#and ive been slowly building it back up

[your-jellyfish-senpai]

This is just a personal post for posterity because it has been a fucking time this year, the last two months in particular.

The tl;dr current situation is: Ryan and I both have a crush on the same person and are considering a very specific kind of polyamory

The long story is so much more complicated than that because my own feelings were on a several-month delay so I instead started off with a major breakdown after learning that Ryan had a crush on a mutual friend because of my own insecurities (ample, plentiful, all-consuming) and fears (being abandoned, being replaced, not being good enough, etc.)

Avoiding the specifics because it's truly way too much to get into and frankly, much of what I initially felt, I've dealt with or completely done a 180 at this point lol.

But yeah. Even like, two weeks ago, the concept of polyamory for myself and our relationship freaked me the fuck out. But now it's an open conversation and who fucking knows what's gonna happen.

Anyway. I still have a lot of work to do because my body image is truly horrendous and I've only recently realized that not everyone has the depth and intensity of self-hatred for their physical appearance that I do. And Ryan has been telling me that they think I am "much more attractive" than I think I am. To which I can't help but respond "sounds fake but okay" or "wild if true."

This has been such a fucking insane period of my life and I haven't really talked about it with anyone except Ryan (and Kaden, ty Kaden) so if you're an IRL friend reading this... sorry lol it's been Complicated and Uncomfortable and Scary As Hell.

But no matter what happens here on out, I do at least feel pretty secure in our relationship and feel like we've once again leveled up our communication.

[rindomness]

hello hi tell us about mementos and the security level

OH HELLO. Welcome to my personal hill to die on. This post is long. It's one of my out-loud rants in text form. Sorry in advance. There's a cut down there somewhere.

Thesis statement of whatever's about to come next is that Mementos fucks actually as a concept its execution was just horrible and also Yaldabaoth is a terrible final boss. OKAY LET'S GET INTO IT

First things first I really do think Mementos should have gotten a security level. The game plays "Mementos is the public's Palace" very straight, all the way to the end, insisting that Yaldabaoth is created by the public's desire for a status quo yadda yadda yadda. So like. Here's the screenshots actually

I didn't get the whole conversation mostly because I think I was streaming at the time and complaining out loud but like. He just straight-up says this? And then they do nothing with it???

Imagine this with me. Enter the imagisphere or whatever.

It's October. You've just defeated Okumura, and you just watched the mysterious black-masked figure you've been told cryptically about for a while now kill his Shadow. You watch Okumura have a mental shutdown live. It's horrific! It's worrying! What happened? What's going to happen to you? The Phan-Site meter starts dropping rapidly. You go to Mementos to prepare for the next Palace.

There's a security level.

NOT ONLY did this act make the public lose faith in you, but now you're enemy #1, and it's reflected in the collective unconscious. This Chekov's gun that they set up back in May goes off. You have to be much more careful in Mementos because if you aren't, you could get kicked out. The stakes are higher. Mementos, the public view of you, has changed. It's not just doors opening for you anymore.

THAT WOULD BE SO COOL. RIGHT? RIGHT??? BUT NO! No we don't get a security level until the depths, which contradicts itself, actually, because once you get to the depths, the whole POINT is that the public ISN'T reacting to you or your actions! Why the hell would they care that you're In There!

The obvious answer is that it's because the security level belongs to the Holy Grail/Yaldabaoth/the fuckass cup/whatever you personally call him. And okay, whatever, but the game goes out of its way to establish that the Grail isn't really a separate entity from "public desire," he IS "public desire," the status quo incarnate, so once again, I ask, why is this the only time you have a security level! (I know it's because this is the home-stretch to the final boss and mechanically it has to act like a proper Palace. I still think it's stupid.)

And now that I'm talking about the Grail. Hi. Hello. If you've talked to me on Discord you already know this but I fucking hate the Grail. I think it's stupid. I think it's thematically inconsistent. I think its only purpose is to be the "Let's fight God!" final boss. I truly believe that if I hadn't gotten into Persona 5 through Royal, I would not still be into Persona 5, because I would have gotten so frustrated with Yaldabaoth that I would have dropped the game. I regularly complain for half an hour straight about this thing in voice calls. One person once told me the only thing they knew about Persona 5 was that this cup sucked because I wouldn't shut up about it.

