#In the trying times - when I was close to doing things I would not be able to regret - he was there for me.

[teaboot]

Its been a rough couple days out here so I'm writing a list of things I love about my son

(who is cat)

His dumb little face

His pretty yellow eyes

Every day when I get home the FIRST thing that happens is I scoop him up into my arms like a big baby and he let's me rub his tumtum for a whole two minutes!! Before returning to Bite Mode

The SECOND thing that happens is he gets the zoomies! When his father returns from work he goes SNUGGLE! then zooooooom. Because he is excited for me to play with him!!

When I play computer games he likes to feel included so even though he isn't normally very touchy he lets me scoop him up in one arm so he can sit there like a toddler and watch the screen

He trusts me SO much like if he wants up on a shelf or down off something tall I can just walk over and kneel and he'll crawl up or down me like a ladder and I've never had a cat do that before

He'll ride around on my shoulders when I take him out for walks which van be tricky now that he's big but he's so brave even when we pass a dog

Sometimes when I go to run his chin he gets SO EXCITED he'll jam his nose into my palm and smush it hard like he's trying to burrow a hole in the ground and it's adorable

He loves water-appliances? Like sinks and toilets and baths and such. He gets SO excited every time I turn on a faucet, he'll rush over and get as close as he can to watch without getting wet.

His favourite part of the whole house is the bathtub and whenever I take a bath he'll drape himself over the side and lounge there until I get out. He's not allowed in when I'm using the toilet but once I'm done I open the door to leave and he rushes in to check if I've been taking a secret bath without him, goes straight to the tub

In trying to teach him not to bite me, he has learned that he IS allowed to bite blankets. So if he really, really wants to play and I'm ignoring him, he'll bite me blankets and whip them around like a puppy playing tug-of-war.

If I'm ignoring him because I am ALSEEP, this sometimes results in me waking up because he has successfully pulled my blankets off of me.

He likes watching trucks. He'll sit in the window and watch traffic but if he hears a loud engine he'll RUSH to check it out.

When he was a baby, my brother would visit in the afternoons to feed and play with him while I was working. As a result, he loves his uncle more than me, and will allow constant tummy rubs

Because my brothers and I do family movie night at my place, and because he loves his uncles so much, he lights up whenever the doorbell rings and MUST greet visitors at the door.

Sometimes he tries to climb up a door by hugging the edge and jumping as high as he can. It has never worked but he still keeps trying. I think he just likes sliding down like it's a firepole.

He is obsessed with the smell of McDonalds french fries. He doesn't try to eat them, he just wants the box. There us currently one under my bed that I'm not allowed to throw away. I can hear him jamming his face into it right now.

Sometimes when he's curious about something I'm doing- eating, drinking, washing up, whatever- I'll let him sniff, and I'll just hear two or three strongass HUFF. HUFF sounds before he goes back to chilling. It's the cutest shit.

He's soft like the luxurious wild mink

His littol baby FEETSIES

Sometimes he stops grooming himself and forgets his tongue is sticking out

His laser toy has a keychain attachment that jingles so whenever he hears a metallic jingle like that he thinks it's playtime

when I wash my face in the bathroom in the morning he hops on top of the toilet tank and starts grooming himself like "Oh hey I guess it's EVERYBODY'S bath time okay"

He's chatty and will meep back and forth with me

He has a round little wicker nest bed on a pedestal in my room and he likes to climb inside at night and make biscuits on the cushion while he sucks on the corner and it makes me wanna cry he's such a big baby

He will not wake me up for breakfast but as soon as I move in thevmorning he'll hop up onto my chest and stare at me. If I take too long to get up he'll meep in my face and then bounce back and forth between me and the door until I'm up.

Once I AM up, he will circle me and continue chirping until I ask him if it is time for dinner. Dinner, as far as he knows, is the only word for food. As soon as I ask, "is it dinner time?" He will zoom to the kitchen like a bat out of he'll and wait beside his bowl.

He genuinely seems to enjoy walkies and will climb into his carrier if he thinks we're going somewhere

Soketimes he'll pick up one of his toys and trot around with it like he's showing it off and I swear to God every time it makes me wanna make the most embarrassing noises

Him son ♡

[v6quewrlds]

❝ candy paint, l. norris. ❞  ‎ ‎ ┉  

‎ ‎ ���⠀┉⠀summary: lando norris is a lot of things: 100% honest is not one of them. good thing you're around to make sure he owns his weaknesses.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: first lando fic everyone cheer!! finding my footing writing lando's personality (dry asf) but I'll get there lmao day three of my no nut november series.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀warnings: smut, please do not interact with my work if you are under 18. language, friends with benefits, the max mentioned is fewtrell not verstappen, oral (male receiving)protected sex, neither reader nor lando can shut the fuck up.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀pairing: lando norris x reader.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 2k.

"You're kidding, right?" you said into the phone, your voice laced with a hint of skepticism. The rain pattered against the window of your apartment, matching the rhythm of your thoughts. You had just returned from a week-long work trip and were looking forward to a quiet evening in.

Lando's voice was as persistent as the rain outside. "Come on, mate. It's been too long. You know I can't wait." His tone was a blend of playful and demanding, the kind that usually made your heart flutter. But this time, you had to draw a line.

"Lando, seriously," you said, a smirk playing on your lips. "What about your little bet with Max?" The mention of Max's name brought a mischievous glint to your eye. You knew how much he hated losing, especially to his friends.

Lando chuckled, the sound echoing through the line. "I wasn't sticking to the bet anyway. I've got to see you." His voice grew husky with desire, the kind of voice that made your knees wobble and your resolve waver. "I'll come to you."

You hesitated, your eyes narrowing as you considered his plea. The thought of seeing Lando sent a warm shiver down your spine. You could almost feel his strong hands gripping your hips, his breath hot on your neck. "Fine," you relented. "But if you want to come over, I'm telling Max you caved."

"You wouldn't," Lando said with mock horror, and you could almost hear his grin.

"Oh, I absolutely would," you replied, the challenge in your voice unmistakable. "You're the one begging to see me, remember?"

The line went quiet for a beat, and then Lando sighed dramatically. "Alright, fine, whatever. I'll be there in twenty."

Twenty minutes later, the sound of the door opening and closing was like music to your ears. You felt the heat of Lando's presence before you even saw him. He was soaking wet from the rain outside, his white t-shirt clinging to his muscular chest. You couldn't help but laugh at the sight of him. "You look like a drowned rat," you said, standing up from the couch where you had been scrolling through your phone.

"Charming," Lando shot back with a smirk, shaking his wet hair like a dog and spraying droplets across the floor. He stepped closer to you, and you could smell the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the freshness of rain. "But it's worth it if it means I get to see this gorgeous face." He leaned in to kiss you, but you playfully pushed him away. "What, no greeting for the man who braved the storm to see you?"

You rolled your eyes but couldn't hide your smile. "Take off your clothes before you drench the whole place," you said, stepping aside. You watched as he peeled off his shirt, revealing the defined abdomen and muscular arms that had your knees growing weaker by the second. You made no effort to hide your eyes sweeping over his form as you bit your bottom lip.

He kicked off his shoes and socks, leaving a puddle by the door. "Better?" he asked, a glint in his eye as he moved closer.

"Marginally," you replied, trying to keep your cool. But when Lando's hands reached for your waist, pulling you into his warm embrace, you melted against him. His touch was like a warm blanket on a cold night, comforting and revitalizing all at once.

You kissed with an intensity that spoke of weeks of pent-up longing, your tongues dancing in a familiar rhythm. His hands slid down your back, cupping your ass, and you felt his erection pressing against your thigh. "You're going to be the end of me," he murmured against your lips.

You pulled away just enough to whisper, "You're the one who couldn't wait." You stepped back, taking his hand and leading him to the couch. With a swift motion, you straddled him, your cotton shorts riding up your thighs. Lando's hands roamed up your legs, his thumbs teasing the hem, hinting at what was to come.

Your round brown eyes searched his emerald ones, a silent question lingering between you two. "You sure you're ready to lose?" you asked, your voice low and sultry. The room was filled with the sound of your ragged breaths and the distant patter of rain.

Lando's grin was all the answer you needed. "Love, I'd do anything to taste you right now." His thumbs hooked into the waistband of your shorts, and with a quick pull, they were around your ankles. He groaned as he felt the heat of your bare skin against his.

You giggled, a sound that was music to his ears, and leaned back, placing your hands on his shoulders. "Well, you're in luck," you said, your voice dripping with seduction. "Because I'm feeling quite generous."

Without breaking eye contact, Lando reached for the waistband of his sweats pulling it down with a slow, deliberate movement. His erection sprang free, and you couldn't help but gasp. He was always so beautifully aroused, so ready for you. You slid your hand over it, feeling it pulse beneath your touch.

He groaned, his eyes closing briefly before snapping open again. "Don't tease me," he warned, his voice strained.

"Who's teasing?" you said, your smile wicked. You kneeled off the couch, your soft dark curls brushing against his chest, and took him in your mouth. Lando's grip tightened on the couch cushions, his body arching off the cushions with a hiss.

"Fuck, babe," he groaned, his eyes rolling back. Your mouth was warm and wet, moving over him with the kind of expertise that only came from knowing someone's body intimately. You took him deep, your tongue swirling around the head before pulling back to tease the sensitive underside. You knew every inch of him, every spot that made him squirm, and every spot that made him beg.

You felt a rush of power, your eyes sparkling with amusement as you watched Lando's reaction. You loved the way he lost control around you, the way his cocky exterior crumbled to reveal the desperate need beneath. You bobbed your head faster, taking him deeper each time, until you felt his thighs tense and his hips jerk upwards.

