#That and everything else that just seems to be going wrong is just so so much for me right now. I don't know how long I can do this anymore

[cherrylovelycherry]

Okay, maybe Ratio x gn!reader tarte aux fraises? i know u love ratio muehehe

.note. omg oke oke, i know what i have to do. ( ◡̀_◡́)ᕤ (I always end up writing so many words that I have to erase pieces of the original idea. T_T)

𓂅new order. "tarte aux fraises."

Try hard

pairing. dr ratio x gn!reader cw/genre. angst, academic pressure, ratio being rude, again. synopsis. Like he said, you just need to try hard. And if you can't handle the pressure, what better than to withdraw from medical school? full menu

"No," His eyes on you, by those sharp words, coming together with the other glances of your classmates.

"Uhm, would it be a possible case of appendicitis?" You spoke, something nervous, but your words were almost like a question rather than an affirmation.

"Wrong,"

His voice again, almost as if he were glad of your mistake.

"Are you answering or are you asking me, Y/N?" Ratio spoke, almost with a despicable tone.

You just looked down.

It was almost always the same, for him, all your answers are wrong, he always had to find something wrong with what you said.

"If you're going to answer again as your classmate, refrain from talking and just say you didn't study anything." Ratio said, for all your classmates in the room.

"Honestly, I don't even know why I still continue teaching some of you."

Oh, and you knew perfectly well that he was referring to you.

He says, almost as if your existence were a total nonsense for him.

"All of you are dumb, you all have the same level of intelligence as an Earthworm, maybe a little less than one even." His words come out almost sharp again.

"How can it be possible you can't even answer the simplest question?" Ratio spoke out, almost frustrated by the lack of intelligence on most of his students.

Your cheeks became red, the way Ratio spoke was always so harsh, so harsh and direct, and even more so if it was you who answered a question, he never missed an opportunity to show that you were wrong in front of everyone else.

"Now, that's enough chit-chat, back to the topic." He looked at the board, his expression was somewhat serious, his arms behind his back, as he stood in the middle of the classroom.

"The appendix is a small, worm-like structure that branches off the back of the colon. It's located in the lower right lobe of the abdomen. The main problem with appendicitis is when it becomes infected and then blocks all waste product from leaving the colon." He spoke, standing at the front of the class.

"What does that mean?" he spoke again. This time with a much easier question than he asked you.

"Mhm, you," he pointed to a student.

"…That means all the waste from everything that comes through the digestive system doesn't have anywhere to go, and can back up into all of your abdominal cavity," She said, with some nerves, but keeping her words as firm as she could.

"Correct." He spoke, as he saw her answer, with a much calmer expression this time.

"The appendix becomes inflamed and very sensitive when an infection begins to form in it. You can experience fever chills that go down into your groin like cold water. The most common pain is in the abdomen, specifically in the lower right side. It can be mistaken for a stomach ache, or even menstrual cramps. But with further care, it can be determined as appendicitis." Ratio speaks again, almost a little happier.

"Anyone else?" He asked.

"If there is no intervention, it could explode," this time you dared to speak again, trying to sound firm.

"A precise answer, even from you, for a change," He spoke with a little more than a sarcastic tone, but as usual, he can't seem to say anything without adding an annoyed tone to everything he says.

"That's true. An appendix that is left untreated can burst, or perforate. But not always because of pain close to the appendix area will be necessary to remove or attempt an intervention." He says, as he returns to look at the board.

"If the appendix bursts, the pain might go away, but a much worse process, is going to start. The appendix will begin to break down, and the bacteria and pus from the organ can pass into the abdominal cavity, causing a widespread and severe infection. This is called peritonitis." Ratio spoke, his voice almost firm, and serious again.

You felt somewhat calmer, but still, you couldn't help but feel self-conscious.

Was it necessary that I always talk to you like this?

Because after all, you were his partner.

Ratio kept his eyes on you for a few moments, as if analyzing your expression. He almost always knew when you had those thoughts.

As he finishes speaking, the class bell begins to ring, almost as a sign that the class just ended.

"You are all dismissed." Ratio said, putting his hands behind his back, his eyes looking at the students as they began to leave the room.

You focused on keeping your stuff, without a hurry, because you weren't very excited to eat in medical school. The food wasn't so good or appetizing there.

The room was getting emptier and emptier, except for just the two of you, since you were the last one to leave.

Ratio leaned against the front of the desk, and crossed his arms in front of his chest, he had something in mind to discuss with you.

"Y/N." His voice came out quite firm, and almost demanding.

"Yes?" Your voice almost sounded like a whisper, a whisper of nervousness, still, you answered him.

You could already feel what kind of a talk he was going to have with you now

Ratio seemed quite serious, his eyes almost fixed on you, as if analyzing your every move.

He waited a few seconds before speaking. He still retained his serious expression.

"You're falling behind on a lot of the classes." He spoke, with an almost severe voice.

You just looked down.

He knew that you didn't always answer very intelligently, but it seemed like he just liked using every single opportunity he got to be harsh on you.

His arms were still crossed in front of his chest, keeping his position in front of the desk.

"I know…" your voice came out a little smaller this time.

Ratio sighed, he didn't change his position or expression, on the other hand, yours became somewhat more tense, you already knew that he was far from finished.

"Not only that," he continued to speak, his voice now more demanding.

"You don't usually answer my questions as intelligently as you should. You answer in ways that are almost as unintelligent as the others." he spoke again, his voice slightly higher than before.

"You know you should study more."

Again, a tone that seemed somewhat irritated.

"I am,"

"You're not." Ratio continued, his voice suddenly became very firm.

You can't help but feel even more self-conscious, more tensed than before.

He was right, even if he was, he didn't always have to say it that way.

"I don't even know why you're still in this class, if you've answered right a small percentage of times."

"But i'm trying, Ratio," You spoke, this time directing yourself towards him as your equal, as you did in private.

"Trying," He repeated. "You are just not trying hard enough."

Ratio's hands now moved from his chest, to his sides, still leaning against the table.

That didn't seem to change his expression at all, the same seriousness.

"You need to study more, you need to stop falling behind so much, to be more firm, and at least,"

He stopped, for a few seconds, as if thinking of his next words.

"To answer my questions correctly more times than you already do, stop with this mediocrity."

His tone became almost more severe.

"Honestly, I don't know why you don't take your time to pay more attention." He continued, with that severe, demanding tone.

"You're not in your old secondary education anymore, these are more complex medical concepts to treat complex diseases."

He said again, still keeping his tone and position.

"I'm going to try harder," you said.

"You better."

Ratio's answer was short, but the seriousness with which it was given almost made you even more tensed.

Again, a few seconds of silence, Ratio seemed to be thinking of his next words.

"I'm going to start being more demanding with you…" he spoke, leaning a little more against the desk, his eyes still fixed on you.

"I won't let you pass with the bare minimum in my classes" The feeling you have after you hear those words is the most nervous of all.

Ratio always got that demanding, and hard tone when talking to you about studies.

You know perfectly how serious he was when he said that.

"I won't go easy on you anymore," he says, in a much firmer tone.

"From now on if you don't answer correctly more times than you do now, you won't pass my classes."

Ratio was very strict with his classes, and even more so when it came to you.

"No more mediocre answers, I want you to start actually using that brain that you have." His tone now very demanding.

"You are going to start giving more intelligent answers, and not stupid ones that any other student could give."

A few days have passed since that talk between you and Ratio.

He has become much more demanding, and much stricter with his classes.

His questions were much harder to answer, and he always waited for intelligent answers from you.

He had put you in the spotlight every time you were in class, he had increased the number of questions he asked you, and every time you answered, he seemed to be analyzing your every word.

But of course, you noticed, in your nervousness after saying 'medium-great' answers, how your classmates didn't answers difficult questions like you. Not to mention that there were always two or one student whom he always congratulated for her efforts.

Ratio continued with the same demanding attitude, continuing to set high standards for you.

He kept asking you difficult questions, and even if you answered one correctly, he would go on to another, more complex one.

He didn't miss a single opportunity to point out your failures, and you could always see the satisfaction on his face, whenever you got the answer wrong.

Even now, you can feel his gaze on you, as if he's waiting for you to say something wrong, to see him frown.

The way he seemed to be always focused on you in the class, no matter how hard you answered the questions.

Everyone could tell that even though you were his partner, he didn't spare you from his demands for answers.

You had to constantly use that huge book, and study more and more every day. It was becoming tiresome because you barely had time for anything else, and on the other hand, your classmates seemed to be studying less than you.

The bell for the end of class had just been rung, the majority of the class was already picking their stuff to leave.

But you knew very well that Ratio was still there waiting for you to approach.

And yes, you were going to do that.

With calm steps and somewhat anxious, you approached the large desk near the board.

"Uhm, Veritas?" You said, carefully.

"Can we eat together?" You asked, knowing that after this class he would no longer dictate another one in the day, and you too, had no other class for today.

Ratio was sorting through some papers, putting them in various folders on his desk, with that same serious expression he had the rest of the time.

When he heard your voice, he stopped sorting papers, and looked at you.

His eyes seemed sharper every time you looked into them.

Without taking his eyes off you, he placed the last folder in place, and rested his hands on the table.

He didn't answer immediately, as if he was thinking about your request.

"Is there a reason?"

Ratio's tone was somewhat firm, his eyes still fixed on you, as if questioning why you, out of nowhere, suddenly wanted to eat with him.

"No,"

You didn't really know why, either.

Maybe it was because you didn't want to be left alone. Or maybe because you needed a break, your brain had been filled with so much knowledge, so much information that you felt it was going to explode.

"I just want to be with you," Your voice coming out a little more nervous this time.

Ratio was still looking at you, his eyes, very much analyzing you, as if he was searching for a real reason.

It was always like this with him, he never answered anything immediately.

Still, he didn't take his eyes off you, as if he was analyzing your thoughts, your request, and your every action.

Finally, after a few seconds, he spoke.

"Did you study?" He spoke, with that demanding but firm tone. His gaze was still fixed on you.

Your body slightly tensed up. You knew that if you hadn't, he probably wouldn't eat with you.

Even if he was your boyfriend, he was always like this.

"I did," Your voice came out with a small firmness, you actually spent the night studying.

Ratio kept looking at you carefully, his expression didn't change, he seemed to still be analyzing you, as if searching for lies in your eyes.

"How many hours?" His tone was still demanding, but he always made sure to correct you, to be even firmer with his words.

On the other hand, you were getting nervous. It was true that you spent all night studying, you didn't even have time to sleep, but if you said that, he would probably make you feel guilty for it.

So to not prolong the question, you gave a firm answer.

"Six hours, I swear."

Your voice was still firm, but nervousness was clearly expressed in it.

Ratio didn't change his expression, his eyes were still fixed on you, as if he could tell if you were lying or not.

He kept looking at you, in those few seconds he didn't say anything. Still looking at you, until he broke the silence.

"You haven't slept any?" His tone was much more demanding this time, his brows slightly furrowed, as if telling you that it was a mistake.

You knew perfectly well that it was a mistake, you already regretted it the moment you said it.

A small feeling of guilt took hold of your body, knowing that you were about to be scowled for that.

"No…"

You said, trying to keep your voice somewhat firm, but nervousness was present in it.

Ratio crossed his arms in front of his chest, and his eyes became more severe, almost with annoyance at your answer.

You knew perfectly well that that would happen.

"How are you going to study properly if you don't even sleep?" He questioned, in a demanding tone, as usual.

If you didn't sleep, he would scold you and if you slept, he would scold you too.

At the endings, it happened, as always, you even shed a few tears.

And it seems that that gave him remorse and he ended up agreeing to eat with you.

Your eyes were somewhat swollen, not much, but they were.

He made sure to hold your hand while eating quietly in a cafe near medical school.

You could notice how he was looking at your eyes almost every second, as if seeing the tiredness in them.

He almost looked like he felt guilty for making you cry, but he would deny it.

Ratio knew how demanding he could be, and how it could affect you.

But of course, he didn't apologize, because that would imply admitting that he was wrong.

You could see how he squeezed your hand, carefully while eating, as if making sure that your hand wouldn't slip from his.

It was quite obvious that he felt regret for making you cry. No matter how hard he denied it, his actions and his grip on your hand would always give it away.

The rest of the lunch was a little quiet, both of you only spoke a few words from time to time, not a lot.

He still continued to eat in silence, watching you from time to time.

His grip was firm on your hand, a little tight, but it didn't bother you, it was rather calming for you.

When he finished eating, he got up, and pulled you to get up from your chair.

He still had a firm grip on your hand.

"Let's go." Was the only thing he said, as he started to walk out of the cafeteria with you, your hand still attached to his.

Ratio started walking, with you following behind with your hand in his.

He wasn't walking too fast, or very slow, he was walking at a reasonable pace, but he made sure that you kept up.

He pulled you to stick to his side, and he made sure to look at you every few seconds.

You were walking in almost total silence, no one dared to say anything, and this was a little strange. Normally he was the first to say something.

His tight grip on your hand, his way of looking at you from time to time, made you feel a little nervous, but at the same time calm.

He didn't say anything as he walked, but you dared to say something.

"Where are we going?" You asked quietly, looking up slightly at him as you walked.

He looked at you, and his grip squeezed yours a little. Ratio spoke again.

"To my apartment." He replied, in the same firm tone.

"To your apartment?" You were a bit startled by that answer, because there was no way he was taking you to his apartment.

"Don't be tense." Ratio said, his tone was somewhat firm, but softer than before.

Before you could say anything else, he continued to speak, his words were firm and demanding, almost leaving no room for questioning.

"We're going to there, you're going to take a shower, and then you're going to take a long nap.

"I don't-"

Before you could reply, Ratio quickly cut you off. "I don't care what you're about to say, you need to rest."

He spoke with that firm but authoritative tone.

"You're going to take a damn shower, and you're going to take a damn nap for as long as it takes to get you back in shape."

In a way, that made you smile.

His actions showed you that he still cared about you.

The last few days that had passed, were… very different. You spent them at Ratio's apartment.

Each day ended with him scolding you for studying so much, and falling asleep on his couch on several occasions.

You loved those moments with him, in spite of everything, you were really in love with him.

However, as quickly as those butterflies arrived in your stomach, they disappeared faster than they appeared.

"Incorrect again, Y/N,"

He said, holding his hand to the bridge of his nose.

"U-uh…" you said, feeling watched and judged by all your classmates at that moment.

You were currently in practical classes, you no longer just theorize.

"Less than a minute for the patient to bleed," he commented again, ratio, with total disapproval in his speech.

You stayed there, thinking about what to do, your mind running in circles to decide what to do.

And, without further ado, the girl that Ratio always congratulated, took her tweezers from your hands, starting to suture the patient.

You felt so stupid in that instant, the classmate that Ratio always complimented, always approved of her, even congratulated her, had just taken your tweezers from your hands.

You felt the gaze of your classmates on you. You could see that they were either feeling sorry for you, or judging you.

Ratio was silent, he looked irritated, but he wasn't scolding you.

The classmate who took the tweezers from her hands, finished suturing the patient completely, in what seemed to be a couple of seconds.

Talent always wins the effort.

"You've failed another suture." Ratio spoke, almost annoyed by your failure.

As always, whenever you made a mistake, he was always making sure to point it out, making sure to shame you in front of the rest of the class.

His disappointment was evident on his face, in his tone, his gestures.

"It's ridiculous, you can't even put a few damn stitches on a fake wound. How are you going to be a real doctor if you're always messing up everything?" His words were harsh, very much. His expression and his eyes, sharp, as always.

"You're not taking this seriously, you're making the same mistakes again and again." He continued, in the same irritated tone.

How could someone who studied so much, who spent many hours studying, fail so much? How could you fail so much, even though you spent so much time with the person who always seemed dissatisfied with you?

Your classmates' gaze, Ratio's gaze, your own self-judgment, and your frustration for being a complete failure, was too much. You felt your eyes begin to tear up, you could feel your hands shaking. You felt more and more nervous with every word coming out of his mouth. It wasn't just from the pressure, it was also from the frustration.

How was it possible, that he had so much patience, and complimented your classmate, even celebrated that she could suturate a patient, when you couldn't do the same?

His words, his looks of disappointment, they were starting to take their toll on you.

"You're right, doctor," you said, accepting his words, so that he would at least stop scolding you publicly. Ratio kept looking at you, that annoyed look still on his face.

You looked really small in his eyes. Small and weak, a complete failure. That's how he saw you at that moment.

"At this rate, I'm tempted to say that you're never going to be a good doctor."

You just nodded, not knowing what to answer, or if you should respond to that in the first place. The medical career was not easy, there were always scolding for everyone, but not scolding all classes with him.

You heard him say, 'Well, let's continue…', as he moved on to another kind of exercise.

You let your other classmates get closer to the practice stretcher, staying at the end of the group.

All you just did was play with your fingers and bite your lip, so you didn't cry. Because you couldn't even get out of the practice chirophan, because you'd have low grade. Although well, what a lower grade could he put on you if you already pulled the first exercise.

You looked up in the direction of Ratio, who was correcting a couple of your classmates on something. He was always correcting something, especially you.

Your eyes were beginning to become slightly red.

You really hated the suturations practices, you were never good at putting in a few damn stitches.

You were always clumsy, and your hands always trembled when you took the tweezers, like they were shaking now.

Why weren't you as talented as them? Why couldn't you even do something as simple as suturing?

"You're shaking, are you alright?" A voice came from behind you, you recognized who it was immediately.

It was the classmate who always did sutures perfectly, the one Ratio always complimented. She had a worried expression in her eyes, but you couldn't help but feel complete rejection and repulsion towards her.

Her question made you feel more humiliated.

"I'm fine." You replied, trying to sound firm, when in reality, your voice was on the verge of cracking.

She looked at you, not seeming to buy the answer you gave her.

She could see your hands shaking and you were biting your lip, it didn't seem like you were fine.

"Are you sure? You don't look very-" she tried to speak once more, but you didn't want her to continue.

"I said I'm fine, alright. Stop asking me that." You said, a little harshly, hoping that would make her shut up. Her eyes widened slightly at your response, she was surprised by your response. But, instead of being angry, she continued to look sorry for you.

"I'm just trying to-" she was about to say something again, but you were already fed up with her.

You were fucking jealous of her.

"Well, I don't want you to! Stop acting like you care about me!" You snapped at her, your voice louder than you expected it to be.

The rest of the class had turned their heads at you, including Ratio.

Why the hell did you do that?

The whole room was silent, the only noise present was your agitated breathing.

Ratio walked up to you, his eyes firmly on yours. He looked irritated, no, he looked angry at your reaction.

"To the hallway, now." He said firmly, gesturing for you to walk towards the hall.

You felt the eyes of your classmates on you, as you slowly walked out of the class, with Ratio behind you.

Once you got into the hallway, he closed the door behind him, leaving both of you alone in the hallway.

He looked at you, you could see irritation in his eyes.

He was completely irritated with the attitude you just had.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" He said, his voice almost sounded like a whisper, but still firm.

"Why the hell did you lash out at her like that?" He continued, he was waiting for an answer, an explanation for your behavior, and he wouldn't accept any bullshit excuse.

You stood there, not knowing what to say, and avoiding looking directly at him.

You didn't know how to explain your attitude, you yourself didn't even understand why you had done that.

Maybe it was because you were irritated, annoyed by her, or just because Ratio paid more attention to her or others than to you, no matter how much you studied.

And you couldn't understand why that girl was always so perfect either. The perfect student, the one who always did the exercises and sutures perfectly.

You were increasingly sure that talent far outperforms effort.

As you stood there, avoiding looking at him, Ratio was growing more and more impatient as the minutes passed. He expected some explanation, an answer to his question. But all he got was silence and you avoiding his gaze.

"Are you going to answer or just stay there, biting your lip?" He spoke again, this time with a firmer tone.

Again, you stayed there, still and saying nothing.

"Okay, then," he said, entering the practice chirophan and closing the door behind him.

You stood there, outside the practice chirophan, alone, on your own, with only your thoughts swirling around your head. You could still hear your classmates continuing practicing suturing in the chirophan, while you were left outside.

Your mind was a mess, going from one thought to another, from one feeling to another; anger, frustration, confusion, disappointment.

And jealousy. A lot of jealousy.

You could hear Ratio's voice, scolding other students. And again, you heard him compliment the girl who always does sutures perfectly.

She was talented, she was perfect, the best student in his eyes. He seemed to adore her, much more than he praised you.

It was not possible to know with that man, he was a mystery.

You walked over and sat down on one of the seats in the hallway, your body completely tired. Both physically and mentally.

Poor girl, you were jealous of her, when not even she did it on purpose to be better than you.

The lesson was finally over.

You were sitting in the hallway, waiting for the whole class to leave, so you could enter and say something to Ratio.

But, to your annoyance, the girl who always did the perfect sutures, was one of the last to leave.

She was going to talk to Ratio, it was obvious.

So, you stayed in the hallway, watching as Ratio and that girl talked for a long time.

She looked happy, with a smile on her face. Ratio seemed in a good mood, he was listening to her speaking calmly. In fact, he was smiling, he was never usually that warm.

That image, that situation, it only irritated your mind more.

But you wouldn't do anything, because there was nothing to do.

Besides that in medical school, he was your teacher, not your boyfriend. So professionalism on his part was always ahead.

As the last student left, Ratio opened the practice chirophan and found you sitting on one of the seats in the hallway.

He looked at you, and for the first time, he had a slight hint of disappointment on his face.

He just looked at you for a few seconds, almost as if he wanted to say something, but he didn't.

He just let out a slight, silent, almost inaudible sigh.

"Come here." He said, gesturing to you to walk towards him.

You stood up, from the seat. You were about to walk towards him but, you suddenly felt nervous, your heart beating a little faster.

What if he wants to discuss that you're always getting low notes on the practical work?

Or maybe he wants to tell you that your effort is useless, because you'll never be as good as the other students.

Or even, he wants to kick you out of class for your recent behavior.

However, his words surprised you.

"I'm going to help you study," he said.

You really expected another scolding from him, but his words were soft.

Perhaps the excellent work of the best student in your class had change his mood.

"But I don't-"

Before you could respond, he cut you off, almost knowing what you were going to answer.

"I wasn't asking you, I was telling you." He said firmly.

He wasn't leaving room for questioning, if he was going to help you study, there was no use in trying to decline his offer.

In spite of everything, you couldn't help but get excited.

The thought of having his attention, and having an extra private class with him. You were really going to like it, you wanted to be alone with him.

In a way, it was a great opportunity to show him what you were capable of doing, and that you too had potential.

He gave you a small smile, as he saw the reaction on your face. And then he added, "We're starting today."

…

You liked being next to him, you feel like at school, almost like a teenage romance.

You were writing carefully what he explained to you, while he had an arm on your shoulders.

It moved you and made you nervous, even though your relationship was almost two years now.

He explained, corrected and commented, as usual. You nodded, listened and wrote what he said.

Everything was going well, until he suddenly paused, and he let out a sigh.

"There's something important I need to tell you." He said, suddenly, in a serious tone.

Your hands suddenly froze halfway between the page and writing. His words, his tone, his gaze. It made you feel nervous, your heartbeat increasing.

