#This goes to everyone: It is not selfish to take care of yourself

[tsuutarr]

Yandere!Hero (Chosen One) x Saint!Reader

In all of his life, Elias only remembers crying once. It was when he was a young boy, no older than six years old. He had been taken to the Church for a baptism, only for his holy power and status as the Chosen One to be revealed. He had then been stolen from his parents and beaten black and blue until he was molded into the Hero that would save everyone.

Resigned to his role, Elias never allowed himself to feel any semblance of emotion. He only needs to fulfill the prophecy, after all. No one cares about who he is as a person, about him. They’ve put him outside to protect the borders of humanity by sacrificing his life. They’ve put a distance between him, parading him as a Hero while masking their selfish desires of having him take on the entire burden of bringing salvation to humankind. He is nothing more than a glorified sacrifice without the privilege of feeling emotions. 

But if that’s the case, why does his heart ache when he’s with you? Why does his stomach flutter? Why does a smile he had thought he lost in his youth come back when you’re around? Why does rage burn his fingers when you get hurt? Why do tears wet his cheeks when he holds your cold, lifeless body?

Please, please tell him that you’re just sleeping. Tell him that you’ll greet him when morning comes. Please, use your warm hands to brush his tears away. Tell him that it’ll all be okay.

Despite Elias’ ardent desires, the dead cannot comfort the living. 

“My child,” a voice from the Heavens calls, a beam of light surrounding Elias. “I thank you for your service.”

“Please,” Elias murmurs, voice thick with emotion. “I cannot live without the Saint.”

The voice above is silent as it observes Elias, who cradles you in his arms like you’re his most important treasure. “I cannot change the hands of fate.”

“Then I will,” Elias responds. “Turn back time for me and I will find another way to seal the Demon Lord.”

“It does not exist. You will only put yourself through the same pain.”

“It doesn’t matter to me. As long as I can save the Saint.”

The voice from the Heavens is silent, before it says, “Very well. If that is your desire.”

And so, time is rewinded back to when Elias was a young boy. He once again goes to Church to receive baptism. He is once again shown to be the Hero. He is once again stripped from his parents and beaten black and blue, but this time, he does not cry. Instead, he looks forward so that he can find a way to save you.

But no matter Elias’ efforts, bad end after bad end follows his footsteps. No matter what he does, no matter what he changes, no matter what, bad ends are the only ends he meets with. A good ending where the world is saved and you are still alive just doesn’t exist. So, Elias has no choice, really. He’ll create his own bad end, except this time, the world will be sacrificed for you.

[nikovraskol]

Hii! I love your batfam series so much! I was wondering if we could dive deeper into Damian? and his relationship with the reader in general. He’s such an interesting enigma. He doesn’t like the reader but still cares? in his own twisted way? I’d love to know more about how he thinks

masterlist

thank u for asking this i am feining for any chance to discuss reader's relationship, especially with damian.

personally, i think he sees reader as abnormality. in a family of greatness, they're just there. they don't contribute to anything, they don't help anyone. they just lurk around, like a fly that refuses to be swatted.

his superiority complex towards reader probably manifested for a multitude of reasons ;

firstly, reader doesn't come from anything special, unlike him, their mother isn't some great, powerful figure. just some harlot who managed to seduce bruce wayne and get lucky, meanwhile he comes from talia al ghul, he comes from a higher place than them. they may share bruce's dna, but his mother's half is superior to theirs, therefore, he is superior.

but also, reader isn't a vigilante. they were shoved into a world where the door to becoming something more was open, something reader could reach forward to, something they could grasp, but they didn't take that chance. he sees their refusal to become a vigilante less of a personal choice and moreso a weakness. he grew up in a world where fighting was neccessary, where he had to scar himself to be cradled. so he feels a rush of frustration watching reader being normal, going to school, lounging around -- it infuriates him, it could very well be envy, because a small part of him, a part surpressed by his upbringing, craves that normalcy.

but unlike jason, instead of observing, of presserving reader's 'innocence', damian loathes it.

as stated before, damian comes from the league of assasins, he had to fight to gain his respect -- these traits follow him to the manor, when he hears of reader, he seeks them out simply to remind them of their place, below him.

that's how it should be, so that's why your shift in behaviour startles him. when you walked past him, he was stunned. you looked at him differently, he could see that the way you carried yourself, the way you spoke up. he could tell something was different, but he couldn't tell what.

regardless, you gaining a back-bone was simply unpresidented! though it's easy to write it off as simple arrogance, damian's insistence on you stayed came from a place of fear. you leaving -- it'd shake damian's core values, everyone in the family helps him in some way, not in a selfish way -- but in an emotional way. he loves his family, he cares for them -- so by proxy, he loves you too.

so how could you want to leave? what you believe to be fear of the changes around you, he sees it as conceit, believe it or not! you don't know what it's like to have to bleed for respect, you've never had to sink a dagger into someone's flesh to earn your keep, you don't know what goes on outside of the bubble that bruce's kept you in -- or, that's how he sees it.

because, of course, he doesn't know what you're currently going through -- this little fit of yours, he sees it as a testament to your naiveness. you can't leave, you're-- oh, how he loathes to say it, you're important.

so, i do think in his own way, damian cares for reader. but he's always expressed his affection through his violence, it's how he was raised. but reader isn't apart of that world. the small, childish part of him which he believed to have been extuinguished yearns to reach out.

but the man he became stops him, he wants reader to stay close, stay where he can see them, savour who they are, where he can protect them, even if that protection means breaking them down, it's the only way he knows how to show his affection, so don't complain too much.

soz if this is hard to read i was kinda rushing this >.>

[4only1]

Hiiii there!

So I don't know about your rules so if you uncomfortable it's okay!!! 😊

Can you write a story where shingen and reader are married but reader doesn't want to be married and just wants a life of her own. So she runs away not knowing she was pregnant and when she finds out, she decideds to keep the baby and gives birth to twins a boy and a girl. Awhile reader is happy, shingen has gone completely insane looking for her.

Every day some dies do to the fact they couldn't find reader. But shingen learns where reader is hiding and goes himself to get only to find out she has given birth to gun and his twin sister.

They rest can be up to you! 😊

Thank you! 😊

Fear and Loathing

Yamazaki Shingen x Reader Word Count: 912 Warning: Angst (I can't help myself) Masterlist ------------------------

It was all you felt for this lifestyle you had been forced into. Fear and loathing. Fear for the man you married, for the members of the clan who despised you enough to try and get rid of you. Loathing of the man you married, for the lifestyle forced upon you. 

Marriage was a silly thing to you. If it were actually your decision, you never would have married, let alone a man like Shingen Yamazaki. The man he once was had now become lethargic, empty, depressed. You didn’t like your married life before, and you certainly didn’t like it after his defeat. 

Once you were informed of the Yubitsume to take place, you couldn’t stay here any longer. It didn’t matter that you had supposedly sinned, you needed to leave. In the dead of night, you vanished. Nobody knew exactly how you left without so much as a trace, but it didn’t matter. What did, was the fact that Shingen was furious, with the other woman, with everyone who didn’t notice, but especially with you.

The bloodshed that followed was only contained once his brother, Shintaro, claimed they would find you. How he needed to put the clan first, and let them take care of finding you. Soon, one month passed, then two, then three, and as they did, Shingen became more restless. Where did you go, and what were you doing?

It was a taste of freedom unlike any other, one you had never known. You travelled far away, hidden within the depths of a small prefecture, no one knowing of who you truly were. You made a life for yourself, working at a small shop, supporting yourself, no longer constricted by the rules of the Yamazaki clan. Until you found out you were pregnant.

It wasn’t expected but not exactly surprising. You had been expected to give birth to the heir at some point, and it just had to be when you decided to run away. You decided to keep it, more trouble would come if you didn’t, and maybe if you delivered the heir, you could bargain for freedom for yourself. It was selfish, but you never asked for this life, and certainly not this child. 

As your pregnancy progressed, you became depressed at the fact of giving birth to the Yamazaki clan's heir. You couldn’t do this, this child would tie you to the clan forever, regret sank in. It hit even harder when you discovered it was twins.

Meanwhile, the Yamazaki clan was in shambles. Their leader had gone mad trying to find you, often taking his frustrations out on those around him. A trail of blood followed him, and it bleed for you. He was desperate as the months passed. He needed you, you didn’t have a choice, once he found you, you were never leaving his side again.

It was a week after you had given birth, over nine months since you ran away, that he appeared. Like you escaping through the night, his figure was a shadow, watching you, waiting. He was shocked to be greeted not only by you, but two infants as well. Exhaustion was obvious on your face, but it also held another emotion he couldn’t quite place.

“You’ve been hiding all this time, even after you discovered you were carrying my children. This game is over, it is time to return.”

He was blunt with his words, as always. He expected immediate action from you, instead, you remained seated, looking at him, that same indescribable emotion on your face. 

“I don’t think that will happen. I have served my duties as the wife by giving birth to the heir of the clan. You don’t need me anymore, and I don’t need you.”

“You don’t get a choice, you are to return and continue to be my wife”

A long pause followed. He wouldn't take no for an answer. Until...

“I’m so tired”

Your broken voice spoke. Broken things can be fixed, Shingen thought. But something stopped him, you stopped him. The two infants laying in their cots caused him to pause, if he had you, you would break further, maybe even die.

If you love something, you’ll let it go, and he might just have to do that. You were broken, and he couldn’t fix you, even if he lived in ignorance to your condition, forcing you back into the clan, by his side, it would forever plague him. 

The thought of knowing you were alive was better than keeping you by his side, forever spiraling until you faded away. He couldn’t leave without something though. 

“I will take my son with me, the daughter shows no promise for anything special, she will remain with you.”

You offered no argument as he took the child, as he was leaving you offered on final remark.

“His name is Jonggun, but please, give him a proper name. And let us forget we ever met.”

He would never know what happened to you or the daughter, and although he had your son, it was too painful to look at him. He avoided the son, again falling into a deep depression. It wasn’t until he was dying protecting the child he had taken from you, that he finally understood.

It finally clicked what that look on your face was. He hadn’t seen it since you first left, nobody having the nerve to show it in front of him. It was normally mixed with another emotion as well, but this time, it stood alone, by itself.

It was loathing.

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

I can't help myself, I love writing unhappy stories. I like to try and make the prompts possible in the storyline, it's just more enjoyable for me. Careful when you say, the rest is up to you, because I will turn it into an angsty story. TBH I originally was gonna make reader die, but couldn't make it work.

All my Shingen stories have the common theme of reader dying or running away, just how I like it.

[stoopidpigeonxx]

Hiiii can you do the crew and their kinks and some smut please!!

yuhyuhyuhyuh~ I can indeed!!

Curly

-listen. Deep down I think this man is a total freak. So he's got some strange ones. -Innocence/corruption kink. he is so turned on by taking a girl (or boy's) virginity. It makes him feel so... above everyone. He's a bit selfish sometimes. But also, because he really wants to take care of someone and give them a great first introduction to sex. He wants you to get so attached to him, that you'll never leave his side. He wants you all to himself. -Pussy worshipping. (I'm getting all of these from wikipedia btw.) More likely just worshiping in general, but definitely centered around your cunt. Like, he will spend hours licking at your clit and eating you out to get you readily prepared for him. Or, he won't even fuck you. Just solely focusing on your pleasure alone. (although.. will probably stroke himself while he goes down on you.) -Face fucking. Deep down, this man is a total sub for this. Like.. if you're a female, he'll let you ride his face 100 percent. If you're a dude, hey, why not. Use his mouth. He doesn't mind. (aslong as you don't make him deepthroat; he's not so good at that.) -Thigh riding/frottage. HUMP. THIS. MAN. he will gladly let you sit on his thigh while he works and let you go to town. He's so obsessed with feeling you lose yourself on him without needing his cock, fingers, or mouth, just purely using his body to get yourself off. Makes him feel like he's perfect for you. <3

Jimmy -okay.. so like... he's freaky. Outwardly freaky. -Bimbofication. Basically... he wants to fuck you stupid. Literally. He wants you dumb and ditzy, constantly thinking about him and his cock. God forbid you think about someone else; that mind of yours belongs to him and him only. -sadism/masochism. He likes to be hurt, and he likes to hurt. Bite him, scratch him, slap him, all that. He loves it. And he does the same thing to you; he is, in no means, vanilla. He will leave you marked up afterwards. He doesn't think sex is fun if it's not rough; he wants it to be exciting and hot, not lame and boring. -Orgasm denial/control. He loves controlling when and how you can get off. Will often ruin your orgasm just to watch you whine and squirm, begging to come. Believes you shouldn't be able to cum as an act of punishment. Mouthing off to him? You aren't allowed to get off today. -degradation. whoooo boy. He is saying the most vile, nasty shit to you during sex. Calling you a slut for taking it, telling you how pathetic you look sucking him off, all that wonderful stuff. Like I said, he's rough. It's rare to get praise or any sort of affection from him, unless you're doing something really good for him.

-Dacryphillia. likes seeing you cry. Maybe in pain, maybe in pleasure. It kinda ties in with his sadism thing a bit.. He likes the fact that he's making you feel so good you're sobbing in pleasure.

Daisuke (Cis daisuke.. sorry yall :-(

he's a young man. He's kinky as hell. (As a fellow 18 year old I get it.) -Praise. For him, and for you. He loves whispering sweet nothings and little bits of praise in your ear when you're taking him just as much as he loves getting praised. Seriously. If you call him a good boy he's willing to do ANYTHING you want. And I mean anything. Will go dog mode. -Pegging. Oh he LOOOOOVES getting the shit fucked out of him by a hot girl with a nice strap. He's afraid its weird since most girls want a man who's on top, but he wants to be dominated. He wants to be taken care of, and be absolutely wrecked at the same time. So fucking him with your strap is the perfect way to make him feel good. -Oral (both receiving and giving.) His favorite form of sex is definitely oral. Going down on someone makes him feel like he's doing something right and making his partner feel good. He likes to believe he's not too shabby; He's got a good tongue on him, exercised by his endless yapping. He loves receiving it too. Huuuuge fan of deepthroat. He will be perfectly satisfied with you sucking him off and won't want anything else. He's also super noisy; moans, grunts, whines, babbling and all of that good stuff. Your mouth is just so perfect and feels so good, he can't help it. -Cock slapping. He's a little bit of a pain junkie. I think he has a lot of piercings, so he's used to a bit of pain. If you're jerking him off and you slap at his dick, he loves it. Whines like a puppy. He also doesn't mind being slapped on the face, ass, chest.. he just likes slapping a bit. Not too hard, though! He can only handle so much! -Creampie. If you're a girl, you need to keep some plan b's around and get on birth control, because he's cumming inside of you almost constantly. He blames it on the fact that he doesn't like the feeling of condoms, but really he just likes watching his cum leak out of you. Makes him feel like he did a good job. Plus, it makes him feel way closer to you, since there isn't any boundary on him. He can feel everything, and he's addicted to the sensation of his cum shooting into you.

Anya

-mommy kink. hear me out.. hear me out y'all... Anya as a Dommy Mommy. I think she'd be all for it. And no, this doesn't have anything to do with her pregnancy and wanting to be a mother, she just likes it. Like, if y'all are fucking and she hears, the word 'mommy' slip past your lips, she leans into it and refers to herself as your Mommy the rest of the night. And will keep doing it. It gives her a sense of control and power that she normally doesn't get. -Tribbing/scissoring. I think she's a hardcore lesbian girl kisser. Sorry but like.. diva is wearing sandals and a striped shirt, with a wolfcut.. she likes WOMEN. So yeah, she likes bumping clits. Especially in a position where she's on top. I feel like she's a service Dom, kinda like Curly is. She's gonna dominate you but she'll be nice about it. Like, missionary with your legs around her so she gets good access. She's not a rough or fast rubber, she likes it slow and sensual. She wants to feel all of the sensations. -Romantic/passionate. She is a sucker for sweet love making. She wants rose petals, kisses, sweet tender treatment. And she wants to give that to you as well. She wants to take it slow and steady with you, figure out what the both of you like and need from eachother.

Swansea -what the fuck is a kink. IM SORRY. I really wanted to write what he would be into but I just... don't see him being that kinky... I'm sorry Swansea lovers i've failed you.

[lynnlovesthestars]

Could I request headcanons for Harleep, Astarion, Gale, Wyll, Halsin, Dammon, Rolan, and Zevlor with kind and patient gn s/o? This is quite self-indulgent of me because I have been told I'm too nice & so patient so I'm curious how they would react XD

first of all sorry for being so late, but my small brain has to process things multiple times to make sense, so i wrote this like... 5 times? So it takes me a while, but i hope that waiting was worth it.

Also i saw you sent a second ask to see if i recieved this one, so ill put dammon and rolan there cause this is starting to get a bit long:3<3 thank you so much for your patience!:3

Taglist: @sessils @spacebarbarianweird

Headcanon: BG3 men with kind and patient s/o. (pt. 1)

Zevlor:

Zevlor is emotionally a wreck already, he considers kindness a virtue and it definitely makes him swoon when he notices you put extra care in making sure he's treated with kindness. At the end of the day, he basically got bullied on all fronts when all he really wants is to prove himself worthy of the title he carried for so long.

Zevlor has a short temper too, and he appreciates so much your effort and patience in dealing with his outbursts, whether they are of rage- not towards you of course- or of sadness, you offer always a shoulder for him and he cherishes it so much.

He is lowkey jealous when he notices that your kindness is not mostly exclusive to him, he has learned that people can abuse one's patience and care, and 1. he doesn't want you to get hurt, 2. he wishes your kindness was maybe reserved to him. Call him selfish, but after being deprived of it for so long, he is hesitant to let go of it.

Astarion:

Initially he would be very wary, in his experience being nice always lead to him getting hurt, so why would he trust someone who's default reply is kindness? At the end of the day the last time someone was '''''kind''''' to him, he was turned in a vampire spawn, so he takes it extra slow, he has just regained control over himself, he won't blindly accept kindness. He's lowkey afraid you are just part of a bigger scheme that will bite him in the ass and leave him shackled and caged again.

Once he gets accustomed to your kindness and finally accepts it, he revels in the kindness you offer and your patience, especially the smallest gestures like opening a door for him. He will literally melt for it, he's already smitten, your kindness leaves him like mush in your hands.