I've somehow managed to not do this on Tumblr but I can't really talk about Mementos without talking about it so I guess we're talking about the cup

Narratively: Yaldabaoth just sort of comes out of nowhere??? The whole game is building up to Shido. The whole game. And you do it! You defeat him! And then... there's this other thing??? Apparently??? I was genuinely really confused when I got to this part of the game the first time because I was going ok we beat the final boss complete with eight hundred phases! Hooray! And now there's this other fucker. Going back through the game there's some foreshadowing for him? But it's kind of all concentrated in the start of the game, around Madarame's Palace, when you're just getting used to Mementos, and then it all sorta just disappears.

YOU KNOW WHAT IS FORESHADOWED, THOUGH? MORGANA.

Imagine with me x2 because this is where I thought the game was taking us when it went "btw we need to tackle the depths now"

Morgana has no memories. Morgana knows there's something in the depths that explains who he is. Morgana assumes it's because he's human, and will become human again if he finds out what it is. The WHOLE POINT of exploring Mementos was for Morgana's memories! And then he starts getting these really unsettling dreams, right, where he's a Shadow, or has a Shadow, or whatever. And then you get to the depths.

What I thought was about to happen was that we were going to find out that Morgana was more or less what the Grail claims to be(a being created by the wishes of the masses) and that Mementos was going to be Morgana's Palace. "Oh but Morgana has a Persona-" Morgana's already a weird case I could easily see him having a Shadow or being a Shadow himself while also having a Persona. I'm ignoring Maruki because we're talking about vanilla and Maruki didn't exist yet.

I thought our final boss was going to be Mona's Shadow and that by defeating him(the part of Morgana(as a Shadow/Metaverse being/etc) representative of what they were trying to make Yaldabaoth: wanting to let the status quo handle everything, more or less, the desire to let the system do what it's designed to even if that thing is "crush everything in its path") we would reaffirm that change is possible as long as we all work together. Morgana getting to be this very physical symbol of rebellion and force of will and getting to go NO I want to try even if it hurts me.

What actually happened was... a lot more underwhelming.

What we got was, in a game where one of the primary themes is "rebellion against systemic injustice, you can't just get rid of the One Guy and fix Everything," a final boss who was... one guy who if you got rid of him you'd fix everything?

And I get it Atlus doesn't want to actually shake the boat that much but at the same time Yaldabaoth comes out of nowhere and says absolutely nothing of substance in a game that, over and over again, gets SO CLOSE to saying something really powerful and then sinking back into what's comfortable. It's the aesthetic of rebellion without the teeth of it.

Anyway now that I've complained for an essay's worth here's some positive stuff

I really do like Mementos. It gets a lot of shit for being repetitive and boring and like I sort of get that but on the other hand it is a JRPG. I'm not sure what you expected from the area that is, mechanically, "Here's where you go to grind." I don't see a problem with having this area. I think the special floor events manage to spice it up enough that it's not all that boring. I like Jose being there in Royal, I think he adds a lot, actually. The implications of everything Jose says are fascinating to me. The fact it's impacted by the weather! Like, as a world component, Mementos is so so cool actually guys. I know it's a Persona game so "world impacted by cognition" is sort of the bare minimum but it's really cool!!! The aesthetics fuck! The only layer I really don't like is.. fuck, I think it's Kaitul? Whichever one gets unlocked after Kaneshiro's Palace, I haven't gotten there in my current playthrough yet. It's just... too dark to see, all the time, imo. Mementos feels(except for... 90% sure it's Chemdah) very oppressive and spooky and I honestly think that's great. It's a depressing place to be! For a game about how corruption and systemic violence hurts everybody, it's really good!

In conclusion... don't ask me about Mementos unless you want an essay LMAO in seriousness I understand why Mementos gets shit but I think it should get less of it. And also that I could have fixed it(the cup. The cup is the big bad part of Mementos. Not the grinding you're going to get that with a JRPG no matter what you do you signed up for it when you launched the game.)

[hcdgepcdge]

.

[broke-on-books]

😍😍😍

[npd-vriska]

my 2 favorite tops dont fit me anymore i think i might cry

[floorpancakes]

lately im too busy+also just not very consistently good at drawing the characters but i have 5000 ideas for holic art in my notes app notes. lately this crossover idea has been on the brain because im HIGHLY predictable in my idol gacha game biases

actually fuck it one more for the list I REALLY want to draw watanuki in calm night archer mafuyu....its one of my fav outfits in the whole game the blue and gold and archery theme is so fucking based. oh boy i wonder why that appeals to me...