"What is it?"

Your voice came out in a somewhat nervous tone.

For a few seconds, he was serious, he didn't say anything, he just looked at you.

His eyes looking into yours, in a somewhat serious and intimidating way, before his expression suddenly change to one of slight annoyance.

"What the hell was that, what you did the other day?"

Ratio asked, suddenly changing the subject of the conversation.

You tensed up a bit, and bit your lip.

You knew immediately that he was referring to the little tantrum you threw, that day.

"I was…" you were at a loss for words, you didn't know what to say.

"I was just frustrated." You finally managed to say, your voice a bit low.

"Frustrated, right."

Ratio responded, in a slightly mocking tone.

"So you were frustrated, and you decided to take it out on a classmate, in front of the entire class?" Ratio looked at you, with that same serious and slightly annoyed expression.

Your heart was beating fast, you felt slightly guilty, knowing you acted inappropriately.

"I know it wasn't the best way to react, but…" you tried to explain yourself.

"No buts." He cut you off. "You embarrassed yourself, and you embarrassed me with your poor and childish behavior. As your teacher, I shouldn't have to deal with your tantrums.

His words stung a little, you felt ashamed.

But there was something else, behind his words. The mention of 'As your teacher'.

"I know, I'm sorry." You mumbled, looking down to the floor.

"I expect you to act like an adult. So I hope you'll apologize to your classmate." He said.

"I will."

You said, still avoiding his gaze, you didn't want to see his eyes, to see his expression.

That day wasn't the only one he helped you study on.

But as always, for him, everything was wrong in answers or in your diagnoses.

As you wrote down one of the last points of the list he had given you, he spoke up, looking at what you had written.

"That is incorrect," he said as he looked at one of the points.

You looked up at him, your eyes wide at his words. How could it have been wrong? The doubt began to consume your mind, and you felt frustrated that you weren't able to do everything perfectly.

Your frustration was beginning to grow, you had just spent hours studying and here he was telling you that you had all the things wrong.

You tried to protest, you tried to explain your answers, but he shut you down every time. His voice became sharper and firmer every time, he was losing patience with you and your constant mistakes.

Finally, he slammed the book on the table, the loud noise echoing through the empty room.

"That's it, enough. You're not getting anything right," he said, his voice stern.

You felt a pang in your chest from hearing his words. How was it possible that not a single thing you wrote was correct? Why couldn't you understand the concepts? Why were you always making mistakes?

Your hands began to tremble as you clutched the pen in your hand, your heart beating fast

You wanted to scream out in frustration and ask him why you weren't getting the answers right, but you knew he wouldn't be patient with you anymore.

"You should try harder, I'm going to do an exam on these topics for you all," he said.

And yes, you had to study alone, as you normally did.

But you didn't really understand why you didn't get any answers right.

Literally that's what books said, your answers were even the same.

So, what was happening to you?

That test was going to be in a week, and you were extremely stressed about it.

You had to prepare for the exam given by Ratio, but it wasn't easy. Despite reading the material multiple times, something wasn't clicking in your head.

The formulas, the methods, the diagnoses, nothing stayed in your head. And when you attempted to answer the questions, you found yourself making mistake after mistake.

After studying a few nights on your own, it was time to take the exam.

The day of the exam had arrived.

The atmosphere in the classroom was tense, everyone seemed nervous. You were shaking, your hands trembling as you clutched the pen. Everyone around you seemed to understand the material, but you were struggling.

Ratio started handing out the test sheets to each one of you, until he reached your desk.

He placed the paper in front of you, and your breathing hitched.

You dared to hold your gaze on his, for at least a while, looking for some security that he could give you.

But there was no security in his gaze.

He didn't give you any special look, no secret glance or anything that could make you feel more confident.

His expression seemed serious, almost like a challenge. It was clear that he expected nothing from you, to his eyes you weren't going to do the test well.

He knew it, and you knew it.

And as he finished handing them out, he spoke.

"You have an hour to finish. Start now." He announced, before going back to his desk.

You looked down at the questions, and your heart sank.

They were difficult, they were complex, and they were things you had never seen before.

You felt your hands begin to sweat, and your mind went blank. You tried to recall the information you had studied, but it was like trying to remember a forgotten dream.

The other students around you seemed to have no trouble with the test, they were already beginning to answer the questions.

But you, on the other hand, were stuck on the first question. The words and numbers on the page became a blur, your mind in complete mess.

As minutes passed, you found yourself still struggling with the first question. Meanwhile, other classmates were already on the second or third.

The pressure was immense. You tried to focus, you tried to concentrate. But your mind was racing, your heart was pounding in your chest.

You could hear the sound of the other students' pens on the papers, the ticking of the clock on the wall, the silence of the classroom.

Every sound seemed to echo in your head and only added to your anxiety.

Time was ticking by quickly, and you could feel your anxiety growing with each passing minute.

You had already spent 45 minutes on one question, and you hadn't even reached the halfway point.

Until you saw some of your classmates raise their hand so that Ratio could approach them and answer their doubts about some questions.

They were getting help, while you just sat there, panicking.

You wanted to raise your hand, to ask for help, just like the other students.

But you didn't do it, you didn't dare to. You felt too ashamed and embarrassed to admit that you were having so much trouble with the test.

You just continued staring at the exam, trying to decipher the questions.

And, with only 4 questions out of 20, you dared to raise your hand as well, so that he can get closer as well.

You looked up a little bit on your exam, watching it approach students back and forth.

Your still hand raised, you even moved it a little bit, to see it.

And so he did, he saw you for a few seconds, before approaching another of your classmates.

Your heart sank again.

You couldn't believe what had just happened.

He knew you were struggling, he saw you with your hand raised. But despite that he avoided you and went to answer someone else's doubts.

You felt a pang of pain in your chest, like a stinging realization.

Ratio didn't want to help you, he was ignoring you.

You weren't like the good students, the ones he always said were talented. You were just the one who couldn't understand anything, no matter how hard you tried.

You lowered your hand again, feeling humiliated.

With your cheeks somewhat red from shame, you lowered your gaze towards your exam, almost empty.

You tried to do it, you really tried.

Without realizing it, your eyesight was blurred, as you continued to try to write down what you found most coherent.

You were crying in the middle of the exam. But what a shame.

Well, at least you didn't sob, you just let the tears slip out of your eyes, because because your head was somewhat tilted down, it was more accessible for the tears to come out.

The time passed, and the other students handed in the exam sheets, one by one. And you were still on your seat, trying to come up with at least a minimum of sense.

The tension in the room grew with each passing minute.

You could feel the weight of everyone's gaze, even if no one was looking at you directly. It was like everyone was silently waiting for you to finish, to see if you could do it or not.

But the answer to that was becoming more and more evident with every passing minute.

And yet, you still tried, you tried so hard to write something.

You felt a knot forming in your throat as you tried to hold back your tears, but it was difficult.

Ratio's words echoed in your head again, "You should try a little harder."

How much harder did he wanted you to try? You were already struggling to keep up, and now you were literally crying.

With all your effort, you managed to answer some more questions. But still, the test paper looked almost blank.

Many of your answers were incorrect, even if you had tried your best.

When the time finally ran out, Ratio spoke up.

"Time's up," he said in his usual strict tone, standing up from his desk. "Those of you who haven't handed in your sheets, do so now."

You felt a wave of dread wash over you. You were one of the few who still had the papers on their desk.

Slowly, you raised your head to see that almost everyone else had already handed their papers to him.

With shaking hands, you gathered the papers on your desk and got up.

Your legs felt weak, but you somehow managed to make your way to the desk.

Ratio was there, waiting for your paper. He looked slightly indifferent, as if he was expecting this outcome.

You handed him the sheets with trembling hands, feeling a sense of shame and embarrassment. The weight of your poor performance was heavy on you, and you avoided meeting his gaze.

He took the papers without a word, and as he did, your eyes darted down to the answers on the paper.

You could see his expression of disappointment.

…

And it was worse than what you imagined.

Red marks and crosses were all over the page, almost each answer was incorrect.

After a week, he returned the exams to everyone in the classroom.

You didn't know how to hide your grade from the students sitting near you.

There was a big 0 on the exam cover.

A 0, no points at all. You had failed the test completely, and the evidence was there, for everyone to see.

The shame and humiliation hit you like a wave. Everyone was looking at their grades, comparing them and discussing among themselves. You wanted to sink into the floor and disappear.

Ratio spoke up again, drawing everyone's attention. "As you can see, the results of the exam were… Disappointing."

He said, his eyes skimming over the class.

His eyes landed on some students, commenting on their good grades.

"But, there were some good grades. Congratulations to those who did well." He spoke, in a matter-of-fact tone.

You knew you'd never be like them.

When he finished the class, it was relatively short, as most of the time it was used to solve the exam together.

You rushed to grab your stuff by keeping your exam in your bag, before you left the big classroom, feeling nauseous.

The rest of the day passed by, but the shame and humiliation from the exam still lingered. You couldn't shake the feeling of disappointment, and the thought that you were the worst in the class.

You tried to avoid your classmates' gazes, fearing they would whisper or make fun of you.

The hours went by slowly, until the day had ended. You found yourself walking back home, feeling down, with your head hung low.

And then, you suddenly heard a voice calling out to you. "Y/N," the familiar voice said, and you froze.

You knew who it was.

Slowly, you turned around to see Ratio standing there, a few metres away from you. His expression was serious, his eyes fixed on you. Your heart started racing again, and you nervously clutched your bag strap tighter. What did he want?

He walked closer to you, his footsteps echoing in the empty hallway.

He stopped a few steps away from you, looking down at you.

"Can I talk to you for a moment?" He asked, his voice firm. You swallowed hard, nodding silently.

You were too afraid to speak, your throat was dry, as if you had never swallowed saliva again.

He motioned for you to follow him, as he walked towards a quieter part of the hallway, where there were less classroms.

Finally, he stopped in a quieter spot, turning to look at you.

He looked directly into your eyes for a moment, his gaze intense.

There was a moment of silence before he spoke, his voice softer than usual.

"I suppose you know why I wanted to talk to you," he began, tilting his head slightly.

You nodded again, knowing what he wanted to talk about. The failed exam.

"Yes…" you whispered, your voice barely heard.

He let out a small sigh.

"Your performance on the exam… It was quite unsatisfactory."

His words were straightforward, he didn't hide his disappointment.

Your heart sank even further.

He was saying what you already knew, what he already wrote on the paper of red marks and crosses.

"I didn't expect much, to be completely honest. But I didn't expect such…bad results." He added, raising an eyebrow.

His words hurt, but you didn't say anything, you just stood there, looking down.

"I just don't understand," he continued, "I made sure to explain the concepts thoroughly. Why did you fail so badly?"

His tone was serious, he really wanted an answer from you.

"I really don't know," you mumble. Ratio let out a small huff, clearly not satisfied with your answer.

He looked at you for a moment, his eyes studying you.

"You know, I've been teaching for years. I've seen many students who struggle, but not to this extent. You weren't able to answer any question correctly."

"I wanted help, Ratio," you said, again, muttering.

And yes, you tried to raise your hand so that he could also approach you that time, but he just looked at you and didn't come close.

You looked up weakly toward his eyes, holding his gaze a few seconds.

"I tried to ask for help from you, I raised my hand, but you ignored me," you confessed, your voice almost breaking.

He was silent for a moment, his expression slightly changing.

He seemed a little surprised that you had mentioned that.

He was about to open his mouth to speak, but then your voice spoke up again.

"Do you think I'm stupid?" You said, with a hurt voice, and your eyes started to feel moist.

His expression softened slightly. He wasn't expecting that question.

He saw the tears forming in your eyes, and his stern expression wavered for a second.

"No, I don't think you're stupid." He finally said, his voice slightly lower.

He paused for a moment before speaking again.

"But I can't deny that I'm...disappointed. I had hoped for more progress."

Your lower lip trembled slightly as you heard his words.

Disappointed. Of course, he was. Because you were the worst in the class, the one who couldn't understand anything no matter how hard you tried.

The one who would never be able to answer a question correctly.

"…I know…" you whispered.

You couldn't hold back the tears any longer, and they started rolling down your cheeks.

"But i'm trying my best. I swear I am," you said, your voice shaking.

Ratio didn't say anything for a moment. He just looked at you, almost as if he was contemplating your words, your expression and your tears.

He watched as you cried softly, the tears running silently down your face.

He seemed to think for a moment, before he spoke again, his voice softer than before.

"I know you're trying," he admitted, and his tone wasn't as harsh as usual.

He let out a small sigh.

"But 'trying' isn't enough. You're always lagging behind. You never catch up. You need to do something different."

Your heart felt heavy, and your shoulders slumped slightly.

He was right, your 'trying' wasn't enough. It never was.

You heard him sigh, before you didn't realize it, his hands were on your cheeks, rubbing his thumbs on these to clean the tears.

"I want you to succeed,"

His touch was gentle, his thumb wiping away your tears softly.

You looked up at him, his expression was serious but not cold as usual.

"But you have to work harder for that." He spoke, his hands still on your wet cheeks. "You're smart, but clearly something is missing."

As his hands continued on your cheeks, you froze, feeling the unexpected touch.

He was wiping your tears, a gesture of… comfort?

At this point, you already believed his words.

'You're not giving everything about yourself'

'Study more'

'Try harder'

Everything that came out of your mind and mouth was wrong for him.

You sat on the small bench on the rooftop of medical school. That place had been your peacetime.

You found yourself again, frustrated, as you had the book open on your lap, with tears about to escape your eyelids.

That until someone else's footsteps resounded on the ground.

Which made you immediately turn your head.

"I knew I'd find you here," the familiar voice said. You turned to see Ratio, walking over to the bench and sitting next to you.

"The same place, for the third time this week," he added, his expression a mixture of concern and something else.

You wiped the tears from your eyes quickly, not wanting him to see you like this. But it was too late, he had already noticed.

He glanced at the open book on your lap, a small frown on his face.

"Still struggling?" He asked, his voice soft yet firm.

You just nodded.

You saw him sigh, before he took out a kind of sweet bread packaged.

"Here, eat this," he said, as he gave you what he had in his hand.

He knew you liked those sweet breads.

With resignation, you took the bread, and you took off the wrapper, starting to eat it, while you felt like you were going to cry again.

Ratio watched you eat silently, his eyes fixed on you.

He saw the tears still gleaming in your eyes, but you were trying to hold them back.

He let out a sigh, his expression seemed to be contemplating something.

Without saying anything, he moved closer to you, getting nearer.

He was so close, you could count the number of eyelashes he had.

He leaned towards you, and his hand raised to touch your cheek and so he did, stroking your face for a moment, before he laid a kiss on your temple.

The unexpected kiss on your forehead made your body tense up for a moment, surprise filling you.

The action was uncharacteristic as he was acting in a way he never did in the past.

You slowly turn your head to look at him, your eyes meeting his. His expression held a hint of affection.

He was still so close to you. So close that he could easily touch you again.

The simple contact of his, made the accumulated tears of before, fall down your cheeks.

You stuck your body to him, even chewing sweet bread. You had a frown, like you used to have now.

As you put your phone next to you, after dialing your boyfriend's number.

You keep looking at the practice sheet, gently banging the pen against the table.

It took him a few seconds for him to answer your call.

"What's wrong?" Ratio asked once he answered the phone.

You took a deep breath before speaking, trying to sound a little calm, but failing miserably.

"I'm stuck again," you confessed, frustration evident in your voice.

"You'll need to do this by yourself, this time." He said, and his voice was firm.

You felt another stab in the chest.

"But I-"

"No buts. You need to learn how to figure things out on your own. You can't always depend on me."

Another stab. Like a dagger.

Yes, the same thing happened again.

You were somewhat desperate, as your last exams went wrong and you only approved a few with the minimum note. And basically you needed 140 percent of 100 percent to pass.

The only thing that could save you would be the practical part, but you didn't even manage to master that.

You knew he was right, but that didn't make you feel any better.

You looked up at him with a sad expression, but all he did was look at you with his usual frown.

"You're not a kid anymore. You need to start taking responsibility for your own learning," he said.

You knew he was right, you knew you couldn't always rely on him. But it was hard to accept.

Especially when he was always so dedicated and patient with others.

"Being your boyfriend doesn't mean you have more priority or advantages,"

You felt your throat tighten, you had a lump in your throat.

But he continued speaking.

"I'm your teacher, first of all. And I should be as impartial as possible."

You knew that, you truly knew that.

How you wished that he would treat you differently from others just because, you didn't want any privileges, or anything like that.

You just wanted his attention, his help, his care. But all you got were cold remarks, like a teacher talking to a stupid student.

Oh, but you would remember her words whenever you were tempted to ask her for help.

And again, you believed his words.

He was right, it wouldn't be fair for others to teach you the most.

So, you had to put everything in about yourself, no, more than you could give, so you could study for your exams.

Especially because they weren't just any exam, they were almost a preview of the endings, and if you didn't pass all of them, you wouldn't have any hope of being able to pass the courses.

Because you need more note than you can normally get, that is, something impossible.

In total there were 6 courses, that of Ratio and that of other teachers. That in their classes you didn't do so badly, but you weren't the best either. you approved with scores between minimums to media.

You looked down, your fingers tightening on the edge of the desk.

"I know," you mumbled, feeling a lump in your throat.

He was silent for a moment, before he spoke again, his voice a little softer this time.

"I'm tough on you because I know you can do it," he said.

Your eyesight focused on the chemistry test, it was the first exam of the week, so you were, or at least you felt, that you were ready.

When you left the exam, begging you to do well, you had to eat a granola bar, while you were walking down the hallways, looking for your other classroom.

You couldn't see Ratio before you took the first exam, because you were going to be a little late.

Once you sat at the desk, with the pharmacology test in your hands, you started putting on paper the things you remembered, so you didn't forget.

It was two long hours, which you managed to finish and leave the classroom, completely tired.

But when you get home, you couldn't sleep, because you had to prepare for your other exams.

As you sat in front of your desk, it was already almost 10 pm.

And you were still studying.

Your eyes tired because of the many books you had looked through, and your arms aching slightly because of writing so much.

You were tired, but you couldn't afford to take a rest. You had to study for the other exams. You let out a sigh, rubbing your eyes.

How long had you been studying now? An hour or two? You weren't even sure.

In the last few hours, you were studying for your other exams, including Public Health, Medicine 3, Clinical psychiatry, Laboratory diagnosis and the course in which Ratio will be present, Surgery 1.

Of some of those exams, most of them were written, the two of practice would be the same day.

You didn't dare send a single message to Ratio.

Or well, it's not that you didn't want to, you were too tired at this point.

You barely got out of the exam where you had to be in the lab, your eyelids every time threatened to close.

Now you had the exam.

You were scared, you even sweated from your nerves.

When you arrived at the respective practice chirophan, where all your colleagues would be taking the exam, your eyesight discouraged you.

They all looked somewhat tense, as they walked back and forth, muttering to themselves, what you assumed was what they learned in class.

You waited outside, along with them, before Ratio made them pass them all, to start the exam.

This consisted even the right only disinfected was also qualified, which made you tense. Although the cold water when washing your hands and arms helped you wake up a little.

Your breathing intensified.

Ratio stood in the middle of the room, and you tried to focus your vision properly.

He looked in your direction, for a second, his eyes on you.

Maybe he'd noticed how tired you were, but he remained silent. He just looked at you for a second, before looking back at everyone else.

And he began to speak.

"You all know how this works," he began, his voice firm and authoritative. "Each of you will take turns performing on a dummy patient."

You let out a shuddering sigh, trying to calm your nerves.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, as you watched your classmates take turns performing the practical exams.

Every time someone finished, Ratio inspected their work and gave them feedback.

You could see the serious expression on his face, his eyes never leaving the students as they performed.

Finally, it was your turn. You approached the dummy patient, your hands slightly trembling.

Ratio stood a few feet away, watching you.

When you started the exam, you tried to be as perfect as possible.

You tried to calm down, which was a bit difficult. Your hands was shaking.

'Try to breathe slowly, it will help you.'

That was what Ratio told you, and he was always right.

You tried to repeat in your head the steps you had to take to complete the exam.

You took a few deep breaths, in and out.

And finally, you began.

You feel much more pressure when you felt your classmates behind, that you were taking turns with when you performed a simple little surgery.

You started with shaky hands, to make cuts in the internal tissues of the skin, little by little. Being totally attentive to the sound of the cardiac monitor, listening to the pulsations and occasionally seeing the pressure level in the 'patient'.

You could even feel the sweat on the palms of your hands inside the latex gloves. It's good that you always had to put on 2 or 3 for these practices, because otherwise, you would have contaminated everything with your sweat.

You continued the process, trying to block out the thoughts that were flying through your mind.

'You need a good score.'

'You can't fail.'

'This is your last exam.'

'If you do this well, you can finally talk to him without worrying.'

Trying to ignore the pressure, you continued to take each step carefully.

The instructions for your colleagues you should take turns with were clear, anyone who distracts or talks to the person who is performing the practice with the 'patient' will immediately cancel the exam.

And that's why, because of the more impotence or frustration of your peers when they see your patient's heart level when they enter a state of shock because they had touched a vital organ, it was something that went unnoticed by you. Because you had fallen asleep.

What suddenly woke you up was the same alert from the monitors, who let out a loud noise.

Shit.

By the time you saw the monitor, the pressure was in the skies, not to mention that now the pulsations were going down drastically.

Without realizing it, as you had been sleeping in your place, you pricked the 'patient' stomach with the scalpel.

Fuck.

Your eyes widened in shock.

You were still a bit dizzy from sleep, and your reflexes were very slow.

And from behind, you could hear more murmurs, some of your classmates, while others let out a hiss or a swear word. And you could feel the pressure in your chest at what had just happened.

You tried to make a suture, but by that time it was too late.

You had damaged a vital organ, which you shouldn't even do.

In fear, you turned to the monitor, that now the rhythm was a single beep, indicating that the 'patient' had died.

You stayed there, feeling pressured by the looks of your classmates behind you, now they had not been able to take their exam.

And the gaze of Ratio, who was standing in front of you, which only made things worse.

He stood in the same position, his eyes staring at you. And you could only think of what he must have been thinking at that moment.

You tried to remain calm, but you knew that was impossible, your breathing was shaky, and you even felt your legs trembling.

You couldn't stand the stares, you could feel the gazes of your colleagues on your back. Judging and analyzing everything you had done.

"You failed this exam roundly." was the only thing he said, before guiding your peers to another side in the chirophan so they can take their exam, with a heart rate 'patient'.

You felt a pang of panic, your hands still trembling from the previous episode.

'You failed this exam roundly.' those words still echoed in your mind.

You knew it was the truth, there was no way you could deny it. You messed up big time.

'Everyone is going to hate me now. They're all going to think I'm stupid. I'm not fit to be a doctor. I'm not fit to be anything.'

These were the thoughts that raced through your mind.

You had been unveiling yourself so that you could study well for your other exams, that this was the only thing you didn't have in mind that could happen.

Your eyes looked to the floor, you were ashamed, you were embarrassed by your own performance. You had failed at something so simple.

Something you'd studied for hours. You even feel somewhat prepared to be able to do it.