Nevetheless every good side, comes with a negative one. He is dead afraid your kindness will bring you to get hurt. He often reminds you to be weary and keep all your kindness for people you trust (HIM), rather than going around and helping every lost soul that asks for help. He will fight you on this a few times- especially if you do get hurt or it is obvious you are about to- he will not bite his tongue and keep it for himself, and that's one of the moments when he's glad you are patient.

You understand where it comes from and you try your best to find a solution that would make both happy. Your patience of course doesn't stop there, he knows he's an handful: he carries an heavy trauma baggage and he has a feisty personality, yet you always show him you don't mind, that you are there for him and that he can take all the time of the universe to sort his problems out.

Wyll:

Wyll would find it so endearing, how you are ready to go to someone's aid, you stop on your tracks to support someone in need, and he would love seeing you being kind to everyone. It's probably one of the reasons why he falls in love with you. Unlike Astarion he encourages you to be kind to everyone, cause he considers it a virtue, he incourages you to be the best version of yourself, and he reminds you that if you do get hurt, he will be there to pick up the pieces.

As far as patience goes, he's grateful to the moon and back, he knows he is an handful, especially if he doesn't break his pact with Mizora and has to leave more times than ever. He makes sure once he's back though that he makes up for lost time, whether it is with gifts or by taking care of you.

Haarlep:

Harleep is so used to Raphael that honestly he's taken aback at first, living in the hells means that kindness is hard to come by and around Raphael? It's either a trick or a miracle, so he brushes it off, not repelled like Astarion would, but definitely not eager like Wyll either.. he would be probably the one that takes it as it is, just.. that. But when he gets used to it? He becomes unsufferable. So unsufferable that he goes around demanding Raphael to be treated with kindness and patience! He purrs whenever you are nice even the smallest, thanking you and praising you like a goddess. He even tries to be nice himself- to you only- and despite it has to be and effort, since he has never been exposed to much kindness, he does become a little more mindful, even asking before taking your form or just with small acts of services.

One time Rapahel makes sure to send a message to you through him. "Tav, Raphael asked you stop being nice to me, cause if i demand it from him as well, he's going to turn me into fertilizer", message delivered with a pout that begs exactly the opposite.

Harleep is another that is deeply afraid of your kindness. Let's be real, you can defend yourself as much as you want, but people tend to use people and your kindness is one of those characteristics evil people would pry on- he knows well since its literally part of what he does, and a facet of what Raphael does as well. He probably scolds you a lot for this reason, he does it in a sweet way- don't get me wrong- he sugarcoats the shit out of it, but he will let you know when you are about to get in peril or you are too careless with your kindness.

Gale:

Gale is touched by your kindness, already from the first days after meeting him.

You had helped him out of his blotched portal, you fed him artifacts, you didn't question his secrets or push him to reveal anything, and he doesn't give that for granted. Once he's closer to you, and he learns that you are unconditionally kind to everyone, he's scared.

He starts warning you to be a little less nice, to use your judgement before you blindly trust a stranger, but he doesn't push it past a warning. As much as he wants to protect you, he doesn't want to take away your chance to grow from your errors.

In matter of your patience he's so grateful, he spends days thanking you when he's still afflicted with the orb condition, he cooks as a form of apology or thanks depending what he did, he gets baths started for you, he's treating you as a queen/ king. He alread would do it, but with you? He's even more protective, he almost feels like he has to match your kindness and patience with as much attentions he can muster.

Halsin:

Halsin is a fair man you think he wishes everyone was kind, but he actually wants you to be fair, he wants you to be mindful of who you give kindness to, he wants you to be a reasonable judge rather than unconditionally nice cause it is the way of the nature as well. Nature is not only nurturing and lush, it's also the poisonous vipers and herbs.

Does he appreciate when you are kind? Absolutely, he thinks it's the best gift Silvanus has ever bestowed him, but it doesn't take away the fact that he wants you to be treated kindly as well, so the moment someone crosses the line and starts abusing your kindness or becomes rude, he's definitely stepping in to s h a m e the other person. "You are lucky you have met Tav, cause they are kind, but nature wouldn't be so understanding and patient" He says it with a rage you rarely see in his eyes.

He will do his best to remind you to surely practice kindness but also to be mindful who you help and who you are kind to, cause there's always rotten that can harm you, and lowkey if you get hurt he will invite you to take back what you gave.

Despite this Halsin considers kindness the bare minimum a person should be, and what stops him from encouraging you to be kinder, its just the knowledge that you might get hurt.

[asterafroditis]

𐔌 . ⋮ wake up, sleepyhead.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☓┆Silver x gn! reader

𓏵 704 words

ᝰ.ᐟ 3rd Person POV, no pronouns used, established relationship with reader, angst, hurt/comfort

sorry if Silver is ooc, I'm not too knowledgeable on his personality (◞ ‸ ◟ㆀ) feel free to like, reblog, or leave a comment!

ᝰ.ᐟ masterlist

Silver loves you with all his heart, but no matter how much he tries to tell himself that, the guilt never truly goes away. He doesn’t doubt your love or patience— if anything, he feels like he doesn’t deserve them. How could he, when every moment spent with you feels like a moment stolen by his uncontrollable slumber?

It wasn’t as if you didn’t know. From the very beginning, you’d been well aware of the spell placed on him as a child. You’d told him countless times that it didn’t bother you, that you understood this was something he couldn’t control. But Silver couldn’t stop the self-reproach that grew every time he awoke to find your face patiently waiting for him.

He hated the way it always played out: an afternoon spent together under the dappled sunlight of a quiet forest, with you happily chatting away about something or other. Then, without warning, his eyelids would begin to droop, his head would grow heavy, and no amount of willpower could stop him from succumbing to the pull of sleep.

When he awoke, there you were, still by his side, smiling softly as though nothing had happened. But Silver could see the faint concern lingering in your eyes, could feel the way your hands hesitated for just a second longer before reaching for his. And that was what crushed him most of all—that you cared so much, even when he felt he didn’t deserve it.

“Why don’t you leave me?” he asked one day, the words slipping out before he could stop them. His voice was quiet, trembling with the weight of everything he’d kept inside. “You don’t have to waste your time with someone like me. You could be with someone who could give you all the time in the world... someone who wouldn’t fall asleep in the middle of your sentences.”

Your eyes widened, shock flashing across your face before quickly softening. “Silver, what are you talking about?” you murmured, stepping closer to him.

He shook his head, unable to meet your gaze. “I... I don’t want to be a burden to you. You deserve someone who can give you their full attention, not someone who spends half of your time together unconscious. I feel like I’m stealing from you.”

“Silver,” you whispered, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “You’re not stealing anything from me.”

“But I am!” he burst out, his voice cracking under the weight of his guilt. “Every time I fall asleep, I take away time we could have spent together. I feel so selfish for holding you back like this... and I can’t even stop it. I can’t change it.”

You waited for a moment, letting his words settle before speaking again. “You’re right,” you said softly, surprising him. “You can’t change it. And that’s okay. I don’t need you to change anything, Silver.”

He looked at you then, eyes wide and searching. “But why?”

“Because I love you,” you said simply. “And being with you means accepting every part of you, even the parts you might not like about yourself. When you fall asleep around me, it’s not a waste of time. It’s a reminder that you feel safe enough to let your guard down. That you trust me enough to be vulnerable.”

Silver’s breath hitched, his heart clenching painfully at your words. He wanted to believe you, wanted to let go of the guilt that weighed him down. But it was so hard.

You reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. “You’ve spent your whole life protecting others, haven’t you? Always on guard, always thinking about everyone else. But with me... you don’t have to do that. You can rest, Silver. I don’t mind. In fact, I love that you trust me enough to do that.”

For a long moment, Silver couldn’t find the words to respond. His chest felt tight, a strange mix of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. Slowly, he lowered his head, letting his silver hair fall into his eyes as he whispered, “Thank you.”

And for the first time, he allowed himself to believe, just a little, that maybe he wasn’t stealing your time. Maybe, just maybe, you were giving it willingly.

[cloversnstrawberries]

this may sound very weird and everything but could you do a platonic yandere ada wong and leon kennedy parent duo sorta thing. like ada and leon are readers parents

platonic!yandere!parents!ada w. + leon k & gn!teen!reader [headcanons] ! !

masterlist !

additional notes; hello!! this isn't weird at all :]] thank you so much for requesting this,, i've been wanting to do parent duo sort of requests for a while, but got nervous because. i have... experienced things, being in fandom for a while... oh god the shipping wars. but i feel much better knowing that someone would actually read/want something like this :D i hope i did it justice ^^ i'm also sick, so my brain is cooking in my skull. i apologize if this is worse quality that usual </3

warnings; overprotectiveness, (slight) possessive behavior, soft yandere, mentions of Leon & Ada's jobs/what comes along with it, temporary imprisonment, manipulation, gaslighting, love-bombing, distrust, and if there's anything else i missed, please let me know!! I forget stuff the second i write it down :(((

w/c; 1.7k

Whether not you're biologically their kid, adopted as a baby, or adopted later; they'd treat you all the same. The difference comes with the way you react/how quickly you accept and adapt to their behaviors.

With their jobs, they're usually away for long periods of time. When you were younger (like, younger than 13), they would try their best to alternate their gigs-- sometimes it wasn't possible for one of them to stay with you, and when that happened, you'd stay with either Claire or Jill for a while.

It was just how it was, and you were fine with it-- you thought they'd give that up when you got older, that they'd trust you to take care of yourself.

That was never the concern with it, though-- it wasn't that you couldn't take care of yourself,

They were afraid that being their kid would put a target on your back. The older you got, the more missions they went on-- the more scum-of-the-earth they met, the more careful they got with you.

Leon is extremely protective, and while Ada seems to be more lenient; I'd actually argue she's the worse one to have worried. She absolutely pulls in favors to 'keep an eye on you', and does her best to keep tabs on where and what you're doing whenever possible.

Ada is extremely charismatic, and definitely uses that to her advantage. Meanwhile, Leon is so painfully and genuinely kind, that people can't help but trust him more often than not.

Because of that, it'd be hard for you to convince anyone, maybe even yourself, that they're absolutely insane when it comes to you. At some point, it goes beyond just wanting to keep their kid safe for their own good.

Neither are particularly selfish in general, especially not Leon. Ada has her own goals, but she has a moral code and has been known to go out of her way to help others from time to time.

However, when you get involved, that changes entirely. For Leon, he wants to keep you safe because he doesn't want to lose you; he's already lost too many people he cared for, and he'd be devastated if you were added to that list.

On the other hand, Ada's motivations are a bit harder to place. She cares for you a lot, something she isn't used to letting herself do because of her line of work; she's far more used to isolating herself rather than throwing herself full force into any type of relationship.

You were that one exception-- even with Leon, she tried that routine of keeping herself detached to try and minimize the chance of 'gaining a new weakness'.

Eventually she gave in and stopped doing that, and while that doesn't happen with everyone, it's happened before as well. Ever since she became a spy/mercenary, she hasn't allowed herself to attach to someone as quickly as she did with you.

It's on principle that she doesn't want you hurt because of it. You're the once exception, the one person to have ever gotten her to let her guard down immediately. There's no way she's letting you go because of it, and she'd rather let herself get into tight situations if it meant keeping you safe.

Both Ada and Leon share one thing in common with their attitude towards you, though. And to you, it's probably the most annoying thing about your parents, and nothing could top it.

If they feel the need to, they'll literally just go against your wishes. They won't listen if they get even an inkling that something could go wrong-- and when you were younger, they could easily convince you that it was all for your own good.

Neither Leon or Ada actually enjoy manipulating you, far from it-- Ada is more accepting of it, but Leon had a lot of hang-ups about it at first. Ada was eventually able to convince him that it was okay,

In that way, Leon is worse than Ada in this regard. Ada will only manipulate you as a last resort (though, her definition of 'last resort' can be pretty loose in of itself),

But Leon? You better bet he's pulling it out every opportunity-- because he feels like there's nothing wrong with it. Ada is at least able to recognize that it's not the best thing to do, gaslighting your kid into missing out on friends birthday parties just because of a 'feeling'--

Leon however, is extremely deluded. Partly Ada's fault, and partly not. Yes, Ada nudged him towards believing that it was okay, but it was ultimately Leon who took the leap. It was his reasoning with himself that actually convinced him that it was a good idea.

Don't get me wrong, it's not like they isolate you completely! Ada actually encourages you to go out to events, and make new friends.

Though, maybe that has something to do with the fact that when she encourages you, there's always a feeling someone is watching you that accompanies you throughout the entire event.

When you get older, you start considering sneaking out. Your parents actually didn't expect this-- you'd been doing well with how they've been treating you, and they assume you won't rebel.

You've always seemed accepting of it, but maybe it's on them-- that they don't realize the slight distrust that starts showing up in your eyes. They don't feel a need to look into it any further, if they do notice it.

Maybe you were able to sneak out a couple times before you were caught, or maybe you were never able to successfully pull it off. You don't know about your mom's actual job-- they'd worked hard together to keep that a well-hidden secret from you--, so you don't have any advantage over them.

If anything, you have a massive disadvantage. Considering your parents are a government agent and a spy/mercenary, you probably never even stood a chance.

After you get caught, either dragged back home from wherever you snuck off to-- or hauled out of the open window you'd been halfway through hopping over-- you don't get a scolding like you think you will.

Instead, you get dragged down to the 'guest bedroom' in the basement and locked in there for a little bit. You knew of it's existence, but it never made any sense to you. The house you live in is large, and while your parents don't get a lot of guests, it's happened before.

But with a whopping 4 above-ground guest bedrooms, there was no reason to build a 5th one down in the basement. The fourth above-ground one never got used anyways, it just never made sense to you.

But now, it really, really does. It was never a guest bedroom as much as it was a holding cell. You should've known, considering they put it together when you were around 12/13. A preemptive measure, you realize now.

They didn't think they'd actually use it, but they were glad they'd done it regardless. You've never been in it, but you remember when they were getting the furniture and items to put in it, and when you were barred from entering the basement for a little while the contractors were down there--

You'd seen it from the outside, too. It looked normal enough-- if you ignored the deadlock on the outside, which you absolutely did not notice. It was weird, the addition to the house-- but it wasn't weird enough to look any further than a glance every once in a while, when you were down in the basement doing your laundry and whatnot.

Surprisingly, they don't keep you down there for very long. It's not a permanent thing right now, is what they told you.

That, however, left the very terrifying idea that it could become a permanent thing if you weren't careful. Ada called it 'just punishment', and Leon, ever the dork, called it 'time out on steroids'.

He'd been trying to cheer you up when he said that, and you just barely kept yourself from cracking a smile at it-- you were supposed to be mad, after all.

For the punishment to have worked, you'd have to have been on some kind of break. So, let's say it was spring break they decided to put you in the 'guest bedroom' (holding cell, is what you were internally regarding it as)--

They let you out the night before school started up again, and your first dinner back in the actual house was tense-- to you, it was. But to your parents, they were treating it like every other day.

It pissed you off, to say the least. And for a few days after, you avoided your parents the best you could; but it was a hard thing to do on multiple fronts, even if you were genuinely angry at them.

A part of you wanted to tell people about it, about how they'd trapped you in the basement-- but that was a surefire way of getting the cops involved,

And you weren't really afraid of being taken away or anything,

Instead, you were deathly afraid of how your parents would react to the possibility of you being taken away from them-- Best case scenario, they'd succeed in weaseling their way out of it via Ada's silver tongue or Leon's influence--

...Worst case scenario, your parents would be on the CIAs most wanted list and flea to some remote part of Europe; and you'd probably never see the light of day again, without both of their full attention and supervision. Or not at all, maybe.

Safe to say, you're keeping quiet about your time in the '5th guestroom' down in the basement. That doesn't mean you forget about it, or ever fully forgive your parents for it. You aren't sure if they realize it or not, that you're still mad at them for it.

It's not like you forget about it-- you don't necessarily move on either. You just... focus on other things, is what you tell yourself. You try your hardest to hold onto the anger, but eventually it fizzles away; sometimes it flares up, but only for a few seconds before being cast aside. And only when you're already mad about something else.

It's hard to stay mad at your parents, especially when they try to hard to make up for it. That was their plan-- spoil you with attention and gifts so you stop zoning in on the 'time out on steroids'.

[flaneur001]

Lost and Found

A/N- This is my entry for the Valentine's Day event by the sweet @unintentionalseductress for the lovely @ravenclaw-jojo (And coincidentally my very first event <3 ) Pairing- Toji Fushiguro x F!Reader Tags- JJK Office AU, Office romance, Mutual pining, Angst with comfort, Slowest of slow burns, Smut, Eventual Smut (p in v sex, Argument that turns into a heated makeout, cunnilingus, lots of teasing, a little edging, sex in front of a mirror) Word count- 12.7k

The strange bit about love is, it’s a dramatic being. A flashy, attention-seeking exhibitionist, really. It doesn’t cower, when it sizzles through the briefest of a heated glance you share across a room, thinking no one noticed. 

And surely, it doesn’t hide, when its remnants spill through the tears. Leaving dredges of exhausted, lingering feelings that just won't go away. They take root in your very self and cloy your insides. 

This selfish thing stays venomous to the end, preening as it shatters your pride, while it walks in its glory for all to see. 

For him to see.

 You licked your lips, as the salt stung your wounded heart, leaving an acrid burn in its wake. Never in the time you knew him, did you ever imagine that you’d end up like this. Drenched, in the middle of the street, fists clenched at your side in a stubborn, pathetic last show of resilience.

The rain was pelting in a blur of icy water. Your sweater clung uncomfortably to your form, the water seeping through the material of your undershirt, leaving a chill to linger on your skin.

Yet, it was the frigid empty look in his eyes that made you shiver. 

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. The weather forecast had predicted a cold albeit sunny morning, followed by a pink mellow day. Hence, You had dressed for the occasion. Subtly trying to coordinate outfits with him. You had felt confident, beautiful even, when you left your shared apartment together.

Today was meant to be special, perfect. 

Memorable

So why then…

Why weren’t you surprised when he scrolled disinterestedly on his phone, as you fret over the several samples of cake lined before you?

You had kept telling yourself, over and over, that he’d come around. That it’s nothing. That you've just hit a plateau in your relationship. 

Everyone goes through this right? 