[kurokawaia]

NSFW HEADCANNONS 彡 Shoto Todoroki

| MDNI - 18+ | WARNINGS :: shoto todoroki x fem!reader, heavy teasing, intense tension, suggestive touches, breathy whispers, neck kisses, and shoto absolutely ruining you with his self-control, somnophilia warning! fingering, oral -> female recieving, hair pulling + more? HEADCANNONS. total wc :: 500~

• At first, Shoto doesn’t pick up on teasing or innuendos. You could say something flirty, and he’ll tilt his head in confusion. But the second he realizes? Oh, he uses it against you.

• Once he knows he can make you blush, he will test his limits. He’ll brush his fingers over your lips while pretending to "wipe something off" or lean just close enough to make your heart race. And if you get shy? He just gets even more bold

• He loves running his fingers over your skin, just to feel the contrast of his warmth and ice against you. He'll casually trace patterns on your thighs or back, acting like it’s no big deal, but he knows what he’s doing.

• Normally, Shoto has a calm tone, but when he leans in and murmurs something right against your ear? It’s low and smooth, and yeah, your knees might just give out and your folded right away. YOu think he doesn't know what he is doing until you do.

• If you're teasing him while he's focused on something, he’ll grab your chin and make you look at him. You can't do anything but freeze in shock. And you're about to fall over when he says, “Do you want my attention that badly?” in that deep smooth voice 😵‍💫

• Whether it’s innocent or not, the second you sit on his lap, he’s gripping your waist. He doesn’t say anything, but the way his fingers tighten? Yeah, he’s holding back.

• Play-fighting? Trying to escape his grip? Not happening. Shoto will have you pinned against a wall, arms trapped, his breath ghosting over your skin like it’s nothing. And then he’ll just stare at you, amused. “Go on. Try to move.”

• Shoto doesn’t rush things, but the build-up? He’s a master at it. A touch on your waist, a slow glance, the way he pulls you closer when no one’s watching, it’s torture. And he knows it.

• Shoto goes absolutely feral when you tug on his hair. It doesn't matter if he is between your thighs, slowly eating out your dripping cunt, playing with your puffy clit or pushing deep into your walls with his cock that your fingers are tugging on his hair, he just loves it so much. He groans just at the feeling, it doesn't have to be a sexual moment, he will lean back into your touch.

• As much as Shoto loves having to take you awake, he has this thing, something he can't explain, but he just can't stop himself seeing you drowsy or asleep without getting some dirty thought. Your body being so relaxed in his hold and what you're wearing just gets him going, he doesn't want to feel that way, especially while you are borderline sleeping but he can't help it.

• Loves foreplay, and I mean LOVES foreplay. Seeing you becoming a mess over his fingers and/or tongue is more pleasure than he needs. The way you tug at his hair, try to arch away in pleasure, the soft mewls mixed with moans and breathless sighs is more than enough for him.

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

HONEYS A/NOTE :: Ive been trying to get out of a writing slump, i have seen yalls requests for the full oneshot with shoto and somno headcannon! it will be coming soon hopefully, dropping heacannon and drabble requests in my inbox helps get me out a slump, so if any of you have any thoughts please drop them in (^///^)

come check this out @crushmeeren when you have the time ^^

[littleprinces]

Day 21: Praising Kink

IVE Liz x Male Reader

Kinkvember Day 21

Happy Liz Day!

It was a cold winter evening, and I had planned a special surprise for my wife Liz on her 20th birthday. We had been married for two years, She was my little sister and now we get married and she was more beautiful than ever. I couldn't wait to show her how much I still desired her.

I poured us each a glass of wine and led her to the living room, where I had dimmed the lights and lit some candles. I took her hand and looked into her eyes. "Happy birthday, my love, Kim Jiwon" I said, my voice husky with desire. "I have a special surprise for you."

Liz looked at me with a mixture of curiosity and excitement. "What is it?" she asked.

"You'll have to wait and see," I said, taking a sip of my wine. "But I promise you, it will be worth it."

I took Liz's glass from her and set it down on the coffee table. Then I pulled her close and kissed her deeply, my tongue exploring her mouth. She responded eagerly, her body pressing against mine.

"You're so beautiful," I whispered, my hands roaming over her curves. "I'm so lucky to have you."

Liz smiled, her eyes shining with pleasure. "I'm the lucky one," she said. "You always make me feel so loved and desired."

I picked Liz up in my arms and carried her to the bedroom. I laid her down on the bed and began to undress her, my lips and hands caressing her soft skin. She moaned with pleasure as I kissed my way down her body, my tongue exploring every inch of her.

"You're so wet," I said, my fingers sliding easily inside her. "I can't wait to be inside you."

"Yes, please," Liz begged, her hips bucking against my hand. "I need you inside me now."