Ratio stayed where he was, watching as your classmates took their turn with 'the patient'.

But he couldn't quite take his eyes off you, he could see you were shaking, and he was sure you would start crying at any moment. But you wouldn't do that in this place, not with the presence of everyone else.

He was heading for a moment where you were.

Without paying much attention to the others, he approached you, his footsteps almost silent, and stopped right in front of you.

He looked down at you, his gaze serious.

He knew exactly what your thoughts were at the moment, he knew that all the blame you would assume would be on yourself.

After all, it was all due to your negligence, you had fallen asleep, and that had been the reason why your practice turned out to be, to say the least, a disaster.

'You tried'

'You can do better another time'

'Don't worry'

You expected that, you really expected it.

"You need to retire from the chirophan, you've finished your exam." That's what you heard from him.

Your heart squeezed.

You really thought he was going to at least say a few words of encouragement, not just that.

And the tone in which he said it just made it worse. It was clear that he was disappointed.

You could feel the lump in your throat growing, you felt that you were going to burst into tears at any moment.

Ratio was about to speak, but instead, he held his tongue.

He knew the effect his words had had on you. He knew you weren't well. But he didn't say anything, he just stood there, seeing you.

His gaze was on you, you could feel that he was analyzing you, from your eyes to your hands.

You looked like a kicked puppy.

Your shoulders were hunched, your head was down, and your hands were shaking at your sides.

With what little dignity you had left, you looked up at Ratio.

Your heart was beating so hard you thought it would burst out of your chest.

Your eyes were glassy, your eyelashes wet with tears.

You moved from your place, going to the disinfection area, while you were removing your gloves, mask and other protection stuff.

Your hands never stopped shaking while you did that.

You came out of the chirophan of practices, with fear running through your body.

Your hands on your face as you tried to hide the fact that you were about to start crying.

You were walking so fast that you bumped into a few people, some who told you to slow down, but you ignored them.

Finally, you reached the bathroom, where you locked yourself in one of the cubicles, and let the tears fall down your face.

You felt pathetic. You felt like an idiot for thinking you could do it, and even more so, for falling asleep.

How could you possibly have screwed up so big? You had studied for hours, for days, for weeks.

You worked as hard as you could to try to get a passing grade.

You had given your all, only for it to end in a complete failure.

"You're not good for this." you told yourself, your voice choked with tears.

…

You waited for your boyfriend to leave his office, grabbing the strip of your bag with both your hands.

Your gaze was on the floor, seeing your shoes as if they were the most interesting thing in the world. Your red eyes, you didn't want people to see much.

The students walked around you, chatting and laughing, unaware of the turmoil you were going through. You just wanted to go back to your apartment and cry in peace.

But at least you wanted some comfort on Ratio's side, even though you knew you didn't deserve it.

You heard the sound of a door behind you opening, and you glanced up to see Ratio walking out of his office.

He didn't notice you at first, but then he turned and his gaze fell on you.

You heard him sigh heavily, before he spoke "Let's go." It wasn't a question, it was a direct order.

You didn't dare say anything, just nodded silently and walked with him.

The whole way to the exit was silent, you walked behind him, seeing his back.

The silence was heavy, you didn't dare to say anything, and he didn't say anything either.

When you arrived at his apartment he let you pass first.

As you saw him leave his things in place and turn on some lights, your mind was distracted.

Until as he started heating water in the boiler, he spoke.

"It was the worst exam I could see in my life," his voice was full of disappointment.

Your heart pounded in your chest, those words only made you feel worse.

You wanted to say something, some kind of excuse, some reason to justify what you had done.

But all that came out of your mouth was a half-broken murmur "I'm sorry"

Ratio stared at you for a moment, his gaze was cold, you felt like crying again.

"You're sorry?" He asked, almost bitterly.

"You'll tell that to your patients' relatives when you kill them by mistake?"

Your eyes widened, and you could feel your lip starting to tremble.

That was a low blow.

"I-" you tried to speak, but your voice was so shaky and broken that you could barely form words.

But he interrupted you.

"You weren't focused. You were not prepared. You were sloppy and careless" He said, without even looking at you.

His words were like a stab in the heart.

And he wasn't done yet.

"You didn't put any effort into it,"

"Yes I did," you muttered, grabbing your fingers, anxiously in your body.

Ratio turned to you, his gaze was stern and almost irritated. He had never looked at you like that before.

"You fell asleep in the middle of the practice," he said, and the disappointment in his voice was palpable.

"How the hell would you call that putting in effort?"

Your mind was racing, trying to find an answer, something to say. But the words didn't come out, the lump in your throat was too big.

"I did" you tried to say again, weakly.

"No, you didn't" he said bluntly.

"If you had, you wouldn't have made such a stupid mistake"

You couldn't help it again, the salty tears wet your cheeks.

"Yes I did, Veritas," you said, raising your voice a little while you were looking at him.

"You didn't make the slightest effort in that practice, otherwise, you wouldn't have failed so miserably"

Those words stung again, you felt that he was attacking you.

"Yes I did!" You shouted, tears streaming down your face.

"I worked my ass out for that exam. I didn't take anything for granted! I really wanted to pass!"

"I want your comfort," you sobbed.

You wanted him to tell you that you had tried, that you did put everything out of you, that it was just unfortunate situations, that you could try again later.

You wanted that, not this.

Ratio's expression softened a little at your words, and for a moment he almost looked guilty.

He was quiet a few seconds, looking at your tear-soaked face.

"Do you think hard work is enough?" He asked. "Do you think that by just studying you will pass everything?"

"That if you want something, you'll get it just by wanting it?"

You just looked at him.

"That's not how it works," he said firmly.

"You have to be more than that".

You wanted his comfort, you longed for it a lot at times like this, not to be ranted out at how bad you did it.

"You don't deserve to be consoled if you did something out of pure negligence,"

Your heart sank at his words, like he was speaking to a child.

You felt like a scolded dog.

More tears fell on your face.

"I didn't mean to make that mistake," you said, wiping your face with your sleeve. "I really tried"

Ratio approached you, his steps slow and deliberate.

"Trying is not enough" he said bluntly.

He was in front of you now, towering over you, you didn't dare to look at him in the eyes.

"In this profession, just trying is not enough"

"You're not made to be a doctor if you think that," Your breathing hitched.

Those words hurt, you wanted to shout at him, tell him he's not right, that he's wrong.

But you knew he wasn't.

Every word he was saying was true.

All this effort, all these hours you've worked, and all these sleepless nights, to fail like that, because of a stupid simple mistake.

You really were not fit to be a doctor.

Your head was lowered, and the tears still ran down.

You tried to hold them back, but failed.

"I'm tired, Veritas,"

You just wanted him to stop.

You were tired, tired of studying, tired of not getting it right.

Ratio seemed to not soften at your words, his face still showed disappointment.

"You have to try harder, you have to put aside your tiredness," he said firmly. "If you don't, you will fail again"

"If you really want this, you have to do better"

You just wanted it all to stop.

"It's not fair," you began, your voice choked by the crying that didn't stop.

"The only thing you know how to do is tell me bad things about what I do," you sobbed.

"You're supposed to be my boyfriend, not someone who criticizes me,"

You felt frustrated, the words escaping your mouth without a care.

You wanted him to comfort you, to tell you that everything was going to be okay and that you would be a perfect doctor.

But he didn't say anything. He just looked at you, his expression unchanged.

"My job isn't to soothe your ego," he said firmly.

"My job, as a boyfriend, is to help you see the faults in yourself and strive to improve"

"And it seems that you don't like that very much," he added. His voice was almost cold.

You raised your head, looking at him with wet eyes.

"You're supposed to support me" you said weakly, almost a plea.

Ratio's face didn't change, his eyes fixed on you.

"I do support you," he said.

"But I won't lie to you or sugarcoat things for you," he added.

"I don't even have ego or something that you have to soften."

Those words were like a stab to the heart.

"I'm sick of you telling me that everything I do is complete shit,"

You were shaking with frustration, tears and snot streamed down your face. You felt so angry and so desperate that you didn't know what to say.

"I'm just trying to be honest with you and make you face reality," Ratio said.

"You need to be able to handle criticism if you want to be a doctor"

You just wanted him to stop, to shut up and say something like 'you're good' or 'don't cry it's okay'.

But he didn't, he just stood there, telling you the things you didn't want to hear.

You felt like you couldn't hold back anymore, all these days, weeks, months of not saying anything was starting to weigh on you.

"You never say anything good about me," you said in a shaky voice.

"You never have a nice word for what I do"

Ratio raised an eyebrow at your words, unamused by your outburst.

"You don't deserve my compliments"

That stung.

"Especially when you fail so miserably," he added.

Your body shuddered, those words made you feel so bad.

"All other boyfriends say nice things to their partners" you murmured.

"They give their support, even when they make a mistake"

Ratio almost laughed at your words.

"Oh, so you want me to be one of those 'other boyfriends' now?" he said with a hint of irony.

"You want me to pat you on the back and say you did a good job, even when you did a bad one?"

"Do you really think that's going to help?"

His tone was almost mocking, and it made you even more upset.

You wanted to shout at him, tell him that you just wanted him to say something nice and comfort you. But the words wouldn't come out.

"I…"

You tried to speak, but the only thing that came out was a choked noise.

Ratio sighed heavily, the annoyance clear in his expression.

"I can't believe you're acting like a child because you can't handle a bit of criticism"

"Do you really think that's how a doctor should behave?"

"The answers I say are the same as those of my classmates and you still tell me they're wrong," you said.

"It's not fair. I'm fed up,"

Ratio crossed his arms, looking down at you.

"Life isn't fair," he said, as if explaining something obvious to a child.

"And a doctor's job is not to care about being fair"

He looked you up and down, almost with contempt in his eyes.

"I had expected more from you," he said.

"But I suppose I expected too much"

Those words hit you like a blow to the stomach.

You knew he was right, but it didn't make the situation any less painful.

Your hands were clenched into tight fists, your fingers digging into your palms.

"I hate you," you spat out between sobs, your voice full of anger and hurt.

Ratio seemed unperturbed by your words to begin with.

He looked at you with an expressionless face for a moment, before speaking.

"You don't mean that"

You were angry, hurt, and sad, all at the same time.

"I do," you said, your eyes wet with tears.

"I hate you, and I wish you didn't exist"

The words came out of your mouth, more like a desperate plea.

Ratio didn't react at first, he just stood there, looking at you as you sobbed.

"You don't mean it," he repeated, his voice low and firm.

"And you know it"

"Yes I do," you insisted, your voice almost a hiss.

"I hate that you always criticize me," you said, letting out a sob. "I hate that you never say anything nice,"

You saw a slight change in his face through your tearful sight.

Before it becomes the same again.

"If you hate me and you can't stand the criticism I give you," his voice sounded annoying, almost words spit on his face.

"Why don't you retire from medical school?"

"You don't even have the talent to be a doctor anyway,"

You felt your heart drop at those words.

Talent… That was the thing that you always lacked.

Ratio was always the perfect doctor, from the beginning of his studies, he was the top of the top.

You, on the other hand, struggled.

You weren't naturally smart like your classmates or he was. You needed to study more, work harder, make more effort.

And even with all that, you didn't come close to being like he wanted.

You had sacrificed so many things just to get here, your dreams, your hobbies, and even your old friends.

What nice words from your boyfriend.

Both you and he remained silent, with only the sound of the boiling woman whistling.

Your tears fell like waterfalls, but this time you weren't sobbing, you just stared at him.

There was a tense silence between the two of you.

You didn't know what I was thinking, you didn't want to know either.

But you might notice that his facial expression was no longer the firm one before.

He seemed even surprised by his words.

He opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to speak.

But the words not came out.

Ratio was looking at your devastated face, the trail of tears already staining your clothes and cheeks.

Your red eyes stared at him, without blinking. Your expression seemed so different from a few seconds ago.

He had probably crossed the line.

Ratio stood there, looking at your tear-soaked face. He had never seen you so upset, so… desperate.

'Why don't you retire from medical school?'

His words will be repeated as a disc striped on your head.

The seconds passed slowly, the silence was only broken by the sound of boiling water.

Ratio moved slightly, taking a step forward, but stopped when his eyes met your gaze.

That look was almost one of… betrayal.

Something inside him stirred with frustration but guilt at the same time.

You forced yourself to take a breath, because you felt like you were going to drown.

You grabbed your bag with your trembling hands.

As you moved to grab your stuff, your eyesight never focused even on his shoes.

"Y/N…" Ratio tried to speak, his voice was hesitant.

He watched as you packed your things, your movements were jerky and with haste, with the only goal of leaving quickly.

You didn't look at him, avoiding his eyes completely.

"Where are you going?" His voice sounded more pleading, and with a hint of concern.

You felt your body tense, the sound of his voice made you shiver. You had forgotten how long it had been since you heard your boyfriend speak to you without being sharp or harsh.

"I'm leaving," you replied, your voice flat and emotionless.

"Do you care?"

"Of course I care" his voice was firmer than before, and maybe a little annoyed?

Ratio walked closer to you, his steps slow.

"I-, we need to talk"

That phrase came out of his mouth, almost in a pleading tone.

You continued to pack your things, not daring to look at him.

"We can talk tomorrow," you said. "I remembered I have something to do at home,"

Ratio's lips formed a straight line.

He just kept quiet.

You too, until you approached the door.

You felt the weight of his eyes on your back, almost burning.

You had your hand on the doorknob.

It was hard. More than you should.

"Tomorrow, then," he said, quietly.

The way Ratio spoke sounded almost vulnerable.

Your hand trembled on the doorknob.

You wanted to look back, to say something, to see his face.

But you didn't, because you know that seeing him would be even more painful.

"Sure," you managed to say, your voice hoarse.

The day after your… discussion with Ratio.

You were walking through the corridors of the medical school.

You felt a slight anxiety, but also a sense of resignation for what was going to happen.

You hadn't heard from Ratio since yesterday, and you weren't sure if it was on purpose or not.

As you turned a corner, you saw a familiar figure standing in your path.

You froze for a moment when you saw him.

He was dressed as usual and that perfect hairstyle.

But at least he didn't look so perfect, like he hadn't slept the night before.

His eyes were fixed on you, almost as if he were inspecting you.

Ratio his face neutral as always, but with a hint of… remorse?

"We need to talk," he repeated the phrase from yesterday, his voice low and firm.

Right.

"Oh, right," you let go, feeling your body tighten.

But before he could add anything else, you talked.

"Maybe later?, right now I have a class,"

Ratio had expected you to have a defiant or annoyed air about you.

But your voice, and expression, were calm, almost soft.

"Fine," he said after a few seconds. "Then after class,"

"After class," you confirmed.

Ratio continued to watch you.

The sound of the bell ringing through the hall interrupted the brief moment between the two of you.

not looking directly into his eyes. Then, before he could say anything again, you continued on your way to your classroom.

Ratio watched your figure walk away, his brows slightly furrowed.

Every ticking sound seemed almost as if it was mocking you.

The anticipation making your stomach spin.

In fact, you hadn't gone to a 'class'.

You went to talk to the rector of the medical school.

You felt a lump in your throat, and your hands were slightly sweaty.

You had an idea of what you wanted to talk about.

But you weren't so sure.

Your footsteps echoed through the hallway, your heart beating fast in your chest.

Until you arrived at the office door. You knocked gently and the voice of the rector called you in.

The moment of the meeting was brief, you explained the situation and what you decided. The man listened intently to your words, a slight sense of sympathy in his eyes.

When you finished, he nodded slowly, his fingers tapping on his desk. "Are you sure?" he asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

"Yes," you responded, your voice firm but inside you were the nerves.

You didn't know if you had taken the right decision, but it was done.

"I don't want to question your decision, but-"

"I'm sure" you interrupted him abruptly.

It sounded a little… harsh, but you didn't want to hear any more arguments.

The rector gave a small resigned nod.

"Okay," he said slowly.

"I will start the procedures,"

You walked to where you knew Ratio would be teaching.

You didn't know why you approached, if you were supposed to leave without telling him anything.

Ratio was in the middle of his class when you appeared at the door.

He didn't see you at first, since his back was facing the door.

But when class ended a few minutes later, and everyone left, he turned his face towards the door after leaving his notes on his desk.

And there you were.

Your figure standing in the doorway.

Ratio's facial expression didn't change.

"Is your class over?," his voice was low, the room was empty, the last students had already left.

Which made the only sound a low ticking of the clock hanging on the wall.

Your feet didn't move toward him.

You were still standing by the door, your gaze fixed on the ground.

"Yes," your voice came out somewhat strangled.

For a few seconds Ratio was silent, as if contemplating you.

He started to walk towards you, his footsteps echoing in the room.

The air between the two of you felt almost… thick.

Ratio eventually stood in front of you, his height forcing you to lift your head to look at him.

"Can we talk outside of here?" You asked, something undesirable about your actions.

Ratio was quiet for a moment, staring down at you.

He looked almost… unreadable.

Finally he agreed with a low "sure".

You left the room and both you started walking together.

Neither of you spoke.

Silence.

Just the sound of the two of you walking through the corridors of the school.

Ratio continued to keep pace with you, but he was looking straight ahead, not looking directly at you.

The sound of your footsteps echoed in the empty halls.

As the two of you walked, you felt a feeling of nervousness rise in your stomach.

You inhaled before you asked again. "Can I take your hand?"

As you broke the silence, Ratio slightly turned his head towards you.

He gave a light nod of affirmation.

You reached for his hand, and he allowed you to hold it.

His palm was warm, and the touch of his fingers was gentle, almost firm.

You felt less nervous, just for a while.

You walked with him until you got to a quiet cafeteria, where you saw people studying at tables.

You sat in front of him, making your hand release his.

As you sat down in the cafeteria, Ratio took a seat in front of you.

Both of you stayed silent for a few more seconds.

Neither of you had said anything since you came to this place.

You could feel a tension in the air, the silence slowly becoming unbearable.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he spoke.

"I assume you didn't go to class," his statement sounded like a mere fact.

"Uhm, we can talk about that at another time," you said, playing with your hands a little bit.

You missed the touch of his hand against yours, and you were going to miss that, that's for sure.

"I don't hate you, Veritas," you said, remembering your words yesterday, that you ranted when he was being unpleasant and rude on you.

Ratio's brow furrowed slightly.

He didn't say anything for a moment, he seemed to be thinking about something.

His gaze was focused on you, his eyes studying your expression almost intently, as if he was examining you.

"I know," he said eventually, his voice low and quiet.

Then he spoke again.

"I have to apologize," his words sounded almost reluctant, as if he didn't like saying them.

You could see the muscles of his jaw clenched, he seemed to be struggling with his thoughts and words.

It was clear that he wasn't used to apologizing.

He continued, the words coming out a little hesitant.

"I shouldn't have said those things,"

He paused again, his gaze averting yours for a moment.

Then he spoke again, and his eyes fixed on yours again.

"I was too harsh,"

Ratio's voice was quiet, almost like a whisper.

He was still struggling with those words, you were so used to him insulting you so easily but apparently it was different when he apologized.

Significantly that produced peace of mind in you.

You couldn't help but smile a little, feeling the knot in your throat.

"That's okay," you said.

Ratio's eyebrow shot up, clearly not expecting such a response.

You knew him enough that he probably would have been prepared to receive a scolding or an argument in response.

He was still looking at you, you could see the slight surprise in his eyes.

"That's… it?"

Ratio seemed almost dumbfounded.

"Yes, that's what I needed to hear," you said.

Anyway, you had already started with the procedures with the rector.

Maybe you just wanted to hear his words of apology, but as a good memory.

Ratio's expression changed, it was almost a mixture of relief and confusion. It was almost as if he had expected more resistance from you.

He remained quiet for a few more seconds, continuing to watch you intently.

That you were so forgiving after how he had acted made him feel… strange.

But maybe he shouldn't think too much.

Ratio exhaled slowly, his facial expression returning to its usual stoic and composed state.

"You're too soft, dear," he murmured, his voice low and quiet.

The next day it was the same.

He felt calm, because at least you weren't upset and at least you clarified that you didn't hate him.

It had spent almost 40 minutes of class and you were not there yet, it was strange to him.

Until when you looked for you on campus, where you were supposed to have other classes, you hadn't attended them. Rather, you weren't even on campus.

And, no matter how much he send you a message, it came out that he couldn't contact your number.

Almost recently, he had to come and talk to the rector, about you not coming and you could fail all your other courses. Until he took it upon himself to tell him that you had withdrew from campus three months ago.

Ratio's eyes widened, his facial expression transforming into a look of disbelief. "What?," his voice was low, but with a hint of alarm.

His mind was processing this new information, and it was hard for him to believe.

"They… withdrew three months ago?" His words came out slowly, his heart was starting to race.

Yes, you had taken the decision to withdraw from the medical school.

As much as it looked like a tantrum, you didn't care, maybe he was right.

So you followed his advice.

©cherrylovelycherry do not repost, copy, translate, modify or feed into ai

[the-silver-peahen-residence]

"B..because.." He was having a hard time saying why and it seems like he was gripping the inside of his pockets. Was something wrong or did something happen. Kazuma said nothing, even biting his bottom lip rather hard.

"Hey? Why? You can tell us Kazuma....how did you know of the kids being in the basement? However he looks away but hid his face.

"Their...their was other animatronics there...others that were older models of the main cast. At first they were just prototypes that wouldn't harm anyone else but they were early versions of the others. I didn't know it was going to do that during the evening....During the Zilla Laser tag."

"Kaz....what happened that night?' Yuji asked but he didn't answer.

"........."

Mothra said nothing but she looks worried. "Kaz? What happened?"

"..........The kid...the first one that went missing t..they...." That's when he begins to chock. "I didn't mean for it to happen. If I had just kept a damn eye on the brat..t.then she wouldn't have been........"

"..Been what?" Yuji asked. However, he was remember trying to look for the child after that night. Remembering the parents who was begging them to find her. Ending up in......

"Kazuma!" Yuji shouted for him to tense but look down.

".....Tch eaten okay?! The fucking brat was eaten alive!" he shouted.

"....W..what?" Mothra was silent.

"...She was alive but that damn thing or the early version..I don't what happened. I tried to find her, I tried to get her to stay with the other kids. But she..she must have saw the early prototype and saw it following him pretending to be Zilla. But......I tried to find her...I looked everywhere but.....I....I followed her where she was in the basement trying to play with the damn thing."

"I tried to get her away from it and come back up.....but.." That's when he remembers fighting with the little girl as she was struggling to get out of Kazuma's grip. She wanted to play with him and was confused why he was stopping him.

".....I tried to fucking stop her but she was such a brat she...."

"Kazuma.." Mothra was speechless worried.

"I...I saw the damn thing coming to life that it harshly grabs the little girl....." he whispered but held his head hearing the sicking crunch followed by a girl scream.

"...It bit down onto her throat killing her...it fucking killed her okay!? I tried to stop the bleeding...everything but..she died by the time it happened but that damn thing..it just looks at me before it walks off into the darkness and never showed up again. It started happening with the other kids..each one being lead away into that damn basement...being killed one by one..a..and....I......that damn thing told me give it more children. It freaked out and ran away to call the police." he said.