That it’s all in your mind, and that once you marry, things will change. You both will have something new to look forward to. To celebrate. To experience that feeling of being in love again.

A chance to revive a relationship that had concerningly declined into a dull, meaningless chore. An act. Something that you had perfected so well, that going through the motions had become second nature to you.

It was almost as if you had conditioned yourself to fill in the space left behind by him, to finish the unsaid sentences, and gotten used to feeling lonely even with him right next to you.

Learned to love him as he was. Just so he would stay. 

And He did. In incomplete phases. Somedays you got all of him, A bright luminescent gaze full of love, others there’d be a crescent of a smile gifted to you, peeking through the parting smoke of cloud-misted eyes.

It was enough to sustain you through the moonless nights.

When your only other company was the glare of your phone screen, and some sappy Romantic drama that you lived through vicariously, while he dozed off peacefully without a care in the world.

What people don't realize is that learned habits are the nicer distant cousins of addictions. Not particularly harmful, but their symbiotic hold on our minds is impossible for the weak to break away from.

And you weren't struggling. Weren’t trying at all.

You didn't have many vices, but if complacency was a sin, yours was an irredeemable soul.

It was partly the reason why you had let it drag on for so long. Adult relationships were meant to be straightforward and realistic.

So what if you didn't feel that zap of butterflies in his presence, that you had only ever read about? It didn't matter if your skin never tingled whenever he touched you, made love to you.

It all boiled down to a sense of companionship, and stability. He was there, right next to you.

And that was enough. Enough to survive a lifetime.

Or so you thought.

You stood there, hapless, bewildered at the words spilling out of him.

“It was too much for me, I was suffocated”

You resisted the urge to scoff at his insensitivity, at the sheer audacity of this man. 

Suffocated?

You should be saying that when you were the one pulling the weight of this ridiculously one-sided relationship. 

“Your expectations kept mounting and I felt…I felt…trapped” He ground, surprisingly firm. With no ounce of gentleness to soften the blow. As if he believed every word he said.

And just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, it did. He drove the point home, shattering your ten-year-long relationship into a rubble of insignificance.

“You’re just so needy. I’m sorry. But I can’t do this anymore” He apologized, profusely, while being the least bit apologetic.

All those years and he couldn’t even bother to fake sincerity for you.

A loud venomous laughter escaped you, spilling out in a hysteric fury. You slid the engagement ring off your finger and flung it at his feet. Tears, rain, and the rage-filled clouds thundered, punctuating this moment that you’d probably never forget.

A million feelings wrestled up your chest, fighting to hurtle out, and all you could manage was a whisper.

A sigh of twisted relief.

“Thank you”

And unlike him, it was genuine. It was freeing. It came from a place of weird vulnerability that still saw the man and wished that he would take it all back.

That he would gather you into his arms, and say it was all a cruel joke. And then you’d go back inside and finish your cake tasting like nothing happened.

But he picked the ring from the puddle at his feet and turned around. Walking away with a wordless goodbye, like a perfect stranger on a rainy day.

And you stood there. Confused and stranded amidst your own emotions.

Love is a strange being indeed. A stupid vagabond.

For all its bravado, it still yearns. Seeking a place that it could call home.

***

The first week, it still hadn’t sunk in. You adhered to your morning routine just the way you did when you shared this apartment with him. Coffee for two. Two sets of toasts. One crispy golden, and the other a tad burnt, just the way he liked. 

You cleaned every nook and laundered the clothes he had left behind. Ironed his work clothes, and restocked his favorite snacks. Didn’t watch the show you had on your wishlist for ages, because he insisted that he wanted to watch it together.

You winced as the dish slipped from your hands and shattered near your feet. In your absentminded daze, you didn’t even notice the cut left behind until it bled. Licking the wound on your finger, you swept the remaining pieces and emptied them into the trash. Another plate lost from your set. 

Another broken promise brushed under the rug.

It was the second week, when the doorbell rang like a wake-up call, bringing an envelope with your share of the deposit that he had received after canceling the booking for the wedding venue. 

And when the third week arrived like a grim reaper, standing outside your door in his likeness, a box in his hand, an empty suitcase, ready to collect his belongings and the soul of your dead relationship, that’s when you finally accepted it.

It was over...

So like the norm stated in the big book of breakups and galore, you donned your shoddiest pajamas, grabbed a tub of cheap ice cream, put on the angstiest of movies to drown your sorrows with, and swore not to shower, bathing in the stank of your gloom, for the rest of your eternal self imposed solitude.

“What’s the purpose of existing…” you trailed off sagely, propping your feet on the wall and laying on your back. Your eyes tracked the swirls of chipped plaster on your ceiling, imagining various images like your personal impromptu Rorschach blots.

A small sigh paired with a sharp click of tongue sounded on the other side of the speaker, and you instantly knew that you were about to get an earful.

“Shut.Up” A soft voice intoned, its edges roughened by the traces of habitual smoking. You could hear the squelch of something gooey, the sharp cuts of curious slices like incisions made on stretchy stale meat, and imagined the worst.

“Shoko, please tell me you’re not doing what I think you’re doing.” A groan escaped you, picturing your friend’s morbid amused grin.

“Don’t ask questions you can’t stand the answers to. And be grateful I’m being your personal shrink, instead of sending you to a legitimate one” She tsked, but there was no venom in her voice. Only the playful tinges that masked her actual concern.

“Look, I have said it before and I will say it again, He.Was.Not.The.Person.For.You”

She continued and you hummed along, now hugging the pillow to your chest which smelt faintly of his cologne. 

Sensing the trudging reluctance in your voice, Shoko sighed, a long sigh this time.

You heard her as she put away the scalpel with a clank, removed her sodden rubber gloves with wet snap-snaps, and dragged a metal chair across the room to sit, to give you her undivided attention.

“Remember when I lived in my old apartment building?” Shoko murmured, and the sudden change in topic made you frown a little but you nodded, as if she could see you.

“Uh-huh, I do. You hated it there”

“Exactly. Because the unit had mold infestation, there was a dumpster placed right under my window, so the air was always stale and funky, my roof leaked, and to top it all off—“

“The meowing.” You finished for her, giggling at the memory of her at your door in the middle of the night, sleep-crazed and whiny, asking you to let her stay over.

“Yes. The constant shrill meowing of the next-door neighbor’s cat. He had adopted the stray right around the time I moved in. ‘Hope’, he had named her. Things weren’t bad then, she was a sweet little thing, clinging to his side day and night.” Shoko recalled, puffing out a short breath.

You closed your eyes, strangely calm as her voice rippled in waves around you. Lulling your various intrusive thoughts to sleep.

“It was when the guy moved out suddenly one night, leaving her behind while she slept outside his door, that it began. Her cries echoed through the lobby when he didn’t return. She scratched at the foot of his door, and crouched low to peek under it, wishing to catch a glimpse of him inside. 

She loved him. Maddeningly so. To the point where she neglected food and water given to her by other residents. ‘Hope’, begged, bargained, and denied the truth, for days, weeks, and even a month. Right outside the closed door, engaging in some conversation that only she could hear,” Shoko paused, letting you imagine the small creature, on its futile vigil.

“And then?” You asked, half afraid of the answer.

“And then she died. Waiting for him.” She finished bluntly. Grimly. Meaningfully, as if trying to drive across a point.

“So, babe, always remember, ‘Naive hope is futile when spent knocking outside deserted doors’. When someone leaves, they have already left the moment they made the decision in their mind. Not when they put it to action.” 

Her words ricocheted through your mind and settled somewhere deep inside, lingering long after she had hung up.

‘Naive hope is futile if spent knocking outside deserted doors’

Your eyes traced over the words of the email sitting on your laptop screen. It was an invitation from Zenin Corp. Your workplace was celebrating its 10th anniversary, by conducting a company-wide team-building event, somewhere on an exotic island just outside the country. Funded entirely by the CEO. 

A week-long trip away from your worries. A perfect excuse to slack off and restart. And to think you were about to bail on this event. You rolled your shoulders and sat up straight, perching the laptop on your knees as you typed away. 

Closing the laptop, you smiled. The first time in weeks, as you left the swampy hold of your bed and bounded towards your closet. Pulling out a suitcase, you piled in your best outfits, ready for a breeze of change. Ready, to live again.

***

Many mightier than you have fallen under the red-bottomed heel of fate. 

You were nothing but a fly stuck on its windshield, as it monster-trucked all over your joke of a life, while you were forced into a reluctant front-row seat to this car crash of an experience. 

If nature had decided to turn your life into a sitcom, you desperately wished to rewind and roll back to the moment last week. When you had hit the ”send” button on the email and agreed to come on this trip.

Things were good in the morning when you had arrived with your coworkers at this palatial, swanky hotel situated atop a hill—overlooking the sea, and the tropical landscape of this “nouveau hotspot for vacationing” as dubbed by the influencers online. 

It was straight out of a luxury magazine. Somewhere only the crème de la crème of high society had access to. And you had felt weirdly out of place.

Nonetheless, you had decided to enjoy this little treat offered to you on a “complimentary” platter. Like hungry hawks, your coworkers descended upon the buffet, sharing excited conversations, and catching up on gossip after the lull of holidays.

It was all good. Too good in fact.

And that’s how we come to the current situation.

He was here. He was not supposed to be here.

Why the hell was he here, anyway?

The hall fell quiet, as Toji Zenin made his entrance. A crisp black shirt with the top three buttons undone, and sleeves rolled up to his forearms. Navy blue fitted slacks, and black dress shoes. To top it all off, his signature lazy smile, and that mysteriously eye-catching scar on his lips, completed the effortlessly confident aura that he exuded whenever he entered a room. Grabbing the attention and holding it captive, in his dark emerald shrewd gaze.

The CEO of Zenin Corp. In flesh. In his Six feet something, annoyingly imposing glory.

All the air was sucked out of your lungs as he casually sidled up to the General manager, grabbed a flute of champagne, and worked the room, conversing, greeting newer employees who hadn’t met him yet, and reacquainting himself with the older ones.

When it was your turn, you found yourself hastily reaching for a flute of Rosé nearby, hiding your expression behind the rim. You could feel him saunter towards you, lithely, like a panther out for a stroll, and pause. Head tilted to the side, that damn smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, and those eyes. Roaming over your form slowly, sharply. Like the blade of a dagger tracing along your spine.

You sucked in a breath and cleared your throat, meeting his eyes in a show of feigned confidence.

He could tell, going by the mirth swirling in his gaze.

“Mr. Zenin”

He offered his hand, bending a little to level his gaze with yours.

“Too formal.” He corrected

You accepted his hand, biting your lip at the way it enveloped yours, in a warm comforting grip.

“Mr. Toji” You mumbled. A waver of doubt seeping into your voice.

He smiled wider, leaning in closer as he replied, with a teasing lilt to his voice.

“Too awkward”

“Toji…?” You enunciated the syllables feebly. With a question lingering in the air. One that was a coy inquiry about the current murky dynamic of theirs. He was correct in a way. Their history was too complicated to be insulted with forced formalities. Their professionalism belied a certain rapport they shared. 

But where did they stand now after all this time? 

He caught onto the question and answered, with an equally coy, mysterious grin lighting up his features, 

“Toji. Say it again, a tad more firmly.” 

“Toji.” You tipped your chin at him, and he broke into a silent chuckle, gifting you with a flash of his pointy canines, and a boyish charm that left some questionable swoops in your belly.

Satisfied with the interaction, he leaned back, letting go of your hand—but not entirely. His fingers lingered, his thumb finding the spot where your engagement ring should’ve been, tracing the lighter skin, in a quiet hidden caress of acknowledgment. 

He bowed his head courteously and broke away, continuing his rounds, unaware of the way your skin burned. As if his touch had scalded and marked you. You picked up another flute, this time subtly pressing your ring finger against the cool glass, to relieve this sensation.

You could feel several eyes on you, watching with barely hidden amusement—relishing the reunion of their favorite power couple. 

Your head ducked under their scrutiny, and a flush flared up your neck. His blatant familiarity bled through his actions like a wound he never let heal, scratching over the tender area anew, each time he shot her a look across the room.

She downed the drink and another, hoping to calm her frayed nerves.

This was indeed going to be a long week.

***

Something notable about being born middle class is the way you learn to walk with your feet pressed firmly to the ground. 

No matter how much the blue allure of the sky beckons, you never dare dream of flight. You live with your head down, with your wings clipped, and grow up with an instilled acceptance. That your life will look similar to a lot of your peers. 

You’ll study, work, study some more. Find a suitable companion, secure a steady job, marry, and live out the rest of your days in quiet predictability. A foretold story with a cliché ending.

And you did your best to stick to the plan—you grew up responsibly, studied diligently, and landed a sweet spot at Zenin Corp fresh out of college. It was a prestigious company. A conglomerate passed down from generation to generation.

Now the only thing left to do, was to slowly crawl up the corporate ladder, and save up enough to marry your longtime boyfriend.

But fate being its notorious self, threw an unexpected variable your way, blurring the preset path you were destined to follow. 

Your own version of the yellow brick road.

An unforeseen, unfortunate variable called Toji Zenin.

The young disinterested heir, forcibly made to bear the weight of responsibilities, behaved like a stubborn mule. And you being your unlucky self, were set with the daunting task to assist him.

Beginning a series of events that’ll alter your life forever.

Although reluctant to admit it, Toji possessed that impeccable business prowess of the ones that came before him. He was shrewd, lethal, and unforgiving while dealing with company matters, carrying the Zenin name like a flawless burden. 

His stature bore him a set of wings, allowing him to reach beyond the skies and peek at the heavens. Yet Toji preferred the mediocre simplicity. And that reflected heavily in the way he interacted with you.

He was keen, curious, and sometimes lazy, making him appear weirdly human in your eyes.

He wasn’t Toji Zenin when he was with you. He was simply Toji.

The man who could slay people with his razor-sharp negotiation skills was the same man who fumbled and flailed when it came to honing his foresight. He was brash—so incredibly impulsive—that stock trading became a task that fell directly under your supervision.

Together under your control, the company expanded by leaps and bounds. Zenin Corp experienced a success much greater than it had ever seen.

But that wasn’t all. He nudged you, poked and prodded sneakily, pushing you bit by bit outside those firm lines you had set for yourself.

You refused to dream. He fabricated them on a whim and dragged you along. Opening your tightly sealed eyes, to a world of possibilities. A vibrant colorful kaleidoscopic dream.

His world.

And somewhere along the way, you had borrowed the forbidden wings, unfurled them, and took flight. Taking a bite out of desire.

“How many times is that this week? Don’t you have any sympathy for me?” Toji leaned at the door jamb of your office and regarded you with an exaggerated frown on his lips.

“Mr. Zenin—“

“—Toji” He corrected

“Toji,” You smiled amused at his petulant behavior, “I have no say in your family matters. I’m only here to manage your schedule. And right now your schedule says that you have a blind date in thirty minutes” 

“No say in my matters? Do you want me to call you out on your bullshit? Because I will. The old man is so taken with you. He respects your decisions. More than mine” 

He walked in, and pulled out a chair opposite you, slumping down on it with his legs spread apart.

Oh, how you hoped that he didn’t see the flutter of a grin that threatened to break free. These days there was something abysmally wrong with you. 

If not, then why were you suddenly enjoying this power given so readily to you?

Lately, your conversations with your boss ran freer. Crossing that subtle line of professionalism into something more. 

Some days you would bring an extra lunch under the guise of making him eat healthier. Others you’d work overtime, bathed under the dim lights, a backdrop of cityscape shining under a canopy of stars outside the floor-to-ceiling windows in Toji’s grand office, and enjoyed an odd cup of coffee, with nothing but the rustle of documents to fill the companionable silence.

A secret solace and a stolen moment, made for a guilt-ridden cherished memory.

You knew you had a boyfriend—though he had been blowing off dates for ages. You knew that whatever this feeling was, it was nothing more than a fleeting distraction, a mere side effect of prolonged proximity.

But it didn't stop your heart from beating a mile a minute, whenever he tugged at that line you had drawn and pulled. Playing with it as he pleased. 

“But, you’re forgetting something crucial.” He leaned forward with a smirk, effortlessly stealing the mug from your grasp and taking a long, shameless sip of your freshly brewed coffee.

You licked your lips, unconsciously tracking the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

“Something crucial…like what?” You replied, mentally kicking yourself at the way your voice came out raspy and low—as if you were parched.

Thirsty

“The fact,” he intoned, pausing for effect, “that I’m married”

“Since when?” you asked, raising a skeptical brow.

“Ha! You’re divorcing me already…my dear work wife?” he teased, a playful glint in his eyes.

Oh

So he had heard. The office was rife with rumors�� whispers of speculations. Everyone seemed strangely captivated by the idea that Toji and you made a fabulous pair. The business scene was already acquainted with your combined prowess. Now, the only question that remained was—wouldn’t you be even better as an actual couple?

And so, the rumor mill churned. 

…and churned, until it had reached him.

You shook your head, doing your best to ignore the pleased, almost flirtatious look he was giving you.

“Don’t joke around. You still have a blind date to attend, and I—“ Your excuse to brush him off died on your tongue when he raised a hand, cutting you off.

“—And you’re going to accompany me on a very urgent business meeting. Pronto”

His plans were all but ruined, with a single call from his grandfather. With much hemming and hawing, Toji begrudgingly changed into the emergency set of suits he kept in his office and trudged along to his nth blind date this week.

As for you, you packed your belongings and shot a quick message to your boyfriend to check-in. After months of rescheduling, you had finally managed to plan a movie date tonight.

You were excited. Eagerly looking forward to spending some quality time with your partner, hoping it would help erase this strange feeling you’d been experiencing around Toji lately.

You: Hey babe! Are we still on for that movie tonight? <3

Babe: Ohh, was that today?

Babe: I’ve unexpectedly run into some work. Overtime again. Raincheck?

You stared at the screen, disbelief creeping in. Especially when—just a moment ago—you had checked his social media.

He was out. With his friends.

Just who did he think he was, lying to your face like that?

A twinge of inexplicable sadness bubbled up your throat, threatening to spill over as tears. Swallowing hard, you swiftly locked your office, stepped into the elevator, and rushed down to the basement parking lot.

It was dark and deserted. Most of the employees had already left. You unlocked your car, ducked inside, and rested your head against the steering wheel as your quiet sniffles turned into wracking sobs.