"Goddammit," he breathed, his hands finding their way into your hair, guiding your movements. "I can't wait anymore." He pulled you off him, his eyes dark with need. "Get on top," he said, his voice a gruff command.

Your heart raced as you straddled him, your own desire matching his. You watched as he reached into the pocket of his sweats, retrieving a condom he casually slid over his length. Then you felt him at your entrance, his fingers eagerly pushing your panties to the side, and with a little wiggle, you sank down, enveloping him in your warmth. Lando's eyes rolled back in his head, a silent groan escaping his lips. The sensation of him filling you was overwhelming, a sweet ache that you had missed.

You found your rhythm quickly, your bodies moving together as if you had been practicing this dance your whole life. Lando's hands roamed your body, cupping your breasts and squeezing your hips as you rode him. Your nails dug into his shoulders, leaving little half-moons of pressure as you rose and fell. Each time you took him in, you felt like you were claiming a piece of him, a piece that was yours and yours alone.

The sound of your bodies slapping together filled the room, a testament to your passion. You leaned forward, your breasts brushing against Lando's chest, and whispered, "Couldn't even go two weeks, could you?" Your voice was teasing, but it held an underlying satisfaction. You knew you had the power to make him break his bet.

"Fuck the bet," Lando groaned, his eyes squeezed shut in pleasure. "You're all I need." His words were punctuated by his hips bucking upwards, pushing into you with a desperation that sent a shiver down your spine. The room grew hotter, the scent of your desire mixing with the dampness from the rain outside.

Your movements grew more frantic, their breaths mingling in the air. The couch creaked beneath you, a testament to the intensity of your passion. You felt yourself getting closer, your inner muscles tightening around him. Lando's grip on your hips grew firmer, his fingers digging into your skin.

"Come for me," he urged, his eyes burning into yours. "Let go, baby."

You threw your head back, your dark curls bouncing off your shoulders as you picked up your pace. The sensations grew more intense, each stroke bringing you closer to the edge. Lando's hands moved from your hips to your breasts, his hands squeezing at the bouncing flesh before leaning down to bring his mouth to the peaks. You gasped, the pleasure shooting straight to your core.

"Yes, just like that," you moaned, your voice a little raspy. The warmth of his mouth on your breasts sent shockwaves through your body. You felt your orgasm approaching, the familiar coil tightening in your belly. You leaned into him, your movements becoming erratic as you chased the feeling.

Lando could feel you tightening around him, your breath coming in short gasps. He knew you were close, and it was his undoing. He thrust upwards, his own release building. "Fuck," he groaned, his eyes meeting yours, silently pleading for you to let go.

With a cry, you did. Your orgasm washed over you, making your body convulse. You felt him swell inside you, his own climax following closely behind. You held onto each other tightly, your bodies moving together in perfect harmony until the waves of pleasure subsided.

For a moment, you stayed just like that, panting and sweaty, your hearts hammering in your chests. Then, Lando leaned in to kiss you, a gentle brush of his lips that spoke of affection and satisfaction. He pulled out of you with a soft groan, and you felt a twinge of loss. But the warmth of his body remained, his arms still wrapped around your waist.

"You're amazing," he murmured against your neck, his voice a low rumble that made your skin prickle. You leaned into the embrace, feeling a sense of peace wash over you. This was your thing, your little slice of heaven, left uncomplicated despite your close friendship.

You lay there for a while, your bodies entwined and your breaths slowing. The rain outside had turned into a gentle pitter-patter, lulling you into a state of post-coital bliss. It was moments like these that made the world seem to stop spinning, where the only thing that mattered was the warmth of each other's skin and the sound of your hearts beating in unison.

You leaned back and looked into his green eyes, the corners of your mouth curling up in a knowing smile. "So," you began, "Are you going to man up and text Max now, or should I?"

Lando groaned, his head falling back against the couch cushion. "You're enjoying this way too much," he said, a hint of a grin playing on his lips.

"I like seeing you squirm," you replied, your voice light and playful. You reached for your phone on the coffee table, your eyes gleaming with mischief. You knew Lando was competitive to a fault and losing was not something he took kindly to, especially not when it came to something as serious as a bet with Max.

Lando's eyes narrowed playfully as he watched you type away, his arms still around your waist. "Don't be too detailed," he murmured, his grip tightening slightly.

You glanced up at him, your smile widening. "Oh, I won't," you said sweetly, sending the text. "But he's going to know you didn't last five minutes."

Lando's eyes shot open. "You didn't!"

"Oh, I did," you said with a laugh, the sound like a melody in the quiet room. "And you know what?"

He tugged on your hair gently, bringing you closer. "What?"

"It was worth it," you whispered, your voice filled with sincerity. "Every single second."

You kissed him softly, your tongue darting out to trace his bottom lip. Lando's eyes closed, savoring the moment, his arms tightening around you. He knew you were right, that the thrill of being with you was worth any bet.

[p0orbaby]

Getting You Alone Isn’t Easy

summary: two reckless lovers, one ill-timed call, and zero chance of stopping

warnings: suggestive but not explicit

a/n: the length of time it took me to decide on a title for this was painful

word count: 1.5k

-

You’re draped over Alexia, straddling her in the faint, golden light that sneaks through the blinds. Her hands grip your hips in that familiar way, like you’re the last thing keeping her from floating off. You’re gasping, breathless, clinging to the taut warmth of her body beneath you as though the world is ending and this is your only way to stay grounded. Her hands, usually gentle, are digging in hard enough to leave bruises, but she’s sweet like that, knows exactly when you need to feel it. You can almost picture the bruises they’ll leave behind, thumbprints like violet ink smudged across your skin, each one a reminder that she was here, and that she wanted you badly enough to leave a mark.

It’s been a day, one of those long ones that started with a sun-blinded hangover, progressed into a searing headache, and then—once you forced yourself to actually acknowledge the calls you missed last night—moved rapidly toward near apocalyptic levels of panic.

Somewhere between the drink you had to “take the edge off” and the fourth one you drank without even thinking about it, Alexia texted you, and it felt like a solution, or maybe a distraction, though those two things are the same to you most of the time.

So here you are, in the thick of it, your bodies wrapped around each other, your mind slipping into that strange, dreamlike state where it feels like your skin isn’t your own. Everything’s heightened—her touch, her scent, the whisper of her breath on your neck. You’re right at the edge, teetering, and then—

Your phone rings.

Of course it fucking does.

At first, you ignore it. The vibrating hum is muffled against the sheets, barely noticeable above your own heartbeat, but then it rings again, louder this time, insistent. It’s like a drill sergeant at dawn, determined to ruin whatever peace you’d managed to find. You freeze, eyes half-closed, but Alexia’s hands don’t loosen. She’s looking up at you with an expression that’s half bemused, half annoyed, as if she’s only just managed to convince herself that you’re here, and now you’re about to ruin it with some petty, buzzing bit of reality.

You almost get through it, on the cusp letting it go to voicemail or hurling the damn thing into the bottom of your Birkin where it belongs. But something in you—a survival instinct, maybe—forces you to reach for it, fumbling as you do so. Alexia’s eyes follow your hand, then flick back up to yours with an exasperated look that says, Really? Now?

You manage to grab it without rolling entirely off her, though it’s a close call. Her hands move down to your waist, still holding you in place as you glance at the screen, and of course, it’s George. It’s always George. You swear he has some kind of sixth sense, an uncanny ability to detect the exact moment you’ve slipped into some semblance of happiness, so he can yank you back with some catastrophe or another. The man is a walking interruption.

“Don’t,” Alexia murmurs, pulling you back to the matter at hand, her voice soft but firm, her hands slipping up to your ribs with a kind of slow, determined patience. But you know better. If you don’t answer now, he’ll only call back five more times, and each time, he’ll sound more panicked, until he finally leaves you a voice note that’s somehow worse than the call itself.

“I have to,” you mutter, as you answer, attempting to clear your throat and sound like you weren’t just seconds away from giving in to everything she was doing to you.

“Hello?” you say, trying and failing to keep the breathlessness out of your voice.

George’s voice crackles through the speaker, shrill and brimming with that particular brand of theatrical urgency agents reserve for “crises.” He sounds faintly nasal, the sort of voice you imagine would belong to a man with an allergy to anything fun. You imagine him sitting in his cold, grey office somewhere in Soho, every surface immaculate and white, his expression permanently fixed into a grimace of perpetual disappointment.

“You need to sit down,” he says, voice pitched in that “I’m barely holding it together” tone that never actually means anything good.

“I am sitting,” you manage, though it comes out sounding more like a gasp than anything else, because Alexia—God bless her—is now trailing her lips along the column of your throat, completely unbothered by the fact that you’re very much occupied now. In fact, you’re convinced she’s doing this on purpose, her eyes meeting yours with that devilish glint that says she’s fully aware of what she’s doing. You pull back and give her a look—part warning, part exasperation—but she only grins, slowly, like she’s daring you to keep up the charade.

George doesn’t miss a beat. “There are photos,” he says, each syllable dripping with an ominous weight that would make anyone else think he was delivering news of a tragedy.

“Photos?” you ask, as Alexia’s hand slips a little higher, her fingers just grazing the edge of your panties. You’re barely holding it together, biting down hard on your lip to keep from making a sound. “George, there are always photos. What are you on about?”