".......However, after that night, more of it kept happening. I....I let the kids play with them.....I left them because I didn't want to but..I didn't know all of them were going to do this. They even told me to leave the bodies and move them...to a opening room down below....I..I didn't want this to happen again...it's too much.."

"Wait..s..so the reason the kids were missing...was because of you? You left them to their deaths?" Yuji said.

".......N..No I just..it was a accident. I didn't want to die so I had to do what they told me...the voices or whatever controlled...them.."

"Hey, that was a bit uncalled for wasn't it?" Yuji looks to Kazuma but it seems he didn't stop looking upset after all this happening tonight.

"Kaz.." Mothra said. Kazuma growls, "Don't call me that! You may be you, but you're still a robot! Stop trying to act like you care! That's part of your programming, okay! Stop going go and beyond like you're human."

"Dude, that's not fair to say that! Haven't you seen what's happened so far!" Yuji said at him but he glares back.

"I have seen what's happened and it's getting worse. All because of those robots!" he shouted back at Yuji glaring at him then at Mothra.

"All because they think they can become human-"

He stops hearing Taz's shout but Yuji knew she was right. Right now isn't the time to argue. They had to find their friends and insure everyone is alright. See and catch this bad guy. And save this place.

"Save?! What else is there to save!? Whoever is messing with this place is some psychopath! Like what the fuck?!" Kazuma cursed. "What the hell do they want with this place?!"

"We don't know but their has to be a reason." Yuji said but heard Kazuma's bitter laughter.

"Oh I think I know! She and her so called friends wants to kill everyone in this damn place! Their after our blood and wants to kill us just like those kids at the basement right!? All because of the accidents right!" he said.

"......It's not that." Mothra said.

"Yes it is! You robots think your all alive and have a heart for humans but you DON'T! Your cold blooded killers that only cares about spilling the blood of the innocent! How can we even trust you guys after what happened!" he said pointing at Mothra who was silent.

"Believe me Kaz, me and my friends don't want to hurt anyone. We love all the people and children that come here to have fun. What happened that day and to the other children..it wasn't us. It was a fail malfunction.." she said.

"So your 'malfunction' of the kids being killed was false? Was kidnapping part of it? Was the glitch something use to hide behind what you guys did!?" he said mad.

"Kazuma STOP!" Yuji said glaring at him. "You need to calm down! It's her nor the others fault. It's the one that's causing all this to happen. Can't you see she's been trying to help us! If you didn't forget, Meko was taken because this crazy mysterious person forced one of them to take him. Right now, we are trying to save him before he ends up being the next victim. And that might be the same for our friend Miko or others!"

"......" However, Kazuma glares at Yuji but looks away. "Fine. I don't trust none of them after what happened and I still won't even to this night. She's lucky is all I'm saying. She nor the others deserve mercy anyway for what they caused. Honestly, they deserve to be destroyed for it." he hissed. "As I stated, their is nothing else left to save. Everything has gone down to shit by now."

"And you know? Maybe we should give them what they want! Maybe they will let us go if we do what they say!" he said.

"Are you insane!?" Yuji said.

"I'm not! We could have been killed by these things!" he argues back.

[cuubism]

Idk if you are still taking prompts, but: After their first meeting, while Hob still thinks it is a joke, he escorts Dream out. It is only when Dream returns to the Dreaming that he realizes his ruby has been stolen by Hob. Thus begins a game of cat and mouse through the ages, and Hob keeps slipping through his Endless fingers.

oh dear, this was from last year. fun though! could be the basis for a much longer fic. i love thief hob

-

Hob knows better than to gloat openly about his winnings, but he can't help tossing the ruby a few times in his hand as he walks, admiring it. Such a stunning gem, he's never seen its like but in paintings of kings, and even those are rare enough. Invaluable. And the strange lord had just had it about his neck, for all to see.

Hob shakes his head, tucking the ruby away in his tunic. Money can't buy common sense, it seems.

He finds his horse in the stable and leads it outside, stepping into the stirrup and swinging up into the saddle. After a find like this, best to disappear. Easy as the ruby had been to snatch, that strange young lord will doubtless come back looking for it, once he notices it's gone.

Night is falling by the time Hob reaches the treeline. He hasn't been followed--the path behind him has been empty for hours, and the trees show nothing but birdsong as he steers his horse into the darkness. Hob knows this route well, and by the time the moon is high above, he's navigated to a familiar clearing, untacked his horse, and sat back against a tree for some rest.

He can't help but look at the strange ruby one more time before going to sleep. It glows unnaturally in the moonlight, a blue-white reflection on a background of venous red. He tilts it back and forth in his palm, studying the cut. Who, exactly, is going to buy this from him, he can't yet say. But it'll pay his way for years once he finds them.

Hob kisses the ruby's cool surface, then tucks it away in his tunic again, chain wrapped around his fingers for safekeeping. He quickly falls asleep.

-

The moon is still high when Hob wakes, startling back to awareness against the trunk of the tree. He scrubs a hand over his eyes, looking around, disoriented. Strange, it's like it's been only moments since he fell asleep--

His horse is gone. So's his pack. And for that matter, the clearing is smaller, closer, darker than he remembers--

Heart pounding, he scrambles in his tunic to find--

"I imagine you are looking for this," says a low voice, and from the darkness emerges the wine-red glint of the ruby. Following it is the dark shape of the lord Hob had robbed in the tavern, only he's-- he's--

He's horrible. His eyes glow white in the dark, his hair waves in a strange wind, and everything about him is sharp and wrong, like an uneasy nightmare Hob might have in the wee hours, consequences coming back for him.

"Look," he says, holding up his hands in self-defense. Shit, his sword's gone from his belt, too. "S'really your fault for swanning about with that thing, innit? 's bandit country, m'lord."

"Is it?" He... doesn't seem angry. He's smiling. Oh, it's a terrible smile, but nevertheless. "How foolish of me, then. To expect to maintain ownership of my belongings."

"Like I said, thieves about," Hob says. "Got to be careful, now." Really, what did he expect Hob to do? Let someone else get the score?

The strange lord sits down on the grass across from Hob, still with those glowing eyes and that terrible smile playing about his lips. "And what, Robert Gadling, ought I to do, having caught one of these thieves?"

And the thing is. Authority doesn't work very well on Hob. One of his 'flaws' most like to get him killed, 'cuz Authority didn't tend to care whether it worked on you or not. Hob's been hauled before the magistrate for theft before and no matter that he knew he'd be lucky to get away with his life he could never quite bite his tongue. Always a smart mouth, his mum used to say.

It's no different with this lord. Hob's hardly about to bow his head and apologize. He remembers the smirk on the other man's face at his challenge in the tavern. Pretty little thing to be talking big words about punishing thieves.

"Dunno," he says, tracking his gaze over the soft lines of the man's dark robe, his fine neck and narrow shoulders. The longer Hob looks, the less frightening he seems, though there is still something of the otherworld about him. God's teeth, if Hob's brought the ire of the fey about him... "What would you like to do?"

And the strange creature laughs. Just a chuckle, but nevertheless. "I could make you spend your next one hundred years paying a thief's price over and over again in the Dreaming, as penance for taking my ruby," he says. "Should I do that, Hob? Cut off your hands, and again and again as you regrow them?"

"If you did you wouldn't get to see what they can do for you," Hob says. Hell, Hob'll do it even without threat of punishment. He's a pretty little lord, for certain, even if he is fey.

The lord chuckles again, and closes his fist around the ruby, stealing its light. Without the reflection, his eyes seem even wilder. "Hm. Perhaps not this time. I am too curious to waste your next century in sleeping punishment." He takes Hob's face in one hand, holding his chin in sharp fingers. "Be wary what your hands touch in the Waking World, Hob Gadling. Not all creatures will find your insolence humorous enough to wish to be merciful."

He lets go, and Hob falls backward through the tree at his back, falls into darkness--

And wakes in sunlight, his pack beside him, his sword at his side, his horse grazing a few feet away.

Heart pounding, he shoves his hand into his tunic, though he already knows what he'll find.

Or what he won't find. The ruby, gone into the darkness, into dreams, with his strange, fey lord.

Hob shivers.

Well. He'll certainly have to meet him again in 1489, now. Not to retake the ruby--that hardly matters in the end.

But answers to all the mysteries it's brought: those Hob would gladly steal.

[redocity]

hello, i was wondering if you could do a smut about buck?

Maybe have it where reader has been feeling really insecure lately and buck is like “i’ll fuck you until i hear that you believe it yourself” like he wants her to know that he thinks she beautiful and he wants her to see it

if you can’t that’s totally fine ❤️

PUZZLE PIECES — E.BUCKLEY

you are buck’s person, and he’ll be damned if you doubt that for even a second.

evan buckley x fem!reader | 2.9k | smut | masterlist.

WARNINGS | 18+ MDNI, reader is insecure about herself and her relationship with buck, oral sex (f!receiving), unprotected piv, a lot of whining and general begging, creampie, couch sex

a/n — “i’ll put this in my drafts and upload it after work” she said, *proceeds to forget it exists for four days*

sorry about the wait 😭

The thought had crept in slowly, quiet at first, but lately, it seemed to be everywhere. You would be sitting on the couch, watching Buck’s profile as he talked about his day with that familiar smile and bright eyes, and it would be there, the nagging voice that whispered, He deserves better.

At first, you brushed it off, but each time he did something thoughtful or made you laugh, the voice grew a little louder.

Buck was… everything.

He was kind and funny, dependable and brave, always there for anyone who needed him. And in your quieter moments, you’d find yourself questioning whether you could really be what he needed.

What did you have to offer someone like him?

He seemed to pick up on your change in mood quickly. A few times, you’d caught him watching you, brow furrowed, as though he could see right through you. You’d just smile, trying to reassure him that everything was fine, but he knew better.

Buck was perceptive in a way that sometimes made you feel as though he could see things about you that even you didn’t know.

One evening, as you were lost in thought, he suddenly plopped down beside you on the couch, sliding in close. “Alright, talk to me,” he said, his voice gentle but firm.

You blinked, startled. “About what?”

His hand found yours, fingers warm and steady as he held onto you. “About what’s got you looking like that,” he replied, his thumb tracing soothing circles over your skin. “You’ve been so quiet lately. And it’s not like you. Something’s wrong.”

You swallowed, your gaze falling to your lap as you tried to find the words. “It’s… nothing, really.”

“Nothing?” he asked softly, still watching you, but you could hear the worry in his voice. “Babe, come on. We both know that’s not true.”

The truth tumbled out in bits and pieces, a little awkward and halting. You told him about the doubts that had been haunting you, how you’d started feeling like maybe he’d be better off with someone else. Someone who could give him more, be more. You didn’t even dare look at him while you spoke, afraid of what you might see on his face.

There was a long silence after you finished, and your heart pounded with nerves. You expected him to try to reassure you, to brush it off or tell you not to worry. But when he finally spoke, his voice was calm, filled with an unshakeable certainty.

“I mean this with all the love in the world,” he started, and when you glanced up, he was gazing at you with a look so fierce it almost took your breath away. “Do you have any idea how ridiculous that sounds?”

The incredulity in his voice caught you off guard. “Buck…”

“Hey.” He cupped your face, tilting it up so you couldn’t look anywhere but into those intense, unwavering blue eyes. “There’s no one on this earth who’s better for me than you. No one.” His thumb brushed over your cheek, slow and deliberate. “I’m not letting you go that easily.”

You felt your throat tighten, and he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Don’t you know by now? I was made for you.” His voice trailed off with a kiss against your lips, soft and gentle, as though he were trying to convey what words couldn’t. “Every part of me belongs to you.”

And he wasn’t done, it seemed. He took your hands, held them to his chest as he pressed little kisses on each of your fingers, down to your palms, his lips gentle and warm against your skin. “Do you feel that?” he murmured, his hand covering yours over his heartbeat, steady and strong beneath your fingers. “That’s yours. Always has been.”

His touch drifted from your hands up to your face as he kissed you again, brushing his lips across your forehead, your cheeks, even the bridge of your nose. Each kiss felt like a promise, a wordless way of saying everything you hadn’t been able to believe.

You tried to speak, but he stopped you with a gentle shush, moving his kisses down the column of your neck to your shoulder, as if every inch of you was something sacred that he wanted to worship.

“I’m not stopping until you believe me,” he murmured against your skin, his hands steady and sure as he wrapped them around you. “I don’t want anyone else. Just you. Always.”

“I’m a mess,” you murmured as his lips worked to create a path of fire down your collarbone and along the swell of your breast, teasing the hemline of your v-neck with his lips. “I’m—”

“Perfect,” he said, his voice hoarse with desire as his mouth found the valley between your breasts and the sensitive skin of your chest. “You’re perfect for me.”

You shivered under his touch and a gasp broke free from your lips as he moved back up to your mouth, capturing it in another kiss.

He pulled away for a moment to look you in the eye, his breathing as ragged as yours, his gaze full of pure, honest desire. “You’re it for me,” he said, his voice a low, husky rumble. “There’s no one else I want. Just you. Only you.”

You opened your mouth to protest again, but he pressed his thumb to your lips, cutting off your words. “Don’t fight me on this,” he murmured. “Let me show you how perfect you are for me.”

With that, he crashed his lips to yours again, his tongue delving into your mouth as he encouraged you back against the couch. His hands were everywhere, his touch gentle yet urgent as he pushed your shirt up, his palms hot against your bare skin.

You arched into him, your body desperate for his touch, your hands seeking purchase on his arms.

He broke the kiss just long enough to pull the shirt over your head, his hands immediately returning to explore your newly exposed skin. “Beautiful,” he murmured, his lips trailing kisses down the valley between your breasts and along your stomach. “Absolutely beautiful.”

You shivered under his touch, your breath catching in your throat, every nerve in your body on fire. “Buck…” you gasped, the word more of a plea than anything else. “Please… I need…”

Buck’s eyes darkened slight with desire, his fingers hooking into the waist of your sweatpants and pulling them and your underwear down in one swift motion, baring you to him completely. “I know what you need,” he murmured, his mouth trailing kisses down your hip and inner thigh. “I’m going to give you everything you need, baby. Just trust me.”

He moved between your legs, his hands gripping your thighs and spreading them wider for him. A thrill of anticipation shot through you as his breath ghosted over your core, his lips following the path his breath had taken. “Beautiful,” he repeated, his voice a low, reverential murmur against your skin. "Absolutely perfect for me,”

He ran his tongue tentatively along the length of your slit, drawing a shudder from you, his hands gripping your thighs tight as he teased you, taking his time to lavish attention on every inch of you. You arched against him, your hips rolling, seeking more of his touch. “Please,” you gasped, your hands tangling in his hair, trying to pull him closer. "Please, Buck…”

Buck’s grip on your thighs tightened at your words, a low grumble rumbling in his throat. “Not yet, baby,” he said, his breath hot against your core. “I’m not done showing you how perfect you are.” He gave your hip a gentle squeeze. "Relax. Let me show you.”

With that, he licked a long, slow stripe up through your folds, his tongue flicking against your clit briefly before moving back down, drawing another shudder from you. He repeated the motion, over and over, his tongue working with purpose to show you how deeply he was lost in you, in the feel of you, the taste of you.

Every touch of his tongue was a jolt of pleasure, your nails digging into his scalp as you arched against him, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. “Buck—” you gasped, your thighs quivering under his grip. “Please, I can’t—”

Buck pulled away, his chin glistening with your arousal as he looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire. “You can,” he said, his voice a low, raspy rumble. “You will. Just a little longer, baby.” He teased a finger into your entrance, and your breath caught in your throat again. “I just need to make sure you’re ready for me.”

He moved back up your body, his lips finding yours again in a bruising kiss, his body pressing you down into the couch. You could feel the hard length of him, still trapped in his jeans, and you rocked against him, desperate for more. “Buck, please,” you gasped. “I need you, please…”

“Soon, baby,” he murmured against your lips, his hips rocking against yours, just enough to make you gasp again. “Soon. I promise.”

He reached between your bodies, undoing the button on his jeans and pushing them down his hips just enough to free himself, the hot length of him resting against your thigh as he kissed you again. “You’re so perfect,” he whispered, his voice a low, reverential murmur. “So perfect for me.”

His hands gripped your hips, angling them up to meet him, and he began to press into you, slowly, inch by inch.

Your eyes fluttered shut at the sensations, the stretch of him filling you, the heat of him surrounding you, the pleasure of the friction as he moved inside of you.

“Perfect,” he murmured again, his lips against your ear. “So goddamn perfect, god I was made to be with you like this,”

He began to move after a few stationary moments, his hips rocking against yours in a steady, measured rhythm, your bodies moving together in a desperate dance, the pleasure building with every movement. “You feel that, baby?” he gasped, his voice rough with desire. “You feel how well you moulded to fit me?”

You nodded mutely, your voice lost in a gasp as the pleasure built within you, coiling tighter and tighter with every stroke, every touch of his hands, every movement of his body.

“That’s how I know you were made for me,” he continued, his voice ragged with desire. “Your body fits with mine, like two pieces of a puzzle. You’re mine, baby, don’t ever forget that. You were made for me, and I’m never letting you go.”

His pace picked up, his movements becoming more urgent, more desperate, his breathing ragged with desire. “Don’t ever think you’re not perfect,” he whispered, his lips against your ear. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted in a partner, baby. And I’ll keep going until you say you believe me—”

His body was pressed against yours, his arms wrapped around you, holding you close, as if he couldn't bear to be apart from you for even a moment. You could feel every muscle of his body taut with tension, every line of him pressed against you.

“Don’t ever doubt how much I want you,” he panted, his voice strained with pleasure. “I’ll show you over and over again until you believe me, oh god, baby, I’m never going to stop needing you like this. Never.”

His thrusts were increasingly ragged, his rhythm faltering as his climax tried to sneak up on him, only for him to force it down so he could focus on you.

“Say you believe me, baby,” he gasped, his voice a pleading murmur against your skin. “Say you’ll never doubt what you mean to me, because you’re everything I’ve ever wanted— everything— and I can’t live without you, baby, I can’t—”

“I believe you,” you gasped, your own climax building within you, teetering on the edge of release. “I believe you, I do, Buck, I believe you—”

“Say you won’t ever doubt yourself again,” he pleaded, his voice hoarse with desire. “Say you’ll believe me when I tell you how perfect you are, because you are perfect, baby, and I will fuck you like this every day if that’s what it takes to make you believe it—”

“I won’t,” you gasped, your words punctuated by a gasp as your eyes squeezed shut from the stimulation. “I won’t doubt myself, I promise, but please, Buck, I need–”

“I know what you need, baby,” he murmured, his voice low and possessive. “And I’m going to give it to you. Over and over and over again, until you’re so full of me, and so sated that you’ll never doubt us again.”

His thrusts became more urgent, more desperate, his body shaking with the effort of holding back his own climax, as he sought to bring you to the edge, to push you over and bring you to the release you needed.

“Come for me, baby,” he pleaded, his voice ragged with desire. "I need to feel you come apart beneath me, I need it, baby, come on—”

You cried out at his words, your body shuddering with pleasure at the combination of his touch and his words, the pleasure within you cresting and crashing over you in a wave of ecstasy. Your body arched against him, your hands clinging to him as if your life depended on it, your breaths coming out in gasps.

Buck groaned as he felt you come apart beneath him, the feeling of you clenching around him drawing a guttural moan from him. “Oh god, baby,” he gasped, his voice hoarse with pleasure. “That’s it, oh god, baby, I’m right there, I’m right there—”

His pace quickly picked up, his thrusts ragged and desperate, his body tense with the need to join you. “I’m gonna fill you up, baby,” he gasped, his voice thick with need. “Gonna make you mine, gonna make sure you know you’re mine forever—”

His thrusts became erratic, his breath coming out in gasps as he rode the edge of his orgasm. “I’m gonna come, baby, I’m gonna come inside you, okay?”

“Yes,” you gasped, you hands desperately clinging to him, “yes, please, I need it, I need you—”

With a final, ragged gasp, he came hard, his body shuddering as his orgasm coursed through his torso and down his legs, spilling his release into you, white and hot and possessive in a way his words would never be.

He collapsed against you, his body trembling, his breathing ragged. “God, baby,” he panted, his voice thick with emotion. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

“I think I have a pretty good idea, actually,” you murmured, your own breathing still slightly ragged. You reached up to run a hand through his sweaty hair, your body still trembling with the aftershocks of your climax. “You’re damn convincing, Buckley.”

He chuckled at your comment, his arms wrapped around you, holding you tight against him. "I meant every word, baby," he murmured, his lips drifting up the column of your neck to your ear. "You're perfect for me, and I'll keep proving it to you until you believe it yourself.”

You hummed contentedly at his words, your body relaxing against him, boneless and sated. You could feel the warm, sticky aftermath of his release between your legs, and you tightened your thighs together involuntarily at the sensation. “I think I believe you,” you murmured, your fingers tracing small circles along his back.

He chuckled again at your words, his hands roaming your body, tracing a lazy path along your curves. "You're damn right you believe me," he said, his voice still rough with emotion. "And if you ever forget it, I'll just have to remind you again. Over and over and over...”

He rolled the two of you over, pulling you close against his chest and wrapping you in his embrace. "But for now," he said, his voice softer now, "I just want to hold you. Just feel you in my arms, baby.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his hand rubbing a slow, soothing circle on your back. "I love you, you know that?" he murmured, his voice gentle and full of tenderness. "I love you more than anything in this world, and I'm never letting you go.”

You smiled at his words, snuggling closer against his chest, your fingers tracing idle patterns along his skin. "I love you too, Buck," you whispered, your voice soft and full of emotion. "More than anything.”

[fratttymatty]

Southern Shift

(All characters are 18+)

Maddox had never been much of a believer in magic. Sure, he’d seen the viral videos, heard the wild stories, but he figured they were all some sort of elaborate hoaxes or clever editing tricks. His life had always been a straightforward one: an 18-year-old guy from a fairly progressive city on the coast. He was used to being who he was—a proud gay man, confident and comfortable in his own skin. He didn’t fit in with every crowd, but that was fine by him. He had his friends, his passions, and a future in design and art lined up after graduation.

But when a strange e-mail showed up one Wednesday evening, everything Maddox knew about his life was thrown into chaos.

It came from a source called TrueVision Enterprises, a company he’d never heard of, with a subject line that read: "Your Destiny Awaits — Experience a New Life." Curiosity got the best of him. What could possibly go wrong?

It was a poorly-written message, vague but cryptic. “Ever wonder what it’s like to be someone else? To experience a life you’ve only imagined? Click here to find out.”

A grin spread across his face. Who wouldn’t be intrigued? Maybe it was a prank. Maybe it was a scam. But it was better than staring at the same four walls all night. So, against better judgment, he clicked the link.

The screen went black for a moment, then flashed with a blinding light.

When Maddox opened his eyes, everything had changed.

It wasn’t just the environment—though the suburban neighborhood around him looked radically different from his usual cityscape. No, it was something far deeper, more visceral. He felt it in his bones, in his muscles, in the very way he was standing.