Why did you always have to be the one to initiate things? Didn’t he care? At all?

It was in the late hours, with nothing but silence as your companion, that you felt the most like yourself—real, flawed, messy, and so unbearably lonely.

You were exhausted from giving him yet another chance. Five years. Five years of waiting, of understanding, of making excuses on his behalf.

When would he finally understand that you were a person too? That you had feelings?

Just then a tap on your window jolted you out of your crying session. You hastily reached for some tissues, dabbing at your face as you turned to look at the person who wouldn’t let you be miserable in peace.

Your eyes widened and an embarrassed flush crept up your neck when your eyes met Toji’s emerald ones.

He simply raised a brow and silently gestured for you to unlock the door. You did, and he climbed into the passenger seat—wordlessly handing you his handkerchief before reaching for the stereo to put on some mellow music.

And somehow, that small gesture undid you.

The tears spilled over, harder this time. Louder, messier, and uglier than you had ever cried before.

He didn’t ask what had made you like this. He didn’t press for answers or offer empty words of comfort.

Instead, he leaned over the console, gathering you into his warm, muscular embrace.

He smelled of pine, soft petrichor, and something unmistakably Toji. A scent that wrapped around you as he traced slow, soothing circles on your back. You mumbled incoherent complaints. Words you wouldn’t remember later, but ones he listened to anyway.

A moment passed and he pulled back.

Just enough to look at you—just enough to swipe his thumbs over your cheeks, catching the tears on the plush of them. His gaze, usually sharp and unreadable, softened as he studied you.

Amidst the sniffles and hiccuped breaths, your eyes flickered, from the warmth of his gaze to the curve of his lips. That greed, that longing, that quiet hunger that had been simmering in the pit of your stomach surged forward, untamed.

And before you could stop yourself, you leaned in ever so slightly.

A beat of silence. A strange impasse, where both your breaths mingled, curiously teetering on the edge of something neither of you could take back.

You recognized the look in his eyes. Yearning. Hunger. A deep, insatiable desire that mirrored your own.

The seconds stretched, thick with quiet contemplation, until at last…he leaned in.

His lips brushed against yours in a kiss so soft, so barely there, that it made you choke out a whimper. Such delicate treatment from a man twice your size sent your heart into a tizzy.

But before you could kiss him back, your phone rang shrilly, shattering the moment, and making you both jolt apart.

Toji cleared his throat, looking away, while you stared at your screen in haunted disbelief.

It was your boyfriend.

A cold, sinking feeling settled in your stomach.

You had a fucking boyfriend.

And you had just cheated on him.

The clock had struck twelve.

And it was time for Cinderella to head home. To leave behind her Prince Charming and pretend the fairy-tale kiss had never happened.

What happened the morning after was something neither of you could have predicted.

Toji had been prepared to clear the air. To finally address what had been simmering between you for so long.

What he hadn’t expected, however, was the gaggle of employees gathered around you, taking turns to gawk at the offensive rock now sitting on your finger.

Seems there was a first time for everything. And today, it was Toji’s turn to experience heartbreak.

Weeks passed. You quietly resigned from your position as his assistant, moving to the R&D department without a word.

Not long after, the company was left reeling from Toji’s sudden decision to relocate to their overseas branch.

His excuse was at least better than yours.

It would be a lie to say you didn’t miss him.

After all, he had given you a taste of a foolish dream and a rebellious flight.

And you had been happy being his Icarus. Melting under the warm weight of his presence, even as you fell.

***

The current situation called for drastic measures.

In lieu of the beautiful sunny weather conditions, the employees had all but postponed the team-building event, turning it into an impromptu beach outing. A day full of sunbathing, frolicking, and volleyball in the sandy stretches of this slice of heaven on earth.

Unbeknownst to them, You were experiencing your own personal nightmare, as you stepped out on the balcony of your suite, watching your coworkers enjoy the lick of salty ocean breeze, while you stood there—rethinking all your life choices.

The screeching of kids running amok with sand in their hair, and the hustle-bustle of surfers and swimmers in their vibrant swim gear, sent a nauseating shiver down your spine.

Nope, absolutely not.

The waves whirled forward kissing the shore, making your stomach churn along with them, and it was then that you decided.

 You were getting out of this. By any means necessary.

And as luck would have it, the perfect excuse landed right in your lap.

During breakfast, the hotel staff announced a blind date event. Guests would draw a ticket with a number, and whoever had the matching number would be paired together for a “cute” hiking date along the scenic woodland trails surrounding the resort.

It was the perfect escape plan.

Not only would you get to avoid the beach-loving festive fiends, but you’d also successfully dodge any further interaction with Toji. Two birds, one stone.

And who knows? Maybe, just maybe, if things went well, you’d actually have something to look forward to for the rest of the week.

It started off well.

You had dressed the part—leggings, a fitted tank top, and a lightweight jacket in case the trail got chilly. Your hair was tied back, your backpack slung over one shoulder, and for once, you had approached the day with genuine optimism.

But it was premature.

Somewhere between what should have been an easy right turn and the realization that the trees all looked the same, it dawned upon you.

You were lost.

You bit the inside of your cheek as panic crawled up your spine languidly, and glanced at your phone. Zero signal. Of course. No location services, no messages, no SOS. Just your surmounting bad decisions and the steadily creeping dread that this might be the dumbest way to go out.

“Brilliant,” you muttered under your breath, shoving your phone back into your pocket.

You tried retracing your steps, sticking close to where the canopy wasn’t too thick, where the sun still managed to filter through, in golden, dappled patches.

But then, because fate was a notorious sadist, you miscalculated a step.

A loose rock, a moment of imbalance, and the next thing you knew. Pain.

Sharp, piercing, sudden pain that left your mouth agape in a soundless scream—jolted up your ankle.

You sucked in a breath, stumbling forward until you caught yourself against the rough bark of a tree, heart thumping frantically against your ribs.

Just fucking perfect.

You squeezed your eyes shut, exhaling slowly through your nose, trying to will the ache away. Trying to wrack your brain to come up with an idea. Any idea, Why the hell wasn't your mind working?!

Maybe if you just—

A rustle.

A presence.

It wasn’t loud. Just the quiet shift of movement. Your shoulders straightened your senses on high alert, catching the faintest of sounds, feeling the almost imperceptible weight of someone watching.

You turned your head sharply, and your stomach dropped.

There, leaning against a tree, arms crossed, expression unreadable was Toji.

Your pulse stuttered, a weird sense of calm encased you, when his eyes held yours.

The dappled sunlight barely reached him, but even in the shade, he was impossible to miss. Broad shoulders draped in a fitted black compression shirt, sleeves snug around his forearms, veins peeking beneath the taut skin. Dark slacks hung low on his hips, a contrast against the sturdy boots planted effortlessly against the uneven terrain.

His hair—messy, unruly in a way that somehow suited him—shifted slightly with the breeze, and when his head tilted just a fraction, the motion caught the faint scar curving against his lip. His eyes, deep, sharp, impossibly green, trailed over you.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just watched. Taking in every single inch of your body. The way you were gripping the bark, the way you were trying and failing, not to put weight on your injured foot.

Then, slowly, deliberately, he pushed off the tree and made his way toward you.

“Lost?” His voice was as smooth as ever, but there was something else beneath it. Something sharper. An almost angry pointed jab.

You straightened, as if that would somehow lessen the indignity of this situation. With feigned bravado, you shot back, mulish, “No. I just—”

His gaze flickered to your foot. Then back up, unimpressed.

“Right,” he scoffed, not bothering to hide the skepticism in his tone.

You scowled, bristling at his calm, impassive demeanor. “What the hell are you even doing here?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he crouched in front of you, his large hands wrapping around your calf. The touch was firm, steady.

You jolted, instinctively trying to pull back. “Toji—”

“Hold still,” he hissed through gritted teeth, ignoring your half-hearted protest as he pressed his fingers carefully over your ankle, studying the injury.

You swallowed, heat curling up your spine at the sheer casualness of it all. The way he handled you without hesitation as if you were something fragile, something that required care.

His touch was soft, his fingers were cold, yet it left something searing in its wake.

A beat of silence stretched between you.

His fingers slowed. His thumb brushed over the sensitive skin near your Achilles, a quiet, absentminded gesture. Then he finally spoke, in a low measured tone.

“You’re always running off without thinking, aren’t you?”

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. And a subtle nod at your shared past. A silent acknowledgement of the unmentionable incident. 

He wanted you to know that he remembered. 

So did you. As clear as yesterday.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly before standing, offering you his hand.

You eyed it. Then him. Desperately clinging onto your last bit of pride.

“I can walk,” you ground, forcing your voice to be steady.

He didn’t respond. Just waited. The guarded expression was back, save for the barest tilt of his head.

You hesitated.

 A beat passed. A quiet staring match ensued. While your eyes read foolish resilience, his countered with a solid challenge. One that brooked no argument.

 Finding yourself at a stalemate, you begrudgingly placed your hand in his.

His fingers curled around yours in a firm grip.

You half expected a cocky smirk or a teasing remark, but there was none.

And somehow, that made it worse.

The walk was sluggish. His hand remained around yours, firm but not forceful, a comforting touch that placated your frantically beating heart.

Your boots crunched softly against the earth, the only sounds filling the silence were the distant babble of a creek, the rhythmic drone of cicadas, and the occasional rustle of leaves. 

Sunlight filtered through the canopy in flickering patches, casting shifting patterns on the forest floor.

His pace was perfect. He didn’t rush you, matching your steps with smaller measured strides.

For a while, neither of you spoke.

Then, finally…

“…What are you really doing here?” You murmured, breaking the quiet that had settled between you.

Toji didn’t answer right away. His grip on your hand tightened briefly as if contemplating how much he should let you know, before he exhaled.

“Tracking chip,” he said matter-of-factly.

You blinked, unsure if you heard him correctly, “What?”

He didn’t look at you, gaze still fixed ahead.

“The card you got for the blind date,” he clarified, tone soft, unhurried. “Had a tracking chip in it. For safety reasons.”

You frowned. And he sensed an argument coming so he raised his free hand, cutting you off before you spoke—

“It’s a precaution,” he continued. “So the hotel staff can locate anyone if they wander too far off the trails.”

Your brows furrowed, somehow you weren’t satisfied with his answer. Something didn’t add up.

“…So the hotel personally sent you to come find me?” You asked sharply. Pointedly.

No response.

Then, a slow, almost cocky smirk spread across his lips.

“No,” he admitted, finally glancing at you, amusement flickering behind dark green eyes. “I saw the alert and got there first.”

Your breath hitched.

Of course, he had.

This meddling, conniving, little—

You knew you would’ve eaten those words anyday. You did need his help. But you couldn't bring yourself to look past your petty grudges.

“You know, your expressions are so loud, I can almost hear them” He chuckled, bringing up a free hand to brush that strand of vibrant green away from your face.

You scoffed, yanking your hand back. “So what, you’ve taken up stalking now?”

You changed the topic, not wanting to get caught into his soft words and that beautiful beckoning gaze.

And it worked. The moment shattered.

Toji exhaled sharply, jaw ticking. “It’s called being prepared. Something you clearly weren’t.”

You bristled. “I would’ve been fine.”

He raised a sardonic brow, “You twisted your ankle on a fucking pebble.”

Your head snapped up, regaling him with a glare that could’ve burned a hole through him. “I was getting to my blind date just fine before you showed up.”

At that, his expression shifted. A flicker of irritation flashed across his features, he was unmistakably irked, but it was gone so quickly, that you wondered if you had imagined it.

“Right,” he scoffed, voice edged with a bite to it. “Because you’re so eager to throw yourself at some random idiot in hiking boots?”

Your arms flew up in exasperation. “Why do you even care?”

“I don’t,” he denied, a tad too quickly.

You narrowed your eyes. “Really? Because you’re acting pretty nosy for someone who doesn’t care.”

He paused. You knew you had done it now. Pushed him too far. Just when you were about to take back what you said— 

Suddenly…out of nowhere…

“You’re such a goddamn escapist.” He whispered, low with venom coloring his voice.

And the words hit their intended mark. Direct. A low blow.

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he said, flat and steady. “You run the second shit gets too real.”

A disbelieving laugh bubbled up your throat. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

“You left,” he interjected. Unshaken. “You always leave.”

And somewhere deep inside you knew he was referring to that night in your car. When he had swallowed his pride, and silently held onto you. Desperately, almost begging with the way he had held your wrist. But you turned a blind eye to it all.

Even still, you opened your mouth, wanting to win this round with something equally hurtful—

Heat surged up your throat, an argument forming, but before you could fire back, his arms were suddenly around you.

Your stomach lurched as he lifted you with zero effort, one arm under your knees, the other bracing your back, pressing you against him.

“Toji—what the hell—”

“Shut. Up,” he growled, adjusting his grip as if you weighed nothing.

“For once in your life, stop fucking fighting”

You glared, oddly chastised, hands braced against his chest as you struggled in his iron grip. “Put me down.”

“No.”

You squirmed, but his hold didn’t budge. Somehow it felt tighter than before.

It was futile to argue at this point, so you gave up.

You wouldn't admit it, but you were weirdly comfortable, being held like this. His corded arms felt like a shield, cocooning you into his embrace. 

The rhythmic sound of his boots crunching against the uneven terrain. The low whistles of air, sneaking past tiny gaps between rocks, and through the holes in the hollowed tree barks, made for a soothing backdrop. The creek nearby got louder, its wet slosh making you lament your sprained ankle. 

If only you hadn’t been lost. You would have probably enjoyed your hike with that blind date. Stopped for a picnic near the creek. Exchanged conversations that made you bond over discovered common interests.

You let your eyes close, picturing that moment. But then…

You saw him. His unruly raven hair, moving with the gentle blow of the wind. His dark emerald eyes, as green and viridescent as the canopy of trees hanging overhead. His face, somehow even more beautiful with that scar at the corner of his mouth. And your heart missed several beats, with this sudden epiphany.

You opened your eyes and blinked at him. Taking him in fully, as he continued his walk. His peaceful expression was marred by a frown, a stern set of his jaw, as several thoughts swirled behind his head.

All this time, and it was always him.

Toji Zenin.

The reason behind your sorrows. The reason behind your smiles.

The contemplative hike came to an end, and it was then that you noticed that Toji hadn’t brought you back to the hotel. Instead, he strode up the worn concrete steps of a handsome Cabin. Something straight out of a fairy tale.

It was nestled comfortably between the trees. Its exterior was all warm wooden panels, a sloping roof, and a wraparound porch that overlooked the forest.

It was isolated in a quiet charm—dangerously inviting.

Your heart fluttered, and an anxious inquiry stuttered out of your lips.

“…This isn’t the hotel.”

Toji didn’t even glance back. He let out an exhausted sigh instead.

“Before you add kidnapping to my list of crimes, let me clarify—This is my personal Cabin. It was much nearer to the spot where I had found you. Going to the hotel would be a whole hike down, and it wasn’t possible with that ankle of yours. Tonight we’ll rest here. Tomorrow morning, I’ll call my driver, and the resort’s medical staff to look at your injury, and then we’ll leave. Any questions?” He drawled in a deadpan voice.

“No.” You paused, letting it swirl inside your mouth, kissing your teeth in an awkward stubbornness, but then with a resigned sigh, feebly added, “Thank you”

He nodded then unlocked the door with an electric tap of his keycard.

***

The water ran over your skin in hot, steady streams, pooling at your feet before swirling down the drain.

In your effort to escape the surmounting awkwardness, you had excused yourself, to hide. To bide your time, and calm your nerves. 

You pressed your forehead against the cool tile and exhaled slowly.

Your ankle still ached, a dull throb pulsing beneath the warmth of the shower. But that wasn’t the real problem, was it?

No, the real problem was everything else.

You were supposed to be at the resort, on a mindless, easy blind date—exchanging pleasantries, indulging in meaningless conversation, giving yourself a distraction.

Instead, here you were.

In a forced proximity with the one man you wanted to avoid. 

In a cabin, in the middle of practically nowhere, stranded with your boss of all people.

The boss that made you feel things you shouldn’t.

You squeezed your eyes shut, dragging a hand down your face.

There was no escaping him now. 

Not here. Not like this.

With a deep breath, you turned the water off and braced yourself.

You stepped out, wincing as your weight shifted onto your bad ankle. Gritting your teeth through it, you limped towards the mirror, swiping a hand over the fogged glass.

Your reflection stared back. Tired and beat

You needed to get a grip.

You inhaled and exhaled. Another breath, another lingering moment, and then steeling yourself, you stepped out of the bathroom. 

The first thing that your eyes caught was the white bathrobe that lay neatly folded on the bed.

You stared at it.

Touched it, almost hesitantly, fingers grazing the soft fabric before you picked it up and slipped it on, tying the sash securely around your waist.

It was Warm. Freshly laundered. A weirdly thoughtful gesture from a man who liked to pretend he didn’t care.

You could smell him on it, all pine and petrichor.

Shaking your head, you shoved that thought aside, padding towards the living room.

In your hurry to escape earlier, you hadn't let yourself savor the luxurious yet warm, welcoming interior of Toji’s cabin.

It was modest but beautiful. Wooden interiors, high ceilings. The furniture was functional, but lived-in. The couch was a deep-toned leather, a low coffee table cluttered with books, and the faint remnants of a fire still smoldered in the hearth.

But then you noticed, with a surprised start—

There was no light.

Instead, the room was bathed in the flickering glow of pine-scented candles, their flames swaying with the breeze that sneaked in through the drafts in the windows.

And Toji.

Standing by the window, lighting another one.

He had changed.

He looked impeccable, in his simple black t-shirt and loose grey sweatpants that hung low on his hips.

His hair was still wet from the shower, droplets of water rolling down his nape only to disappear somewhere in his shirt. His broad shoulders cast long shadows.

His sharp profile was illuminated by the wavering candlelight.

There was a certain allure about the sight of him—calm, steady, domestic—that made your stomach coil.

He glanced up, meeting your gaze, and you stared back, enraptured. The rain danced across the window, sliding down in swirls of beautiful tendrils colored golden by the flicker of candles inside.

Unable to take any more of this stare down, you decided to break the silence.

 “You look like a cult leader,” you blurted, a pathetic attempt at easing this weird tension.

Toji blinked, then exhaled through his nose, snorting, almost amused as he replied, “You’re welcome.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Where’s the power?”