I positioned myself between Liz's legs and entered her slowly, savoring the feeling of her tight pussy around my cock. She wrapped her legs around me and pulled me closer, her nails digging into my back.

"Harder," she moaned, her hips meeting my thrusts. "Fuck me harder."

I gave Liz what she wanted, pounding into her with all my strength. She screamed with pleasure, her orgasm building with every thrust. I could feel myself getting close, my balls tightening with pleasure.

"I'm going to cum," I gasped, my hips slamming against Liz's.

"Cum inside me," Liz begged, her pussy clenching around me. "I want to feel you cum inside me."

With a final thrust, I came hard, my cock pulsing inside Liz's pussy. She moaned with pleasure, her own orgasm rippling through her.

"Happy birthday, my love jiwonie," I whispered, collapsing beside her. "I hope that was a good surprise."

Liz smiled, her eyes shining with happiness. "It was the best surprise ever," she said, snuggling up against me. "I love you so much."

I wrapped my arms around Liz and held her close, feeling a deep sense of contentment. I knew that I had found my soulmate, and I would do everything in my power to make her happy for the rest of our lives.

[lostalioth]

𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞

→ premise: you knew steve loved when you called him sir, how the honorific rolled off your tongue and lit a fire in the pit of his stomach. so maybe it wasn’t the best idea to call him sir in a mocking tone on a mission.

→ pairing: steve rogers x fem!reader

→ warnings: smut | 18+, sir kink, edging, fingering, mention of spanking, nicknames [princess, little one]

→ a/n: kinktober 16

Steve spent the whole ride back from the mission keeping a death grip on your thigh and facing forward with a deadpan stare. He wasn't per say mad at you but you knew you were in for it when you made it back to the base.

You had called him sir in a tone dripping with sarcasm and an eye roll when he gave you an order during the mission. The honorific wasn't new to you or Steve, it was something you learned about your boyfriend in the bedroom, he loved it when you called him sir. It wasn't a name he was called when he was a leader everyone just always called him cap.

So to hear it roll off your tongue in the middle of a mission in an almost mocking manner has his insides turning, cause it still sent that throb down through his cock.

He wasn't as mad that you said it in front of the others as he was with the way you said it. Yes because of the tone you got a laugh out of Tony in response but Steve didn't find it as amusing.

And that was how you ended up spread out on Steve’s bed, your thighs spread to accommodate your boyfriend's large frame between them. A stinging pain still lingering on your ass cheeks from the beginning half of your punishment, his rough palm. The latter half of your punishment was being relentlessly edged, Steve not allowing you to come no matter how many times you apologize sweetly and desperately. His long fingers were currently buried deep inside you curling upwards to hit that blissful spot deep inside you. That spot that has you squirming and crying out for release when he pulls them back right as your body tenses up and your orgasm is building, making you whine out at the loss of pleasure.

“Sir… pleasee ive been s’good i just need to cum, i promise i wont do it again” you whimper out, trying to grind your hips down on his fingers and fuck yourself on them or get him to move them. “See now i don't think you have, little one” he lightly shakes his head before he grabs ahold of your hip with his free hand. His fingers slowly pull out further making you let out a pathetic whine thinking he was stopping all together. But before you can protest or beg him not to, his fingers plunge inside you in a sharp thrust that has your head spinning. “Ahh~ Sir…pleasee m’gonna cum, wanna cum s’bad” you whine and mumble out, the hour or so of edging that has been going on has begun to make an ache settle in your core and not the good kind.

His fingers curl up again as they pound into you making your vision go blurry, your head spinning as your orgasm builds, growing more and more getting ready to crash into you. The sound of his chuckle rings in your ears and as fast as he pushes them in, Steve pulls his fingers back, not out but they stop their asslut of your g-spot. Your climax comes crashing down instead of over you, the building feelings dissipating in your stomach, your hips bucking and squirming.

“Sirrr pleasee it hurtss, neeed to cum” you cry out, your eyes screwing shut in slight pain as well as frustration.

”You wanted to be a little brat during the mission princess, this is all on you” he explains as his fingers slowly begin moving again though the switch in pace only has small gasps leaving your lips, your orgasm still far far away.

“I'm not done with you just yet, you gotta deal with the consequences to your actions little one” he cooed, leaning down to leave a small peck to your mouth before his free hands rubbed across your thighs that were starting to burn from being spread so wide for so long.

Steve had a long night planned ahead for you, though he did intend on letting you cum soon. He wouldn't be done even after that with you though, he was extremely worked up the entire ride back home. That three letter honorific does something to him he can't explain and he never wanted to hear you say it on a mission again. It's way too hard for him to keep his hands to himself when you do.