Looking down, he saw the first signs. His body had undergone a remarkable transformation. Gone was his lean but soft physique, the figure of a 5'11" city guy with a slight build. In its place was something else entirely: a lean, toned build with defined muscles in his arms, chest, and legs. His body felt stronger, like he could throw a punch without thinking about it, or lift heavy things without breaking a sweat. But what really caught his attention was his height.

He blinked, staring down at himself. He was taller. Not just a little taller, but by a significant amount. Maddox used to be 5'11", but now, standing at 6'3", he had a commanding presence. His legs stretched out longer than he remembered, and the new height gave him an imposing posture. He’d never been the tallest in his group, and now he towered over everyone, even the people around him who seemed much bigger and broader than he remembered.

His new height felt natural, like it had always been this way. But it also made him feel powerful, larger-than-life in a way that was completely unfamiliar.

He glanced at the house around him. It was large, a two-story place with wide windows, a white picket fence, and an immaculately-kept lawn. The interior was similarly pristine, and the smell of fresh wood and leather filled the air. This wasn't his apartment. This wasn’t anywhere he recognized. But something about the space felt... familiar, as though it was his home now.

He staggered, momentarily disoriented, and made his way to a nearby mirror.

What he saw almost made him fall over.

A stranger stared back at him. His face was familiar, but only in the way you recognize a reflection in a window before you really focus on it. His hair—blonde, curly, and wild—was cut into a mullet that reached just past the top of his neck, the ends flaring out like a halo of unruly curls. He didn’t remember ever styling his hair that way, yet the new version of himself seemed to suit it effortlessly. The loose curls framed his jawline, drawing attention to the newly defined muscles there.

His eyes, once a sharp hazel, had turned a lighter shade of blue. His expression was different too—stoic, even smug, like someone who knew exactly who he was and had no time for nonsense.

Then he looked down at himself, taking in his outfit. A plaid, button-up shirt—tight across his chest but still comfortable—clung to his muscular frame. He wore a worn leather belt with a large, shining buckle, a pair of jeans that fit just right and boots that seemed made for walking through dirt. And of course, a tan, weathered cowboy hat sat perched on top of his head.

Everything about his appearance screamed “redneck,” yet it was as if he'd always been this way. As if this transformation was simply an outward reflection of who he was now.

He stared at his reflection, utterly speechless, before hearing a voice from behind him.

"Adam, honey, come on down here! Dinner’s ready!"

He froze. Adam? That wasn’t his name. His name was Maddox.

But when he tried to say it—when he opened his mouth to speak—it wasn’t "Maddox" that came out.

"Yessir, mom," the new voice said, gruff and confident, with a drawl he didn't recognize. It was his voice, but it felt... wrong.

Before he could think further, his feet carried him toward the stairs. Every movement felt more natural, more instinctual. He didn’t have to think about walking anymore; his body just moved.

The moment he stepped into the kitchen, he was greeted by two older figures: a tall man with a thick beard and a sun-worn face, and a woman with perfectly-coiffed blonde hair and a warm, motherly smile.

"Adam, you hungry, baby?" The woman—his new "mother"—asked in a thick Southern accent, as she placed a plate of fried chicken and mashed potatoes on the table.

"Yeah, looks good, mom." His voice was smooth, authoritative, and familiar. It was like he had always talked this way.

The man, his new father, patted him on the back. "Atta boy. Gotta keep up your strength if you’re gonna help me with the truck this weekend."

Adam nodded, suddenly feeling an unfamiliar rush of excitement at the thought of working on a truck. "Sounds good, pops."

His father gave him a knowing look. "Glad to hear it. Gotta be ready to defend this house. Keep it in shape." There was a pause, and then a sly smirk crossed his face. "Though, I gotta say, I’m more worried about that little gay friend of yours. What’s his name again? Cody, right?"

Adam’s heart skipped. Cody was his best friend. But the way his father said it—the sneer in his voice—felt wrong. His thoughts tried to resist, but the tug of new instincts, of new feelings, pushed him to respond in a way he would have never before.

"Yeah, Cody’s a nice guy," Adam said, his voice dripping with casual disdain, "but man, he’s just… different, y’know? He’s always talking about stuff I don’t care about, like his art or whatever. He’s not really my kind of guy. Dude’s all wrapped up in his feelings and thinks he’s some kind of big thinker. He’s just not built for the real world."

Adam laughed and shrugged, the words flowing out like they were second nature. It felt good, somehow, to say it out loud. The Maddox part of him—the part that would’ve fiercely defended Cody, that would’ve fought anyone who insulted him—seemed like a distant memory.

His father chuckled, clearly approving. "Well, I’m glad to hear you’re making better choices, son. You don't need someone like that holding you back."

"Exactly," Adam said with a grin. "I’ve got enough on my plate, worrying about football, work, and, you know, my future. Guys like Cody? They just complicate things."

The following day, Adam found himself at a school that seemed to be from another world. The high school was old, with large wooden bleachers in the gym and the faint smell of tobacco in the air. Kids in cowboy boots and trucker hats roamed the halls, and there was an air of casual arrogance in the way they all carried themselves.

When he walked into the classroom, heads turned. He wasn’t used to this kind of attention, but now, standing at his new, imposing height of 6'3", Adam felt like he belonged. He loomed over the students around him, towering above them with a sense of superiority that felt right, even though it was still so new. His height made him feel like the guy everyone respected—or, if they didn’t, they at least stayed out of his way.

"Hey, Adam," a guy called from the back of the room. He had a thick jaw and a cocky grin. "How’s it going, man?"

"Good, bro," Adam replied, easily slipping into the role of the guy everyone wanted to hang out with. The guy who didn’t care about anything except his truck, his friends, and his future. A life of simple pleasures, uncomplicated by anything like "progressive politics" or "diversity."

But the most striking change came when he spotted her in the hallway. Emily.

She was the cheerleading captain. Blonde, athletic, and with a smile that lit up the entire school. Adam hadn’t expected to feel such a strong pull toward her, but as he watched her walking toward him, he felt his chest puff out with pride, the feeling of possession he didn’t quite understand.

"Hey, Adam," Emily called, giving him a wink. She wore her cheer uniform—tight, short, and red—and looked every bit the picture of what his new life was supposed to be. "You ready for the game on Friday? I’ve got your back, big guy."

"Always," Adam said, his voice dropping an octave. He felt confident, even cocky, as he walked toward her, putting an arm around her waist as they headed to class together. She was his girlfriend, after all, and that was just the way things were now. The idea of a different reality, a different version of himself, felt so distant.

By the time school ended, Adam was fully in his new life. Football practice had been intense, but Adam had breezed through it. As a starting wide receiver, he was the star of the team. He felt invincible on the field, his new body moving with strength and agility. The other players had all been high-fiving him, slapping his back, calling him "the beast."

And as for Emily? She was always by his side, chatting him up with that sweet, familiar smile. They talked about the weekend plans—probably a party at Brad's, a bonfire down by the lake—and Adam felt perfectly at home.

When the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, Adam had only one thought: This is my life now. He was Adam, the 6'3", football-playing redneck with a cheerleader girlfriend and a world of opportunities at his feet.

The old Maddox, the artist from the city, was gone.

And Adam? Adam was everything he’d ever needed to be.

[blu3n]

BAD JOKE

Summary: For some reason you chose this bet with Dick but everything went wrong, it wasn't supposed to happen...

Word Count: 3.640

Tags/Notes + Pairing: Jason x reader, Dick grayson + angst, + fluff?

A/N: oh My god, this is a new lake, I'm changing my themes and I hope you like the new style, please comment if you liked it, I'll bring more like these. There may be spelling mistakes, English is not my native language

NOTICE: This story is completely mine. If there are some nonsense words. "catalina" or something like that. It's originally mine! I make stories using my OC and after that I remove them replacing them with (you), yes I write on Wattpad too. Please. Don't suffocate the artist.

( ଳ )

You don't even know what was going on when you accepted that stupid bet with Dick, maybe it was the strong drink or you just wanted to join the Wayne family in a bizarre way (?).

"Okay, if he doesn't punch me I'll see you, Dick, I don't know what was going on when I accepted that" your voice was a low whisper, trying to keep your boyfriend from hearing.

Dick wanted you to go out on a recording to see if you kept your promise, but we know he just wanted to see Jason's look of despair anyway.

( ଳ )

After waiting for what seemed like hours, Jason finally showed up, he was wearing a sweatshirt on the bottom and a red coat. baby" his voice was neutral, however, you knew he wanted to hide that he was happy to see you. You needed to be strong so you held back the urge to run and kiss him madly.

When you didn't come and give him your welcome kiss, Jason raised his eyebrow and cleared his throat before throwing himself at your side, stealing a kiss from your lips before looking at you affectionately.

"I came to see you, you have the same face when the Waynes see me" he lets out the sarcastic comment before smiling sideways.

Jason goes back to kissing your neck.Giving them affectionate kisses. Begging deep down that he hadn't done something bad that made you upset.

"I need to... tell you something" your tense voice is like you pushed him away from two caresses, it makes your stomach turn internally. However, he tries not to bring it up, maybe you were just having a bad day or something like that...

"Speak, Kitten..." acting carefree he opens your legs, trying to look relaxed or like you didn't care how serious you seemed, but inside your chest was a whirlwind of emotions. He was anxious for you not to say what he thought you would say.

"Listen... I..." inhaling the air from your lungs tensely to make everything worse. You were gathering courage, you didn't know how he would react, it crossed your mind if it was worth continuing with that boring joke. However, with the mischievous(and terrible) training that you have! You continued.

"I'm sorry, I don't regret it for a single moment in my life, I swear, I love you, but I... I can't continue with you."

Suddenly Jason's throat closed and it was hard to breathe. He stood forward, putting both hands on his chin, he didn't say anything, not a single word, he just stared at you. When he tried to speak, his voice betrayed him, coming out broken and distressed.

"Right now....- right now that I've started to love you?" That made you widen your eyes and immediately feel like a monster.

"I..." You couldn't say anything else "I'm sorry" You try to recover the damage, not wanting to continue anymore, everything stopped in a single second Jason was already barely holding back his tears of anger and hatred.

Jason's body shakes as he tries to form words, but only ragged breaths and broken syllables escape his lips. He can't speak, can't do anything but hold on to her for dear life.

"I...I-" he gasps out in a strangled voice, then lets out another ragged sob. It's the first time he's ever shown this kind of vulnerability, the raw pain and desperation laid bare for her to see. He clings to you tighter, like a drowning man desperate for a lifeline.

You also stand up, panicking "Jason, I'm sorry!" As you tried to explain that it was a lie, you saw him cry. You saw him grit his teeth and point at you.

Desperate you pulls her face away from his neck, wanting to look at him, "My gosh, forgive me," she says, widening you eyes and wiping his eyes with you trembling hands before falling to crying next to him. He was a broken man, a terrible broken man, he needed someone... maybe her.

"IT'S A JOKE!" You say immediately, before seeing the previously angry expression now confused. you grab the phone camera showing it to him before it turns off completely losing the video.

Jason's tears continue to flow, the weight of his pain and trauma almost too much for him to bear. The sight of you crying alongside him makes his heart ache even more, but he also finds a strange sort of comfort in it, like he's not alone in his suffering.

He reaches out desperately, his hand searching for hers, and when he finds it, he grips it tightly, his fingers trembling as he tries to hold onto her.

His hands run over your face

Wiping the tears from your eyes before pulling you to him and crying on his shoulder you've never seen him act like this. as she drenched him in kisses as you listened to his dry sobs in his throat, whispering apologies in his ear.

Jason doesn't let her get far, his arms still holding her tightly against him. He feels a pang of disappointment when she pulls away, but the feeling of her lips on his ear sends a shiver down his spine.

He tightens his grip on you, burying his face in the crook of her neck. "Don't apologize," he mutters against her skin, his voice a rough, hoarse whisper. He presses a kiss to the spot where her shoulder meets her neck, as if he can't get enough of her. Jason's ragged breaths slowly start to even out as you pulls his forehead against hers, the simple gesture of their skin touching like a lifeline anchoring him to reality. You apology rings in his ears, a mix of guilt and understanding.

He keeps his eyes closed, his body still trembling with the aftermath of his breakdown. "I...," he starts to say, his voice hoarse. "I don't want to lose you..."

you covered him in kisses, so many kisses while you swore you would never play like that again.

(ଳ).

[funhouse-mirror-barbie]

Okay. I gotta talk about it.

Warning for major spoilers for season 2 of Hazbin Hotel and discussion of leaks—I will NOT be posting any links to the leaks or posting pics/screenshots from them here. Just going to be talking about a particular character.

Okay, last chance if you don’t want to know anything about the spoilers/leaks!!!

Im serious!!! Last warning!!!!!

Lute is now unironically the most compelling character in the entire fucking show and I am not kidding.

Whoever wrote the little bit of her character that’s been leaked did a really good job. She is incredibly interesting to me now because we get to see her when her entire way of life and ideology is challenged.

Lute is a very flawed and cruel person, but she has always been extremely sure of herself and that she is unambiguously CORRECT in her way of life. And now she’s being faced with the fact that she and everything she lived for is WRONG and they just CANT accept it. So much so that it appears that she’s now hallucinating Adam to cope.

Lute cannot accept redemption is possible and her viewpoint is SO black and white that it’s likely going to end up killing her or at the very least will drive her to madness. She would rather burn the whole world than accept change. There’s a tragic element as well that comes with every character that lives in the extremes—she fully believes she’s in the right. So much so that she can’t understand why EVERYONE else in Heaven seems to be horrified by the exterminations. She thinks she is doing the best thing for everyone, and is now resisting the reality that is front of her.

What would be really amazing, and what I’m hoping for is that Adam really did fall and became a “Demon” in Hell. Because then she would have to deal with the person she looks up to and admires the MOST becoming what she’s sworn to annihilate. I don’t know if she could handle that.

The question of whether or not she could reconcile Adam, someone she saw as being heavenly and perfect, could fall and become what she hates the most, a demon, is really interesting. She’d be forced again to question her ideals and beliefs about what is right and wrong. That is the sort of deep character exploration I had been hoping to see from season 1 of Hazbin and didn’t really get.

This small glimpse into her character reminds me of other characters that are so lawful or black and white that they can’t accept change or realities that conflict with their worldviews. Rorschach from Watchmen and Javert from Les Miserables come to mind.

It would be really cool to show her in direct contrast to V (not calling her that sexist ass name at least I can pretend “Lute” is named after the fucking instrument) and have Lute be the foil to V’s continuing character arc from season 1.

Please please please don’t let this characters complexity be reduced to “evil bad villain is bad and evil” for the rest of the story please please please. (Gotta say tho, given Hazbin and Helluva’a track record with writing women villains….and tbh just. Women in general. I am going to be VERY VERY cautiously optimistic)

(Also I don’t care if her song is cringe I think it fucking SLAPS)

[ak319]

(AN: Reader is 13-15, Arthur, 23-24)

Warnings: Not incest, strictly platonic, angst, fluff

You watched Arthur’s every move as he settled in, his face weary yet hardened, scrubbing off remnants of dirt and whatever else he’d encountered in the washing barrel. You lowered the clothes you were folding, feeling the slight twinge of nerves as you reached for his stew.

He liked it hot, which meant you had to reheat the pot. You realized you hadn’t eaten all day, but you brushed the thought aside. Taking the bowl in hand, you crossed over to him as he finally sat down, visibly exhausted.

“Here, Arthur." You said softly, extending the bowl to him.

He grunted in response, the closest thing to a “thank you” he would offer, and took it from you, his gaze giving you a quick once-over before returning to his meal. Routine checkup as you called it.

Trying to bridge the silence, you ventured, “So...how was it?”

Arthur barely looked up. “Was what?”

“The job…” You tried not to sound too eager, but the truth was, you were starved for any scrap of conversation, any glimpse into the part of his life that stayed cloaked in secrecy.

“Went well.” He replied curtly, still focused on his food.

A brief silence followed as you fiddled with a strand of hair, tucking it behind your ear. You felt a familiar ache bloom at the base of your skull and then another one at the abdomen, a dreadful sensation. Just then, it hit you, your period was due.

You froze, holding the empty tray as the realization dawned. Arthur looked up, stew mid-bite, and raised a brow at your sudden stillness, your gaze into space.

“What’s got you standin’ there like a ghost?” he muttered.

“Huh? Oh… nothing,” you managed to reply, trying to appear casual, hoping he wouldn’t notice the faint flush that had spread across your face.

“Need... anything?”

"Um..." You started pondering which perhaps went on for a minute.

Arthur’s gruff voice interrupted your thoughts. He reached into his pocket and, with a casual flick, tossed a few crumpled bills onto the tray. “Your pocket money. Now, go brew the coffee.”

The whole thing felt like a bad joke. Arthur tossed you a few bucks every so often, calling it "pocket money," like you could waltz into town and buy whatever you wanted. But he was always right there with you whenever you went to the market, keeping a close eye on everything. Or you had to give him the list.

“Uh? Um... th-thanks.”

Arthur's brow furrowed, his gaze sharpening. "What’s wrong with you today? Why are you actin’ weird?”

You forced a chuckle, shaking your head. “I’m fine, actually. You’re the one who is wei-, um looks tired. I’ll get on with the coffee.”

Before he could question you further, you hurried off, trying to shake the unease settling in your stomach. As you set the coffee pot on, you remembered the stew you’d set aside for yourself and turned toward the wagon, only to see Pearson ladling out the last bowl for himself.

A pang of frustration mixed with the ache of hunger, you’d been so careful, setting everything up, and now even that small comfort had slipped through your fingers.

First, the looming sense of dread that seemed to haunt your every step, and now this, a missed meal because Pearson snatched up the last bowl of stew without a second thought. Emotions churned, thick and heavy, clouding your mind as you went about your tasks in a haze.

You delivered Arthur’s damn coffee, scrubbed his dishes clean, and finished up the rest of your chores, all while running on nothing more than stale biscuits and the last dregs of (tea/coffee). Asking others for food? You didn’t want to be seen as Arthur’s sister, the one mooching off his work, asking for scraps, felt cheap, when he practically carried the camp on his shoulders. The thought made your stomach churn with resentment and embarrassment. Yeah, not something a Morgan does. Although in your opinion, you shouldn't be doing anything if he earns the most...but whatever. Asking from your brother? If he found out you skipped lunch. He’d be livid, calling you reckless or worse for not managing the basics, you couldn't handle a scolding at the moment.

Frustration gnawed at you. It wasn't just the hunger, it was the constant grind of chores, endless and thankless, all because you were one of the few women in the camp. Susan wielded her age like a shield, always finding ways to rest while you and Annabelle picked up the slack. But even Annabelle was too busy, neck-deep in whatever business kept her hands clean of the daily tasks. And so, it fell to you.

You flopped onto your cot, hiding your face in the pillow as the pains of hunger and period mixed with a deeper ache, one of loneliness, exhaustion, and memories you could almost taste. You remembered your mother’s gentle hand on your forehead when you were ill, the comforting smell of warm food she’d bring, and the luxury of rest she allowed you. It felt like a distant, lost dream now. Here, rest wasn’t an option, it was a rare privilege you couldn’t afford. Great, now your pillow is also wet with tears.

⋆⋆⋆

You were knee-deep in a mountain of laundry, your temper simmering with each aggressive scrub against the washboard. The clothes bore the brunt of your pent-up frustration, wrung and scrubbed with a vengeance. Suddenly, something light and obnoxious hit the basket, a boy’s underwear. You knew immediately who the culprit was.

"How. Dare. You?" you snapped, eyes narrowing.

John, already a few steps away, stopped and turned, a lazy smirk creeping across his face. "What? You’re the one washing."

"Yes, I am the one washing, you jerk." You grabbed the offending article and chucked it back at him, hitting him square in the face. His eyes widened, and he gasped, genuinely taken aback.

"But I am not washing that!" you said, pointing at the ragged underwear as if it were a symbol of all your grievances. "Those are for you to wash, understand?"

John held the underwear in his hands, clearly bewildered. "What? Why? Is it not… a cloth? And why would I wash it? I’ve got way more important things to do." His voice grated against your headache, every word echoing like a drumbeat in your skull.

"Important huh? Okay. Then let's solve this problem another way."

You could feel your patience unraveling, and, without thinking, you yanked a pair of scissors from your belt and snipped through the fabric with one swift motion.

"Hey! That was one of my two pairs! What the hell is wrong with you?!" he yelped, clutching the scraps as if they were made of gold.

"Then maybe you should think twice before tossing them my way! Now go and cry." you shot back, but the anger and heat were taking their toll. Your vision blurred slightly, the world beginning to spin.

John’s voice rose in protest, but it sounded muffled, distant. You took a step back, steadying yourself on the edge of the wash basin, blinking rapidly to try and clear your head. "Damn heat… and damn you, John…" you muttered, but the words seemed to tangle and drift as darkness crept in at the corners of your vision.

Your eyes fluttered open, and the first sight that met you was Ms. Grimshaw, her familiar face creased with concern as she fanned you gently with a worn-out piece of fabric.

"Ah! You are awake, quite the theatrics you put on out there..." Her voice was both exasperated and relieved. You let out a soft groan in response, turning onto your side, trying to escape the brightness of the day that felt too harsh against your feverish skin. Your throat felt like sandpaper, and the heavy weight of your head pressed down against the pillow.

"T-time...?" you managed to croak, the words feeling foreign in your mouth.

"It's four," she replied, a hint of annoyance in her tone.

Your eyes shot open wide in panic. "T-the clothes? I-"

Susan rolled her eyes, cutting you off. "I washed them, don't worry. But tomorrow you gotta do them, got it? And what’s with you tearing that boy’s underwear?"

"Huh...? What?" Confusion clouded your thoughts as you reached for your canteen, the bitter taste in your mouth only worsening your discomfort.

"Forget it," she huffed, shaking her head. "Oh, I hear him. I think Arthur's back."

Panic surged through you as you struggled to focus, the realization hitting hard. Arthur. You had to see him, make his coffee, bring him his food, and make sure he knew you were at the camp and doing your part in the camp. But every instinct in you rebelled against the idea, your muscles weak and senses dulled as if they’d given up the fight.

Your vision blurred, and you sank deeper into the cot, eyelids heavy, your body refusing to cooperate. You barely registered Susan’s faint, dismissive muttering as she left the tent, her words blending into a haze of disapproval. For now, making sure Arthur was taken care of was the least of your worries.

Meanwhile, Susan spotted Arthur sitting by his cot, his irritation palpable. Freshly cleaned up from his last job, he seemed expectant, perhaps wondering where you were with his usual meal or coffee. Sensing an opportunity to stir up trouble, she approached him, her tone casual but dripping with judgment.

"Mr. Morgan," she began with a sly look, "your sister did nothing today. Not a damn thing. And right now? She’s sleeping in, like she's royalty or something."

Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “Why would she do that?”

“Who knows?” Susan shrugged with exaggerated indifference. “She had some spat with John, then just sulked off and refused to lift a finger.”

The moment the words left her lips, Arthur was on his feet, his expression hardening. Without a word to Susan, he strode to your tent and pushed open the flap, not bothering to knock. His gaze swept over you, expecting to find you feigning sleep, or maybe just ignoring the day’s tasks.