“Storm knocked it out,” he said, placing the lighter down. “Won’t be back till morning.”

You nodded, soaking in the information. Wouldn’t be the first time you had spent the whole night with Toji Zenin.

But then, that was when you and him had a strictly business relationship. And now, you didn’t know where you stood. And that left a certain stain of doubt, a splatter of something more, onto this pristine white pretext of a situation. You had no reason to be with him here, alone. 

Yet you were. And the worst part was, he didn’t seem to mind. The proximity was welcome on his part.

Outside, the wind whistled through the trees, the rain was persistent now, tapping against the windows in slow, rhythmic beats. The storm wrapped around the cabin, folding it into its embrace, secluding it further from the world.

You pulled your robe tighter, shifting your weight as you felt the room close in on you.

Toji ran a hand through his damp hair, his gaze raked over you, too lingering to call it casual.

“This is weird,” you muttered.

He smirked. “A little.”

Another long pause. The room was surrounded by a weird vacuum of pregnant silence.

You looked everywhere but him.

While, Toji’s gaze dropped to your feet, catching you subtly shifting your weight from one to the other, he observed the way you kept adjusting your stance to avoid putting pressure on your bad ankle.

A sigh escaped him and he rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Sit.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Your leg,” he said, already turning toward the kitchen. “I’ll wrap it before it swells any worse.”

You hesitated. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not.”

You bristled. “Toji, seriously—”

But he was already grabbing a first aid kit from the cabinet, moving with that same quiet decisiveness that left no room for argument. When he turned back to you, his expression was determined and you knew you’d lost this battle before it even began.

With a reluctant sigh, you lowered yourself onto the couch.

The cushions sank beneath you as he crouched at your feet, effortlessly settling into a position that should have been uncomfortable. But, it wasn’t. Not for him.

Before you could think to stop him, his hands were on you.

Warm, big, and calloused.

His fingers skimmed over your calf, adjusting the angle of your leg. Your robe shifted with the motion, parting slightly to reveal the plush curve of your thigh.

And You saw the moment he noticed.

The slight shift in his eyes.The way his throat worked. The way his fingers tightened just a smidge, before he tore his gaze away, mouth pressing into a firm line.

Neither of you chose to acknowledge it.

Instead, he focused on his task, pulling out a roll of bandages and beginning to wrap your ankle with practiced ease. His touch was firm but careful. Not gentle, but thorough.

To dissipate the tension, you grasped for conversation—any conversation.

“How’d you even learn to do this?”

Toji smirked slightly, not looking up. “You think I made it through life without getting knocked around?”

You huffed, rolling your eyes. “No, but I figured you’d just walk it off and call it a day. You don’t seem the type”

“Sometimes.” He tugged the wrap snug around your ankle, securing it in place. “But I had to learn at some point. Can’t always rely on someone else to patch me up.”

Something about the way he said it, lingered.

You swallowed, shifting against the cushions. “Well… thanks.”

Toji nodded, gaze flicking up. His eyes were on you, probing, searching. As if he was debating whether he should do something.

And you got your answer when he braced his arms on either side you—

“You ran,” he murmured, point blank.

Your heart stuttered at his proximity. The bluntness of his question makes you lose several beats, trying to formulate some response, only to come up blank.

“You ran that night,” he repeated, voice strangely calm, controlled, but his eyes told a different story. “After I kissed you in the car.” This time, his tone held an almost accusatory note to it.

You inhaled sharply, and looked away. This was long coming. You should’ve known that he would want a clarification someday.

And he had decided that it was going to be now. When you had no way to escape. To run like you always do.

“You don’t have to answer,” he went on, turning back to your ankle. “I already know why.”

Something in the way he said that, made your chest tighten. He deserved to know. He had all the right to ask you this.

But like the coward you are, instead of giving him the truth, instead of admitting that your world had tilted, unraveled, and collapsed in that moment—

You lied.

“It didn’t mean anything,” you said, forcing the words past your lips. “I didn’t feel the same way.”

Toji’s hands stilled, and you felt like a jerk because going by the myriad of expressions flitting across his face, that hurt him. 

It had to have hurt.

He didn’t say anything immediately. Instead, he settled with a blank look. His walls were up, higher than ever.

He knew you inside out, but he didn’t call you out on the blatant lie you’d just fed him.

Instead, he let it settle, like a chasm stretching between you both.

He tilted his head ever so slightly. Dark emerald eyes studying, dissecting, contemplating,

Until he spoke.

“That so?”

Your stomach churned at the mild challenge and determination you saw reflected in his eyes.

You should’ve known he wouldn’t let this go.

“Toji,” you muttered, shifting guiltily under his scrutiny, but he wasn’t done.

“If you didn’t feel the same,” he pressed, “then why the fuck did you show up the next day wearing his ring?”

That… that caught you off guard.

He knew.

Of course, he did.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to hold his gaze. To sell your lie as much as you could “It wasn’t like that.”

“Then what was it like?” he challenged, one brow arching in open skepticism.

A muscle in your jaw twitched. This wasn’t a conversation you wanted to have. Not now. Not ever.

But Toji was like a predator who had smelled blood in the water.

He leaned forward, forearms resting on his thighs, dangerously close, leveling you with a domineering look. “We both know things weren’t fucking perfect with him, or else I wouldn’t have found you crying alone in your car that night.”

“So tell me,” he said, voice taunting, unrelenting, “why’d you suddenly go running back? Just what miraculous change occurred overnight that you decided to marry that man hours after you had let me kiss you?”

Your fingers curled into the robe, resisting the urge to flinch.

You should walk away. Should end this now.

But instead, you exhaled sharply, eyes flicking down to your lap.

“He didn’t blow me off that night.”

Toji didn’t react, but you could feel the shift in the air.

“He was out,” you continued, voice feebler now, almost ashamed, “Ring shopping.”

Your words somehow widened that invisible chasm. 

“He proposed the second I got home,” you admitted, a bitter smile curling at your lips. “And I said yes.”

Toji’s jaw clenched. “Because you wanted to?” He stressed.

Your stomach twisted, heart jumping up your throat.

“No,” you sighed. “Because I felt guilty.”

That did something to him.

His expression darkened. You expected him to be angry, but the look he gave you was something far worse.

It was understanding.

“So that’s it, huh?” he whispered, sitting back, raking a hand through his already messy hair. “You felt bad, so you figured you’d just settle. After All your life is some sort of a bargaining chip meant to be thrown away, because you felt like you had to compensate him somehow. Right?”

You hated how easily he cut you open and picked you apart.

Hated that he was right.

You exhaled sharply, frustration lacing your tone. “Well, it doesn’t matter now, does it?”

And then he laughed, low, victorious. He seized the opening he was waiting for, ever since he had seen you in the hotel that day. 

His gaze flickered to your hands, then back up. He traced your empty ring finger, touching the lighter skin there, where the ring should’ve been.

“Then tell me,” he smiled,  almost amused now, almost cruel.

“If you were so sure about him, why the fuck is there no ring on your finger? What did that sacrifice leave you with…You should’ve been married by now, shouldn’t you?”

Your breath caught, and tears of embarrassment sprung to your eyes, but you held them back.

You should’ve seen that coming.

You looked away, exhaling slowly. “Because we broke up.”

For the first time all night, Toji actually looked surprised.

He had half expected something like, ‘We’re on a break’ but not this.

“For good?”

“For good.”

His gaze was stormy. His expression—a kaleidoscope of feelings. Things had finally fallen into place now. He had gotten the missing pieces to the puzzle. But there was something that still left him with dissatisfaction.

This wasn’t enough for him. 

You could sense it.

Before he could say something else, you cut in, babbling at this point, to fill the uneasy silence.

“And that’s why I wanted to go on a blind date today.”

His jaw ticked at that. He was much more open now. You could see his feelings reel on his face like a movie. 

You hadn’t missed the irritation that surged off of him in waves.

It was your turn to interrogate now. And you leapt at the opportunity.

“Why do you even care? You left too. And you have been perfectly fine living oceans away”

He didn’t answer right away. You didn’t get the response you had so anticipated. No explanation, no half-assed excuse

Just a steady unwavering gaze, locked onto you.

And then all at once, he moved. So fast that you barely had the time to react.

A sharp inhale, his hand cupping your jaw, tilting your face up. And before you could speak, before you could even think—

He kissed you.

His lips caught yours with a searing force. It unraveled something in you that you weren’t ready to face.

A muffled squeak caught in your throat, your hands flew to his nape, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer.

But when Toji tilted his head, deepening the kiss—something in you cracked.

A sigh slipped from your lips, soft, surrendering, inevitable. 

Because this was always inevitable, wasn’t it?

You opened your mouth slightly, and Toji groaned, tongue slipping in, tasting, exploring, taking greedily something that was always his. Like he was rewarding himself, the delayed gratification of someone who had waited for far too long. 

His fingers dug into your waist, possessive, sure, and in between heated kisses, between stolen breaths, he whispered, nipping at your lower lip.

“Do you still not feel anything?”

You should have told him the truth. Should have admitted that the way he touched you, the way he consumed you, made something inside you collapse, burn, and dissolve at the same time.

Instead, you kissed him back harder, deeper, needier, like he was an oasis in the middle of a desert. Like you had been parched for a taste. 

“No, I don’t.”

Toji chuckled darkly against your lips, teeth grazing, teasing. Enjoying this game of push and pull.

“Liar,” he murmured.

You barely had time to react before he took charge. You could feel that your words had goaded him into a challenge that he took all too seriously.

A large, calloused hand slipped down your jaw, pausing at your neck. He squeezed, just a little, just enough to make you shiver in anticipation. Then his hand journeyed down, downwards beneath the robe, moving it aside to expose your sensitive skin. His eager exploration slowed, choosing to let his fingertips map the uncharted territory with extreme leisure. He teased with light touches.

To your collarbone, the swell of your breasts, while he devoured you with his gaze. You could see that it was taking him every ounce of control to not hurry this along and just take what he wanted. Needed. Craved.

Rather, his other hand splayed against your back, pressing you flush against him, making sure you felt just how much he wanted you.

You gasped, feeling the rigid planes of his muscles against your plushness, feeling his throbbing erection brush against your stomach.

Your sharp inhale was cut off by his lips capturing yours again, swallowing the sound with a groan.

His hands moved slowly, deliberately, teasingly, dragging a myriad of sensations over your skin. He played you like an instrument. Palming, and cupping your breasts, thumb running over the pebbled nipples, pulling and pinching softly. 

Your mind felt fuzzy, your thoughts slipping through your fingers like sand as he pressed fervent kisses along your jaw, down the column of your throat, sucking, biting, leaving open-mouthed wet and warm kisses, murmuring against your skin—

“Still nothing?”

You shivered in response, as his mouth descended to your collarbones and the valley between your breasts. He swirled his tongue around one pebbled peak, tasting and biting at your flesh, while he played with the other, kneading and squeezing until you were a puddle under his touch. All pliant and mewling. 

He smirked against your breast, now lavishing the other with attention, pleased with your reactions, with the sounds he was drawing out of you. And you soon felt yourself develop a second heartbeat between your legs.

Without warning, his arms slid around you, lifting you effortlessly.

A startled gasp left your lips as he carried you through the dimly lit cabin, past flickering candlelight and storm-swept windows.

The air was thick, the silence broken by the sound of your fervent kisses. Your lips meeting each other in an almost frenzied need.

You barely had time to think before your back met the sheets, and Toji hovered over you, eyes dark, lips curling.

“You gonna keep lying to me? To yourself? Because I have the whole night to prove otherwise” he husked, voice deep, teasing, and full of promise.

“So…” he drawled, ducking down to bite at your earlobe, before soothing it with a flick of his tongue, “What’s it gonna be? Yes or No?” 

When your only reply was a stubborn show of silence, he chuckled.

“I see” his gaze sparkled with excitement, resembling a predator preparing for a hunt “So that’s how it’s gonna be”

The surrealness of the situation wasn’t lost on you.  You couldn’t believe that this was happening. That You were in Toji’s bed, half-naked, covered in the marks left behind by him.

Your chest heaved, and you pressed your thighs together to relieve the unabashed need. 

Yes, you needed this man. Carnally. Biblically. Sinfully.

Lust in rivulets of undulated heat traversed through your body. He hadn’t removed your robe completely, yet you felt naked under his eyes.

Those emerald eyes. Storm-laden and destructive.

Strange how you saw your damnation and salvation married in them.

“One last chance to back out” his tone was business-like, a stark contrast to his earlier teasing remarks, as his finger looped around the belt of your robe.

“Because when I accept a challenge…” he grinned wolfishly, when you rewarded him with a nod of consent, “I play to win”

He paused, letting out a breath, before finally pulling. A soft tug and there was no going back.

You were completely exposed to him, in your wet and wanton glory.

He pulled the robe gently, from underneath you and tossed it away, never taking his gaze off of you. As if he half expected you to disappear.

“You’re beautiful” he whispered, caressing every inch of you with his lascivious eyes. 

You were sure when you started, that this was going to be a one-night thing. 

A night when you pilfer from the treasures of desires you kept sealed away, safe out of your own reach. 

But when he lowered himself, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead— it was then that you felt the first tremors of fear. The whispers of doubt at your foolish impulsive decision. What the hell are you even doing?

This was a bad bad idea. You can’t move on after this. This was Toji Zenin, how could you ever forget him, after you let yourself experience what it feels like to be his. A single night wouldn’t be enough, a single night would wreck you and fuck—

Your hands flew to his hair, fingers threading through the locks as he found your neck again, nuzzling, nipping, moving down with urgent intent.

He trailed open-mouthed kisses, on your collarbone, the swell of your breasts, your stomach, then his hands grabbed the plush of your thighs, squeezing, gently nudging them open, as he made his descent.

 He dawdled, leaving a teasing bite at your hip bone, then puffing out a breath, he paused, eyes melting into yours as he pushed your legs apart further. Looking at you from in between them.

His emerald eyes almost burned, like a forest fire, and he captured yours with their smokey, wispy, tendrils. Binding your gaze into a hypnotic pull.

You swore you saw a ghost of a smile linger on his lips when he yanked you forward, dragging your hips to the edge of the bed, but it disappeared when he ducked his head down and licked a long languid stripe.

From your aching clit, to your beckoning heat, and back up, teasing, tasting, sucking as if his life depended on it.

He set a torturous rhythm, his fingers dug into the curves, dimples, and divets of your thighs, prying them open and wider, as he hungrily feasted on your juices. 

“Hah fuck you taste so damn good” he murmured, in between sloppy kisses to your cunt, greedily delving in between your folds, like it was his last meal.

You had long lost any sense of shame, your hips had a mind of their own, bucking in time with the firm strokes of his tongue, chasing that sweet pleasure that he was so readily giving you. 

“Oh my god…Toji…yessss” you cried out, in delicious agony. 

“You like that baby? Like the way I make you feel?” He mumbled, the sound muffling against your sex, he lost himself in between your legs, eyes closed, as he worshipped at your altar.

Clarity was so far away, hidden behind a wave of lust-addled haze. The words almost tipped over your tongue, at his sly questioning, but then, you bit your palm, holding back any foolish confessions that would be difficult to take back, focusing instead on chasing your pleasure selfishly.

“What did I ask?” He hummed, the vibrations making your hips jerk and your eyes roll back, “I need you to say it, darling. Do you like the way I make you feel?”

“Shit…Toji…mnnnhh” you bit your lip, in a feeble attempt to deflect, but he was having none of it. 

You were too far gone, yet he was still very much in control. He moved his hand up your body, cupping your jaw, making your gaze meet his, as he caught your clit with other, pinching and sucking you into overstimulation.

He drove you close to that sweet release, dangled it before you like bait, only to snatch it away.

You whined, a desperate plea slipping out of you pathetically, “pleasepleasepleaseplease”

“Please what?” He smirked, still moving his palm on your cunt in painfully slow circles, “let you come?” He taunted, flashing you his canines in a smug, shit-eating grin. He had you right where he wanted you.

“Use your words,” he stressed, voice all saccharine sweet, as if he wasn’t actively edging you into madness, “Tell me how I make you feel, and I’ll let you come” 

“Toji please” you plead, “I’ll be good, please—“ you whined and begged, moving your hips against the slow motion of his hands, desperate to get some much-needed friction.

“Uh uh uh, that is not the right answer I’m afraid.” Yet his gaze softened, and he folded, “But I’m not a monster” He chuckled, as you squealed in surprise and grateful relief, hips rising off the bed, when he went down on you again.

Just when you thought you’d die of deprivation, he inserted two long fingers in you, pumping them in and out expertly, pulling an earth-shattering orgasm with that ‘come-hither-motion’, while he held you close to his mouth, tasting, licking every last drop of your release like his own personal nectar.

You caught your breath, your throat hoarse from all the noises you let out. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Toji lift his shirt. He was standing before his floor-length mirror.

You always knew he was muscular under those compressed shirts that left little to the imagination. But seeing the actual thing? The broad shoulders, the chiseled abs, the tan corded lines of pure muscle—rippling before you, as he removed his shirt, his back muscles flexing in the process, and you felt your pussy clench around nothing, with a shameless need.

This man was lethal for your heart.

Feeling your eyes on him, he smirked. Catching your gaze in the reflection of the mirror, daring you to look. He pulled at his drawstrings and pushed his sweatpants to his thighs, then his boxers, freeing his throbbing cock from its confines.

He was already leaking pre-cum, the wet noises of his palm fisting at his length, made you open your legs and match him—with a hand slipping between your folds.

You gathered the slick pooling there from your recent orgasm and slipped two digits in, groaning, moaning, imagining his huge cock filling you to the brim.

This was unbelievably hot. His reverent gaze on you, and his insistent palm moving up and down his erection, fucking his fist to the chants of your name.

“Yes baby, just like that” he praised, his eyes never leaving yours, as he bit his lip, looking at your reflection with a deep-seated appreciation.

While the more explicit expressions overtook the moment, for Toji it was something that he cherished beyond words.

He was hot and bothered, he was needy, he lusted like a fiend for you, yet he wished to make love to you. To reach the deepest parts of you, and to make you his. Mark you forever, so that no one would dare take what was his.

So when you both reached your peaks, crying out each other’s name in soft cries of pleasure, he removed his sweatpants entirely and bounded towards the bed. Without wasting another second, he pulled you into a wet, messy, sloppy kiss.