He sighs, the kind of exasperated sigh he reserves for when he’s forced to explain the intricacies of your own life to you. “Not just any photos,” he says, voice dropping to a whisper that somehow makes everything sound worse. “These are… explicit”

“Explicit?” you repeat, your voice catching because Alexia’s lips are trailing across your collarbone now, her fingers dangerously close to places that make it impossible to sound remotely professional. “Define explicit, George”

He pauses, a beat of silence so thick with hesitation you can practically see his nervous, tight-lipped expression. “You and Alexia. On that yacht. Full-on… everything. Let’s just say someone with a very long-range lens took a rather extensive interest in your… activities”

It takes a second for the words to register, but when they do, it’s like being doused in cold water. You’re suddenly hyper-aware of everything—the sweat on your skin, Alexia’s fingers toying with you, her mouth now having moved to the swell of your exposed breast. You can’t tell if you’re more annoyed or amused by the fact that, somehow, your most private moments have once again become public property.

Alexia looks up at you once more, eyes glinting with something between curiosity and enjoyment, as if she can tell exactly what George is saying and finds the whole thing hilarious.

“So you’re telling me,” you say, trying to sound casual, though it’s hard with Alexia’s hands and mouth all over you, “that someone out there’s publishing wildlife documentaries of my sex life?”

“Don’t be flippant,” George snaps, though his voice cracks a little, like he’s barely holding it together. “This is serious. The Daily Mail already has them. And they’re… well, they’re explicit. The kind of thing they’d plaster on the front page if they could get away with it”

For a moment, you consider the insanity of it all—your life, reduced to some tawdry tabloid spread, the kind of thing boring nosey housewives read in supermarket queues. You imagine the headlines, the breathless, shocked tones they’d use to describe “the scandal.” Never mind the fact that you’re not the first celebrity to get caught like this, nor will you be the last. But still, it stings in that strange, twisted way fame always does, a reminder that your life isn’t really your own.

“I’m sorry, George,” you say, barely stifling a moan as Alexia’s hand moves just right, making it almost impossible to keep up the conversation. “But I don’t exactly have a solution for you right now”

George lets out a strangled noise. “Well, you bloody well better come up with one. Unless you want the world to know what you look like without your clothes on. Which, I might add, is not exactly… career-friendly”

You stifle a laugh, more out of habit than anything else. Alexia’s fingers are moving with that slow, calculated patience she knows drives you mad, and you can feel your resolve slipping. “Look, George,” you say, your voice strained, “I’ll call you back. After I… handle things”

“What? You can’t just hang up on me!” he practically shrieks, but you’re already pressing ‘end call’ and tossing the phone aside.

The phone lands back somewhere on the bed, George’s panicked voice cutting off abruptly. For a moment, there’s silence, and then Alexia lets out a low, throaty laugh, her eyes alight with amusement. She reaches her free hand up, trailing her fingers along your jaw, and there’s something wicked in her smile that makes you forget the world outside the bedroom.

“Where were we?” you murmur, leaning down to capture her lips in a kiss, slow and lingering, the kind of kiss that makes you forget everything else.

“Right here,” she whispers, her voice soft but possessive, and you can’t help but smile as she pulls you back down, your bodies tangling once more as you lose yourself in her warmth.

[zephyrchama]

📞

(Obey Me! mini fic. Contains suggestive content but is overall SFW)

---

“How are my brothers doing?”

Lucifer’s voice sounded a little grainy over the phone. He must have been far away, or something somewhere was causing magical interference to the connection. It was nice that he had time to call and check in on things.

“Everything’s great,” you confided. Things had been really calm in his absence and you felt confident the house would still be standing by the time he returned home. “We just finished watching a movie. Belphegor fell asleep midway through, of course. Everyone else-”

“Hey…” Asmodeus interrupted, leaning into your shoulder and putting his cheek against yours. His voice sounded extra raunchy. “I told you, if you keep touching me like that…”

”Asmo, I’m on the phone.”

“You’re going to make me… Hnngh…” He dug an obnoxious smile into your shoulder while continuing to make questionable noises.

You were about to apologize to Lucifer, but a yell from the other room made you jump. Asmodeus tried to repress a giggle as Satan’s voice rang out, loud and clear, “Oh no! I just knocked over Lucifer’s cursed record collection!”

You hadn’t heard any crashes, nothing to indicate property damage had occurred. Thankfully, Satan’s good conscious wanted to keep you out of real trouble more than he wanted to torment Lucifer. That didn’t prevent him from sarcastically lamenting, “wow! I accidentally stepped on a bunch and crushed them even more! That sucks. Oh well.”

A deep inhale, and a deep exhale. You remained calm. They were messing around.

The chewing noises that had been a constant all evening were suddenly gone. You cast a suspicious glance at Beelzebub on the next couch over.

“We’re out of food,” he complained. The fridge had been filled to bursting that morning and there were two half-full bags of chips still in his lap. Belphegor lay face-down next to his twin with an open container of demonic chip dip balanced on his back.

“Don’t worry! Yer big bro’ll take care of everythin’! How many roasted griffon do you want delivered? Ten? Or should we go full catering?”

Mammon, back from his bathroom break, was fast on the uptake when it came to causing mischief. He wasted no time in flaunting money he didn’t have while Beelzebub decided now was a good time to eat those chips. Mammon made sure to stand right behind you so his voice would carry into the receiver. “I’m always takin’ good care of my little bros, aren’t I? Lucifer oughta put me in charge next time.”

Somebody snorted. You weaseled an arm out from under Asmodeus to rub your forehead. “Come on, guys.”

“Mammon, where did you find Lucifer’s backup credit card? I thought that was for emergencies only!” Leviathan cupped his hands around his mouth to amplify his voice. All the while, Satan kept shouting, “oops! Broke that, too!” and Asmodeus carried on with his lewd noises.

You held your mouth as close to the phone as possible, helplessly trying to block out the idiots. “You trust me, right?”

“Of course. I’m glad you’re taking care of things, everyone sounds like they’re having fun.” Rather than mad, Lucifer sounded amused. There was a fondness in his voice. “Though, if the house is truly in dire straights, I have no choice but to come straight home without stopping for souvenirs. Be sure to convey that for me.”

You were happy to announce, “Lucifer’s not getting you guys any souvenirs if you keep it up.”

The tomfoolery stopped immediately.

“Whuh?” “No way!” “Does that include picking up dinner?” “My limited edition goods!” “He can’t do that!”

The cacophony of complaints almost caused you to miss the grainy voice over the phone. It said, “I don’t like being away from you for this long. I’ll need you to give a one-on-one report of everything that happened as soon as I get back. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

There was a click, and the line went silent. You set the phone aside. The previously energetic gang looked anxious knowing that their big brother could be upset, even though they brought this upon themselves. Satan carried in a disc, in mint condition, muttering about how he found the sequel and will put it on.

“He’s still going to get us gifts, right?” Leviathan asked. You shrugged.

[beloveds-embrace]

so i have a habit of calling be love/babe/darling as a term of enderament (even in friendships) and was wondering how the dukedom guys would react to being called love or darling by the reader for the first time? I grt it probably wasnt as socially acceptable back then but the thought still plaques my mind

Historical accuracy who? We don’t know her shhh

Original post

But they’d love it! At first, you had tried really hard to stop yourself and semi-succeeded by only calling your maids like that. Your parents always hated that habit of yours, a leftover from your nanny’s own habit. They had warned you again and again and again to not let your tongue run, to keep your words polite and demure, only fallen women working in brothels would speak so freely.

And you did keep it under control for a good while; with your interactions few with John, you could remind yourself not to let your tongue loose and call him honey right off the bat when he simply calls you by your name. It’s harder with Kyle, you almost slip and call him darling, same with Johnny. With Simon it’s easier because on the times he visits, you leave him to his meetings with John and don’t bother them. (Or what you thought were business meetings at that time lol)

But once they start getting closer to you, it’s inevitable that the nicknames start slipping out.

“Kyle, darling-“ you are rushing today, and the words slip out before you realize. You just spare a thought to wonder why he’s frozen solid like that. “Where is my hairpin? I was so sure we left it on my vanity?”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” you say to Johnny when he brings you a platter of fresh deserts while working, not lifting your head from the papers in front of you other than to flash him a quick, grateful smile. You don’t notice how long it takes before Johnny stutters out a ‘welcome, m’lady’ and leaves you be.

“Simon, honey?” You ask on another occasion, voice too worried to notice what you’d called him. No maids around, and no one would question you calling you husband’s ‘close friend’ by his name in your home. “Is your leg okay? You are leaning on it too much, shall I call the doctor?” His silence is typical to you, but too busy fussing over his leg, you don’t see his face. Until you look up, eyes widening at his averted eyes and red-tipped ears. “Are you sick, Simon? You should be resting instead, you know?”

And at last… “John, love,” you sigh softly, controlling the tremble of your limbs. You look away from the newspaper, though you believe it should just be called a glorified gossip magazing, and close your eyes. Duke Price’s Duchess remains barren of a child! Is a divorce in their future? “It’s alright, it is what it is-“ you try to calm him.

Up until now, from the moment you’d both read the headline, John had been fuming. He wasn’t loud in his anger, but it was clear in his ticking jaw and clenched fists. So you expect him to continue in his anger.

“…I will deal with it.” John promises, voice low but no longer a rolling thunder. He sits down calmer now, when you finally open your eyes to look at him. He’s simply gazing at you, and his hands clench in the air before he sets them down on the table. “They won’t be slandering you any longer, wife. I promise you.”

You wish you could pinpoint what soothed him, but alas. Though you know he will try his best and maybe this news agency won’t make anymore comments like this about you, others will still continue to do so.

“It’s alright.” You repeat, but the words ring hollow and the smile on your face is empty. You push your plate away. “Now, if my husband permits it, I don’t believe I can stomach much more.”

“You never need my permission for such things,” he tells you; a sentiment he’d told you from the very first day. His face softens. “Go rest. Today, I will take care of everything that needs to be done.”

Darling, sweetheart, honey, love… they wonder if you know how much those words repeat in their minds.

