sincerely: it is so interesting to me as a brit how different our conceptions of "old" buildings are, even though I know Boston is The city for old architecture in the states. The double-gregs-casino person probably didn't think twice about the buildings, because anything post-war pretty much counts as modern here. To me, Victorian red-brick is completely normal, standard housing. You rewire it and add indoor plumbing and it's all good, no need to tear it down and build new. My town has half-timbered hairdressers, a pizza place supposedly haunted by the ghost of Nell Gwyn, and a hotel that has existed on the same site and under the same name for 600 years, and this is just... normal? (And much better than turning it into a picture postcard relic like the twitter op apparently wants.) Genuinely strange to think of this as strange, it's so interesting to hear different perspectives.

I don’t think I articulated myself well on my response to that post, because the comments I’ve gotten are not reacting to what I MEANT to say

I know they’re not that old. Victorian housing is also normal where I live. My point was that they are Not Modern and still in functional use, that old or old-ish buildings can still be part of normal people’s normal lives (not just #aesthetic Instagram pictures)

This is important to me because, where I live, modern buildings are often gentrification with good PR. Two full neighborhoods of working-class people’s Victorian homes and businesses were torn down to build expensive high-rises, here in Boston. implying that old buildings are Olny For Posh People and that modern buildings are Real Life triggers a knee-jerk “OLD OR OLD-ISH BUILDINGS ARE STILL USEFUL AND PART OF NORMAL LIFE FOR THE GENERAL PUBLIC” reaction in me

It was early in the morning. I wasn’t thinking clearly. Mea culpa. But I do know that buildings from the 1920s to the 1950s are not actually very old

#ask #tallangrycockatiel

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psychoticallykind · 13 hours ago

Text

He Was Learning

"Thankful" - Jegulus Microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - 1,439 words

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

To be fair, Regulus had never claimed to be good at communication.

In fact, the only thing he had clearly communicated so far was that he was terrible at communicating. But James seemed to have an abundance of communication skills, of which Regulus was equally intimidated, irritated, and thankful. James had told him that it was alright, and they could learn together.

But now, when Regulus was snapping and overwhelmed and glaring at his boyfriend, it seemed a lot less alright. Regulus was half-convinced that James was about to break up with him, and that fear made everything more intense.

"If you don't want me there, then you can just say it. You don't have to make up some stupid story!" Regulus accused.

"I'm not -" James broke off and took a deep breath. When he spoke again, his voice was calmer. "Reg, love, I'm not making up a story. I would love for you to be there, I just said that you don't have to go if you don't want to."

"You said, 'I know you don't like these types of things, you don't have to come with me tonight'," Regulus crossed his arms. "Which is just another way to say 'I don't want you there, but I don't want to say that because it'll hurt your feelings'."

James shook his head with a helpless look. "Why would it mean that? Why wouldn't I want you to come with me? That doesn't make any sense."

"It makes perfect sense," Regulus argued. "And I already know it, so don't try to make me feel stupid or paranoid here! I know what you're thinking!" He wrapped his arms tighter around himself, blinking back tears. "I know I'm not sociable or friendly or nice to people. I know I'm awkward and they don't like me and then you have to spend the whole night telling people to be nice and that I'm 'not really like that', but I am! I am like that, I'm like this, and I'm sorry it's so terrible that you don't want me around your friends anymore!"

The tears were a lost cause. He elected to close his eyes, chest heaving as he tried not to fall apart any more than he already was.

He'd been thinking about this all day. That stupid conversation James had with Sirius - 'Regulus won't have any fun, he'll be too busy judging everyone else.' 'No, he's not like that.'

But he was like that. He was sarcastic and judgmental and he didn't like people, especially dumb people who had too much to drink and couldn't remember what personal space meant.

James hadn't even invited him this time. Regulus wouldn't have known anything about the party if Sirius hadn't brought it up. Because James hadn't invited him.

"Can I touch you?"

Eyes still closed, Regulus tensed at the question. But since James was James, and Regulus always felt safe with James, he nodded.

Soon there were warm hands on his face, gently wiping at the tears. "Do you think you can look at me, please?"

Regulus blinked his eyes open, took one look at the compassion on his boyfriend's face, got overwhelmed, and shut them again. "No."

There was a soft laugh. "Alright." The hands traveled down to his arms and gently urged them apart so that his hands were held in James's. "Regulus. I know that you're not sociable or outgoing. There is nothing wrong with that. There is nothing wrong with you, and if I thought for one second that you would want to go to the party or that you would enjoy it, I would have brought it up."