His hands moved under your thighs, cupping your ass, corded arms supporting your weight, as he carried you to stand before the mirror. Facing it. Looking at all your flaws and foibles up close while he hugged from behind, skin against feverish skin. His hands never left your body, touching, teasing, pinching, and squeezing. His face lodged in the crook of your neck, making blooms of hickeys that would last for days.

“Look at me”  he whispered, a hand splaying at your stomach, the other wrapping around your waist. 

And to be honest? You simply couldn’t look away even if you tried.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” you whispered. 

You were done lying, done pretending that you didn’t want this man.

“Then hold on tight”

Your fingers found purchase on his biceps, holding for dear life, as his hands slid to the back of your knees, lifting you, and bringing your legs to your chest.

A wild blush rose up your neck when you saw your reflection. You were exposed, utterly so. And entirely in his hands. This required so much trust on your part, and somehow, it came naturally.

You trusted Toji. Because he was Toji.

He was your rock. Someone who always found you.

Someone you could rely on, someone that you Lo—Ohhhhh

No warning whatsoever, as his huge cock lined with your cunt, entering it in one go. 

A groan of pleasure reverberated through Toji, and he bit at your neck, slowly thrusting into your warm tight heat. 

This was madness. It was not supposed to feel this good. 

Yet here you were, mouth agape, tears streaming down your eyes, stuffed to the hilt, getting fucked in front of a mirror.

You watched his cock slide out halfway before he rammed it back in, setting a brutal pace. The room echoed with the obscene sound of flesh slapping against flesh. His hot breaths on your neck, his lips nipping at the shell of your ear.

“See what you do to me?” He husked, voice a heady rumble, “I can’t help it, you’re fucking perfect”

The rain had cleared into a light drizzle, making the first spots of stars appear like tiny specks in the inky sky. 

They bore witness to this passionate embrace shared by you and him.

Two souls, getting acquainted in the most primal of ways, intertwined. Lost into each other, not quite aware, of how they loved more than lovers.

***

Warm morning sun, notoriously peeped at the bare tangle of limbs, nestled into an intimate embrace.

Remnants of last night lingered as mementos on your skin, unfurled like sakura in bloom.

Remembering the past years, when he woke up to the blare of an alarm, and the cold empty spot next to him, Toji murmured a secret prayer, grateful to whichever God had blessed him.

For he did feel blessed. Immensely. 

He sat up in bed, bracing himself on an elbow, as he took you in. Your soft cheeks, he thought, that he would never tire of touching. And never admit, to having thought about biting into the apples of them, on many a slow afternoon.

Your brown hair was like a waterfall that cascaded under his fingers. He secretly loved the green streak in your hair—it made him remind of his own eyes.

Your plump lips. 

He was jealous…Of the rouge that sat upon them preening.

No matter how much Toji tried to hide, to bury himself in his work, to avoid you, Fate had been weirdly persistent with the way it always tried to bring him back to you.

His first and the last heartbreak.

Slipping out the sheets, Toji grabbed a pen and a sticky note. If he was going to do this, he would do this correctly.

***

The morning melted into afternoon, its poignant warmth settled across the room with a lazy stretch. 

Your eyes opened, bones heavy with a sated bliss. There was an ache in your muscles. A mark left behind by him on your body. Another solid print onto the pages of your memory.

You rose, finally leaving the comforting embrace of the bed, half expecting to see him mill about. 

Putting on some slippers and a fresh robe again, you made a tour of the house, eyes keenly searching for that familiar mess of black hair.

But the cabin was empty. Populated by dust motes, and the lingering scent of pine candles, that lay in puddles of melted wax over various pieces of furniture, across the living room.

You fought off the disappointment bubbling up your throat; reminding yourself that he wasn’t your boyfriend. That one night didn’t translate to something more.

Just when you were about to leave the living room, your gaze landed on the dining table.

There was a covered tray of food, and a sticky note on top.

To my work wife, By now, I know you’ve already imagined the worst. It’s okay, I understand. I would have too if I woke up alone after last night—after what we shared. Sweetheart, I may look like a jerk, but I don’t hit and run. I know you, and that’s why I wanted you to have this day to yourself. To sit back, relax, and really think about what you want. Because I want you. Not just for a night. For every single night henceforth, until the day I die. Tucked by my side, safe and sound—just like this morning. So that I don’t have to find excuses like blind dates just to steal mere hours with you. If your answer is yes, you’ll find plane tickets in the drawer of my nightstand. If you want. If you’ll have me, that is. Yours, Toji P.S. Please heat up the lunch—I made your favorite. P.P.S. I’ve scheduled an appointment for your ankle. The doctor will be here in the evening. My place is at your disposal. Enjoy the rest of the work trip, and don’t miss me too much. P.P.P.S. AND NO MORE BLIND DATES.

You tried—and failed—to stifle the stupid grin that spread across your face when you found the plane tickets to Japan in his drawer, booked under the name Mrs. Zenin.

But that wasn’t all.

Inside lay a token, identical to the one you had received from the hotel staff for the blind date event—bearing the exact same number as yours.

[shanklin]

For the very sad realitivity falls au

I was thinking it really needed some comfort.

Which got me thinking about Soos, if Soos became like a son figure to Stan, maybe the opposite in realitivity falls?

Maybe Soos becomes like a father figure to Stan (dear lord that poor boy needs it especially with the whole Filbrick situation)

Stan: *sighs* Look I better go, I don’t want to burden you anymore than I already have.

Soos: Nah it’s fine dawg, c’mon, sit down with me. This cool new show is about to come on!

Stan: But, aren’t I selfish for wanting to spend time with you? Wouldn’t you rather do it with Ford?

Soos: Dude, you are being too hard on yourself. I want to spend time with you dawg, because you’re an awesome dude! *ruffles Stan’s hair*

Stan: *trying to hold back tears* I uh-have dust in my eyes.

Soos: There, there dude, let it all out. *hugging Stan*

Stan: *sobbing* I just want to be loved, but I—

Soos: I’ll be here for you

Selfish Shellfish AU - Masterpost

Rejoice, dear Anon! You’re getting out of prison early on good behavior!

Soos becoming a father like figure for Stan broke me. Haven’t stopped thinking about this since. I love it dearly.

This ask also made me realise a couple of things

I have no idea what Soos’ role usually is in Relativity Falls AUs

I don’t care. Don’t tell me. Soos is Soos. Maybe a tiny bit older than in canon. 30ish?

I imagine Stan to be like 15 in this for extra angst. He still hasn’t gotten a proper growth spurt yet and definitely has no drivers licence.

…I forgot what number four was. I was too preoccupied in outlining a fic in my head that I’m totally never gonna write. Don't look at the word count

Okay so, comfort? Sure! Dad!Soos! Perfect! Tonal shift with slight crack components incoming? More likely than you’d think!

Where did we leave off?

Filbricks dead, yaay!

Mabel, Dipper and Ford are currently having multiple breakdowns over how much they failed Stan.

And Stan? Stan’s on the run. He’s a murderer now and certain the police are after him and actually let’s say he’s right about that one. It doesn’t help that Filbrick had friends in the police force or at the very least used to pay them off on the regular.

One moment Stan stands above his fathers unmoving body looking at his hands - he really needs to wash his hands.

The next he's a state over in the middle of nowhere in a stolen car that's running out of gas with no money, no food and only the clothes on his back.

He’d curse himself for not taking supplies with him but what the point? He deserves this. He’s a murderer. A selfish, rotten, evil person. He should turn back and surrender. Get himself locked up and pay for his crimes.

But that would mean he’d have to face Ford and the rest of his family. They would come and judge him. See how bad he really is. He can’t do that. He can’t face them. He’d rather die than face their disgust and disappointment.

And yet somehow. Something in him still wants to live. The selfish part of him that refuses to shut up and let him be. That makes him do awful things and hurt others.

Everyone was right about him. So there is no point anymore in trying to be better. He might as well embrace it. It’s easier than thinking about Pa staring at him with dea-no no no no. That doesn't matter. Nothing matters except his own survival.

His car runs out of gas near the woods. It’s dark and cold and the wind howls in the distance. Stan's fight or flight instinct goes into overdrive. He desperately looks for a weapon to defend himself with. After a couple of minutes of frantic searching he finds a small pocket knife in the glove compartment. This will have to do.

There are headlights in the distance coming ever so slowly closer and Stan grasps the knife tighter.

Go away go away go away, Stan silently begs but the car comes to a halt behind him and a large man steps out.

Stan gulps and tightens his resolve. He's a criminal. A- a- murderer. He’s already done the worst thing imaginable to survive. And he will continue to survive. 

Even if that means he has to hurt and kill others. Stan steels himself and decides to do the unforgivable once more. He will kill this man, take his car and money and only live for himself.

A knock on the window. Stan lowers it, ready to strike. One swift stab in the neck and it will alll be over.

“Sup little dood! Need some help there?”

Stan falls over, he drops the knife and stumbles back shaking.

The man chuckles and picks up the knife. This is it. This is how Stan will die. Killed in the middle of nowhere by a gopher like serial killer. No one will never know what happened to him

“Here you go dude. You lost your knife. You need to be careful with these things. Could’ve accidentally stabbed me or something.”

The man holds out the knife and Stan snatches it up and moves back further, holding it protectively over his chest.

“What- what do you want?”

Stan's voice is hoarse. He hasn't used it in days, he realises. And the last time he did, he was shouting before before-

“Saw your car parked here in the middle of these creepy woods and thought you might need some help.”

"Well, I don't. So f-fuck off.” 

Stan flinches. It never ends well when he gives adults attitude. Shit. Shit, why did he do that?

Luckily the man doesn’t react to his mistake. Maybe he didn’t hear him?

“Aw dude. I’d feel bad leaving you all alone. Is your dad here somewhere?”

The man looks around for Stan's…dad. Stan's throat feels like sandpaper.

“No. He’s gone.” Stan whispers and the man's eyes soften.

“I’m sorry du-”

“Gone to get some gas!” Stan exclaims all of a sudden, shoving all his terror, anxiety and guilt into a dark corner in his mind. He needs to put on an act if he wants to survive.

“He’ll be back soon so you can just. Go.”

“Ah no. That’s alright. I’ll wait with you until your dad comes back. It’ll be great. I’ve got some snacks in my car and we can play I spy. See, I’ll start. I spy something green!”

“A tree?” 

"Woah, Dude! You’re like super good at this.”

Is this guy for real? He’s clearly mocking Stan, only. Not. He seems way too sincere. Stan hates it.

“Well this was fun, but you should really go. Stranger Danger and all that”

The man's eyes widen in shock.

“Totally forgot! Sorry, Dude! I’m Soos.”

He holds out his hand. Stan eyes it suspiciously.

“You’re not going to leave are you?”

“Not until you’re safe. Can’t leave a kid like you out here all alone. Your dad, like, shouldn’t have done that. That’s not cool dude.”

Stan might be stupid, but he's not an idiot. The guy is most definitely gonna turn out to be a creep and/or serial killer. The moment Stan lets his guard down around him he’s done for. He should insist the guy leave or better jump out of the car and run away. As starved and tired as Stan is he’d be no match for a big dude like Soos, even if he uses his small pocket knife, but he could probably outrun him in the woods.

There is no way for Stan to come out of this alive.

Either he will piss the guy off by insisting he leave and get murdered or he runs into the woods, gets lost and dies of exposure far away from civilization. 

His only other option is to wait with the guy and play his stupid games until he realises no one will come for Stan and he’s free to do as much axe murdering as he pleases.

No matter what he does. He’ll end up dead, abused and broken with no one to grieve for him. He’s sick and tired of feeling like this. Helpless. No, he needs to stay strong. Strong and selfish.

Stan takes the outstretched hand and shakes it firmly. Just like Pa taught him to do. The firmer your handshake is, the easier it will be to make a deal in your favor.

“Steve Pinington and actually I don’t think my dad will come back anytime soon. He probably got lost and is waiting for me in the next town over. Would it be okay if I hitch a ride with you?”

It was surprisingly easy to convince the man of his lie. Apparently if you get lost you should always stay exactly where you are until you’re picked up. Stan is pretty sure it doesn’t work like that for adults but he won't look a gift horse in the mouth.

New plan.

Make the creep think Stan is just a helpless, innocent and naive kid

Wait until he falls asleep and slit his throat

Take all his money and leave the country. Or something. Stans will figure it out later. Maybe he could  steal a boat…

The drive is nice. There’s food, water and warmth. It makes his hands tingle. He didn’t notice how cold he was before.

Stan gets forced into playing silly road games and when his answers become slower and he feels his eyes droop Soos turns down the music and puts a blanket around him.

Stan tells himself he's just keeping up the act and will only pretend to fall asleep but is out cold a moment later anyway.

***

He wakes up with a scream and swings fist at the nearest object which happened to be the face of his kind of kidnapper.

A crunch. Blood. A body lying at his feet. His hands. He needs to wash his hands.

“Sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I’m sorry-” Stan can’t breathe. There’s blood on his hands. Where is he? He’s sorry.

“Hey, hey, it’s fine dude. I Shouldn’t have woken you like that. It’s just a nosebleed, see?” 

Soos smiles and holds his hands up as the blood drips down his face, over his teeth and onto his shirt. It’s not a pretty sight. Stan looks away.

“You know, one time I tried to see how many hot dogs I could eat at once but I choked and pieces got stuck in my nose. I bled out sausage chunks for like a week straight.”

A weak chuckle escapes Stan's throat. “Eww that’s disgusting.”

Soos clumsily wipes off the blood from his face and holds out some fresh tissues for Stan. He takes them gratefully. It’ll have to do until they find a proper bathroom to clean up.

“I’m really sorry.”

“It’s alright little dude.” Soos replies and ruffles his hair. Stan tenses up but lets it happen. He feels the phantom touch long after it’s gone and it takes all of Stan's self control not to trace it his head. He flashes in embarrassment. It felt…safe.

Oh, the guy really knows what he’s doing. Stan will do the world a favour by killing him.

***

To the surprise of no one Stan’s “lost dad” is nowhere to be found. They spend the whole day exploring every inch of the town and asking people if they’ve seen Stan's dad. Stan makes a game out of it, trying to see just how outrageous he can make the descriptions until people think he’s lying.

Soos never once questions his stories.

Eventually they have to give up their search and get ice cream instead. It's the best day Stan had in years. He feels sick.

***

Soos gets them a motel room and opts to sleep on the floor when it becomes clear that only single bed rooms were available. 

His kidnapper is really bad at this, Stan ponders as he watches the man snore. At this rate he’s going to develop Stockholm syndrome and fall in love with him or something. Stan grimaces in disgust. Yep. That’ll do it. He needs to kill him now and proof once and for all that he can survive on his own.

He sneaks out of bed and quietly leans over the man, knife in hand. There’s drool on Soos' face and his nose looks swollen. Stan did that. He hurt him. And Soos didn’t care. He laughed it off with a silly story and distracted Stan until he could breathe again. 

Soos grunts and Stan flinches. The knife falls out of his hands and onto the carpet, nearly missing Soos’ neck. For a moment Stan's heart stops and when it beats again it's racing. With shaking hands Stan pushes the knife into the farthest corner of the room and curls up next to Soos.

He failed.

***

The next morning he wakes up in bed all wrapped in a warm blanket.

Soos greets him but Stan isn’t listening. 

It's all over. He can’t do it. It makes no sense. Why can’t he do to a stranger what he did to his own father, intentionally or not. He can't remember. It doesn’t matter. It changes nothing.

Stan is stuck. He knows, logically, he could just make up an excuse and escape, but he doesn’t want to. Soos feels - it's not safe. No one is safe. But he feels harmless and he's a good distraction. As long as Stan focuses on Soos won’t have to think about anything else.

“Hey, Soos.”

"Yeah?"

“I don’t think we’ll find my father here. He probably left town already. So, eh, can I just come with you?” Stan fiddles with his hands. They always look wrong. Always a finger short. “It’s to look for my dad of course. I’ll be gone before you know it. I promise I won’t be a bother and I can help out with things! I’m good at following orders and I-”

“Dude! Dude! Say no more. I’ve so gotchu. We’re totally the same. I’m also looking for my dad.”

“What?”

At Stan's befuddled expression Soos picks up the briefcase he's been carrying around and sits now next to Stan.

“You see, my dad left as well when I was little. Littler than you even and I’ve always wanted to meet him, but he never came. All I got were some postcards.”

Soos opens the briefcase and pulls out a card. Stan ignores it in favour of staring at the rest of the content in the case. Holy shit. That's a lot of money. Soos continues undeterred.

“Well, it’s always been my dream to play catch with my dad and I almost gave up on it but then I got this!”

Soos hands Stan a plain looking card.

“Son, 

I’m in a bit of a pickle and I could really use some help. Meet me at this address and bring 50 grand with you. You’re the best, champ.

Love, Dad.”

Stan stares at the card. Then back to Soos. Then back at the card. 

“You know this is a scam, right?” Stan waves the card in front of Soos who, stands up, grabs it and puts it back in without meeting Stan’s eyes.

“Perhaps,” Soos mutters. “But I still gotta try. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. I mean I had my Abulita and she was great, but it wasn’t the same. And now she’s in heaven and I’ve got no one else left besides him. Maybe he needs the money for a fresh start and will come back home with me!”

Soos sniffles and rubs his eyes. “So yeah. Maybe it’s not the smartest thing to do, but I have to try.”

Stan hugs his knees and is quiet for a long moment.

“In my experience, money is the only thing that will make a dad like you, so it might work out after all.”

Stan peeks at Soos but it looks like his attempt at comforting the man failed. He looks even more heartbroken than before. 

***

Despite Stan's failure Soos agrees to take Stan with him and even suggests their dads might be at the same place. Who knows. They could be part of a secret run away dad club and play a very long and drawn out game of hide and seek.

Stan manages to muster up a smile at the suggestion and helps Soos pack their things. Not that they have much to begin with. Most of Soos things are still in the car and Stan suddenly becomes acutely aware that he still only has the clothes on his back with him. He’ll need to find a way to steal some while Soos isn't looking.

They’re about to leave when Soos spots something in the corner of the room and moves to pick it up. It’s the knife.

“Here you go. We almost forgot it. Be careful not to lose it. You never know when it might come in handy!”