[monstercangirlofficial]

My heart goes out to people thinking about leaving the US today, to people who are immigrants, to black people, to trans people, to women, disabled people, indigenous people, to people who have to go to work today at black owned businesses, to people who are visibly trans, to people of color, to people from marginalized communities, systems and therians, people struggling with money, people struggling to find a job, people who don't have a support network, to people living outside of the US who are affected by its actions, to people from Palestine, Congo, Sudan, to people who have already lived and suffered through fascism before, to people who will see and feel it for the first time, to people who wish they hadn't woken up today, to people who knew this would happen, to people who did whatever they could to stop this, people who thought they could make a difference but feel like they didn't do enough, and to everyone who is scared today, my heart goes out to you all. I love you

I hope you have people around you right now who will not rub in your face what an obvious outcome this was, but that your fear and sorrow are valid. I hope they can comfort and be there for you, when it feels like the world is crumbling around you. Today you might leave your house terrified, and I hope things go as well as they possibly can. Your fear isn't unfounded. You've very likely lived through this before, and many others did, and you'll get through it. It won't be easy. I'm sorry. We've been here before. Democracy has failed you before. You still matter. The lives of people who are struggling right now matter. A lot of people right now are afraid, contemplating suicide, reliving their trauma, and things feel hopeless. Marginalized people have survived a lot of horrible things. We've been there for each other, and we have to be there for each other right now too. You deserve dignity, but institutionalized democracy won't be there to give it to you. Please, look after yourself. You matter. The life that they're trying to take away from you matters. I love you

You can only try and be there for others and yourself. You can only try and do good, and follow your convictions. You can only try and stay alive and enjoy the company of those around you, to enjoy life, and to enjoy anything comforting right now. You can only try and organize yourself and your community, support others, comfort your friends, hug someone you care about. Make art, complain, do something, do anything. But rest too. You might be exhausted, and there's only so much you can do. Fixing this, fixing the world is not your personal responsibility, but a community effort. Focus on the small, manageable things. Be there for those who are close to you. Try not to overextend yourself. Drink some water, exercise, pick up a new hobby, write a poem. Comfort others and accept their comfort. They want you to be well as much as you want them to. You'll get through this. You'll live. I love you

[autisticandoddlyspecific]

My contribution: Not only that, but get to know your neighbors and find any common ground you can. Support the people around you.

Humanity's greatest strength in my opinion is our ability to survive crises when we stand together. Not just literally in front of a government building, but support each other emotionally and materially in any way we can.

The people of Poland for example would not have made it through WWII if they didn't work together to survive day to day.

Whether you're anarchist, socialist, social democrat, communist, or just think republicans are nuts who can't be trusted with the country/wish you could be left the fuck alone, our TOP priority is surviving, so find any common ground as you can with your neighbors. A lot of union workers are actually conservative leaning construction workers, for example. Talk with them about advocating for themselves as union workers, and find friends and allies wherever you can.

As for me, I'm starting with my irl friend group. We're fortunately already close and meet up often, so I'm letting them know I am happy to help them with whatever I can. My older sibling will likely be going back to places they used to be a regular to and rebuild a group of interpersonal connections with which to survive, and we can connect our friend groups together to maximize support.

A proper crisis mode involves generosity and helping others as much as we can manage. Like, don't hurt yourself obviously, but taking care of one another makes us stronger over 99% of the time. A good group will also take care of you as much as possible anyway.

Now I know a lot of people on this site are disabled, so I will once again say that you only do what is possible for you, but if at all possible, try and improve your health. Going into a mini-crisis mode involves changes in lifestyle, and one thing is that many of us simply will not be able to afford poor health. I will see what I can do to put some much-needed physical activity into my day and eat nutritious meals so that my health is as good as it reasonably can be.

And finally, do allow yourself to mourn the future you hoped for, but taking action once it's a feasible option for you is important. My heart goes out to everyone this week, and I hope we'll be able to pull ourselves together enough to push against fascism.

no matter the outcome of this election: organize, build local community, build strength in masses. elections aren't the only time politics happen, it also happens on the streets, in the community and by mutually supporting each other.

the way forward is together. we build power from the ground up. in the US and everywhere else in the world.

a better world is possible and we can start building it now, by ourselves. anarchism starts in the now.

hack the planet

[shybluebirdninja]

Growing Us

Summary       : Old Logan takes care of his pregnant wife. Note               : fluff

Logan’s POV

Her breathing was slow, steady, but I could tell she wasn’t asleep. I watched her from the doorway for a second, leaning against the frame, arms crossed. She was lying on her side, one hand resting on her growing belly, the other tucked under her pillow. My wife, strong as steel, but pregnancy was taking its toll on her.

I walked over, careful not to wake her if she had finally drifted off. As I got closer, she shifted, her eyes fluttering open and catching mine.

“Hey,” she whispered, a small smile tugging at her lips. She tried to sit up, but I quickly stepped forward, my hand resting on her shoulder.

“Easy, darlin’. You don’t need to move.”

She chuckled, but it was tired. “I’m fine, Logan.”

“Yeah, that’s what you said yesterday,” I muttered, sitting down beside her on the bed. “And the day before that. Doesn’t mean you don’t need to rest.”

She rolled her eyes, but I could see how exhausted she was. I’d never been one for all the baby talk or fussing over things, but seeing her like this—tired, carrying our kid—something inside me changed. Maybe it was that protective instinct or just the fact that she looked so damn beautiful, even when she was worn out.

“You’re hovering,” she teased, her hand reaching for mine.

I grunted, but my fingers wrapped around hers. “Not hovering. Just… watching over you.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, squeezing my hand. “I like when you’re like this. All soft.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Soft? Darlin’, I ain’t soft.”

She laughed again, and the sound was like music to my ears. It had been a rough few weeks for her—morning sickness that didn’t just stick to mornings, swollen feet, and a back that was giving her hell. I’d give anything to make it easier, but all I could do was be here. So, that’s what I did.

“You hungry?” I asked, brushing some of her hair behind her ear. “I could make you something. Or try, anyway.”

Her face softened, but she shook her head. “I’m okay, Logan. Just tired.”

Tired was an understatement. Her eyes were heavy, but she was fighting it. Always trying to be strong, even when she didn’t have to be.

“Then rest,” I said, my voice gruff but gentle. “I got everything covered. You don’t need to do anything.”

Her hand drifted back to her belly, and I couldn’t help but follow it with my eyes. It still blew my mind that we were doing this—starting a family. It wasn’t something I thought I’d ever have, not with the life I’d lived. But here we were, her body growing the next part of us, and I couldn’t imagine anything more important.

“Feel the baby,” she whispered suddenly, her eyes lighting up.

I blinked, then reached out cautiously, my rough hand gently resting over hers on her belly. A moment passed, then I felt it—a small, faint kick.

My heart did something weird, tightening and swelling at the same time. I’d fought wars, survived hell, but this? This was something else.

“She’s strong,” I murmured, my hand lingering there.

“She is,” she whispered, her voice soft and full of warmth. “Just like her dad.”

I shook my head. “Nah. She gets that from you.”

We sat there for a while, neither of us saying much. I didn’t need words. This—just being here, feeling that life we’d created, seeing her in front of me—it was enough.

“Get some sleep,” I said after a while, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know,” she whispered, her hand still on mine.

Her eyes drifted closed, and I stayed where I was, watching over her like I always would.

[mynameismad]

What have I been up to?????

Hey all! I'm sure you're all cycling rapidly through the stages of grief like I am, but I thought I'd just check in and let everyone know what's going on with me and when they can expect more comics!

GOOD NEWS: I got a concept art job! I've been working freelance for a client for about two months now and things are going great! Honestly working on short assignments with weekly deadlines has been an amazing break from the slow, constant march of longform comics. I am surprising myself every day and haven't been this excited to learn and grow as an artist in a very long time. Moving forward, I would like to find a full time job in games and stay there, rather than continuing to hustle full-time in comics. I've paused my Patreon for the foreseeable future.

THAT BEING SAID: I will always be making comics!!!!!! I love them a lot, they've been good to me, and I have all these ideas in my head that NEED to be let out. I want to start making them in my own time, rather than as my main source of income. We'll see how long it takes to find true stability in concept (maybe never, lol) but in the meantime I will keep drawing my silly little guys and posting them online for everyone to see. I have to! I have to keep going and making the art I want to see in the world! We have to keep going!!!!

SAKANA: hoping to get back to the fish boys sooner rather than later. I've been stuck on whether to end the latest chapter right away or get a few more pages in there. We're moving into a HEAVY part of the plot, which will be trickier to write, so I've been procrastinating lol. Please don't take my extended absence as proof that I'm walking away from the story: I've just been busy with a new job and I don't know exactly how to get to the next chapter yet!! (also, jsyk, the Webtoon mirror is something I was doing for fun! not a priority!!)

RR: I actually have a few different projects started for RR! Chapter 2 is like 9 pages in, but then I paused and started work on a 20ish page minicomic, which is like 7 pages in. I'm going to finish the mini first and hopefully upload it to itch.io. For Chapter 2, I created this really elaborate environment in an effort to force myself to learn Blender, but then I got a job....so I have no time to learn Blender lol. Still trying to figure out whether to simplify or push forward.

OTHER: yeah...I am a comic artist at heart so obviously I have a million things I want to do. But SAKANA and RR are the highest priority right now!

UPCOMING: I am pursuing other freelance work for shorter, more manageable projects! If you need somebody to redline all your thumbnails, critique the first draft of your synopsis, or make a 20-40 page comic, please keep me in mind!