"What the hell is you-"

But the sight of you, lying pale and motionless beneath the blanket, immediately stopped him in his tracks. A faint flush tinged your face, and your breathing was shallow. His agitation shifted to alarm in an instant.

Arthur knelt beside you, his hand reaching to press gently against your forehead, feeling the unmistakable heat of fever radiating through his palm. “Damn it,” he muttered, guilt and worry flooding his face. He’d been ready to scold you for shirking camp duties, and instead, here you were, worn down to the bone.

Your eyes fluttered open, barely focusing as you tried to mumble something. “Arthur... I meant... to get your food… just…”

His jaw tightened, frustration directed inward. “You’ve been pushin’ yourself too hard,” he said, his voice low but edged with anger, at himself, at Susan, at anyone who’d failed to notice what you were going through. “You’re coming with me to the clinic, no arguments.”

You nodded weakly, relief and exhaustion settling over you. Without another word, he slipped his arms beneath you, lifting you up with a gentleness that made your heart ache.

As he carried you to the stables, he did not forget to throw a bloodthirsty look at Susan making her gulp. It clearly stated.

'You are dead if something happens to her.'

The air in the clinic was thick with the smell of antiseptic and the soft rustle of the doctor’s coat as he examined you. Arthur sat beside you, his brow furrowed with concern, his hand clenched into a fist resting on his thigh. You lay on the cot, shivering despite the blanket wrapped around you, your pallor alarming him even more than before. The doctor’s voice was a distant murmur, but the words echoed in your ears.

“She’s suffering from dehydration fever. It’s left her weak, but with proper treatment, she should recover. Make sure she stays hydrated, and she’ll need rest, here's the prescription and you can go home if you want once the drip is finished..” The doctor turned to you one last time with a gentle smile. "Rest well, alright? Lots of it."

As soon as the door clicked shut behind the doctor, Arthur turned to you, his expression shifting from worry to something sharper, more intense. “What the hell were you thinking?!” he snapped, his voice low but edged with anger. “You could have told me you weren’t feeling well. Instead, you’ve been pushing yourself like this?”

You flinched at his tone, the weight of his words mixing with the guilt that already gnawed at you. “I--but you said...that I gotta...work...” you started, but the words caught in your throat, and instead of explanations, tears began to prick at your eyes.

"FUCK WHAT I SAID!- "He rubbed his forehead in frustration. "I also said to take care of yourself, I am not always around! And just--look at you..."

“I--I didn’t mean to,” you stammered, your voice trembling. “I thought I could manage...”

“Thought!?” he echoed, incredulous. “You can’t just think you can handle it all when you’re this sick! You’ve been working yourself to the bone! Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you ask for help?” His voice rose with each word, frustration spilling over as he paced the floor, refusing to meet your gaze.

"And what did you just tell the doctor, huh? That this wasn't the first time it happened?! Are you kidding me?! Are you tryin' to waste yourself?!"

The harshness of his tone cut through you, and you couldn’t help the tears that began to spill down your cheeks. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, your throat tightening. As you looked into his furious eyes, the dam broke. The tears spilt over, hot and unrelenting as you remembered all the times, you put him and others first, in fear.

In fear of being left with strangers while Arthur is away and thinking that they might say or do something to you if you don't do the work properly.

"Damn it,” he murmured, his voice softening. “I didn’t mean to-”

“I was...scared and I-I--miss her,” you sobbed, clutching the blanket tightly around you as if it could shield you from the pain. “I miss Mama. She would know what to do. She would take care of me…please take me to Mama...” Your voice cracked, the memories of her soothing presence and the comfort she always provided weighing heavily on your heart.

Arthur’s anger faltered as he watched you break down. hearing you call for Mama again and again was agonizing. He felt his heart twist painfully at your words, the memories of your mother hanging heavy in the air. “I know,” he said quietly, his voice losing its edge. He reached out, gently wiping the tears from your cheeks, his own frustration melting away in the face of your grief. “I miss her too. But you can’t go on like this. You need to take care of yourself for her, for both of us. And why the hell are you scared, you are my sis' and as long as I am alive, no one can touch a strand of yours,” He pulled you in a side hug carefully.

"And listen here, from now on, you only do my chores. Fuck the camp." You pulled away slightly, in shock.

"W-what?"

He nodded with a playful smile. "Damn right. You get better and you do my work only. Susan can surely handle the others, right?"

You blinked up at him, your surprise turning into disbelief. “Arthur, you can’t just tell me to ignore everything else... I can’t put that on Susan. She-”

He interrupted you with a firm squeeze of your hand, his eyes softening. “I can and I will. You need to rest, and if that means I have to play the tyrant for a bit, so be it. Besides, Susan can manage. She’s been slacking off more than you realize. And if someone has a problem with it then they can come to me. Anytime.”

A small laugh, almost devilish, bubbled up despite your exhaustion, the tension easing slightly. You snuggled back into the hug to calm your shivering.

“That's...that would be fun to watch."

He nodded and you decided to press your advantage. “Um…so tell her to do your chores too-”

"Don't get too ahead of yourself now."

I hate you.

“Get well soon, and you better take your meds and all when I ain’t around.” Arthur’s voice held a rough tenderness, though he masked it with a gruff tone. Beneath his impatience, you sensed a genuine worry, a hint of eagerness for you to recover, not that he’d admit it, of course. His true motive, or so he told himself, was purely practical.

Pearson’s stew lacked the warmth and care you added to every meal, and coffee was never quite right unless you made it.

He groaned inwardly, imagining another week of choking down meals without your touch. But the look he shot you as he spoke was more protective than he probably intended, softening just enough that you knew he was looking out for you.

“Did ye’ even hear me, missy?” he muttered, noticing your eyelids drooping, his words somewhere between annoyed and fond.

You jumped, startled out of the drowsiness that was starting to creep over you, and gave a hum of acknowledgement.

⋆⋆⋆

John rushed up to Arthur as he emerged from your tent, having just ensured you were well-fed and rested.

"What is it, you rascal?" Arthur asked, turning to face him with a mix of curiosity and annoyance.

“Um... I was looking forward to a compensation…” John trailed off, shuffling his feet awkwardly.

“For?” Arthur raised an eyebrow amused, the impatience creeping into his tone.

“(Y/N), tore... she... tore my underwear, which is not fair...I only asked her to wash it...I mean....”

A smirk crept across Arthur's face. “She did the right thing, I am proud of her.” He grabbed John by the back of his neck, pulling him close with a playful yet threatening grin.

"My sis ain't your maid, boy, got it? In fact, nobody's maid here. Wash your shit yourself.” The playful banter vanished, replaced by a weighty silence as Arthur's gaze hardened. He gave John a firm shove, sending him stumbling back and casually walking back to his own tent, chuckling at the boy's foolish request.

[therealcocoshady]

Kinktober - Day 18 - Kneeling

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

A/N : So... Here is the Kinktober episode for the Day 18 "Kneeling" prompt. It also happens to be a sequel to the Day 3 "Pet play" prompt. It is not necessarily smutty but it might actually be one of my kinkiest works so far... Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. And that you don't judge me too much either.

CW : BDSM - D/S Relationship - Kneeling

Before the « pet play » bet, you thought your life would go back to normal after you were done. Except it didn’t. There were a couple of reasons for that. First of all, you had found yourself finding the experience rather enjoyable. There was something about surrendering control to someone else. In your everyday life, you wear the kind of person who tried to stay on top of everything, often to the point of exhaustion. Allowing Marshall to take control over the simplest things had proved to be soothing. It had quieted the noise in your brain in a way you never thought would be possible. You never thought you’d be able to allow someone to boss you around, let alone find it enjoyable. But it was Marshall, someone you’d known for what felt like ages. Someone you were close to and trusted. Maybe he was the one who had managed to turn this into something enjoyable. 

You had been almost surprised at how caring he could be. Before that weekend, he’d been the kind of friend you made dumb jokes with, the one who put up with your chaotic energy. But seeing that side of him… it had felt special. He seemed in his element and, though he’d been in control the whole time, the whole thing had been intimate. So intimate, in fact, that it ended with the two of you in bed. The whole thing was meant to be platonic at first but something had shifted. Sure, there had been attraction before, but none of you had acted on it. You’d always told yourself that just because he was attractive didn’t mean it would be a good idea. But that weekend, the chemistry had been evident and you’d felt a shift, some sort of certainty that he might actually be able to handle you. And he proved more than up to the challenge. That night spent together had been amazing. For the first time in years - maybe ever - you had been in a serene headspace. No intrusive thoughts taking over in the middle of the deed, no anxiety, no feeling self-conscious… and actual pleasure. Unlike previous partners, that man had actually focused on you, attentive to each one of your reactions, able to interpret every moan, every whimper. 

For some reason, you had always thought he’d be the kind to be selfish in bed but you were happy to say that he proved you wrong. The whole night, he dedicated himself to pleasuring you. You had lost counts of your orgasms and, if you were honest, the night was kind of blurry. You mostly remembered the grounding feeling of his hand on your chest and him calling you a good girl. In the following days, the memory of these two words, spoken softly in his husky voice had kept you warm. His tone echoed through your mind and one thing was for sure : you wanted more of whatever it was that had made you feel so good. 

However, the next time you saw Marshall, it became clear that it was easier for him to go back to the way things were. You were hanging out with your group of friends and he greeted you as usual, made small talk the way he always had, and joked around as if nothing had happened. It almost broke your heart. You thought you had both felt that chemistry, but obviously, you were wrong. You were a little gutted, if you were honest. The way he had cupped your cheek right before saying goodbye the morning you left his place, right after a passionate night, had made you feel like he’d definitely want it to happen again. And you absolutely thought he’d make a move, a few weeks later, when he invited you to his place so that you could actually read his prized comic book. He did no such thing. A couple of weeks in, you were resigned : it had been a one time thing. And if you wanted to explore more, you’d have to look for someone else. You were a little intimidated by it, at first, but one evening, after a couple of glasses of wine, you got online and searched for more information. You quickly went down the rabbit hole and ended up spending two days browsing subreddits, before eventually signing up for some social media website that allowed people to connect over BDSM-related stuff. The idea was to connect with people from your area, with whom you might give it a try, but you couldn’t actually bring yourself to take part to the conversations going on there. You were very much an introvert and, though you’d given online dating a try, it seemed like adding a kinky component to it was too much for your nerves to handle. You were sure that you’d enjoy exploring submission further, that finding a dom would help quiet the noise in your head. After all, Marshall had done it. But the people putting listings online, advertising that they were looking for a submissive, made it seem like it required some ivy league-level qualifications. And though Marshall had done a pretty decent job explaining the basics to you, you didn’t feel like you had what it takes. You were ready to give up on the idea when you came across a post promoting a « networking » event in Detroit, in some underground club you’d never heard of. You considered going but, once again, anxiety took over. And it wasn’t exactly as if you could ask a friend to come with you. Unless… 

You mustered up the courage of asking Marshall a few days later, while you were hanging out at his place with a couple of other friends. He went to the kitchen to grab a drink and you decided to follow him, in order to have some privacy. « So… Do you have any plans for next weekend ? » you asked innocently as he grabbed a Red Bull from the fridge. « Nothing definite, yet. Why ? » he replied with a raised eyebrow. «  Well, there is, um, a thing, and I’m thinking of going, but I’m not sure and it’s kind of- I was actually wondering if you’d come with me. But, you know, if you have plans, that’s fine. » you nervously babbled. God, you felt ridiculous. You were a grown woman, trying to connect with people over kinky shit and there you were, asking your fiftysomething year-old friend to basically hold your hand because you were nervous. « what thing ? » he asked, obviously not getting what you were referring to. In his defense, you had done a pretty bad job at getting your point across. « An event » you replied. « What event ? » he asked again before taking a sip of his drink. « it’s a… um… well I suppose you could say it’s a munch » you almost whispered. He stared at you silently for a couple of seconds and you felt compelled to elaborate. « I wanted to meet a… well you know, a dom, but it’s so nerve-wracking and I figured maybe having someone who’s been there before would help » you hummed. He kept on staring at you, without so much as blinking and definitely adding to your nervousness. « But, well, maybe going there with a friend wouldn’t be a good look… I mean, I haven’t exactly researched the etiquette or dress code of these events so, I don’t know, really… » you eventually said. The remark made him chuckle and he gave you a smile, as well as a reassuring squeeze of your shoulder. « First of all, breathe. Also, how about we talk about it later, after everyone leaves ? » he said calmly. You swallowed dryly and nodded. 

For the next two hours, you stayed mostly silent. Maybe asking him to go with you was a mistake. Maybe he thought that you giving this whole thing a try was stupid. He was one of your closest friends but you knew he could sometimes turn into a judgy prick. As the others left, you remained on the couch, nervously biting your lip. He came to sit on a chair opposite from you. « So… you want to go to a munch » he said with a smirk. You nodded, though you avoided his gaze. « Well I tried signing up on a website to meet people but… it’s absolutely terrifying. And I thought that a munch might be better but I think that’s even worse » you admitted. He calmly nodded. « You’re too anxious » he said matter-of-factly. « I mean… yeah. It’s nerve-wracking, you know ? » you replied and he nodded. « So, um, how do you meet people ? » you asked. He gave you a smile and leaned back in his chair. « Well, not at munches » he chuckled. « I mean, obviously, I can’t take the risk of someone spotting me in that kind of event » he explained. « I didn’t think about that. I shouldn’t have asked… » you started but he cut you. « Don’t worry about it. Well… I met my first sub kind of randomly. Then I gave the online thing a try but I didn’t really like it so now I use a service » he explained. You raised an eyebrow. « a service ? » you asked. « Basically a matchmaker » he shrugged. You hummed, thinking to yourself that it made sense. After all, you knew how anxious he could get about going places and, since he wasn’t a big fan of technology, opting for a matchmaking service made sense. « So… how does it work ? » you asked with a hint of curiosity, wondering if maybe you should look into something similar. « I give my requirements and if they have someone that fits the bill, they take care of the whole thing for me. NDA, meeting… then, I can do my own vetting. » he explained calmly and you nodded. And before you could even talk, he answered your question. « That type of service caters to experienced people, though » he warned.  You hummed and he could immediately sense the disappointment. He placed his drink on the coffee table and stared at you. « Anyway. Back to you… you’re looking for a dom » he stated. « Do you know what you’re looking for exactly ? ». 

You stayed silent for a couple of seconds and shrugged nervously. « I’d like to give it a try. You know, when we made that bet, I didn’t expect to enjoy it, but… I did. Not the pet aspect but being guided. So, I thought I’d … explore. » you said quietly. As you spoke, you could see something change in his eyes, some sort of interest. « what did you like ? » he asked in a low voice. « I felt… oddly at peace. As if the noise in my head disappeared. And…I didn’t mind having someone directive in bed » you admitted. He let out a low chuckle and smiled at you. « How about having someone being directive out of bed ? » he asked with a grin. « well, I suppose my boss wouldn’t mind me being better at following orders » you said with a shy smile. « I see » he hummed. The way he looked at you, as if he could see inside your mind, had your heart racing. Mentioning what had happened weeks ago, how it made you feel, had you feeling nervous. « I guess I’m just scared I might not feel as safe with someone else » you admitted. « Why look for someone else then ? » he asked with a slight smirk. You stared at him, almost dumbfounded. « Well, I- you didn’t- I mean… I assumed you would have offered if- you know » you nervously babbled. He let out a small scoff and got up, before sitting next to you. « all you had to do was ask » he said softly. « Easier said than done » you pointed out as you looked down. He smiled and placed a reassuring hand on your knee. « Y/N, it’s me. You know I don’t bite. The worse that could have happened is me declining. » he said gently and you nodded, still looking down. « The reason I didn’t offer anything is because I didn’t want to turn what happened to my advantage » he explained. « But… you enjoyed it ? » you asked. « you know I did » he scoffed. You nodded again as memories of that weekend came to mind. You remembered the way he kissed you, the way he took the lead in the bedroom, guiding you, taking control while always making sure you were alright. « So… would you… be interested ? » you asked in almost a whisper. « Interested in ? » he asked with a smile. You sighed and looked at him dead in the eyes. He knew what you meant and you knew it as well. « I think it’s important that you learn to use your words. Say what you mean. Ask for what you want. » he added with a smirk. You rolled your eyes at him. « Would you be interested in showing me more… sir ? » you asked as you looked into his eyes. He let out a chuckle and eventually nodded. « Yeah. We could give it a try » he hummed. « you free next weekend ? ». 

You gave him a smile, reassured to know that he had enjoyed your weekend together as much as you did and was willing to explore it further. « I am. I’m also free tomorrow though » you said innocently, making him chuckle and shake his head. « Can’t, tomorrow. Also, I’ll need to prepare stuff. But come next weekend and I’ll show you…  more » he said with a warm smile. 

Next weekend couldn’t come fast enough. But when it did, you were both nervous and excited. Beforehand, Marshall had texted you to confirm that you were still up for it, and gave you a few packing instructions. So far, nothing kinky. He just told you to pack your toiletries, meds, pajamas, an outfit you felt comfortable in and another one that was dressier - preferably a dress with high heels. When you arrived at his place, he greeted you with a hug and led you to the dining room. « So, this weekend is going to be a little different from what we did last time » he warned. « Obviously, for the sake of the bet, we kept it simple and easy last time. But this time, you’re going to get a better picture of what being a sub is like. Meaning that it’s not going to be me taking care of you. I mean, I will, that’s part of my job as a dom. But as a sub, you’re going to serve me. » he explained. You nodded and waited for further instruction. « Obviously, both of us have the right to stop everything at any moment. But since today is about showing you more, I thought I would do what I usually do with the subs I’m vetting, so I’ll put you to work right away. That’s ok with you ? » he asked. You nodded again, though this time, you felt a knot in your stomach. You weren’t quite sure what he meant by ‘putting you to work’. He got up and grabbed an envelope that was already on the table, before handing it to you. « Your first assignment will be pretty simple : paperwork. There’s an NDA I’m going to need you to sign. Obviously, we’re friends and I trust you, but this is standard procedure for everyone I’m seeing, so subs are no exception. There’s also forms I want you to fill in. Take your time and come to the movie room when you’re done. And feel free to come if you have any questions, ok ?» he added. He got up and quietly stared at you as you started to inspect the paperwork. Before leaving the room, he cupped your face and gave you a smile. 

You quickly read the NDA before signing it. You didn’t give it too much thought. If anything, you were fine with paperwork protecting the both of you. Of course, the consequences of anyone discovering what you were up to would be disastrous for his reputation but, even though you weren’t a public figure, you didn’t exactly want anyone to know you were involved in something BDSM-related. Especially not with one of your closest friends. For some reason, signing the NDA made it clear in your mind that you were crossing a line in your friendship. And it became even clearer as you glanced at the forms. It was basically a spreadsheet you needed to fill, regarding what you were ok with, what you’d experienced before, as well as your limits (both hard and soft). The least you could say is that the whole thing was rather detailed. You took your time to fill everything, doing some occasional googling on your phone when you needed clarification regarding some of the practices listed. You felt a little apprehensive at the idea that Marshall would be seeing this. Of course, it made sense. He had made it quite clear that the whole thing about consent and safety. But the whole form-filling felt both intimate and clinical at the same time. After a while, you went to find him in the movie room, where he was lounging in front of some  random TV show. « All good ? » he asked. « Yeah. All good. » you hummed as you handed him the small stack of paper. « That was… Dense. » you observed. He chuckled and nodded. « Told you I was putting you to work. I know it’s not the most fun but that’s an important part » he explained. You nodded and looked at him with eyes full of questions. « So… Do I get to see your checklist too ? » you asked innocently. He shook his head. « No need. What matters is your checklist. I mean, if there’s anything on there that I’m not ok with, even if you said you were fine with it, we won’t do it. But as the dom, it’s my job to tailor the whole thing to you and your needs. Not the other way around. ». He stared at you intently, his gaze conveying a seriousness you didn’t see too often. « But…  I don’t get to know what you’re into ? » you asked with a smile and a raised eyebrow. « What you need to know, you will find out soon enough » he assured with a smirk. « But for now, we have something else to focus on. Something important, actually ». 

There was a moment of silence. He got up from the couch, paused the TV show and faced you. You were in the middle of the room, which was dimly lit, with shadows that danced across the walls. Just like the rest of his house, it felt cozy and luxurious. You’d been there so often that, most of the time, you weren’t even aware of your surroundings. But now, you seemed to notice every detail. Your heart was racing in your chest. Marshall placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. « Kneel for me, please » he ordered quietly. You stared at him for a second before doing as you were told. You knelt at the center of the room, your knees pressing into the soft carpet beneath you. He gently directed you, ordering you to rest your palms on your things and keep your head down. You could feel your fingers tremble slightly and you tried your best to steady your breathing. You could hear him pace behind you, his presence filling the room. You had both agreed that this weekend would be some sort of training, an opportunity for you to see more. Your thoughts were swirling in anticipation. You had no idea what was coming next but you trusted him. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and commanding, cutting through the stillness like a blade.

« Kneeling is more than just a position, Y/N, » Marshall said, stepping into your line of sight, his eyes fixed on you. « It’s a reminder of who holds the power, of who’s in control. » Your breath caught in your throat. His voice alone made you feel small, not in a way that diminished you, but in a way that made you aware of how much you were surrendering to him. It wasn’t just about kneeling—it was about giving yourself over to him completely, about letting go of your own control. Marshall crouched down in front of you, his eyes meeting yours for the first time. There was a seriousness in his gaze, but also a hint of something else—something that spoke of patience, of care. « When you kneel for me,” he continued, “it’s not just a physical act. It’s a symbol of trust. You’re giving me your submission, and in return, I’m giving you my protection, my guidance. Do you understand that? »

You nodded, your throat tight. « Yes… Sir, » you whispered, voice trembling slightly. He tilted his head, watching you carefully, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips, though the serious frown remained.  « Words are easy, Y/N. I need to know you feel it. That you believe it. » Your gaze faltered for a moment, your mind racing. You had wanted this—craved the sense of belonging, of purpose—but now that you were here, the weight of it all pressed down on you. You didn’t want to disappoint him. You didn’t want to fail. « Look at me, » he said, his voice softer now. You lifted your eyes to meet his again, and when you did, you saw the intensity in them—the same intensity you saw in him whenever you witnessed him at work, in the studio or on stage, in the lyrics he rapped with fire and conviction. But this wasn’t the Marshall the world knew. This was the man who was about to take you under his control, and the depth of his focus on you was overwhelming. « I need you to remember something, » he said slowly, his hand brushing along your jawline, making you shiver. « When you kneel, it’s a choice. You’re choosing to trust me. You’re choosing to give me control. But once you make that choice, Y/N, you don’t get to question it. You don’t get to doubt it. When you’re down here, at my feet, I am in control. Understand? »

His thumb traced your lower lip, the touch almost tender, and yet it held a kind of power that made your stomach tighten. You felt the weight of his words, of what he was asking of you. It wasn’t just about the physical act of kneeling—it was about giving him your mind, will and obedience. « Yes, Sir, » you whispered again, but this time, there was more certainty in your voice. « Good girl, » he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. The praise made your heart flutter, warmth spreading through you at his approval. Just like that weekend, weeks ago, when you had played the role of his pet. Marshall stood slowly, towering over you as he resumed pacing, his presence once again commanding the space around you. « When I say kneel, you drop to your knees without hesitation. It doesn’t matter where we are or what you’re doing. When I say the word, you obey. No questions, no second-guessing. » You nodded, your body already responding to the firmness in his voice. You could feel the power shift between you, the way his dominance seeped into every word, every movement. « Right now, you’re learning what it means to submit to me, » he continued, stopping in front of you again. « And I want you to understand something important—this isn’t just about control. It’s about connection. When you kneel, you’re not just giving up your power. You’re giving me something precious. And in return, I take care of you. I help you thrive. »

His words were grounding, filling you with a sense of calm amidst the uncertainty. You weren’t just kneeling for him because he demanded it—you were kneeling because you wanted to. Because you trusted him to quiet the noise in your head. Marshall circled you, his fingers brushing over your shoulder as he passed, sending a shiver down your spine. « Keep your eyes down, » he ordered, and you quickly dropped your gaze to the floor again. He stopped behind you, close enough that you could feel his breath on the back of your neck. « You’re mine, Y/N. When you’re here, in this position, I need you to remember that. You don’t need to think. You don’t need to worry. All you need to do is obey. »

Your pulse quickened at his words, a mixture of anticipation and fear swirling in your chest. You could feel the weight of his dominance pressing down on you, but it wasn’t suffocating. It was freeing. « I’m the one in control, » he said firmly. « And when you’re with me, like this, I will always be in control. Do you trust me with that? » You nodded, your voice soft but certain. « Yes, Sir. » Marshall moved back around to face you, crouching down once more so that your eyes and his were level. His hand cupped your chin, tilting your head slightly upward. « Good. Then let’s begin. »

And with that, you felt the world around you shift. You were no longer just yourself—you were his. Surrendering to him, to his control, was the first step in a new journey and you could feel it.