→ a/n: this is short, not proofread and kinda shit as im trying to rush to get back on track so maybe ill finish kinktober this year, i have hopefully one more post to do today, then just the last day which will either be posted on halloween or after after if im busy.

[hcneymooners]

✸ TRITWWISIYTSTICS ⤷ chapter i. i feel i could right you.

(read on ao3.)

synopsis: here. cw: mentions of death and grief, implied animal death, mentions of injury, azzi's lack of self-preservation.

notes: please let me know what you think. my cycle started and i feel evil and tired, so i would love to know anything you would like to tell me. my inbox is always open, and i love you.

azzi wished people would stop dying, if only to get a moment to herself. as soon as thought left her, she felt swollen with its rot. 

it was just so easy to get exhausted now. she was so tired of lying: about how many supplies they had left, about how well-versed she was in her tasks, about how lonely she wasn’t. the worst were the ones who hurt themselves on purpose, who bled so that they had something in this mess to understand. she wanted to cup her hands around their jaw and bear down until there was a creak and a whimper of pain and tell them, “stop trying to die. this isn’t something you should want. stop trying to die. i’ve been spending months trying to bring back my family, to make them alive again.”

but she didn’t. she was just less careful with their ivs.

she was tired of waking early in the morning when the mists were thick and warping for a single moment of peace. despite the (dis)quiet of the house, she found that she still felt haunted in that wide, open space. she tried her hardest not to look at the locked room to her left when she exited her own, or the picture with the room’s key next to it. 

the country had only taken six days to collapse, though it spent years building up to the days she lived in now. she remembered the first plane that had been shot down just a few state lines over from where it had fled its own airport. there had been several planes butchered in the same manner, several crashes ablaze with flame, blood, and bone. azzi specifically recalled this one, not because it was the first, but because her entire family had been inside of it. 

she couldn’t remember how she’d managed to save her own life. she had been reluctant to go on the trip, had felt something immovable in her chest whenever her parents spoke of her coming. so, she stayed. she had stayed with inês in the stomach of her old home, their backs pressed together in her queen-sized bed. and then, she had only inês. inês like a sister. inês like her child. 

then inês had died, too, and left azzi to weep and wake on her own. 

azzi felt the top of her head ache at the root, the spot where she’d once torn out her hair in grief, still raw in spirit. she ignored it and grabbed the basket atop her counter as she made her way to the garden. she wasn’t hungry herself, but the soil gave her something to do that wasn’t destructive, self- or otherwise. 

when she walked outside, rain lightly lashed the side of her face, and she could see the swell of the clouds, their bellies dark grey and awkwardly ridged. she only turned to the side to slip off the wide-brimmed wicker hat she’d taken from a returning scout, and set it atop her curls to keep her vision clear. 

her outfit was slightly impractical: a long, cotton skirt the color of cow cream and a large grey woolen sweater that had belonged to inês’s father. she’d almost burned it after she’d buried the girl, so irrational with her grief, but had saved it in the end. now, it kept her warm, and if she closed her eyes, she could almost feel inês with her thin body and buttery, brown hair breathing warm and close against her neck. 

the skirt was bound to get dirty, but azzi didn’t mind whatsoever. this was the cost of sustaining herself. this was her proof of work, of living. her mother would’ve hated her for dirtying it. the thought made her mouth twist uncomfortably into an upward shape that could’ve been called a smile.

she bent slowly, her bones shuddering under the motion, and began to dig her fingers into the soil. she tucked the oiled fat of her fingertips underneath the small rocks and wiggling worms. it was still damp from yesterday’s storm, and it clung to her skin like it couldn’t bear to be parted from her. 

the carrots were late this year, she noted, and the herbs too sparse. but something in the dirt always came through. azzi had learned to trust that. she had to. it was a relief to be able to grow, to be able to avoid the commune’s large mess hall with its horrible silence and relentless, dull pressure.

the edge of the property was far beyond the line of trees, where the hills folded into one another like unmade beds. azzi always gardened with her back to the view, with her face bent toward the home she lived in. she’d never built a gate, despite inês’s nagging. you can’t just let the world walk in, she used to say. 

but azzi believed in openness. in letting things pass through. she borrowed from the land and thought, maybe, if she let it breathe, it would never take more than she could give. she borrows so much from the world—soil, rain, death, survival—and on some level, she knew it would ache to borrow back. the land remained porous because she was.

so there was no gate. no fence. nothing to keep the world out, or her in.