In closing: I'm locking my twitter accounts tonight and moving away from the platform for now. I'll be here, Instagram (@/mad_rupert), and BlueSky (@/madrupert). Thanks for sticking with me, let's hold onto and support each other in the coming weeks, months, and years! Let's keep going!!!!! I love you all so much!!!

[lets-try-some-writing]

I got the image of the Jack, Miko and Rafael learning to imitate Distressed/terrified Sparkling cries and using them against the decepticons. It’s a very efficient defense mechanism. Every cybertronian who heard them is freaking out because oh primus how is the squishy thing making that noise and I gotta protect it at all costs. The sheer chaos that would ensue as the ‘protect/rescue the sparkling’ programming kicks in full force.

——

The vehicons are clustered at the other end of the room panicking. They don’t know what to do. The human sparklings are looking right at them and making distress noises. The guilt is killing them.

Knockout going “is the car form less alarming?! If I turn into a car will you stop seeing me as the threat?!”

Breakdown is having a breakdown.

Starscream pinned to the wall on the other side of the room having an internal crisis. He doesn’t like this. Make it stop.

Soundwave makes no noise but you can FEEL the sheer distress radiating off of him.

Megatron is frozen. No thoughts, head empty. He’s not moving at all. He doesn’t know how to handle this.

——

The autobots have mixed feelings about this. They’re glad the kids have a way of defending themselves but please don’t do it near them. They’re stressed out enough as it is.

(This might sound kinda dumb but I thought it was kinda funny. Very tired while writing this)

Wait no this is actually brilliant.

The Decepticons never anticipated their long buried parental nature to be used against them. No one did. But they day the human children turned up on the battlefield looking far too confident, every Bot and Con present had the all encompassing feeling that something was terribly wrong. Their suspicions were quickly confirmed when, before the Decepticons could do much of anything to get the relics they were after, Rafael began to wail.

Normally, human screams meant nothing. But there was a certain pitch that sounded so close to a cry of distress from a sparkling that, to warriors who had not heard a sparkling in millennia, it was enough to send them running to help. In this case, the issue was only compounded as the children scattered like mice and started making the same noises. The Decepticons could hardly focus on the Autobots booking it to the relics as they frantically tried to locate the fictitious sparklings calling for aid.

The Vehicons managed to get to Jack, but he just kept looking up at them defiantly. Every time one of the dozen or so Vehicons on the field tried to grab him, blast him, or otherwise hurt him, Jack would chirp like a sparkling and send all of them scurrying back. It wasn't cute to the Vehicons. Having never seen actual sparklings but still having the coding needed to adore them, they looked at Jack and saw a weird frame-walker. They weren't sure what to do about it except try to haul themselves away while also keeping a vague circle around the human male.

Miko on the other hand made it a point to chase after Megatron and Soundwave, screeching like a sparkling about to be shredded. Neither stopped for her, but Megatron completely lost his train of thought every time that screech rang out. He could have been aiming at Optimus with a perfect head shot and he would be unable to fire as Miko's distressed sounds rang out in his audials. He KNEW she wasn't a sparking. His coding wasn't even that strong. But by Primus, hearing her screech was the same as watching a civilian get run over by a bus, repeatedly. Focus was impossible.

Soundwave wasn't much better. He didn't react outwardly, but the slowing of his steps and the way he tried to sidestep Miko gave away his distress. He avoided her like the plague, trying to refocus but being unable to really get far as Miko screamed like a demon. It was a fight against the Unmaker himself to keep Soundwave from bolting over to collect the sparkling who sounded so very upset.

Rafael, for his part, followed Miko's lead and harassed the other three members of High Command most often found out on the field. Breakdown ran screaming the moment Rafael started chirping at him. This was both out of fear of the frame-walker and to escape the inevitable overreaction of his coding. He may or may not have attempted parkour once or twice to get as far away from the smallest of the humans as possible.

Knockout tried to ignore Rafael when the kid chirped up at him, he really really did. But how does one ignore the Cybertronian equivalent of a soaking wet kitten meowing up at you? Simply put: you don't. Knockout gave in and quickly dropped down to try and soothe the non-existent sparkling every. single. time. Rafael pulled his noise trickery. He never fails to panic and attempt to flash colorful things at Rafael to get him to stop. Every Decepticon has since been endlessly disappointed in him.

Starscream, being terrified of things that really shouldn't be there, took the skies the instant the trio began screeching. Nope. Not today Unicron. He'll get the mission done or get the heck out of dodge to avoid coding coming online. He doesn't need empty nest syndrome on top of a crippling case of "I Love Power." He also doesn't need to deal with the horrific mental image of a squishy somehow managing to sound like a sparkling. Nope. Nope. NOPE.

The Autobots are grateful the kids can protect themselves a bit now. But by Primus, they have known NO peace since the kids figured it all out.

[alex51324]

Oh, good, I was thinking I needed to do one of these, and now somebody else has.

Yeah, guys. I'm sorry, but the election fraud thing is copium.

Absolutely, everything should be checked into. The Russian bomb threats, the odd juxtaposition of record-high early voter turnout compared with low total turnout, Trump's "secret plan," etc.

(My money's on the "secret plan"--if it existed at all--being some sort of hail-mary he was going to try if he lost, but who knows, & that certainly isn't the sort of remark a candidate should go around making and not expect some additional scrutiny.)

But we went through this in 2016 as well--I spent a good couple of weeks closely following the recount saga, watching for any sign that we were about to hit the "aha!" moment, where the many small fluctuations that come up in a recount suddenly arranged themselves into a pattern that revealed all.

And in the end, it turned out that the result was valid. Yes, Russian propaganda was involved, but the outcome was ultimately the result of an accurate count of legitimate votes cast by eligible American voters.

That's likely to be what happens this time, too.

I would be incredibly relieved--and, in my heart, unsurprised--to learn that there was some malfunction or malfeasance that explains the result we got this week.

But that's probably not going to actually happen.

I'm fully on-board with investigating every whiff of impropriety--we should do that every time, regardless of who wins, and we should especially do it when the winner is a convicted felon and fraudster.

But we also need to prepare for the likely outcome of that investigation, and be strategic about how we deploy scarce resources--including the time and attention of people in a position to make things happen over the next 75 days until January 20.

These guys--Trump's people--aren't evil geniuses or criminal masterminds. They're two-bit grifters running scams on the biggest street corner in the world. Trump gets away with things through audacity, not subterfuge; if they did something that we don't already know about, we'll find out, because they will have done it stupidly.

But chances are, he won using the basic strategy of all con-men everywhere: figure out what the sucker wants to hear, and then offer them a deal that's too good to be true.

Ok, so with all these posts going around aboht election interference and calling for a recount, i wanted to find evidence that weren't twitter screenshots

Bomb threats at polling places:

This claim is legit, as well as the source being from russian email domains. No actual bombs were placed or set off.

Burning ballot boxes:

3 incidents of burning ballot boxes have been confirmed for this election in Portland, Oregon and one in Vancouver, Washington, both of which are suspected to be from the same individual. Republican and Democrat officials have spoken out against this, ballot boxes were guarded after the incidents started, and fire suppression systems inside the ballot boxes saved the majority of the ballots, except for one box where 488 ballots were damaged due to a malfunction of the fire suppression system.

Fires were also confirmed in Arizona by a man who apparently just wanted to be arrested and had no political motivations.

No fires were confirmed in Georgia, despite repeated claims that most of the fires were in Georgia. Georgia changed their election laws in 2021 in regards to absentee votes. Ballot boxes have been notably targetted for election conspiracy and mistrust. Take this into account when you see outcry about ballot boxes in any way.

Votes not being counted:

The screenshots im seeing particularly note California, which is the state with the largest amount of registered voters. California is also dealing with massive wildfires rn. Its gonna take a couple days, and the election isnt officially over yet. Calm down

20 million unaccounted votes:

Yall . . .

This shit takes time. Theyre not "throwing your ballots out" or "deliberately not counting votes". Be so for real

Some of this shit is valid, and should probably be known. Some of this shit is making yall sound like trumpers in 2020. Be smart. Have critical thinking.

If youre gonna reblog or comment with claims i better see credible evidence to back your claims up or youre getting blocked

[cheeseceli]

The Night We Met

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x Gn!reader

Genre: fluff, angst, strangers to lovers, second chance, fic (2.8k words)

Prompt: “I had all and then most of you, some and now none of you. Take me back to the night we met."

Warnings: both of them cry at some point, heartbreak, insecurities, party (?), Han makes a cameo, happy ending

A/n: when the hardest part of writing is finding the right layout | daily click

I had all

Hyunjin knew more than to trust Han Jisung. Of course, he loved Han as one would love a brother, and he would trust his life to his friend if needed, but he should've known to not trust Han to stay put during the party. Simply because Jisung was nowhere to be found and Hyunjin was now holding two glasses of drink in the middle of unknown faces.

Great.

Trying to get a hold of his friend, Hyunjin navigated the sea of strangers. "I'll stay with you all the time. It will be fun." Honestly, how did he even believe his friend at all? Throughout all the time he looked for him, he made a mental note of never going out with Han again.

Finding a balcony, Hyunjin thought his friend could be there. He probably ran out of social battery and ran away from the crowd. Yeah, that could be it. Even better, as Hyunjin himself couldn't stand being in that party anymore. Maybe they both could just put an end to the night and finally go home.

Hyunjin even smiled at the thought, only to see an empty balcony when he opened the door. He was not going home any time soon apparently.

With the not so optimistic thought, he leaned on the wall and sat down, sighing. That was not how he thought his night was going to look like. Now he was with two cups of a horrible drink, sitting on the dirty floor, shivering because of the cold breeze and -

"There are some blankets in the sofa if you want."