Regulus pressed his lips together in an attempt to not cry anymore. He managed to nod, but didn't trust his voice enough to speak.

"I like you. I know you. I'm not hoping or expecting you to be anything other than what you are," James said. Sincere, always so sincere.

Another nod.

Regulus stepped back, managing to open his eyes and glance at James as he forced his composure into place. "Thank you. I understand, I was just - I don't know what I was." He found a wall to stare at and focused on keeping his tone even. "It was thoughtful, James, thank you."

James was being so sweet, he was being ridiculous, and he needed to pull it together before James really did break up with him. "You should probably get ready to go, though. It's almost nine."

"Regulus."

"I'll just see you tomorrow -"

"Regulus." James stepped in front of him. "I'm not going to the party."

Regulus stared at him. "What?"

"I'm not going," James repeated. He watched Regulus's expression carefully for a few seconds. "Is that why you're upset? You thought I was going without you?"

The question made something hurt in his chest. "No." Regulus shrugged, looking away. "I don't care what you do." He turned away again. "In fact, I want you to go. Take a break from my horrible compan- James!"

His eyes widened as he was spun around, and suddenly he was faced with dark curls and compassion and hazel eyes he'd grown so fond of.

James offered him an apologetic smile. "Sorry, love, but if you shut down on me now you'll be miserable all week."

"I'm not," Regulus lied. "Because I don't care about this stupid party, and I don't care about you all that much, either."

The words were too sharp, too cold. Worse than he'd intended.

But James didn't flinch. "Well, I care about you. So take a deep breath for me."

Regulus rolled his eyes, but he did take a deep breath.

"Thank you." James ran his hands up and down Regulus's arms, adding grounding pressure. "Now let's say that hypothetically, you did care about me. And you maybe cared about the party."

"I wouldn't care about the party," Regulus grumbled.

"Okay," his boyfriend nodded. "Let's say that you cared about me going without you, then. How would you feel about that?"

Oh, he hated that. Feelings. Emotions.

"Hypothetically?" He checked. When James nodded, he shrugged, looking away. "I don't know. Bad, maybe."

James didn't say anything. He didn't need to - they'd done this a few times, and Regulus knew what that look meant.

What kind of bad? Can you tell me about it?

"I hate you," he informed James.

James smiled a little. "I can work with that."

"Hmph." Regulus shrugged again. "I don't know. Just bad. Bad like anyone would feel, I guess. No one likes being left behind."

"Is that what it felt like?" James asked gently. "Like I was leaving you behind?"

Regulus flinched, biting his lip with enough force to almost split the skin in an attempt to stop the tears from falling. "No."

Left behind.

Left.

He'd been so scared.

"Oh, love." James pulled him forward as he lost the battle, and he melted into the hug, sobbing quietly into James's shoulder as James rocked them back and forth. "I'm not leaving. I didn't mean to keep the party from you, I just didn't think about it. I wasn't planning on going, we've both had a long week and I knew you wanted a quiet night tonight. You're always wanted, Regulus. I always want you."

It took a while for Regulus to calm down enough to speak. He kept his arms wrapped around James and his head tucked down, breathing in eucalyptus and coconut from the hair potion he'd given James last week. "I don't hate you."

"Well, that's good," James mumbled. He didn't let go, and Regulus was grateful. He wasn't fully together yet, and if James stopped holding him together, he'd probably start crying again. "At this point, I'd hope that maybe you're a little fond of me, yeah?"

Regulus nodded into the fabric. "Maybe."

James laughed, bright and warm. "I'll take it."

Some more deep breaths. Steady rocking. Warmth and steadiness and the red fabric of James's t-shirt. "Do you think I judge everyone?"

"I absolutely do," James confirmed. "And I love listening to you talk about everyone. You're funny and observant and you're right pretty much every time you make a prediction about someone. I adore you, and I love that I get to hear all of your thoughts on the people around us."

"Even the mean ones?" Regulus had to check.

"Even the mean ones."

Regulus thought that over for a bit. "Okay."

James pulled back a little to look at him. "Yeah?"

Regulus nodded, giving James a small but genuine smile. "Yeah."

He didn't have any good communication skills. But he was learning.

Slowly, he was learning.

#jegulus #regulus black #james potter #jeggyverse microfic #jegulus microfic #marauders

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