[throwaway-things]

In the silence

The gentle hum of the BAU office buzzed around you, blending with the rhythmic typing of keyboards and the occasional murmur of conversation. You sat at your desk, your heart betraying a steady pace as you stole a glance at Spencer Reid. He was absorbed in a file, his brows furrowed in concentration, fingers tapping lightly on the edge of his desk. You admired how his mind seemed to race, faster than anyone else’s, solving problems in a way that felt almost magical. And yet, as brilliant as he was, you could never imagine him knowing your secret.

You had been harboring feelings for Spencer for longer than you cared to admit. The connection, at least on your side, had grown deeper over time. He was kind, intelligent, and so utterly unaware of the effect he had on you. You were careful—so careful—never to give any hint, knowing that revealing how you felt could change everything. Your heart was fragile enough without risking his rejection.

But Spencer Reid was not like everyone else. He saw things others missed, read people like they were open books. And though you had perfected the art of hiding, you knew, deep down, that no secret was safe from him forever.

One afternoon, while working together on a particularly difficult case, you noticed Spencer watching you out of the corner of your eye. It wasn’t the usual friendly glance, but something more intense. You tried to ignore it, focused on your work, but the sensation of being scrutinized sent your nerves into overdrive.

"Are you okay?" His voice startled you, gentle yet probing. You looked up to find his eyes—those deep, observant eyes—studying you. He wasn’t just asking if you were tired or stressed. It felt like he was asking about something deeper, something unspoken.

"Yeah," you replied quickly, too quickly. "Just focused on the case."

But Spencer didn't let it go. "You've been… different lately," he said softly, almost to himself. "Your body language, the way you avoid eye contact sometimes, the way your voice changes when you're talking to me— its noticeable"

Your heart stopped. He was analyzing you. You’d been so careful, so guarded, and yet, in that moment, you realized it was pointless. Spencer Reid had already figured it out.

"I… I don’t know what you mean," you lied, trying to hold onto the last vestiges of control. But the tremble in your voice gave you away. Spencer leaned in slightly, lowering his voice.

"You don’t have to say anything," he said, his tone so calm, so gentle. "I know."

It was like the world shifted beneath your feet. The secret you had carried for so long, that you had convinced yourself could never be known, was out in the open. You felt exposed, vulnerable, and utterly terrified. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you forced them back. You refused to cry in front of him.

Spencer shifted awkwardly in his seat, his face flushed with discomfort. "I'm sorry," he began, his voice soft but laden with regret. "I didn’t mean to give you the wrong impression. If I’ve done anything to make you feel—" He hesitated, clearly trying to find the right words. "I care about you, but… not in the way you might want."

The words hit like a physical blow. You were mortified, frozen in place as the blood rushed to your cheeks. Your worst fear had just materialized—he had figured it out, and now he was apologizing. It was worse than any rejection you had ever imagined.

"I—" you stammered, the words dying in your throat as shame engulfed you. You had never meant for him to know. You had never intended to put him in this position, to make things awkward or uncomfortable. But now, there you were, standing in the aftermath of something you had desperately tried to avoid.

Your heart broke, a quiet shattering that left you feeling hollow. Spencer was kind, as you always knew he would be, but it didn’t soften the pain. If anything, it made it worse. His apology wasn’t cruel, but it was final. You wished you could disappear, that you could take back every lingering look, every subtle sign you thought you had hidden so well.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, voice barely audible. You couldn't bear to look at him, the embarrassment too overwhelming. "I… I never meant for you to find out. I never wanted you to know."

Spencer’s brow furrowed, and for a brief second, you thought you saw a flicker of empathy in his eyes. "You don’t have to apologize," he said gently. "I just don’t want you to feel hurt because of me."

But you did feel hurt. Hurt, ashamed, and humiliated. You swallowed hard, willing yourself not to cry, not to let him see how devastated you were.

Before you could respond, the door to the conference room opened abruptly. Hotch stood there, clipboard in hand, looking between you and Spencer with a slightly raised eyebrow. "Briefing in five," he said, his tone all business as usual. "We’ve got a new case."

You felt a wave of relief wash over you. This was your escape. The interruption couldn’t have come at a better time.

"Thanks, Hotch," you mumbled, quickly rising from your seat and gathering your things. You didn’t dare look back at Spencer, afraid that any more eye contact might make your carefully held composure shatter completely.

As you stepped past Hotch, you could feel Spencer’s eyes following you, but you kept walking, grateful that the professional nature of the job had given you a way out. You needed distance—space to breathe, to process what had just happened without falling apart in front of him.

The hallway seemed longer than usual, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the silence. You blinked back the burning sensation in your eyes, your breath unsteady as you hurried toward the briefing room. There was no time to fall apart now. Work was calling, and you had to focus.

When you entered the room, you were greeted by the usual buzz of the team preparing for the case. Morgan, Garcia, and JJ were already seated, chatting about something you couldn’t quite focus on. You forced a smile and took a seat next to JJ, trying to look as though nothing was wrong, as though your heart wasn’t still aching from the conversation with Spencer.

“Hey, you okay?” JJ asked quietly, giving you a gentle nudge.

You nodded quickly, too quickly. "Yeah, just... a long day."

She smiled sympathetically, but thankfully didn’t press further. You were grateful. The last thing you needed was more questions when you were barely holding it together.

Moments later, Spencer entered the room, taking a seat across from you. You could feel his presence immediately, your pulse quickening as you glanced down at your notes, doing everything you could to avoid looking at him. He, too, seemed more reserved than usual, his expression unreadable as he set his file down.

Hotch began the briefing, and for the next hour, you did your best to focus on the case. It was difficult—your thoughts kept wandering back to Spencer, to his apology, to the crushing embarrassment of knowing that he was aware of your feelings. Every time he spoke, the sound of his voice sent a pang of sadness through your chest, a reminder of what could never be.

The following days passed in a blur. You immersed yourself in the case, using work as an escape from the overwhelming swirl of emotions you were struggling to contain. You avoided Spencer as much as possible, though it became increasingly difficult with every passing moment. The BAU was a tight-knit team, and it was impossible not to interact with him. Each time you had to speak to him or work alongside him, the tension was palpable, the weight of your unspoken feelings hanging between you like an invisible barrier.

Spencer, for his part, remained kind and professional. He didn’t treat you any differently, but the subtle shift in your dynamic was undeniable. He seemed more cautious, more distant, as if he, too, was trying to navigate the awkwardness without making things worse. You wondered if he regretted saying anything at all—if he wished he had kept his analysis to himself.

But it didn’t matter now. The damage was done, and you were left picking up the pieces of your broken heart in silence.

--

Late one evening, after another long day of avoiding eye contact and burying your emotions in paperwork, you found yourself alone in the office. The dim lighting and quiet hum of the computer were a welcome respite from the chaos of the case, but your mind kept drifting back to Spencer. You had tried to push your feelings aside, to forget about that conversation, but it was impossible. The pain lingered, raw and unrelenting.

Just as you were about to pack up and leave, the sound of footsteps approached from behind. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“Hey,” Spencer’s voice was soft, tentative.

You inhaled sharply, your heart racing. "Hey," you replied, keeping your eyes fixed on the papers in front of you, pretending to be busy.

There was a long pause. You could feel the tension in the air, thick and heavy. Part of you wanted him to leave, to let the silence stretch between you until things faded back into some semblance of normalcy. But another part of you—one you hated to admit—wanted him to stay.

“I, uh… I just wanted to check on you,” he said quietly, stepping closer. "I’ve noticed you’ve been… distant lately."

You let out a bitter laugh, finally turning to face him. “Distant? Yeah, well… I guess I thought that might be for the best.”

Spencer’s brow furrowed, his expression filled with concern. "I don’t want things to be like this," he admitted. "I never wanted to hurt you."

Spencer looked at you, his eyes filled with that same empathy, and it only made things harder. "I understand if you need space," he said softly. "But I don’t want you to feel like you have to avoid me."

But you weren’t ready for this conversation. You weren’t ready to confront the tangled mess of emotions that had been suffocating you for days. You couldn’t handle Spencer’s kindness, not now. Not when the wound was still so fresh.

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, your voice a little too sharp, a little too defensive. You turned back to the papers on your desk, pretending to be engrossed in work. "There’s nothing to talk about."

Spencer hesitated, clearly not buying your attempt to brush things off. "I know this has been difficult—"

“Spencer, I said I’m fine.” The words came out harsher than you intended, and you winced at the coldness in your tone. You couldn’t look at him, not now, not when the shame was still burning in your chest.

There was a long, tense silence. You could feel his eyes on you, searching for something, but you kept your gaze glued to the papers in front of you, refusing to meet his. You wanted this conversation to be over, for him to stop trying to dissect your feelings like they were just another puzzle to solve.

"I don’t want to push," Spencer said quietly, taking a small step back. "But I can tell you’re struggling. If there’s anything I’ve done—"

“Spencer, please,” you cut him off, your voice almost pleading now. "Let’s just leave it."

You didn’t want to elaborate, didn’t want to give any hint of what was really going on. You were desperate to keep everything vague and impersonal, to avoid the emotional discussion that was weighing on you. You needed him to walk away, to let the moment pass without probing further.

Spencer stood there, clearly not fully convinced but respecting your wish to drop the subject. "Okay," he said softly, his eyes filled with concern. "If that’s what you need."

You nodded, still avoiding his gaze. "Yes, that’s what I need."

There was a heavy silence between you, the weight of your unspoken truth hanging in the air. You could feel his disappointment, the unspoken tension that lingered, but you couldn’t bring yourself to face it. Admitting how you really felt would only make things worse. It would only prolong the pain, and you couldn’t afford that.

Spencer lingered for a moment longer, as if he was about to say something else, but then he nodded quietly. "I’ll let you get back to work," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. You simply kept your eyes down, waiting for the sound of his footsteps retreating as he left the room. When the door finally closed behind him, you exhaled sharply, the tension in your body releasing all at once.

You felt sick. Sick with the weight of your own unspoken truth, sick with the realization that you had just pushed him away. The idea of him knowing—of him seeing how much it hurt—was unbearable.

And so, you sat there in the empty office, your heart heavy with the truth you couldn’t bring yourself to say, knowing that, in the end, you were only hurting yourself more.

--

The following days were still a struggle. You continued to immerse yourself in work, using it as a way to avoid confronting your feelings. Spencer was courteous but distant, respecting your need for space. Every time you saw him, the old familiarity was tainted by the unspoken tension.

One afternoon, as you were sorting through case files in the bullpen, you felt a presence behind you. You turned to find Spencer standing there, a hesitant look on his face.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Do you have a minute?”

You nodded, though your heart was pounding. “Sure, what’s up?”

Spencer took a deep breath, as if steeling himself for what he was about to say. “I just wanted to let you know that I’m here if you ever want to talk. I don’t want you to feel like you have to go through this alone.”

You felt a lump form in your throat. The sincerity in his voice was both comforting and heartbreaking. You had spent so much time trying to distance yourself from him, but here he was, offering support in the most genuine way.

“Thanks, Spencer,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I really appreciate that.”

He smiled, though there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. “Anytime.”

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there with a mixture of relief and melancholy. You realized that while you couldn’t bring yourself to discuss your feelings openly, knowing that Spencer cared enough to offer support was a small comfort. It was a reminder that even though things had changed, there was still kindness and understanding between you.

As you went about your work, the ache in your heart was still there, but it was slightly eased by the knowledge that you didn’t have to go through it entirely alone. The journey of healing would take time, but Spencer’s gesture gave you a glimmer of hope that, perhaps, things might eventually find a way back to a semblance of normalcy.

[iandoubt]

my mildly unintelligible incoherent rambling headcannons on the life series but primarily wild life and I had more to say but I had to cut it down lol and I’m mainly posting this for personal reference: (be wary, it is a long post)

Wild life is so fascinating from a lore perspective like in the past it was everyone against everyone else, friendly survival but things were just a little bit off, a little bit desperate, felt a little bit out of control, like maybe something bigger was at work here, but you could look the threat in the eyes and kill it and go home…until you couldn’t. As the strings being pulled turned from invisible twine to neon shoelaces and the hand in the shadows was suddenly the title character and every thing seemed to connect, seemed to end. But it didn’t. The watchers were the center the thumbnail the logo the everything mercilessly piloting the story towards the conclusion they desired, and then it was done, the loop back to the very beginning was made, it was finished. But then it wasn’t. What Real Life and Wild Life have in common is this sort of sense of storytelling absurdity, everything is cut short and brief and it’s silly and horrifying and painful (just to intulude here, I am still discussing everything purely lore wise. The only pain I experienced watching either of those things was sadness when they ended) and suffering doesn’t seem to have a meaning a purpose a quiet dignity anymore it’s April fools and everyone is throwing up and dead their bodies won’t listen won’t function can’t fight cant run but it’s a joke haha there’s no story no rhyme or reason it’s just torture and now the ultimate of random purposeless suffering wild cards they can’t kill each other can’t fight each other because every moment is a struggle to survive as the world itself has turned against them as their bodies betray them as they die in humiliating horrifying ways the very fiber of their being the very core of their world something is terribly terribly wrong it is like the order and rules that bound the life series have broken and the chaos of the void is pouring through drowning the code of the world as the players are ripped to shreds by the avalanche, watching their bodies crumble. It’s like the watchers finished telling their story of perfect and purposeful suffering and then pulled the string holding the knot together. It’s like the life series is a pane of glass that they polished to perfection, punched, and walked away, leaving the shards to slowly shatter as the beauty and horror and chaos and glory that makes up the world spews forth to tear it’s broken remains apart. There will still be the games, but now there is nothing pulling the strings, nothing holding it together. Suffering no longer has a meaning, a purpose, a goal, it is simply suffering. How terrifying must that be to have everything that you are shattering, pieces of you like broken glass strewn about as the void bursts forth to consume the ruins and the wreckage of the world.

We know that life series players are alternate versions of themselves, because while Hermitcraft scar is happily building his zoo in season ten, secret life scar is still out there wandering among the sunflowers. I don’t remember if real life Cleo lived or not, and we don’t know if this season’s winner will live on, but let’s pretend for the sake of this ramble being almost somewhat coherent that both cleo and the new winner live. What happens to the new winner (I’ll get to what happens to Cleo later)? The world is breaking, coming apart at the seams. Each new day brings a fresh horror from the void to try to wipe them out. And what about memories? This is where this strays firmly into headcannon territory, but my personal way of imagining it starts at a fairly ubiquitous jumping off point, the idea that lifers during the games do not have access to their memories, but going upon the alternate versions thing they do not remember the games at all. There is the original player, journeying through smps and servers, and then there is a version of them for each separate life series, shadow copies that they are completely unaware of and unconnected to created by the watchers to play puppets with in their perfect dark fairytale. Each life series is a new copy, because every game the copies all died. Up until secret life. They had had their fun, there was no reason for them to kill off the last one, scar, the winner left alive and alone. The og scar and the secret life scar are not aware of each other because og has no idea about the copy and copy wrongly assumes he is the real scar. He regained all the memories from before of Hermitcraft when he won and the watchers broke the game but the way he understands it is, because again the other life series were other versions of scar, he was on Hermitcraft uninterrupted up until suddenly they were all abducted into this game called secret life and they all were driven insane and killed each other and now he is alone. He can’t leave because the copies are bound to their worlds and doesn’t try to leave because as far as he knows there is no where for him to go. Crucially, again, secret life scar and Hermitcraft scar are two entirely different people.

So let’s imagine for this new winner, living in this horrifying shattered world, there are no more watchers to police memories. The copies are still made, the code is still there, the games carry on, becoming more garbled and twisted with each broken game, so that the copies don’t come out quite right, which explains the movement issues and nausea in real life and the way the wild cards go to the very data of the player and twist it in wild life. So this broken copy wins, and suddenly remembers, just as secret life scar did, all that came before, but the game is even more broken so they remember so much more than that. They see all the lives, every version of themselves. They see themselves after, the version that was never in the games, with their friends, living on. The versions of the friends they know are dead, but alternate, happier, more carefree versions live on with an alternate, happier, more carefree version of themselves. Their friends don’t miss them, don’t know they are gone, because they aren’t. They are alone and trapped on a world doomed to slowly fracture into oblivion. Everything is broken. But they refuse this, perhaps. They rebel. There is nothing tying the world together? Then they will escape through the cracks. They will find this world with the other copies. Real life Cleo, who remembers enough to know that they are are a copy, but the game hasn’t fully broken by real life so she is unaware there were other games. Also I’m realizing now that I haven’t really talked a lot about Cleo but tbh that’s mostly because their character strikes me as someone who is unshakable, pragmatic (this is why I think she and Scott got along so well, they both go at the games with eyes on the prize) who would of course be upset but also be rational, and simply try to make the best out of their life) secret life scar, who still believes that he is the only version of scar out there and that he murdered all of his friends. Both stuck on these worlds alone, but this new winner will break through the walls on these servers, and say come on, we’re here, we’re our own gosh dang people, so let’s go take back our lives. Idk where this goes from there but I headcannon that every real life version of all the players had mobility issues, hence the movement problems, but Cleo is the only real life player left so she’s the only one still experiencing these problems. I also headcannon that the new winner has, well, I haven’t actually figured out the specifics but some sort of residual issues relating to the wild cards and broken code.

this headcannon also introduces some interesting lore ties for Grian, and tbh I haven’t thought to much about how the watcher lore would work in this, well ig this is an au at this point, but if you think about his panic at the end of the most recent session, and that he was able to freeze time, it could be a sort of thing like he is unintentionally the one causing the games to continue being a watcher, but in the past he had no control but now he’s been handed the reins with no instructions and has no idea what to do. All the power and no clue how to use it. This also could lead to some interesting things about watching, because maybe in the past he could watch, could see that they were copies, and played accordingly. He knew the other versions would live on so he resigned himself to a certain extent to death, but now there is no path no clear cut story no string to follow through the dark he can’t see beyond the games and he’s terrified.

anyway that’s like kinda my headcannons idk if anyone will actually read this far but if you did thanks. Also I really wanna write/draw something for this, maybe turn it into a proper au, so if u person who is still reading would like to join me on that endeavor I would love to work with u.

[unbreakablevuw]

The cave was darker than James had imagined. The damp, cold air seemed to seep into his bones, weighing him down as he watched Regulus struggle with the enchanted chain around his neck, pulling the heavy, cursed locket out of the murky water. They’d fought their way through Voldemort’s protections to get here—Regulus’s secrets, whispered urgently in the quiet hours they’d shared, had been the key to it all. And now, they were close. So close to ending this nightmare.

But as James glanced at Regulus, he knew something was wrong.

Regulus’s face was pale, his skin almost translucent, like he’d already started to fade. Each movement seemed to cost him more, his hands trembling as he gripped the chain. James reached out, steadying him, feeling the unnatural chill radiating from Regulus’s skin.

“You’ve done enough, Reg,” James said, a thread of desperation in his voice. “Let’s just go. We can get help, tell Dumbledore. We don’t have to do this alone.”

Regulus shook his head, an odd, sad smile crossing his face. “There’s no one else, James. No one who would understand what I know. And if we leave now, he’ll know we were here. Voldemort will find it, hide it away again.” His gaze drifted to the cursed locket, his expression hardening. “I have to do this. I won’t let him keep winning. Not this time.”

James’s heart was pounding, a sharp ache spreading through him, but he didn’t release Regulus’s hand. “You can’t… You don’t have to do this alone,” he said, his voice breaking. “We’re not done. I—Reg, I need you to come back with me.”

Regulus’s fingers brushed against his, soft, lingering, and James knew, somewhere deep in his bones, that Regulus had already made his choice. “There’s no coming back for me, James,” he whispered, so quietly that James had to lean in to hear. “Not from this. I made my choices long ago. This is the only way I can make up for them. I need you to understand that.”

James wanted to argue, wanted to shout, but something in Regulus’s eyes—a deep, unyielding sadness—stilled him. He nodded, his throat tightening as he felt a tear slip down his cheek. “I… I understand,” he managed, voice thick.

Regulus’s hand lingered in his for a moment longer, his thumb tracing a slow, gentle line over James’s knuckles, a silent promise in his touch. Then he pulled away, his fingers slipping from James’s grip as he turned back to the locket. “Tell Sirius…” He hesitated, his voice barely a whisper. “Tell him I tried. That I didn’t go down without a fight.”

James couldn’t look away, his heart twisting as Regulus took the locket in his hands, raising his wand. The dark water began to churn around him, shadows rising as the Inferi sensed their sacrifice. Regulus didn’t flinch. His gaze remained steady, his jaw clenched, his face set with the same fierce determination James had come to love, however fleeting their time together had been.

In one final, broken breath, Regulus whispered, “Goodbye, James.”

And then he plunged into the water, the shadows closing over him, pulling him under. The locket glinted once before it disappeared into the depths, along with the boy who had once been nothing more to James than a name, a Slytherin, a Black.

James waited, hoping against hope that he would see Regulus resurface, gasping for air, with that defiant spark still in his eyes. But the water was silent, and the darkness swallowed everything.

When he finally left the cave, the locket clenched in his hand and his heart shattered, he felt emptier than he ever had. Regulus was gone, leaving behind nothing but a whispered promise, a silent memory, and the weight of a sacrifice that James would carry forever.