He turned his head quite fast, almost dripping the liquid on the cup into his clothes, to the direction of the voice. You were sitting in the corner of the balcony, where the lights couldn't reach properly. He couldn't see your figure, but as he didn't recognise your voice, he probably didn't even know you to begin with.

"Uh... Thank you" he got up off his spot and went in the direction of the said couch, which was fairly close to where you were sat. There were some blankets in there, and they were surprisingly clean. Hyunjin glanced at you only to see you weren't looking at him anymore, instead facing the view and covering your body with a fabric he believes you took from the couch. "What are you doing?"

You looked at him again. He didn't recognise your face, which proves the fact that he really didn't know you before, but he's sure he won't ever forget you after tonight. You were unfairly beautiful.

"I'm just taking a break from the party" you say nonchalantly "Things can get overwhelming rather quickly there."

Hyunjin chuckled; he knew the feeling very well. Actually, he was drowned in the sensation of "overwhelm" just five minutes before. Funnily enough, he was feeling way better now. Refreshed, even. He sat on the floor, back on the sofa, while he covered his legs with one of the blankets "I know what you mean. The ambience was... Chaotic, to say the least. I'm Hyunjin, by the way."

You smiled and God, he wished he could be the reason to so many of your future smiles. And he was, in fact. That night was only the beginning of a "you" that meant two. The only difference would be that instead of finding yourselves in boring parties, you'd purposely go to each other every cold night, just so you could share a blanket under the starry night.

You would admire the view, he would look at you, and he felt like he had it all right there.

And some of you

But not every night was about staying awake under the moon. Some were actually used to sleep, and how Hyunjin despised those were inexplicable.

At the beginning, he thought he just didn't want to close his eyes when he could be with you instead. That stopped when he convinced you of sharing a bed almost every night. Then he would hug your figure and sleep with a smile on his lips. Sweet dreams would fill his brain until he had to wake up, only to find you in his arms and have the first smile of his day.

However, at some point, the night became full of terrors. Maybe it was that one night where he had a bad dream, where he could feel you slipping away from his fingers. Where no "I'm sorry" or "I love you" convinced you to stay. Where your eyes were still filled with love and admiration, yet you turned your back and went away. Amidst his tears and the dreadful pain in his chest, he felt realisation. The moment he completely lost you. And to wake up to an empty bed was not the confirmation he needed.

"Y/n?" he whispered his voice still too weak to actually speak. That could not be it. He repeated himself, louder. "Y/n?"

He felt his lungs unable to breathe. No no no no no no. There was no way he lost you that easily, that he lost you at all. The moment he tried to get out of bed in a failed attempt to go after you, he shattered down into the floor. It all felt too dark. Too real.

"Hyune?" he heard your voice on the doorstep, now your footsteps coming closer. Thank God. "Hyune, look at me."

You kneeled down next to him, holding his face. Your touch immediately melted him down and he had no other reaction than to hold you as close as he could, like his life depended on that. He could feel your heart beat and your fingers caressing his hair. He could hear your reassuring voice and how your breathing was calming him down. You were there. No matter what was going on inside his head, you were there. With him. Nowhere else. And Hyunjin really swears he did his best to focus on that, but it didn't completely work.

Somewhere in his being, he didn't feel you as completely as he used to. Maybe it was just his inner voice, but, since that night, he was affirmative that he could feel you slipping away. Even if you reassured him of your love, he was still scared. You still looked at him with love when you left on that cursed night after all. Which made him think that maybe it would be his fault. So he really tried as much as he possibly could, and even more. He said "I love you more". He never hesitated on apologising after a fight. He didn't even dream of losing an opportunity to kiss or hug you, especially at night. Especially when he closed his eyes to sleep and he knew he wouldn't be able to do anything if you decided to just leave.

In those moments, his dreams became prayers, asking God to let him be with you. If not forever, at least for most of it.

Some

He tried to convince himself that it wasn't his fault. It was his first time being in love, it was the first time he ever lived for love. He was still learning. At least he was willing to understand and improve, his friends said, so that should mean something. But none of those things helped him forgive himself.

He couldn't, not when he saw you crying. It wasn't the first time that the both of you argued, not the first time he made you stressed, nor the first time you made him want to rip his hair out. But it was mostly certain the first time he made you cry. And with your eyes filled with tears in front of him, he found himself lost. What on earth was he supposed to do?

He'd love to become a time traveler and just go back to where he hadn't screwed everything up. But that was impossible, wasn't it?

Hyunjin was in shock like he had never been before. What had he said? He doesn't even remember, and he doesn't think something that cruel could've come out of his lips. At least not something that he actually meant. So what did he say? Why did he say it?

Maybe he could've kneeled down next to you, just like you did for him that one night where he had a nightmare. But he remembers that, after falling to the ground, he kept on searching for you. He still wanted you to find him, he needed you to come to him. Would you want him to come any closer? Would you want him to hold you? Would you want him?

He didn't know. And in no part of his being he found the strength to find out. Maybe the fear of being rejected, even if temporarily, scared him the most. He hurt you. You had every single reason to want to scream at him, fight him, even run from him. Would Hyunjin be able to take it? If you were to break his heart, would you just scratch it or would you destroy it? Either way, he couldn't take it.

So he just stood there. He watched as you started to seek comfort in the sweater you were wearing, the one that was originally his. He saw your tears falling in the same rhythm of his unsteady breathing. And he doesn't know when his knees failed him and he just fell down to the ground, helplessly, but he felt it alongside with his heart aching.

We'll be alright, he tried to say. Mostly he tried to convince himself of that matter, but he felt nothing but disappointment the moment he saw your face again. He failed you. As your friend, as your lover. And maybe he could try to say it was his first time being in love, but that doesn't take away the guilt that consumes his brain right now.

Maybe he could say that with some more effort, that could be forgotten in the past and he'd love you better, but he didn't know if you could endure more "some" with him.

And now none of you

Maybe that was the worst that ever happened to him. The punishment of feeling your weight in the bed, of feeling your warmth not too far away, but not feeling your touch. Because that was what was happening. And it hurts.

He could only see the back of your body, as you refused to face him during the night. The bed wasn't even that large, but it seemed like there was an entire ocean separating the both of you. It was unfamiliar, so wrong to not have you attached to him. It felt like what he feared the most. And what's possibly worst is that he should've been used to that now as the past nights were like that too. You were still in his sight, but not where he could reach you.

He tries to think of where he failed and how he can turn back. You never showed sighs of going away until he convinced himself you were. He just didn't want to take you for granted. Did he self sabotage instead? All he ever wanted was to love you. How did he miss himself between the lines?

He hears your soothing breathing and he feels like he could cry. When thinking about losing you, he felt like his world was collapsing. He used to do his best to try to keep you by his side. But now he just feels lost, filled with regrets. Simply because he was dumb enough to lose you for nothing. When did it go wrong?

At that moment, he wondered why you were still there. Obviously, he appreciated it more than he could ever explain, but he couldn't understand. Maybe you just wanted to find something, a single reason, that would be able to explain your permanence. After all, he loved you. You loved him just as much. But maybe, because it was your first time being in love, none of you knew that just love wasn't enough. You can adore someone and maybe even then it won't be enough. Merely because it isn't.

Although you wished to stay, maybe it just wasn't correct for you to do so.

That night, Hyunjin finally came to terms with it. Nothing would stop you from leaving. Not even him, not even you, not even love.

Just like he once prayed to have most of forever with you, now he prays that this will not be your last goodbye. Maybe a "see you soon". Maybe a "we will find each other when we're both ready". Anything along these lines. Just not, for God's sake, a final goodbye. Anything but that.

You're a little bit confused when you wake up being held by Hyunjin. Considering how you made sure to have some distance for the night, hoping that would make things easier, it was a shock to find your entire being intertwined with his. He was hugging you like he would never let go and you were counting on that. You almost complied. But when you felt his tears falling on your shirt, right where Hyunjin laid his head, you knew that he knew it too.

That was not how any of you expected it to go, but none of that mattered in the moment. Not when it was already decided. You hugged him closer, in hopes of stopping the inevitable. When it didn't work, you just wished you'd have more opportunities to hug him again.

Take me to the night we met

It was funny, to say the least. The one time Han didn't forget about Hyunjin in a party was because Hyunjin decided to run away himself this time. At least Jisung improved since the last time they partied together.

But right now, all Hyunjin could think of was to breathe. Breathe in, breathe out. Again. The mood inside the party was suffocating: way too many people doing everything at once. It was chaotic, really. So that's how he found himself in the balcony of the hosting house, breathing in every time the cold air touched his face.

When the door opened, he felt the bit of sanity he had left disappearing. No way he could talk or interact with someone without losing his mind; there was a reason he was running away.

He genuinely thought of just asking the person to go away, claiming he needed some space. But when he glanced at the stranger, he realised that he actually knew the person quite well. He promised himself that he would never forget your face after all.

You haven't perceived him just yet,you were too busy looking at the view. Just like the night he met you. He has always thought it was beautiful how you looked at the dark sky. It was almost as if you had a connection to the stars, like you're one of them who got lost in Earth. You for sure looked as dazzling as one.

"There are no blankets this time. I checked."

It was almost comic how fast you turned your head towards him. You didn't believe your ears when you heard his voice, and you now didn't believe your eyes. It was amazing how you always found your way to him whenever you needed a break from the world. Even after going almost no-contact with him, in a way or another you'd always find him. Or perhaps he is the one who'd always meet you.

"I actually needed one right now." you chuckled, feeling yourself a bit vulnerable to the cold breeze. However, your focus was in Hyunjin and how he looked at you in the same way he did before... everything. You probably looked at him just the same. "Do you mind if I stay? Just for a bit, inside there is quite..."