“Thanks…”

Stan almost tosses the knife out right then and there, but instead he puts it back into his pocket. Soos is right. He should stay vigilant.

***

The next couple of days pass by like a dream. Most of the time in the car is spent playing silly word games and arguing about music. Apparently Stan has the taste of an old man. Which is ridiculous. He just prefers the classics, which are classics for a reason! They won’t be forgotten in two weeks like Soos top 20 hits.

[When was the last time Stan listened to music just because he can? How come he’s feeling so strongly about it? Music should be just a way to attract customers and nothing else. Certainly not fun. STOP HUMMING BOY]

At some point the car breaks down and Soos has Stan help him with the repairs. He makes a show of opening the hood and explaining what he’s doing. 

It’s awkward and the nervous energy Soos gives off as he keeps checking if Stan is still listening puts him on edge.

He briefly wonders if Soos is trying to place a bomb inside, but then he holds the tools out to Stan and asks him to give it a go.

Confused about the whole thing Stan does as instructed and finds himself grinning as the engine roars back to life.

“Well done!” Soos cheers and holds his palm out into the air. “Up top!”

Stan blicks and lightly taps the hand in a high six, blushing at the praise.

Soos throws an arm around Stan and guides him back into the car.

Maybe this isn’t a dream. Maybe the last three years were just a bad nightmare and he’s actually been travelling with Soos and having the time of his life, while Ford is off studying weird stuff with Grunkle Dipper.

So Stan pretends he’s just on a fun extended road trip with his friend Soos. It’s great! They eat all the junk food they can get their hands on, sing loudly to bad songs, stay up and sleep as long as they want to and visit every bad tourist trap they come across.

Those are Stan's favourites! The attractions are clearly fake and nonsensical but also the best things Stans ever seen!

Some are just a normal object but big while others try a bit harder to keep your attention with fake curiosities and stories.

There even was one Tax Education Center and Fun Park where you learned everything about the history of taxes and how to file them correctly. Or how to avoid them, if you’re like Stan and know how to read between the lines. 

Eventually, Stan managed to piss off another kid hellbent on becoming the most esteemed IRS agent the nation has ever seen. 

The fist fight that ensued will be retold for generations to come! 

Or at least got them both a lifelong ban from the museum. Stan forgot how much fun fighting was when the opponent is not double your size and responsible for your basic needs.

He leaves the kid with a short “See ya!” and starts running as the kid shouts after him in rage.

“I won’t let you get away with this, Steve Pinington! Mark my words! THIS ISN’T OVER!”

Stan is full on belly laughing when he meets up with Soos.

“Made a new friend?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

Stan grins through his split lip. That felt amazing.

***

“Here Soos look!” Stan exclaimes as he shows off his fake abominations that he made out of junk from a nearby trash can.

This tourist trap thing is easy!

He gives Soos the grand tour around the little stand he built on the car and makes up fantastical and true stories of wonder and mystery about the items and tops it all off with the little broken toaster he found. He gave the toaster some cardboard eyes and legs that move with the help of hidden strings and voilà!

The Footbot 9000!

It even talks! Stan’s bad attempt at ventriloquism earns him some snorts and a wonderous “Woah, mommy mommy it speaks!” from the little toddler at the front of the crowd.

Wait. When did that happen? Where did all the people come from?

Stan looks around in alarm and finds Soos farther in the back watching him with glistening eyes. Is Soos crying?

Stan needs to get out of here but there's no good opening and then clapping starts courtesy of Soos.

With no escape in sight Stan takes a bow and thanks his audience.

“How much for the Footbot?” The mother of the toddler asks.

“30 Bucks.”

“10”

“20”

“Deal.”

One firm handshake later and Stan is the proud new owner of a crumpled 20 dollar bill with more to come as more suckers have already shown interest in some of the other junk he put out.

In the back there are people whispering and pointing at Stan. He better hurry up and get out of here before he gets them kicked out of town for selling broken toasters and literal trash.

***

“You know I think I’ll open my own tourist trap in the future” Stan says and takes another bite of his burger. “That was fun.”

“You were amazing! I was totally entranced by your wondrous tales of mystery. You’re like a genius at this, dude!”

A genius? Him? Stan’s not a genius.

Then agaaain. Ford is supposed to be a genius and he wouldn’t be able to put on a show like this.

A giggle escapes him and he kicks his legs under the table.

He can’t wait to tell Sixer and see his dumbfounded expression. Stan the genius. HA! That'll show him for staying home and missing out on the road trip of a lifetime!

***

Stan hands over the money he’s earned as soon as they arrive at the motel. Stan did so well today. He’s still giddy about it.

He found himself a plan for the future, made money AND got praised. The day couldn’t have gone better.

It’s almost a shame he has to go to sleep. But alas. Them's the rules. With a quiet hum under his breath Stan starts to get ready but is stopped by Soos, who is still holding the money.

“What’s up?”

“You don’t need to give me this.” Soos looks pained. 

“I don’t understand. What else am I supposed to do with it? The room has already been paid…”

“No, little dude. You can keep it for yourself. Your company is payment enough.”

Stan shakes his head. This isn’t right. Soos is taking care of things so Soos gets to keep all the money Stan makes. It’s only fair.

“No! You keep it. I don’t want it” 

“It’s fine dude here” Soos takes Stan’s hand and pries it open trying to return the bills. They fumble around and Soos won’t let go forcing it back into Stan’s hands. Stan can’t have the money! It isn’t right. But Soos is stronger than him and refuses to let it go.

“It’s yours. I don’t want it!” Stan repeats, runs to the bathroom and turns on the shower to cancel the noise from the outside.”

Stan needs to pay Soos back for taking care of him. He already wasted so much money on Stan. On food and clothes and sightseeing. Oh. Oh no. Was the money not enough? That's why he didn’t want it, right? It was basically an insult. Here I give you two drops of water back so forgive me for tuning the ocean into a desert and wasting it all on me.

There’s a knock on the bathroom door. Stan flinches with every bang. 

BANG

BANG

BANG

“Just come in!” Stan shouts to make the noise stop.

The shower turns off and in the absence of water pouring down on him he becomes acutely aware of the wet clothes sticking to his body, dragging him down.

Soos wraps him in a towel.

“I’m sorry dude for pushing. I’ll keep the money for now and we’ll talk about it later, okay?”

Stan nods and hopes later never comes. 

Soos gets him a change of clothes, helps him dry up and guides him to bed. Stan lets it all happen. He’s too tired to think and following orders is easier. More familiar. 

Stan falls asleep to a comforting hand stroking his hair.

***

Life is great! Stan decides as he jumps out of bed the next morning with renewed vigor. Yesterday evening was just a bad dream and he’s ready for a bright new day.

Who knew food, sleep and good company was all you needed to be happy?

Soos throws him an odd look before leaving to get them some breakfast.

Stan shrugs it off and turns on the TV. Soos is a weird guy so weird looks aren’t out of the ordinary.

He flips through the channels not looking for something particular. It’s been a while since he last had time to sit down and watch something.

He’s about to give up and do something else when the picture on the news is stopping him dead in his tracks.

It's him. It's Stan. 

15 year old Stanley Pines wanted for questioning in relation to the murder case of Filbrick Pines. The authorities ask the public to be vigilant as he is suspected to be armed and dangerous.

There's even a reward out for tips leading to his whereabouts.

The world around him shatters.

His little game of make belief turns into shards cutting into him and leaving nothing but sharp and cold reality behind.

Just what the hell has Stan been doing?

A fun road trip? Making plans for the future? Is he actually insane?

He fucking killed his dad. Let him bleed to death on the kitchen floor as he just watched in silence.

Exactly like he planned to do to Soos.

There is no future for Stanley Pines. Or Steve Pinington. Or any other name he’s going to come up with in order to trick people into liking him for a short while.

The moment Soos finds out what Stan has done it will all be over. Soos will be just like the rest of his family and see Stan for what he really is. A rotten and selfish child. A murderer. Someone not deserving of the love and care Soos showed him.

Maybe he can trick him into believing it’s some other child on the news. Soos is pretty naive sometimes. He could make it work!

Stan shakes his head. 

No. Stan is done pretending.. Eventually someone.will recognize him and then Soos will be in trouble as well for harbouring a criminal.

Steps in the hallway. No time to think. Stan needs to escape. Now!

He puts on his shoes, grabs the jacket and Soos’ briefcase and sprints out of the door.

If the money goes to waste on a good for nothing criminal anyway it might as well go to Stan instead. Really he's doing Soos a favour.

Someone runs after him but Stan is faster.

“Dude, wait! It’s alright, don’t go. Stan, STANLEY WAIT!

Stan is already out of town before he realises that Soos called him by his real name.

To be continued

This was supposed to be just a quick summary or a couple of bullet points about how Stan and Soos could become family in this AU.

And it was also supposed to be a bit more unserious and ha ha, so what if Stan tried to constantly kill Soos and couldn’t get rid of him. But it turned out quite different and not as bullet pointy as I set out to do.

I’m still a little bit in denial about that. But Stan is in denial for most of this as well. So it fits.

I wanted to completely finish it before posting but that’s gonna take too long and I've got no time. So for now have a sad ending for the sad relativity falls AU.

Don’t worry though. It will have a very sweet happy end. With lots of comfort. Maybe.

But for now let's all imagine Stan once again all alone and on the run :D

[degreesofpetal]

Hihi! I read an ask recently about whether Whitney would choose PC over his status and friends if he had to make a choice and Vrelnir said Whitney would choose PC. I think that’s really cool since he seems super focused on staying top dog in the game so I’m wondering how you think that would go down?

OH ANON. I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS ABOUT THIS ANON.

Whitney choosing PC

Whitney cares about his position. As vain as it is, he does. Perhaps more than anything in the world. Until you came along, that is. There are two versions of Whitney. There's before you, and there's after you.

Before you, Whitney was tough.

Before you, Whitney was hypervigilant. Ready for whatever threat would test him next.

Before you, Whitney was selfish. He cared more about himself than you or any other person, by a long shot.

Or you, matching his tenacity with the same force, using your strength for good. Like a lightning strike, showing him that there's more to life than just toughness and crushing those beneath you.

Before you, Whitney was cruel. There's no escaping that simple fact; he was cruel. He was vicious and nasty, all teeth and claws. He never would've dreamt of letting someone get close to him. Until you.

But then, there was you. You, in all of your gentle glory. Like a beam of light, illuminating his darkest parts and showing him how life could be.

Or you, like a bolt of lightning, slicing through his darkest days like a hot knife through butter. You, in all your strength and toughness, showing him that there was more to being strong than crushing those beneath you.

Before you, Whitney was a shell. As much as he tried to hide it, the world that tormented you had tormented him, too. He was broken, but he'd never let anyone see that. Not even his closest friends. And then there was you.

You, who brought him out of his shell.

You, who showed him what life could be.

You, who showed him what he could be.

Once he had you, he knew he couldn't let you go. Not for anything. Even if that meant giving up what had meant the very most to him for so long- his status.

One day, he's getting up to his usual antics with his friends, when you come around.

"Oh, look, it's your little pet." His friends would chide, elbowing each other and laughing. Whitney would crack a cocky smile and make his way over to you, ushering you over to the crowd of people he'd been hanging out with. "Yup," He'd reply, claiming you proudly in front of everyone.

For awhile, everything would be going normally. You'd talk shit with the rest of them, breaking things and spitting and whatever else teenage dirtbags get up to. But eventually, you'd all get sick of just standing on a random street corner, and you'd decide to go back to someone's house. You'd arrive under Whitney's arm. You'd all drink and smoke and talk, but you'd notice that the whole time, Whitney's eyes never leave you. That is, until he needs to use the bathroom.

As soon as Whitney leaves a switch is flipped. You realize with a start that these people are not your friends. They were only ever cordial to you because Whitney was there. And now that he wasn't, they were more than happy to take advantage of your inebriated state. You'd whimper and cry out, but your feeble voice would get lost in the blaring music. By the time Whitney returns an eternity has passed and your shirt is on the ground. Your face is drenched in tears, ruddy and red while you do the best to fight despite the alcohol flowing through your veins.

Whitney sees the scene in front of him and he sees red. CRACK goes one bottle, over someone's head. "Fuck!-" Someone yells, as the broken butt of that same bottle is driven into their arm. "What the hell Whitney?" Someone holding onto you would yell, dropping you on the floor and leaving you to try and cover yourself. Whitney would drag you to his side by your arm, holding you up like a bag of luggage and looking at the small gang of people with a glower you've never seen before in his eyes. He'd drop the bloodied bottle he was holding and spit onto the ground, before leaving the scene behind him- carrying you in tow.

From that day on, Whitney no longer had his "friends" at his every beck and call. But that didn't matter to him, not a bit. Because he had you- and he wasn't going to let you go.

[pritong-baboy]

also- same anon that asked the sacrifice for Bee question, I love how "selfishly selfless" Shockwave is in a way, if that makes any sense haha

I adore characters that has limited ways of expressing or feeling emotions and I'm so incredibly fond of how Shockwave is portrayed.... he's cruel, he's tormented Bee for so long and ruined his trust, betrayed him, etc. and yet you're weirdly aware of just how everything he does is out of love. It's a horrific tragedy, he goes to extreme lenghts out of affection and everything about it is so selfish but it's also because he genuinely cannot comprehend how Bee himself functions, that when you view how he perceives his actions it becomes almost selfless. It reminds me of that baby deer curled up beside a target practice deer, except now the mother keeps the calf captive

I'm relatively new but as I'm reading some of these I really get the feeling that he really does want what's best for Bee but just cannot understand what he needs and wants, when you strip yourself of your own individuality you struggle to find value in it at all, so he strips away Bee's too. When all you need is one thing because you can only ever prioritize one thing, Bee shouldn't need anything other than him. When you complete a checklist you get your reward, so how come he does everything right and Bee still doesn't love him? or trust him?

I think there's something so devastating about Shockwave platonically/familiarly (is that the word?) falling in love with Bumblebee because of his innocence, trust, and individuality and in the process of trying to make him his he's slowly hurting and destroying those exact qualities he found so fondly without even realising it. something about thinking of those blue eyes so fondly and yet replacing one with red so Bee can be more of him.... oughhhhh. and yet despite it all he loves his son all the same. there's a person somewhere deep inside there that only remembers how to love, yet not care....

There's so many instances in these asks and drawings where Bee does something that upsets Shockwave but he just tries and tries again, but Bee just never reciprocates the familiar love, and Shockwave just can't understand. I keep thinking about that one post where try as he might he cannot hold Bumblebee in a way that doesn't hurt him and envies how everyone but him seem to have it so easily... they make me so illlll..... I love your take on him so much he's such a fascinating thing, sorry for the ramble, I just needed to get this out of my system, have a good day!!!

hrgghhh this ask made me wanna lose it ngl. you hit the nail so hard, i literally teared up HUHUHUH.

"When all you need is one thing because you can only ever prioritize one thing, Bee shouldn't need anything other than him. When you complete a checklist you get your reward, so how come he does everything right and Bee still doesn't love him? or trust him?"

YOU ARE GETTING IT. as you said, the way i write shockwave is that he ultimately is a tragic character filled with so much love and affection, but it always just spills out so cruelly and it ends up drowning the very bot that he wants to keep. and i like the way you say that shockwave "falls in love" with bumblebee in a parental way, because he really does fall so hard for him it's something he has never felt before.

the thing with the optics too. they were a big theme in my two part series and how much shockwave adored seeing not just bumblebee's optics, but seeing himself in them. it's not that shockwave likes how bee's optics looks, he just likes it when they are looking at him specifically, when he sees that he's in the center of them. his affection is so harsh and selfish it always circles back to seeing himself in the end. it was sort of a telling how much shockwave seemed to care for bee in the surface, but every action he does really is just self-serving even if he doesn't intend it to be.

you describing shockwave as "selfishly selfless" is just...mwah...perfection. cuz like, yeah, when shockwave says he'd do anything to convince bumblebee to stay with him, he REALLY DOES MEAN IT. he is legitimately willing to kill anyone and ruin everything if it meant getting a sliver of reassurance that bee is going to love him back. it's just that....him willing to do all of those things doesn't mean that bee wants any of that.

[chukys-mouthguard]

#17 Angsty with Mat Barzal

Prompt: “It’s like…you have this power over me, and I-I guess I’m wary of where it might lead.”

Note: writing angst for mat always has me picturing him just being the absolute cockiest asshole on the planet but i love it so much 🫠

“Mat you act like we haven’t been doing this shit for months now! I get wanting to keep some things private for yourself, but it’s like you're ashamed of me or something!”

He sat with his head in his hands as you paced the floor of his apartment. The two of you having just gotten home from an Islanders home game. Though having to drive separate because Mat and you weren’t together, and you couldn’t be seen with one another.

“It’s not that y/n! You know it’s not anything like that!”

He spat back at you before standing up himself, making his way to the kitchen and grabbing a beer from the fridge.

“Then what is it? If you’re just looking for a hook up type situation, then I’ll walk out that door right now because I told you from day one that isn’t at all what I wanted. If you’re not interested in me anymore, then fine. But don’t sit here and lie to me when it’s obvious something is going on. You won’t be seen with me. I can’t wear your jersey number, I can’t meet any of the guys or their girlfriends. I’m your secret or something, and I don’t understand why!”

Mat sighed as he saw the tears in your eyes, hating to see you so upset, but he knew this was best. Keeping your relationship like it was. It was better this way, less complicated.

“It’s like…you have this power over me, and I-I guess I’m wary of where it might lead.”

He sipped his beer as you shook your head.

“What the fuck does that even mean? Wary of where it might lead? It’s been eight months at this point Mat, not quite sure where else we are headed.”

He knew he should’ve never let things go on as long as they had, but like he said, you had this power over him. He couldn’t commit to you. But he also couldn’t let you go. Despite how much he cared about you and liked you, he knew this couldn’t be anything more. Not now.

“I can’t put a label on this or introduce you to everyone because god forbid this goes south, I can’t go through that. I need to be focused on my game right now, the second I start introducing you to people and the things that come with that, it’s going to be too much pressure. I don’t want to deal with any of that right now, that’s why I like things where they are at. I get it, it’s been months, you want more. You need more. But I can’t give that right now, and I won’t give you that. I know what I want, and that’s not a label. I don’t need a girlfriend, nor do I want one.”