besides, she liked looking at their house. it was a rather large cabin, built and abandoned by a louisana-native who had been an architect before the floods swallowed his homeland. it pulled high into an a-frame, but spots of the south decorated it like sugar spots on a banana peel. 

the porch was vast and encircled the waist of the house like lovers’ arms, four thick columns split into two on either side of the wide wooden stairs. there was a balcony just outside the circular window that birthmarked the roof, but the glass couldn’t open, so it was more for the outside view. that was azzi’s room. 

since there was no gate and no one here, azzi liked to watch over where she lived as she worked. but that also meant that she could be snuck up on. an easy death. 

that’s why it didn’t startle her when she heard it: something soft shifting through the brush. not a deer. not a scout. but also, not a threat. just presence.  a footfall, a pause. the feeling of being observed.

azzi didn’t look up right away. she slowed the pull of her hands, letting a small head of lettuce roll into the empty belly of her basket. the long brown line of her neck twisted meekly as she let the moment stretch, her lungs expanding and contracting with delayed anxiety. she let it linger. the rain had stilled, and now the brim of her hat acted as a small shield from whomever was behind her. her hands were wet with earth.

carefully, she turned around. her shears hung loosely from her hand, the blades dull with mud. there was nothing practiced in her stance, nothing defensive. only the slow, reluctant curiosity of someone who had long accepted that danger, if it came, would not be outrun.

but what met her wasn't an animal. it was another woman. 

tan skin, despite the season. a sweep of wet blonde hair, dirt-streaked and pulled into a loose, messy bun that clung stubbornly at the nape. the roots were darkened, rusted by sun. her cheeks were flushed from effort or wind, maybe both, and a smudge of soil clung just beneath one of her impossibly blue eyes. she stood half-shadowed by the trees, close enough to be clear, but far enough that azzi had to squint a little through the mist.

and slung across her back was a rifle, its matte black stock dulled by rain, the trigger jutting gray and ugly like a sneer.

azzi still didn’t move. she just took her in.

the woman’s eyes swept the space like she was cataloguing it. she glanced at the porch, the rows of struggling herbs, and the way azzi’s cotton skirt clung desperately to her shins. then their eyes met, and for a moment, the air went thinner.

the woman didn’t speak right away. she just gave a small nod, more acknowledgment than greeting. something unreadable passed across her face. it was something like relief, but sharper.

“you always leave it open like this?” she asked, voice low and dry-edged, like she hadn’t used it much lately.

azzi didn’t answer. her fingers twitched once against the shears, then went still. she just said, softly:

“i didn’t want a gate.”

“you’re leaving yourself wide-open,” the woman remarked, raising a pale brow.

azzi’s mouth twitched. “i know.”

and even though azzi knew the answer, she asked her next question anyway:

“did you come from the commune?”

the woman eyed her for a second, took in the wide hat and its little tie beneath azzi’s chin. she decided to be honest. 

“no.”

azzi nodded, though she was unsurprised. the direction the woman had stepped out of spoke from the land miles beyond hers, not the carefully curated path to the main base that fell to her other side. 

“you’ll have to go there if you’re interested in staying.”

the woman pressed her lips together, then said, “you ain’t a part of it?”

azzi tilted her head to the side, and the motion made her look unbalanced. her eyes were sweet and full, brown like a doe’s.

“i am, but i live on my own. they know of me, but since i take care of myself, they leave me be. it’s a relief, i think, to know that they don’t have to completely take care of me. we’re struggling as is.”

azzi wasn’t sure why she was sharing. providing this information only revealed that both she and the commune were weak, an easy annihilation if the woman was so inclined. she didn’t even know if the blonde was alone.

“mmm,” was the answer she got back. 

azzi shifted in place, aching to drop back to her knees and finish cultivating. 

“are you going to kill me?” she asked, just to be sure. azzi’s voice was light, but the question hung heavy between them.

“absolutely,” the woman said, deadpan. then, with no fanfare, she reached for the rifle at her back.

there was a tight pause before, with a few quick motions, she showed azzi how the clip was empty. 

azzi smiled, all teeth, and her skin almost split with the effort. it hadn’t done that in a while. satisfied, she lowered herself back to the ground and gently pushed away a rabbit who had been nibbling at the top of what just might have been a carrot. maybe they weren’t late, she thought with an inner laugh.

“you think they’d let me stay?” the woman called out.

“yes,” azzi responded. the commune never turned away anyone. it almost always irritated her.

“think they’d let me live on my own? like you?”

“mmm,” azzi said, “no. they would probably assign you to me, actually.”