"Chaotic?" He smiled, emanating this huge feeling of peace.

"To say the least." You watched him move a little to the left, leaving you a spot to sit. And so you did.

Although you were both shivering by being exposed to the outside weather, it felt surprisingly warm being next to each other. It still felt comfortable.

He remembers how he once prayed he'd see you again. He did. He also remembers how he wanted to stay the most part of forever with you. Now that he spent some time without you, he wonders if that means that from now on it will be different. He hopes so.

Hyunjin smiled to himself and looked to the sky just in time to see that the moon seemed to smile right back at him. At you both. And he has a feeling that his prayers were heard after all.

Masterlist | you'll probably like: hold me

Reminder that this is all fiction, this does not represent the members in real life!

Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans @dandelions-143 @sleepyleeji @jinnie-ret

Dividers by @thecutestgrotto | images 1, 2 and 3

[wandaslittlelove]

Hii, can you please do agathario where y/n sacrifices herself to stay with rio at the end?

Kiss Of Death

Pairing: Agatha harness x Rio vidal x reader

Warnings: Angst, character death

The wind blew heavily around you as you watched your two lovers fight. Agatha was covered in cuts as Rio stalked closer. It was awful and violent. You were powerless as you watched the two. Afraid of stepping in and potentially hurting one of them although you knew you couldn’t physically hurt Rio. You hated all of this. You wished things could go back to the way they used to be.

When Billy decided to step in you listened as your love said it had to be one of them. Agatha had quickly told Rio to take her and you stepped in quickly.

“No! Take me. Please” The three of them looked at you in shock. Rio takes a step forward but Agatha is quick to pull you behind her.

“Don’t touch her!” Rio tilted her head at Agatha’s words. You were surprised by her words. Agatha hated you so why was she protecting you?

“Agatha-” You started but was cut off.

“No! She won’t take you” Rio stood watching as Agatha glared at her with so much hatred. It made her instinctively take a step back trying to avoid the harsh gaze that she hated so much.

“Agatha look at me” You demanded as you grabbed her face and turned her to look at you. Her eyes held unshed tears as she tried to keep herself together. She couldn’t lose you. She wouldn’t lose you.

“She took him. She can’t take you to” she whispers and she holds onto your waist tightly scared that if she let go you would disappear. She’s spent all this time hating you. For not trying harder to protect Nicky. She blamed you when really it was no one's fault. He was always supposed to die. And she realized that now. But you, you weren’t meant to die yet. It wasn’t your time.

“I love you. I have and always will love you. But you need to let me go with Rio.” Agatha’s grip on you tightened. 

“I love you too. Please stay.” Your hands on her cheek began wiping her tears as they fell. Rio watched the interaction in silence. She wasn’t necessarily a fan of one of you dying but it meant that you would be with her for eternity. That you would never leave her and that’s all she has ever wanted. 

You tilted your head towards Agatha and closed your eyes as your lips met. She pulled you flush against her as she tried to memorize the feeling of your lips on her. Of your warmth. Of the feeling of you pressed against her. While she was distracted you let your magic seep into her, freezing her legs so that she couldn’t move. Slowly you pulled away and looked into her eyes as she realized what you did. 

“I love you. I'm sorry.” You whisper as you slip out of her arms and towards where Rio is standing. When you get to her your hands settle on her face like you did with Agatha only her hands come up to hold your wrists.

“Nena” She whispers as she melts into your touch. It had been so long. So long since she’s felt either of you. Agatha yells and curses at Rio from her where she is frozen and Rio looks up at her. Her eyes fill with sorrow as she tries to move away from you.

“Rio my love. Look at me” you plea and her gaze is immediately back onto you. “You're going to take me. I’ll be yours. But you will leave Agatha and the teen alone. You will not take them until it is their time.”

Rio’s small nod is all the conformation you need and you quickly press your lips against her. Kissing her like your life depends on it as her magic begins to kill you. But none of that mattered. She knew she was killing you and while she wanted to pull away. Wanted to demand that you aren’t going to die. She found herself not being able to. Either by your magic or that selfish part of her wanting you forever she didn’t know. 

[sugoroo]

warnings. fem!reader, oral (f receiving), face-sitting, ruined orgasm, satoru gojo is his own warning, 18+ minors dni.

thinking about absolutely insufferable boyfriend satoru gojo who always ruins your incoming orgasms by saying the corniest, most unserious things during sex.

picture him splayed across the bed, messy white locks stuck to his forehead with sweat and uncovered cerulean eyes clouded over with lust as you slowly lower yourself onto his awaiting mouth.

"mhm, that's it, baby," he's cooing, pale hands snaking around your thighs to help you stay upright as he impatiently pulls your pliant body down quicker onto his face. "sit riiight here."

and you're letting off a surprised squeak when he barely gives you a single moment to adjust to the new position before his full, grinning lips are planting a wet, obnoxious kiss right against your sappy folds.

"toru!" you giggle involuntarily, hips wriggling against his face as he continues placing such shameless, sloppy pecks against your sensitive skin — he's acting like a horny teenager making out with a girl for the first time, except in this case the girl is your pussy.

satoru's stupidly dopey smile never fades as he takes in your reactions to his ministrations, each whine and cute laugh just encouraging him to act even more ridiculous.

so he's flicking out his freakishly long tongue, gifting you with little kitten licks that are just barely enough to make your insides tingle but not enough to give you any real sense of pleasure.

and you rock against his face in search of the friction he knows you so desperately need, brows pinched in frustration and lower lip pushed out into an unconscious pout.

"aww, is this not enough for my pretty girl?" satoru chuckles, feigning obliviousness as he watches you restlessly grind into him — he just can't help that he loves seeing you like this, all needy and annoyed with his teasing.

"y-you know it's not," you grumble out, aiming what you hope is perceived as a scolding glare down at him as your fruitless wriggling slowly comes to a halt. "come on... please, toru?"

"now there's the magic word i was waiting for!" he cheers overdramatically, like a proud parent complimenting their child for finally using their manners like they were taught.

you roll your eyes in exasperation, but the action quickly morphs into one of them rolling backwards in pleasure when satoru finally drags his tongue properly through your sticky folds.

and you're rambling out various breathless 'thank you's, pent-up body relaxing onto his mouth as he begins to eat you out like he would've been doing from the beginning if he didn't enjoy making you work for it so much.

he's so unbelievably good at it too, wet lips peppering loving kisses against your cunt before he delves that lengthy tongue inside of your fluttering hole, effortlessly reaching your sweet spot without even having to try.

and you both know it's not long before you're going to fall apart, the thrust of the wet muscle in and out of you and the frequent pauses he takes to suck your puffy clit into his hot mouth just too delicious.

but just when you begin to feel that familiar feeling rising in the depths of your stomach, the metaphorical string of pleasure coiled tight and ready to snap at any moment, satoru just has to spoil it.

"yeahh, can tell you're close, baby." he groans into your pussy, the rumbling vibrations only adding to the colourful sensations coursing through your veins. "gonna cum for me?"

and you're nodding furiously, not even bothering to attempt to speak because there's no doubt in your mind that the words would end up sounding completely incomprehensible.

"mhm? gonna cum all over the strongest's face?" satoru adds in an exaggeratedly loud and sarcastic moan, the ridiculously corny words somehow managing to break through the fragile glass of your incoming orgasm, shattering it into a million pitiful pieces right before your eyes.

"g-god. why are you like this, gojo?" you groan in frustration, the haze of pleasure slowly but surely evaporating from your mind and leaving only a pathetic feeling of emptiness lingering in its place.

satoru just smirks smugly, shrugging as if he doesn't have a single care in the world and flicking his tongue back out to clear your glistening juices away from his lips. "like what?"

scowling in annoyance, you waste no time in swatting his hands away from your thighs and lifting your shaky hips away from his soaked face, rolling off of him and searching around the bedcovers for your panties.

"w-wait, baby, where are you going?" he mutters hurriedly, his entire face draining of all its colour as he watches you preparing to leave — it would almost be laughable how quickly he can go from teasing to pathetic in mere moments if you weren't so pissed off with him right now.

"to find someone who doesn't say shit like that when i'm about to cum." you state simply, tugging your underwear back up your legs before making a show of heading towards the bedroom door.

satoru is scrambling off of the mattress in seconds, almost tripping over himself in his determination to stop you in your tracks. "no, don't go, pretty girl! i was just joking around— h-hey... i'll make you cum as many times as you want if you stay, promise!"

...and that's the story of how you finally made your insufferable boyfriend satoru gojo learn his lesson.

© 2024 SUGOROO. please don't copy or translate any of my works without my explicit permission. all rights are reserved to me.

LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

[king-nyx]

Audrey checked the generators, turning the electricity back on.

Just as she closed the door to tbe generators, someone grabbed her arms painfully pushing her to the wall. Audery tried to scream, but a knee connected with her belly forcefully shutting her up.

Audrey looked behind, glaring daggers at Zeus, "Do you ever get bored?"

"You'll shut up and listen if you want the mortal and baby to be okay."

Audrey's breathing quickened as she nodded. Zeus let go of her, grabbing her by the hair instead and painfully twisting. Audrey bit back a scream as she glared at Zeus.

"Awfully bored trying to throw me back in jail," he sneered.

"You're the insane person."

His knee connecting with her belly again, making her cough up blood.

"You are nothing more than a nuisance, I knew that from the first day I saw you," Zeus told her.

"Yet, it's me who you tried to make a deal with," Audrey spit back.

"And, what did I say would happen if you didn't go along with my deal?"

Audrey galred at him, spitting in his face. Zeus grabbed her head, throwing her head back into the wall painfully for her efforts. Tears sprang to Audrey's eyes, but she held back feeling the blood drip down her back.