His words cut through you like a knife. The man you’d fallen for turning out to be nothing you ever thought he was. Wiping the tears from your cheeks, you did your best to suck up your emotions. Mat not deserving another one of your tears.

“So, what was the point? You were just keeping me around for fun? For company? To waste my time when you knew what I wanted?”

Mat simply shrugging as he brought his beer back to his lips for another sip. “I care about you, so fucking much. And I told you, you have this power over me where I can’t just walk away and let you go. I, I want to think it will get better. That things will change. But I’m also not going to give in and change things thinking that we are headed that way. So yeah, maybe I’m being selfish for keeping you around rather than ending this knowing it’s not what you want. But, I still want you here. I still want this with you. As long as you can accept where I stand. If you can’t, then that’s fine too.”

You scoffed as you grabbed your keys, “That’s fine too? You know what….you’re right, I do have power over you. And I’m taking that power to walk away from what a piece of shit you are. Go fuck yourself Mathew Barzal.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Summer Breeze 9

Warnings: age gap (reader is 22, Andrew is mid 40s), dad’s friend, Andy being Andrew, other dark elements. As usual, be mindful of your content consumption.

I also beg of you to leave me some tuppence in the form of a comment and/or reblog. You are cherished!

Enjoy, my loverlies.

“I don’t think I can make the drive back up,” Andy yawns, “I got us a house not far from here.” 

He gets in the driver seat as you take the passengers. The exhaustion is finally winning, so much so that you hard care about any of it. You just want to be in one place and laying down. 

“A house?” You rub your cheek and lean into the door. 

“Yeah, got a buddy. He rents it out on some app, thought about doing the same with our place,” he checks his blind spot as he backs out, “anyway, lot of whatever. He doesn’t have any booking so I called in a favour.” 

“Mm, lucky,” you mumble and your eyes droop. 

Your dad doesn’t have any convenient friends. Just Andy. Your mom told everyone he was a piece of shit during the divorce and she moved away once you hit eighteen so he had to live in the cess pool of it all.  

Andy moved in about the same time but you never really thought of him as more than a neighbour. He had a beer with your dad now and again whenever he needed help with some DIY but it was never that deep. You suppose after you went off to college, your dad had more time to waste on friends. 

Your mind keeps wandering to the minuscule; the irrelevant. Just so you don’t have to think about the worst. You let your eyes close and sink down. 

“Just relax, sweetheart,” Andy’s silty tone follows you down, “be like twenty minutes.” 

The motion of the car lulls you. Your head thrums and your body goes hollow. You feel like you’re made of air as your mind ripples. It’s only as you come to a stop that you’re roused from your trance. You sit up and sniff. 

“How ya doin’ over there?” Andy rests his hand on the corner of your seat. 

“Fine, fine, I’m just...” 

“Tired. Yeah, you were snoring,” he snickers, “kinda cute.” 

You blink and keep your brow from furrowing. Sometimes he says things that don’t need to be said. You suppress a yawn and undo the seat belt. 

“It’s been a long couple days.” 

“Tell me about it,” he tuts, “I’ll grab the bags.” 

Another storm of confusion takes you. You keep forgetting the little details. You get out and wait for him as he pops the hatch. He pulls out your pink duffel bag and his own dark blue suitcase. He hauls both with him as he approaches. 

“The key is on the door. You just need to put in the code,” he instructs, directing you ahead of him with the tilt of his chin. 

“Oh, sure.” 

You turn and lead him across the gravel. The house is just as nice as his cottage, crested by a small pond behind the tall porch. You climb the steps and go to the front door, a lock box hooked around the handle. He gives you the code but it declines. He tells you to flip the last two numbers and it unlocks. 

You take out the key and let yourself in. You stay by the door, holding onto it as he angles through with the luggage. He groans as he puts it all down and kicks off his dock shoes. You look down and slip out of your slides. Your feet are filthy from running all around. 

“I think there’s a shower upstairs, a couple of rooms. I can drop your bag in one while you get washed up,” he offers. 

“You know what, think I can figure it out,” you snatch up your duffel and hike it onto your arm. 

“Right, you go first, I’ll go after,” he shrugs, “I gotta make a few calls. Jacob’s mom has been blowing me up.” 

“Okay,” you say just to say something. You can’t think about his problems too. Call you selfish but you just can’t handle anything else. 

“Not your problem,” he says, “go, I’ll hold down the fort.” 

He as good as shoos you away and you’re all too happy to take the out. You tramp upstairs and peer around. You find the bathroom first and toss your bag in the room next to it. You take out a fresh pair of pajamas, you only brought two sets, and search out the linen closet for a towel. You feel like an intruder but you’re too worn out to care. 

You dip into the show and pull the door shut. God, the water is good. You could fall asleep standing up. You make quick work of scouring your body to avoid just that and dry off on the bath mat. 

As you come out of the bathroom, you listen to the house. It’s quiet. Andy must have taken his call outside. Ugh, he’s an adult. He’s proven he can manage a lot more than you. 

You fall into bed, cozy in your fresh shorts and tank top, and hug the pillow as you hook a leg around the duvet. Almost as quickly as you still, you’re out for the count. You drift off into an ocean of colours, swirling and streaming behind your eyelids, spinning you in a cyclone of obscurity. 

You stir as you hear a subtle thud. A cool breeze blows from the floor vent and chills your exposed leg. Your shorts are trapped between your ass, an embarrassing scene if anyone was to see you. You roll over and conceal yourself in a cocoon formed with the fluffy duvet. 

The door’s open... you swore you shut it. You’re so tired, you can’t remember. You don’t bother getting up. You’re too fucking dead.  

You close your eyes and a long groan drones through the wall. The noise makes you rigid. Maybe choosing the room right next to the plumbing isn’t the best idea. You wiggle down further into the bedding as the shower thrums and another deep utterance rolls in. 

You pull the blanket over your ears and try to tune it out. The steady spray can’t block out his grumbling voice. At first, you’re agitated. Why does he need to make so much noise? A shower isn’t that good—wait. 

Your cheeks burn in realisation. He isn’t... he wouldn’t do that. Not right now. You can hear his voice, rhythmic and strained. Wow. Oh god. You cup your hands over your ears and bite down. Talk about embarrassing. 

There’s a slap against the wall and a deep grunt. Jesus. 

You roll your back to the wall and huff. You’re glad he has something to distract himself. You can barely focus on living. 

[hellooobees]

I can't stop thinking about how the show sets up selfishness and selflessness as two sides of the same coin. How do you walk the line between making sure your loved ones can achieve their own dreams even if it means hurting yourself, and hurting your loved ones because you're hurting yourself for their sake?

It all goes back to Thame putting up his wish on the orange tree that he'll make all of the other members' dreams come true. Thame, who agrees to a shitty contract and works himself to the bone and makes it completely his burden to prove that Mars is a good investment for the company. Thame, who is made to believe that that very act of love and sacrifice is only debilitating his friends' dreams and the only way to keep his original promise is to leave.

We see Thame essentially being back at square one in this episode. He has to leave and go to Korea alone so the people he loves can achieve their dreams. But so much has changed since then. Thame had found hope, that he could simultaneously keep his promise and be selfish to want both his band and his partner. He's once again been working himself to the bone, giving up all of his time and attention between the band and Po, because his tiredness is such a small price to pay to turn that dream into reality. Why wouldn't he gladly take on all of that tiredness and more?

But despite all of the groundbreaking things he's achieved and everything he's given of himself, it doesn't work. His friends break down around him possibly reigniting the same insecurities from earlier that he worked so hard to ensure wouldn't come to pass. His boyfriend breaks up with him despite Thame promising to take on all of the burden and tiredness to make it work. He's being forced to leave everyone behind and he's being left behind too.

That flip from Thame being convinced that the best thing for him to do would be to leave for everyone else's sake, to the rest of Mars and Po being convinced that the best thing for them to do is to step back for Thame's sake is so so important to me. It's not just Thame who made making his friends' dreams come true into his own dream. The rest of Mars and Po did the same thing with Thame's dream. But how does it all work when the sacrifices you're willing to make for the dreams of your loved ones are at the cost of their happiness because they're at the cost of your own?

Thame's effort didn't go to waste. We see all of that effort manifesting in how it opens doors for the other members and Po so much more easily now. But it's also true that at the base of those new successes lie the shattered hopes of that shared dream between them.

The show sets up the question of whether the person who's leaving others behind feels hurt, and we see so many iterations of it. We see Earn leaving behind the person who was an instrumental part of his success without a second thought. We see Thame giving himself up and leaving for the band's sake. We see Jun leave twice, the first so that his friend would for once think of himself and his own success instead of letting the others drag him away from it, and the second when he's sure that his friend can be what the person that he cares for deserves. We see Pepper being completely willing to leave if the two biggest parts of his life cannot exist together and we see Gam actually leaving when it proves to be true. And we see Po leave because he cannot let himself become an obstacle in Thame's path and make all of their efforts come to waste. If that's the price to pay so that the people they love can have what they want then so be it, right? Their sacrifices are insignificant in the face of that.

But what happens when all those sacrifices still aren't enough? When the cost becomes too huge to bear?

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

I've got female Sole Survivor on the brain thanks to this Deegan one-shot, especially in relation to her grief at all she's lost at the beginning of the game. This may be a touch controversial.

I see a ton of female Soles (both in fan works as well as in general discussions about lore, roleplay, etc.) who are wracked with survivor's guilt in the aftermath, wrought entirely hollow by the loss of their husband and child. This is not a statement of judgement or me implying that it's a subpar creative choice; it's a very natural conclusion to draw. Losing your entire immediate family, on top of surviving multiple mass-casualty events, would naturally leave you wondering why you lived when others didn't and feeling incomplete without those dearest to you.

Personally, the first time I played Fallout 4, I immediately imagined my own Sole as a woman dealing with an immense amount of guilt for an entirely different reason: she feels relief on more levels than one.

Yes, the world ended and everyone she ever knew or really cared for is long dead. But even the horror of that realization doesn't change the fact that there is a massive weight lifted off of her shoulders when she wakes up in that Vault and realizes that she no longer has to be a wife or mother every single moment of her life. It wasn't something she pictured for herself long-term, but she hadn't realized it until it was far too late; very much the sort of person who agreed to get married and have a child before they fully considered all that it would mean (which isn't an uncommon character flaw). But, between the general state of the world at the time and her own hidden struggles, she was eager to feel like she was doing something meaningful with her life.

Nate was the same. It was one of the only things they'd had in common anymore by the time Shaun was born.

I imagine their marriage was struggling (or perhaps simply not as satisfying as either of them would have liked), and having Shaun was an ill-conceived attempt to save things, to find some sort of renewed enthusiasm or meaning. Of course, having a baby to fix your marriage (or yourself) never works. Pregnancy and labor were rough for her, but postpartum was worse; her husband continued to pull away like he had been before, just at a more agonizing rate.

Pretty immediately after the birth, she recognized she'd made a mistake, felt stupid and childish for making such a life-altering decision based on flimsy justifications. But so many people in her life (parents, in-laws, friends who were already parents themselves, society in general) swore to her that having a child would magically end all of her problems through the sheer power of maternal love that she felt selfish not "putting forth the effort" and trying. No one bothered to clarify, though, that if the old 'baby trick' doesn't fix your life, you're then stuck with an inherently needy little person whose existence you may feel indifferent towards more often than not. That realization had been in the middle of literally crushing her to death when the bombs fell.

She's slowly finding herself again as she goes through various adventures and trials in the Commonwealth, helps build community that feels more like a real family to her. Dips her toes into the dating pool eventually. It's not a straightforward process, though, and some days she feels like an uncaring monster and can't even get out of bed. Others, she functions, but with a visible cloud over her, morose and quiet. A tiny, irrational part of her may even feel that she somehow manifested the war, literally brought forth the end of the world with how ardently she begged for something, anything to take her away from what her life had become towards the end.

Her guilt is tinted with anger and shame. She still has lingering health issues from carrying to full term, and her body is changed in ways she knows she will never recover from. Fixates on the changes she notices and it breeds self-consciousness. Part of that fixation is vanity, sure, but she also knows very well that she likely shaved at least a few years off her life span by choosing to become a mother, an endeavor she wouldn't describe as "personally worthwhile" if pressed hard enough.

She also constantly beats herself up for not searching hard enough for her son, but it's unproductive. No matter how guilty she makes herself feel, she doesn't find many leads. Doesn't bring him or Nate up much, unless she's feeling especially vulnerable (or self-hating). The pity people usually express when she says she lost a spouse/child doesn't feel earned to her.

Part of her says her son is likely dead, having lived his whole life without her, and so she'd be wasting her time by dedicating every waking moment to finding him. She finds both peace and sadness in that idea. Another part of her, though, knows she's dragging her feet, pacifying herself with that thought because she doesn't truly want to find him.

[writerblue275]

Heartsteel!Kayn NSFW Alphabet (18+)

Previous Members: Ezreal

Inspiration: I mean A. feral hours. B. This is for @mysticdelphox97 and everyone else who is absolutely wrecked by Kayn. 😏 Enjoy! (Again used the NSFW alphabet template from @the-coldest-goodbye.)

Champion: Heartsteel Kayn

Genre: Headcanon

Type: HAHAHAHA NSFW. COMPLETELY NSFW. 18+ ONLY. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Gender: Gender Neutral Reader

TW: Swearing, discussion of NSFW activities/kinks. Ex: Semi-public sex, mention of BDSM. Smutty as FUCK.

Extra: Implied settled relationship!

LOOK AT THIS SEXY FUCKER!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Fully believe Kayn is better at aftercare than people might think him to be. Yes he can be wild in bed and take a lot, but he also gives a lot. He’s not a selfish lover. He cares deeply about you and wants to make sure you’re fully enjoying yourself with him. He understands that extends to aftercare, especially after an intense session. Will wash you off and help you into a bath/shower and get any snacks/beverage you might need.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Himself: His hands. He loves how you respond when he tugs your hair and moves his hands around your body. His hands can do a lot of good things and he knows it.

His partner: Your lips. Whether wrapped around various parts of him, kissing his neck, moaning his name, when he’s nipping them, etc…Kayn absolutely loves your lips.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

His absolute favorite place to cum is your mouth. You on your knees waiting with open lips? One of his very favorite sights.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

As discussed in a previous headcanon (HERE), Kayn has a secret phone with photos and videos of you/you and him which he takes on trips. Obviously you know about it and he only started taking videos and pics once you and him talked about everything extensively and you consented to him doing so. Everything on that phone is for your eyes and his eyes only.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing)

Kayn’s probably the most experienced of Heartsteel. Definitely knows what he’s doing (even better for you).

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggy-style. Absolutely doggy-style. Or in general anything where he can hit it from the back. He loves being able to control the pace and being able to pull your hair a little bit (if long enough).

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Can’t see Kayn being super goofy, per say. Teasing? Absolutely, but goofy no. He’s pretty serious/focused/in the zone when it comes down to things.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Keeps things pretty tidy. Definitely doesn’t match the drapes though. (Lmao can you imagine?)

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Ok so in general Kayn’s not super romantic when it comes to sex. Definitely a guy who prefers “fucking” to “making love.” But if you ask him, or he can tell you want him to slow it down and be more on the romantic side, he fully can and he does it well. (A/N: I wish there was a better phrase to describe romantic sex because “making love” just sounds so fucking awkward.)

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Oh absolutely he jacks off. No question about it. Probably every day and occasionally multiple times a day. Of course, nothing compares to time with you, but you can’t be around him 24/7 and a guy has to do what a guy has to do.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

HAHAHA It’s easier to say what his kinks aren’t! This sexy motherfucker (affectionate) is kinky as hell.

Some of his big ones though: dirty talk (giving), BDSM, edging/orgasm control (giving), and semi-public sex.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

While he definitely enjoys having you to himself, there really is something about semi-public sex that excites Kayn. The boldness, the risk, the excitement, it all drives him wild.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Kayn is a man with a very high sex drive. It really doesn’t take much to turn him on. Give him bedroom eyes and he’s pulling you into a dark corner to at least make out. He sees you wearing something of his at home? Well let’s just say you won’t be wearing it for very much longer 😉.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Age play. As kinky as he is, age play is just something he cannot get into.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He definitely prefers to receive oral. As stated earlier, seeing you on your knees for him is a sight he absolutely loves. But dont get it twisted, Kayn will gladly reciprocate and it’s something he’s extremely talented at.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Definitely a more “fast and rough” sort of lover. Loves when he’s able to get your noises to the point of only gasps and broken attempts of his name. But again, Kayn can occasionally surprise you and go slow and sensual.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Big fucking fan of quickies. Kayn’s down to have a quickie whenever you are, really. Since he loves semi-public interludes, quickies are a staple for that.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Risk is Kayn’s middle name whether in or out of the bedroom. He’s always down to try something new, especially if it makes things better for you as well. (Again, he’s not selfish as a lover.)

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Oh man Kayn has quite a bit of stamina. In one sitting, he can go like 3-4 rounds as long as there’s a short break in between. His refractory period is remarkably short. If it’s not a quickie he can last around 20 minutes a round, with each following round after the first getting a little shorter.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

This is an interesting thing to consider. Yes Kayn does, but they’re mainly for you. He might have one or two toys for himself, like a cock ring or a plug of some kind, but most toys he has he bought as your physical relationship progressed and he figured out what you enjoy.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Kayn’s a master at teasing you. He will rile you up in public then pull away. He will lean over and whisper something absolutely filthy into your ear at random and inconvenient times where you can’t slip away. He’ll send you NSFW teasing voice messsges and texts. He loves to make you blush and he loves making sure he’s on your mind.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Definitely louder when not risking something semi-public, but even then he can’t fully silence himself. Low growls, groans, moans, and dirty talk galore, Kayn will audibly express his pleasure.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Will absolutely fuck as Rhaast, mask on and everything, and his intensity is turned up to 14/10. Like those are the truly wild nights, but boy are they fun as hell.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Around 6”. Fairly thick with a little curve to one side at the tip.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

No question Kayn has the highest sex drive in Heartsteel. He just really enjoys sex and enjoys having it often.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

During nights with you Kayn definitely doesn’t fall asleep immediately. He’s up for a little bit, making sure you’re alright and even cuddling or partaking in some surprisingly intimate and occasionally vulnerable pillow talk. This is the time when his walls are the most down.