“and why’s that?” the woman asked apprehensively.

“because,” azzi said, with a somber look over her shoulder. “i’m on my own now. i don’t have anyone left. so, i’m the only one with any space left.”

✸

azzi didn’t wait for the official decree. she could now picture cd’s tight smile, her short hair curling at the edge of her jaw as she welcomed that strange woman in.

instead, she dug into the dirt until her nail beds were red and raw. she planted the small bits of the iris that had been left over on the kitchen sill, its petals drooping just as her body had been doing since its owner passed. she sat, small and trembling in the dark as the loss rocked through her. she was learning that grief was a staircase she was almost always climbing. every day, she either got lost or found the landing, but she would never stop stepping on it.   

after, she grasped the top of her basket with both hands and hauled herself up from the ground. the weight of it almost swung her back down, but she only braced her knees and carried on. it was good that the wicker was heavy. it meant the earth, and she, were both capable of production. 

just before she climbed up the porch, she turned and looked out onto the land. the dirt was bloodied with the sunset, the sky shimmering with pale fire as the moon slipped into its opposite’s place. she watched it as it rose, and when it reached the highest peak, and the sun reached its lowest, she opened her mouth and said thank you to both. she repeated what her old neighbors had taught her, just before leaving:

“i am part of your natural world, and i am grateful to live off of you. i am grateful to breathe with you, to walk with you, and to call you home. i am connected to you and i commit myself to taking outstanding care of you, as you do me. i do what is in my power, i am conscious of you. i love—i love you.”

she always stumbled through the last line—everyone she had ever said that to was no longer there to affirm that they loved her back. 

she stepped through the door, the evening light pink and yellow like a fever-filled throat. the colors weren’t necessarily her choice, but the solar grid was twisted and makeshift, so this is what came through. it could be worse, so she let what passed through, well, pass through. 

the kitchen slowly filled with the scent of thyme and boiled bone broth, small bits of fat dripping off the tiny slabs of deer meat she had straining over a simmering pot. the meat was running out, which she didn’t mind, but the woman might. she hoped they could figure something out. azzi was never one for the killing. inês had been braver than her: knife, shotgun, and all. they were balanced that way.

she’d just washed and tucked the produce away, her knife bridged on the oven-warmed plateau of a second piece of flatbread a little larger than usual, when the door creaked open. there wasn’t a single shard of surprise that was felt in her chest. something different settled in. it was so strange, so much stranger that azzi put the knife down. she barely shifted. only pressed her fingers into the edge of the counter, the grain of the wood grounding her.

she supposed it felt rather close to being right about being chosen.

the woman stepped inside without fanfare, shoulders still damp, the rifle still slung over her back. mud flaked from her boots. her mouth was tight, her jaw working like she was chewing on the fact of being here.

azzi didn’t greet her. just scooped a generous handful of meat into the clay bowl closest to her, drizzled it with slick deposits of vegetable soup, and slid the flatbread gently beneath. she placed it all on a pale green porcelain plate, then set a second bowl on top to keep in the heat. like she’d done it a hundred times before.

“you’ll probably want to wash up first.” she looked up to find the blonde’s sharp eyes on her. “take your boots off, please, and set them by the door. the wood is hard enough to clean as is.” 

“you’re azzi,” the woman said, not quite a question. more like a fact she’d been told, somewhere along the way, and it was now being confirmed against the body it belonged to. 

azzi nodded, her curls bouncing with the affirmation. she was already wiping her hands on a linen scrap. “yes.”

she disappeared for a moment, her body folding into the hallway, into muscle memory. the quiet choreography of care. the way you did when someone needed you to know what to do. she returned with a dented basin, a thin bar of pale soap, and one of her better towels. rough but clean. she’d picked it quietly. unconsciously. the one with the frayed edge, she always folded inside.

 her movements were brisk, but not unkind. familiar. this had been routine once.

“water’s hot,” she said. “you just need to turn the valve. red knob. you can leave your things by the fire. put your gun by the door. i’ll handle the rest.”

the woman—to azzi, her name was still unknowable—still hadn’t sat down. her eyes followed azzi’s dirt-nailed hands. then, finally, she sagged like her spine had been holding too much. her knees bent slowly, almost reluctantly, as if suspicious of gravity, and she lowered herself to the floor, resting her elbows on them. her breath whistled slightly through her nose.

azzi stopped, her body stilling gracefully. she took the other woman in. she noticed the way her lashes clung together in wet little spikes. the way her fingers flexed, like she couldn’t quite unclench them. she was running low. her body was fraying. you could see it in the body, even before the eyes gave it away with their glazed water-blue weight. 