"I can't kill you," Zeus told her. "But, I can make this painful."

Before Audrey had time to think, Zeus stabbed her. Audrey coughed up blood, feeling the thick liquid choking her. Zeus smiled cruelly at her, taking out his knife and stabbing her again. Audrey screamed, crying now. Zeus took out the knife and stabbed her repeatedly.

Audrey nearly lost consciousness before she heared a gunshot. Zeus screamed as the bullet sank in his hand. Audrey looked around, her eyes widening when she saw her father. Audrey shook her head.

"Let go of my daughter. I already called the police," her father said, his hands shaking around the gun.

"Dad, run," Audrey choked out.

Zeus dropped her two metres away making rocks and dirt stick inside her wounds. Her father looked at her body in horror, keeping the gun aimed at Zeus. The last thing Audrey heard before losing consciousness was the faint crying of Phoebe inside the house.

Do you think covid existed in the Season? Do you think that for 2020-2021 Zeus couldn't host two Seasons. He had to wait until 2022 when restrictions finally lifted?

I'm gonna assume that covid didn't exist for my own sanity

[syluslnd]

Hello ! May I request some angst 🥹 You and Sylus are fwb but you love him and later you catch sylus and mc having sex and you leave and he regrets it? Whether they get together or not up to you !

tags-angst no comfort,sylus pov,implied suicide

word count 1.8k

(note-if I went a little off script and you want me to rewrite pls lmk anon,when I get the creative freedom of an ending I always get so excited lol!🥹)

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

You’d spent weeks trying to gather the courage to finally tell Sylus how you felt. What started as a casual arrangement had turned into something far more intense for you, with every moment, every stolen glance and every word he spoke weaving tighter knots around your heart. Tonight was the night you planned to tell him everything, to lay it all out and see if he felt even a fraction of the same.

You rehearsed the words over and over in your head on the way to his office, holding onto a shaky hope that maybe he, too, had noticed the subtle shift between you. As you walked down the corridor, anticipation and anxiety blurred together, making your pulse quicken with every step.

But when you finally arrived and opened the door to his office, everything you’d imagined, everything you’d hoped, shattered in an instant.

Sylus was there but he wasn’t alone.

The scene before you was like a punch to the gut, one that left you breathless and frozen. He was with the very woman he’d once told you not to worry about, the so-called “hunter girl” and they were wrapped up in each other, utterly absorbed, not even registering your presence. It wasn’t the fact of him being with someone else that hurt—it was that he was with her, here, in a place that had once felt like it was partly yours, and he didn’t even look at you.

A cold wave of realization washed over you, tinged with humiliation and pain. You’d come here with a heart full of hope and he hadn’t even noticed.

When Sylus finally glanced your way, there was no apology in his eyes, no explanation, not even the courtesy of a break in his actions. He looked at you almost dismissively, a fleeting glance, as if you were nothing more than an inconvenience and then, with a coldness you never thought you’d see, he turned his attention back to her, ignoring you completely.

In that moment, you felt something break inside of you, a part of yourself you couldn’t repair. A thousand emotions flooded through you—anger, sadness, shame. The weight of unspoken words, of all the feelings you’d held back, now felt like a burden you could barely carry.

Stumbling backward, you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. The realization that you meant so little to him, that he could simply disregard you like this, was a hurt that went deeper than words could express and as you left, the door closing softly behind you, you promised yourself you’d never let anyone make you feel this small, this inconsequential, again.

Sylus hadn’t planned for it to be this way. A part of him knew he was treading on dangerous ground the moment he let things go this far with the hunter girl, a lingering decision he could already feel weighing on his conscience. But he had convinced himself it was fine, that it didn’t mean anything—and most importantly, that you’d never find out.

But when he glanced up and saw you standing there, his heart sank.

The shock on your face, the confusion—it struck him in a way he wasn’t prepared for. He cursed internally. Of all days, why did it have to be today? Why did you have to see him like this, at his worst? A flicker of regret crossed his mind as he realized the full extent of what this would do to you. He could tell, even from a distance, that your heart was breaking in real-time.

For a split second, he wanted to call out, to explain, to reach for you. But guilt held him back, keeping him rooted in place. He’d never seen you look so vulnerable, so defeated and in his mind, he could already feel the words he’d rehearsed to you, the subtle hints he’d dropped over time—words that, he now realized, had only served to deepen your trust in him. That trust, something he had taken for granted, was slipping through his fingers.

When he looked away to continue the kiss and passion with that hunter woman, it wasn’t because he didn’t care; it was because he couldn’t bear to look at the pain in your eyes,he knew no matter what in this very moment he couldn’t possibly have the correct words to say.

It’s been a day since you’d walked in on him and yet, the scene keeps replaying haunting your mind. You hadn’t meant to purposely walk into his office unannounced; you’d only come by to tell him the truth—that maybe, just maybe, what you felt for him wasn’t so casual anymore. But the second you opened that door and saw him tangled with her, every thought, every word you had planned to say, fell silent.

The memory of it echoes in you. His indifference, the way he’d looked away when he finally noticed you standing there, stunned. He didn’t say a word, didn’t reach out. It was as if you were invisible.

You’d always told yourself you could handle this. You’d always told yourself that this was just a fling, something fleeting. But here you were, alone in your apartment, the reality settling in like a weight in your chest. You’d lost something in that room—something you’d never get back.

It feels like a betrayal, not just from him but from yourself. You’d let him into places in your heart that you’d sworn would stay locked. You’d shared things, vulnerable moments, pieces of yourself that you couldn’t take back. You’d given him everything—everything that mattered.

A soft, cold wind moves through the open window as you sit there, tears slipping down your cheeks. The city lights blur outside and somewhere in the haze of pain, you make a promise to yourself: no one would ever make you feel this small, this broken, again.

You reach for a pen, feeling the sharp tip against your skin as you press down, writing a reminder on your wrist. It’s a small vow but it feels like a lifeline. No one else will ever be given the power to hurt you this way. Not again. You’ll keep that vow to yourself, protecting your heart from the world outside.

The pen trembles slightly in your hand, heavier than it has ever felt before. But this is no ordinary pen; it's a relic of quiet promises and unspoken pains. Not just a tool for writing, it becomes an instrument, a bridge between the ache in your chest and the words you're too afraid to say out loud.

As you press it against your wrist, it's as if you're pouring everything unsaid into that red ink. The curve of each letter, the way it bites into your skin-it's a reminder, a vow you're making to yourself, a way to draw strength from this hurt. It's not just ink staining your skin; it's the permanence of a promise to guard what's left of your heart, a declaration that no one will be allowed to leave marks on your soul again.

The act is delicate yet deliberate, like the slow drag of the pen is creating a map of the pain you've endured, and perhaps the resilience that will follow. You feel the chill of the ink settling on your skin, mingling with the warmth of your blood beneath and the pain sharpens into clarity.

For the first time, in this quiet moment, you realize that the pen has become more than just a promise,It's a knife full of promises sinking into your skin;you’ll never hurt get hurt again from this world that once took so much without asking.

Sylus stares at his phone, frustration gnawing at him as he watches the screen flash with another unanswered call. He’s tried five times already but each time, the phone rings and rings, only to be met with silence. His fingers hover over the screen, ready to dial again, but his hesitation claws at him.

The image of your face keeps flashing in his mind. The look of shock, the raw pain in your eyes—it’s all he can see. It’s like a punch to the gut, one he can’t escape. He’s always been able to maintain control, to keep things casual but in that moment, when he saw the hurt in your eyes, the walls he’d so carefully built around his emotions shattered.

What the hell was he thinking? He thought he could keep things light, just a hook-up, no strings attached. But the guilt—God, it weighs on him like a hundred-pound anchor. He knows you never asked for anything more but the reality of how he treated you after everything—that—had started to gnaw at him. The hurt on your face, that unmistakable sting of betrayal, it’s all he can think about.

Sylus knows he’s not supposed to care. He’s supposed to be fine with this arrangement. But he’s not fine and it’s terrifying, because he’s never let anyone have that kind of effect on him before. But now, all he can feel is the burning ache in his chest, the overwhelming need to hear your voice, to apologize, to explain that he fucked up.

Why aren’t you answering?

He grits his teeth and stands up, pacing around the room, phone clutched in his hand as if it holds the key to fixing this mess.

He doesn’t know what happened. He thought he could just be selfish, just have you, keep you close in his life the way he wanted, without the mess of feelings. But you—you, with your eyes full of trust and warmth—somehow slipped past his defenses.

He needs you to hear him. He needs to tell you that he feels something more than what you agreed on. He just doesn’t know how. He’s never been one to show vulnerability, to let someone see how much they mean to him and yet, for some reason, when it comes to you, he knows he’s lying to himself.

Sighing heavily, he presses the phone to his ear again, dialing your number once more. The ringing sounds so much louder this time and with each ring, his frustration builds. Come on. Pick up. Please pick up.

But the call goes to voicemail and his shoulders slump in defeat. He leans back against the wall, staring at the phone in his hand, fingers curling around it tightly.

He can’t keep pretending this is okay. He can’t keep pretending it’s just physical. The feeling in his chest has become too strong and it’s not something he can ignore anymore.

His thumb hovers over the screen, typing a message that feels too raw, too honest to send. But he does it anyway.

“I’m sorry, I never meant to hurt you. Please just pick up the phone and let me explain”

The words feel insufficient, like nothing more than a weak attempt to fix everything that’s broken. But it’s all he can offer.

He throws the phone down on the couch, pacing again, this time with a much heavier heart. It’s the first time in a long while that Sylus feels like he’s lost control of the situation. And it terrifies him.

Now, all he can do is wait.