He’d tell Sirius, one day. But not yet. For now, Regulus’s last moments were his alone, a bittersweet ache he would hold close, long after the war ended, long after the world moved on.

Long after he stopped believing that he could.

[delulustateofmind]

Bad Luck

Yan!Mahito x Reader

Description: You bring home a blue worm, what could go wrong? 

TW: Mahito (that’s literally the only one you need), Noncon/dubcon, brief lactation kink, Yandere behaviors - just obsession, threatening to disfigure people, Somnophilia, overstim, teeny-tiny piss mention (listen I would piss myself if I saw Mahito’s creations), praise (towards mahito) 

MDNI

WC: 2.3k

A/n: I literally despise Mahito, but I just feel like he would be such a good horror yandere. The dude is spooky. Fair warning, I am not the most comfortable with writing smut, especially dark stuff like this, so it could be actually terrible, but I figured I would test the waters. There may be errors, as I got to shy to read my own smut.

Today was not the day. Everything seemed to unravel at once. First, you lost your job at that trendy new café—a small but lively spot you had started to actually enjoy—all because you spilled a drink on your now ex-boyfriend. He’d walked in holding hands with your best friend, their shared laughter and kissing had…struck a nerve with you, and before you knew it, your world tilted. Your scholarship? Gone, revoked due to an anonymous tip accusing you of plagiarism in your senior project. You were lucky they didn’t expel you, but the word “lucky” felt like a cruel joke.

The streets of Tokyo buzzed around you, a dizzying blend of neon lights and the chatter of hurried crowds. The rain started, cold and sudden, soaking through your clothes and chilling you to the bone. Great. No umbrella, no clear memory of where you’d left your bike. You shuffled through the rain, each step heavier than the last. The absurd thought flitted through your mind: maybe you should have reshared that Facebook post you saw years ago, the one that said, “Share if you love Jesus or ignore for ten years of bad luck.” Perhaps ignoring it had been your downfall. You’ll make a note for next time. 

After several minutes, you found your bike, its metal frame slick with rainwater. Just as you were about to sit down, you noticed something small and peculiar resting on the seat—a grayish-blue caterpillar, fuzzy and oddly mesmerizing with what seemed like patchwork markings. You’d never seen one like that before. Your first instinct was unexpected: maybe you should bring it home. If you left it here, it might get crushed by a passerby or snatched up by a bird. Or worse—maybe it was poisonous and someone else’s day would become just as disastrous as yours.

Carefully, you opened your empty bento box and placed the little creature inside. It seemed to squirm contentedly, almost as if it understood your intention. You opted not to close the lid, fearful it might suffocate. Gently, you set the box in the small basket of your bicycle and began the short ride home. Your apartment was only a few miles away, nestled in the heart of Kabukicho, Tokyo’s vibrant and infamous entertainment district. It wasn’t ideal—the clamor of nearby bars, the Yakuza lurking in shadowed alleys, piles of trash and drunks lining the streets—but it was the only place you could afford. And on most days, it felt safe enough.

You climbed the eight flights of stairs, each step more taxing than the last, breath hitching as you struggled to catch it. Maintenance had promised to fix the elevator months ago. By the time you reached your door, you were gasping, sweat and rain mixing on your skin. You looked down at the caterpillar. Or was it a worm now? Its form seemed more elongated, less distinct. It stared back at you, almost knowingly. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up. Perhaps the rain was already starting to give you a fever. You should have brought a jacket today. 

You blinked, shaking off the thought. You were exhausted. It had been a day of too many shocks, and your mind was playing tricks on you. That had to be it. Right? 

You found an old tank from that one fish you tried keeping alive, setting the worm, caterpillar, thing—whatever it was—inside. You placed a few leaves from your plants that were barely living. Perhaps a reflection of you in a sense, starting so bright in life only to wallow in self-deprecation. You placed the cover of the tank, giving the worm thing one last look before scrounging through your fridge for something besides leftovers.

You could always move back home.

Go back to your little small rural town, tend to the rice fields just like your parents. Marry some local boy.

You tried to wipe the tears before they could fall into your sad bowl of ramen, the running snot and the wails of your cries. Was this pack of ramen always this salty or was it your tears adding to it? You weren’t sure if you cared or not.

After your good little cry session, you passed out in bed. Unaware that you had made a huge mistake bringing home that silly little caterpillar.

You awoke in the middle of the night to a heavy weight on your waist. Was your stuffed animal always this heavy? You blearily looked up, eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room. Your heart nearly stopped in your chest when your gaze was met with a cruel smile, teeth white and unsettlingly human, glistening in the dim light.

Cold terror seeped into your veins. The figure looming over you was not human. Its eyes were black voids, bottomless pits reflecting nothing but curiosity. The skin, pale and stitched together like a mangled corpse.

Was this how you die? At the hands of some nightmare made flesh? Maybe you should have reblogged that post. Maybe you should have sent that money to that Nigerian prince you thought was a spam email.

“Hello,” the voice giggled, a mockery of warmth twisted by an unnatural echo. The creature tilted its head, gray hair that was partially braided spilling to the side. Its markings, dark and jagged like stitches. You suddenly remembered the caterpillar, and your stomach roiled with dread.

“Did you bring me home to play?” it whispered, voice lilting with a sickening glee. The grin widened impossibly, the teeth remaining unsettlingly human. The creature’s eyes glistened with delight as it fed on the raw, unfiltered terror etched across your face.

“I’m so glad you did,” it cooed, fingers like talons skimming across your cheek with a touch too cold, too calculated. Suddenly, it giggled again—a sound both childlike and unsettling, as if a child were delighted by their favorite toy—and clapped its hands. “We’re going to have so much fun! Let’s see how long you can scream,” it said, eyes sparkling with manic glee.

Suddenly, Mahito’s expression softened, taking on an eerie, almost affectionate look. He traced your jawline with a gentler touch, tilting his head with an unsettling innocence. “But you’re special,” he murmured, as if sharing a secret. “You brought me here, after all. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll keep you.”

The room spun as confusion and fear filled your mind. The monster’s gaze shifted from playful to possessive, a twisted sort of fondness darkening his features. He pressed his forehead against yours, the unnatural coldness of his skin seeping into you.

“You’re mine now,” Mahito whispered, a mockery of affection that sent chills racing down your spine. “And I protect what’s mine.”

The next few months were hell. You found out that only you could see Mahito. Something about him being a curse or something. At times, he would remind you that you were lucky that he liked you. He’d remind you by dragging you to witness his “experiments,” humans grotesquely twisted into unrecognizable forms, clawing at the damp walls of a forgotten sewer.

“This could be you,” he cooed so playfully, pressing a few light kisses to your neck as your eyes widened in horror at the sight before you. You trembled, unable to look away from the writhing, desperate figures.

“But you’re so pretty, I just… I just love you,” Mahito giggled, an almost boyish smile splitting his face as he looked at you, eyes brimming with a twisted sincerity. His arms wrapped around your waist, a possessive embrace that felt more like a shackle.

“You take such good care of me, y/n,” he whispered, the words sending shivers down your spine as the grotesque chorus of agony continued around you. The contrast between his gentle tone and the grotesque scene made your stomach churn. You knew there was no escaping him—not now, not ever

“Mahito... can we go home?” you rasped, voice trembling as his teeth grazed your neck, leaving a stinging mark in their wake. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine, but you bit back a cry.

“Go home...?” His voice took on a mocking, airy tone as he nuzzled against your skin. “I was going to join you at the university today. I need a few more shrunken experiments, you know? I was thinking about picking that one girl who sits next to you. The one who always compliments your outfits.” His hand slipped under your shirt, his touch cold and insistent as he left another bruising kiss on your collarbone.

“She should’ve known you were mine,” he giggled, the sound innocent and jarring as he toyed with your vulnerability. His hand made its way to your chest, and a shocked, playful laugh escaped his lips. “No bra? My, my, you spoil me…”

His eyes glistened with delight, a twisted mix of childlike excitement and sadistic pleasure. “Remember when you used to run away? I miss those days... I miss scaring you with my experiments. But I also love when you let me touch…”

Mahito’s lips quivered in a deranged smile, as his fingers found your nipples. Twisting and pulling until milk begins to dampen your shirt.The tips of his fingers becoming sticky with your milk. A giggle escaped his lips “I was so lucky this alteration to your body took…I was nearly worried it was going to kill you in the process….messing with brains can be hard” he whined the past few words as he continued to milk you, staining your poor blouse with each tug and pull. The only thing that filled the room was the sound of your sweet moans and the horrors that were monsters clawing the walls. You felt sick as slick began to coat your thighs, something that could be mixed with piss from the sight around you and the arousal building up from your sensitive buds being toyed with, to the point where they ached. 

You practically whimpered in his grip. Clawing at the arm that held you to his chest. 

“I love you,” he continued, his voice dripping with twisted delight, the words flowing out in a sing-song manner. “Say it back and we’ll go home…okay?” His smile, stretched wide and near-manic, sent a chill down your spine as he watched you wither under his touch.

“Hah…I…” The words caught in your throat, lodged behind the growing bile threatening to choke you. You forced them out, pushing past the terror and the nausea that gripped you as your eyes darted to his grotesque creations, their hands clawing desperately at the walls of the forgotten sewer. “I love…you…” The phrase broke into fractured sobs, each one echoing in your mind, barely masking the sound of Mahito’s gleeful laughter as he swept you up into his arms.

“That’s my girl! See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he chirped, the cheerfulness in his voice a sickening contrast to the horror around you. Your body tensed, but you forced yourself to relax, leaning into his chest. They were once people, weren’t they? 

As your vision blurred, exhaustion pulled you under, your mind swirling with nightmares of those poor, wretched things clawing and pleading in the darkness. 

You weren’t sure how long you were out for, your mind hazy, you felt like you had a fever as you panted. You blinked away the sleep, feeling a pool of heat between your legs and you could hear…moans? Everything felt so hot…so messy. 

“Give…give me one…more” Mahito whined with each and every breath. Has he been?…The soreness hit you first, you felt so raw. You watched at the pale creature pathetically humped the bed like a bitch in heat. “I was a good boy…right? Right? I waited…so that way you could enjoy it too…” His dead eyes looked up at you, expecting some sort of praise for his deranged actions. You hoped that you could mask the horror on your face, right before, he curled his fingers deep inside you causing you to squirm. 

“Hah…I memorized your body…while you were asleep…if I touch you here” you nearly screamed out of pleasure, your body compulsing as you saw stars, your eyes rolling back of your skull, You were just so overstimulated. “It will make you climax within seconds…so I figured I would keep hitting that spot until you wake up” He smiled as he licked your clit, circling his long tongue around the sensitive nub that caused a guttural moan to slip out of your lips. “Then this little thing causes your legs to shake…must feel good right? All red and puffy” he continued licking up and down, side to side. Spelling out his name until you were spilling out curses from your lips. His fingers kept curling around that sweet spot that was located deep inside of you. The sounds that filled the room, made your stomach tighten in knots. You shouldn’t be feeling this….good. 

You peeked down at him, the way he looked up at you like a lovesick bitch in heat. He enjoyed this a little too much you could tell. 

“Tell me, I’m a good boy, please…please” He moaned as he continued to fuck himself against your bed. “Y/n…I’m your good boy…” he whined in between licks. “I cleaned you up and everything…hah…you were just so messy…couldn’t…help myself.” 

You forced the words out in between labored breaths.

“You’re…a good….boy” After that final word, pleasure clashed into you. Your hips moved involuntarily as you squirted on his face, earning a large, cruel smile from his lips as he licked at the sweet juices in between muttering Thank you and I love you. You were thankful you passed out. Not wanting to know what else he had in store for you tonight. 

Perhaps hell would be better than this.

[imaredshirt]

There are bad days. So many bad days.

Sometimes their calculations end up being completely wrong. Days worth of gathering data and filling in formulas and tabulating results only bring them to dead ends. 

Sometimes Fiddleford slips up and a portal component implodes, or one of Stanley’s many shady connections fails to follow through with the illegal machinery and fuel they’d promised. Sometimes their failures are so catastrophic that it seems they’re right back where they started. Like they’re never going to bring Stanford home.

The frustration builds. Anger simmers. It’s an awful feeling. Like something waiting to burst but never actually bursting. It just sits there, heavy and suffocating and growing. A lot of walls are punched and the memory gun is brought out of its case more than once - never used, but considered in long, heavy silence.

It would be good to forget it all, Fiddleford thinks in those moments. Forget everything and hide in some shadowy corner where his failures couldn't find him.

But then he looks up and catches Stanley's eye. Stanley, who's clenching and unclenching a fist littered with bloody splinters. Stanley, who has stuck by him this whole time, even after fights that had nearly come to blows and after hurtful insults had been tossed around by them both.

Stanley, who has accepted Fiddleford despite all his faults. Who would give his soul to find his brother again.

Fiddleford puts the memory gun in its case and locks it, then finds the med kit before sitting with Stanley and looking to his bleeding fist. He cleans the blood away and as he's pulling out a roll of bandages, Stanley huffs a comment so ridiculous that Fiddleford laughs for the first time in a week. He gives a brief, comforting squeeze to Stanley's wrist and they share another long look and somehow it helps.

So many bad days. But they get through those days together, if nothing else.

[fandomfablesunleashed]

When Leaves Fall

Kazuha x reader

English is not my first language

I wrote it like two years ago after learning about Kazuha's backstory, and I finally got around to editing and posting it. It was the first thing I wrote for Genshin, and, unashamedly, I still love it.

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He ran to you as though every heartbeat depended on it, unable to bear the thought of leaving without one last glance, one final touch. For two weeks, he'd been on the run, evading shadows and whispers, haunted by his past and hunted by those who believed him guilty. But one thought anchored him through it all: he had to see you. He moved carefully, assessing every step and ensuring his presence wouldn’t bring you any trouble.

You were waiting, standing under the old maple tree, where countless stolen moments had once blossomed in the dappled sunlight. Yet today, you looked different, your face etched with worry, your lips pressed tight, and your fingers winding anxiously through your hair—a telltale sign of a troubled mind. As he slowed to take you in, his breath caught. Even under a veil of sorrow, you were magnificent—a sight he wanted to lock in his heart forever. The reality of what he was about to do clawed painfully at his chest.

“I heard about what happened,” you began, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I was so worried about you. It’s… heartbreaking. He was a kind, good person, and you… you deserve better. So much better.” Your words wavered, and you couldn’t meet his gaze.

He moved closer, close enough to notice the glistening traces of tears marking your cheeks—a painful revelation. His anguish felt suddenly insignificant in the face of yours. How much have you suffered since hearing the news?

“Please,” he said softly. “We can’t dwell on the past as it is unchangeable. And you shall not disturb your mind with my troubles. I did not come here to seek pity from you.”

You gave a sad, quiet laugh, devoid of its usual warmth. “I know that. But I cannot help but feel my heart break for you. You have a pure soul, undisturbed even by the immense pain you’ve experienced in your life. And now…” You shook your head, anger darkening your eyes. “Now you did nothing wrong, and yet, you're probably the most wanted criminal out there. It’s ridiculous, even.”

You finally turned to him, and he felt the weight of your gaze—the love, the pain, the silent desperation. He must have looked a mess: weary, disheveled, his crimson eyes shadowed by sleepless nights and relentless worry. But you looked at him as though nothing else in the world mattered.

“That’s why I came,” he said, his voice low and steady. “I’ve come to say goodbye. Being near me isn’t safe. You know that.”

You signed deeply upon hearing this. You got accustomed to saying goodbye to him. But this was different. It seemed final.  You may as well never see him again. And that was too much. How can you go on with your life without him by your side?

“Don’t,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “Stay with me. You could hide here, with my family. My father has ties to the Tenryu Commission—they’d never suspect you here. We could keep you safe; find a way out of this…” Your words were choked, tears spilling down your cheeks again, your gaze pleading. “There has to be a way.”

He shook his head, a gentle, sorrowful smile playing on his lips. “I would never put you, nor your family, in harm's way. I would never know peace knowing I could bring danger upon you. I must leave. We both know it.”

And you did. But that didn’t mean it was any less painful. You let the tears flow freely, no longer hiding the grief you felt at the thought of losing him. He lifted a hand to your face, his fingers brushing away a tear, his eyes soft, drinking in every detail of you, as if committing it to memory one final time.

“I…” always the eloquent, the poet suddenly could not find the words to convey everything he wanted.

Just as he was about to say something more, the wind carried the faint sound of soldiers approaching. “No time, then,” he murmured, casting one last, longing look at you. In that instant, he decided that perhaps, this time, actions would say more than words ever could. With quiet resolve, he moved closer, inch by inch, until he pressed his lips firmly to yours.

You felt your hand rise instinctively to rest against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingers. You held each other in that kiss, pouring everything unsaid into the embrace, as though it might be the last thing you’d ever share. And maybe it would be. You lingered, savoring every fleeting second of that bittersweet moment, until the approaching footsteps grew louder, shattering the spell.

Reluctantly, you pulled apart, and he looked at you through tear-brimmed eyes, offering a soft, trembling smile. You returned it, a faint smile of your own, holding on to the memory even as the world pulled you away.

“Go,” you whispered, your voice a plea. “Be safe.”

He nodded, his tears beginning to slip free. “Remember, the fate that brings people together is not a cord so easily cut. I will do everything in my power to return. To you.”

And with that, he turned and slipped into the shadows, accompanied by the red leaves falling from the maple tree. How appropriate. He had lost his home, his family, his name—and now he had lost you too, the last light in his life. As he faded into the darkness, the weight of longing wrapped around him like a shroud, heavy yet familiar. A fierce determination flickered to life in his chest, a spark ignited by the thought of you. He would return. He had to.

Deep within your heart, you clung to a fragile yet unyielding hope—that this was not a final farewell, but a temporary parting. The memory of your love, unspoken yet profound, etched under the watchful gaze of the maple tree, filled you with strength. For the maple would remember. The leaves would bear witness, rustling softly in the breeze, echoing the promise that your bond would withstand the trials of time and distance.

[puppy-phum]

Pit Babe Characters x Cartomancy ➣ Part 6: Pete & Way

King of Diamonds: A person with great wealth and power. Often skilled in various areas, a jack of all trades. Ten of Spades: A card of misfortune and tragic endings. Reveals secrets, obsessions, and lies.

for @pitbabeanniversary week 6 prompts: pete & way

(more thoughts under the cut!)

disclaimer: i am not an expert in either cartomancy or tarot reading. i did a lot of research on these two sites to come up with these cards for the characters. some of the meanings associated with the cards are still only my own interpretation, so they might not be completely accurate.

pete and way are the last pair in this series and i have to say that it feels fitting. they are the pair with no ending, the pair left the most incomplete in season 1. way dies for redemption (which is stupid imo) before he's able to ever open up to pete and his attempts to get closer to way. pete is only left with a grave, yet nothing seems to end. (pls s2 come quicker, i need way to have his glorious back from the dead -moment already!)

pete: just like alan, i think pete's card is very obvious and so, very cliché. he's the king of diamonds through and through, the person often associated with money and power. he's very proud of what he's accomplished in life, yet always thrives to be more, to be bigger, better, more powerful. he's in a war against his adoptive father in the only way he knows how, and so he must always be on the rise. he has no chance of letting loose, and i think we all can agree that he works way too much and rests too little. he is often stuck being not quite himself, lonely at the top. it must be hard when we can see that beneath the business persona, pete is horribly warm.

this is why king of diamonds is also described as charitable, generous, and reliable. once again, pete is a lot like alan, but where alan offers his heart, pete offers resources: money, connections, and his skills. he's tried his best to become invincible in every way just like his adoptive father seems to be. he's great in socializing, in doing business, even in combat and tactics. he's driven by his wish to help, and i guess that often ties to his compassion and understanding. that's why he hasn't given up on kenta and that's why he instantly reaches out for way, too. pete might not be able to provide a family in the way alan does, but pete is able to reach out a helping hand. he can offer a place to stay for those who have nowhere else to go and no one else to listen to them. he cares, and just like with work, it's sometimes too much. he does not get a break from it.

way: it was easy to decide that spades was way's suit; a little later, i decided on number ten. i was first thinking about ace of spades bc it's the death card of the deck, but i did not want to make way only about his death when it's the thing i dislike about his character so much. so, i decided on ten bc of the "tragic ending", which is not way's death, even if it kind of is. i think the true tragic ending comes for him earlier; with the reveal of his betrayal that causes him to lose everything he's ever had. he loses his pack, his family, his home; he loses himself, and all his self-worth, and worst of all, babe. bc he does love babe, even if it's in all the wrong ways. way has tried his best, has tried to do what he thought was right, and in the end, it is not enough to solve anything or save babe. (and so he must die, but let's ignore that.)

in a sense, the reveal of that betrayal is both the end and a beginning for way. after it's it's a way for him to be born again. he can give up on all the lies, all the acting and pretending. he's used so much time and effort keeping up his web of lies he must be exhausted by now. how many times did he almost trip? how many times did he forget what lies he'd told and had to come up with new ones, or had to use his powers to fix his mistakes? now, there's no longer need for any of that. he can finally breathe freely. no more lies, no more acting, no more being someone else. everything is out in the open and it must be terrifying bc the ppl who loved him before, would they reject this real version of him? even if they were not this hurt, didn't hate him, would they still not want way? what if tony is right and there's nothing to love about him? i don't know but i hate that the series never let way find out. but well, in season 2 we trust, i suppose. i have hopes and dreams about it <3

but based on these thoughts, it's easy to see why pete and way would work together. way is the master of deception, of lies and acting. pete is able to read people, literally and figuratively. there's no hiding from him and his touch, and i think in some ways, way needs exactly that. he needs someone to understand him without words, or to look into his head and put his thoughts into words for him. pete again needs someone he can trust with his softer side, which i also find interesting about him: he is so ready to offer his heart to way even after knowing who way is and what his powers can do. pete seems like a paradox in that sense, always keeping everyone and everything at a distance (or so i assume), yet being so ready to believe in ppl and offer them trust he's seen so easily broken.

there are also some other interesting connections to this pair i wanted to mention. the funniest coincidence imo is that babe's card is about new beginnings, while way's card is now about tragic or bad endings. also, charlie's card being the exact half of way's (5 and 10) seems to have some kind of story behind it. pete again has the same suit as kenta, both their cards in the royal family, and i think that's exactly why they work and don't work together. pete is exactly like the king, the one on top and in control, while kenta is the knight, the person who serves and follows. they're both calm in personality, tho am not sure if it's exactly who they are or if it's who they were forced to become. i wonder what could've been if kenta had left with pete – or if they'd never been taken by tony at all and had grown up like other kids.

this edit concludes my musings for all these characters. it's been a joy to make these and ponder on these boys, and honestly, i feel like i've found a completely new love and appreciation for all of them. thank you for all who have liked these edits and happy anniversary to the vroom vroom omegaverse bl, you've been stellar ♥ never thought i'd come back to you in a year but here we are, have my whole heart!

(idk if i'll make an edit for the last week, so also adding that i enjoyed the event a ton! it's been fun going to the tag and seeing everybody talk about the series again. looking forward to s2 and the anniversary stage live in less than two weeks ^^)