“you’re not gonna be able to wash yourself,” azzi said. not softly, not sharply either. it was just the obvious state of things.

the woman looked up, surprised. then gave a quiet laugh that scraped up and out of her, sharp and exhausted. “no. not really.”

azzi nodded once, then disappeared into the kitchen.

she returned with a small glass vial of oil, jasmine and pink salt, and knelt beside her like it was nothing. like it was the only thing left to do. she worked with care. even without a proper hospital, her bedside manner was inscribed deeply into the lining of her tissue, young as it was.

wringing out the cloth just enough, she pressed it gently to the blonde’s neck, then the crook of her elbow. the skin there was scraped raw in places. she rinsed dirt and flecks of what she knew to be blood from her collarbone, from her jaw. there were scars twisted around her stomach. azzi didn’t ask why.

“lift your arms,” she murmured, and the woman did. mute. trusting, if only because she was too tired not to be.

“tell me if anything hurts,” she murmured.

the woman didn’t, though everything did. 

the water ran in slow rivulets down her chest, catching on the curve of her ribs. azzi tried not to look. not really. but some things revealed themselves no matter where your eyes landed. by the end, she smelled thickly of jasmine, with a hint of rose and the mountains. 

she smelled like one of azzi’s ghosts.

afterward, azzi took the towel and dabbed gently at the woman’s face, smoothing away the last of the dirt from behind her heat-pink ears. then she picked up the comb she’d placed on the floor and began to work slowly through the damp blonde strands, careful not to tug. the hair was heavier now, a wheat-deep gold that was even darker at the ends. she left it loose. didn’t explain why

“my name’s paige,” the woman said at last, voice low, almost hoarse.

azzi paused mid-stroke. then resumed. “that’s a nice name,” she said, pulling the comb’s teeth all the way through.

they ate in silence. just the fire cracking and the muted clink of ceramic. the house sighed in the beams, wood settling like old bone. the birds had stopped. azzi knew it was late, then.

after, azzi stood in front of inês’s room for a long time. not opening it. there was pain just being near it. paige watched from behind her, building a shape of her in her mind. not consciously. just the way you do, when you’re trained to. 

she noted the way azzi’s fingers hovered. how some gripped the others like they could hold them upright. she watched azzi’s grief clutch her hips with invisible hands, saw the way her limbs lifted and curled awkwardly toward the doorknob like it might burn her. her eyes flicked, almost against her will, to the framed photo on the wall.

two girls. one with dark eyes and darker hair, her grin wide, teeth just shy of too large. the other, unmistakably azzi, pressed against her, eyes squeezed shut with joy. pre-collapse. you could tell by the light.

the key next to the frame hung limp on its nail, dust-heavy and stiff. a relic.

“i can take the couch,” paige said gently. quiet, but not unsure. an offer. a line in the sand.

azzi didn’t look back. just let out a quiet breath, a break in her ribs. something fell loose from the crack.

 “no,” she said. “your body can’t handle that right now. it’s fine. i’m in the master.”

she left before paige could reply.

the master was larger than the rest of the house let on. the ceilings stretched higher here, and the walls were painted a soft, dusty cream. the air was warmer. thicker. it smelled faintly of that same jasmine azzi had soaped paige down with, and something a bit more exotic. fig maybe.

the room had been called the marie antoinette room by the architect who designed it. inês had liked that.

the name showed itself without much effort. a chandelier hung, long since stripped of power, but still glinting faintly with dust and its crystalline skeleton of decadence. the bed sat like a small stage in the center, canopied and curtained. its sheets were peach and muslin, clearly survived by someone who had loved it enough to protect it. azzi stepped further in, approaching it with an odd methodology. she folded the quilt back with care, not ceremony.

she had changed into a loose, mid-thigh nightgown, the color of ink. dark indigo, almost black. it caught the light in a way that made it almost look like water, its folds as still as laminar flow. it didn’t belong to this world. or this collapse. paige clocked it. registered the choice.

they didn’t speak as they lay down. just turned their backs to one another like they’d done it before. paige didn’t question the arrangement. not yet. but she noted the oddity of it. sleeping beside another body could be a kind of truce. or a kind of failure. or both.

since the garden, paige had known: azzi was worn down. something in her had stopped flinching. her sense of self-preservation was a sleeping beast, or maybe a murdered one. she was eager to fall on some level, her body constantly primed for the angel of death’s intermittent arrival. for a mistake. for whatever would come first.

azzi reached out, paused, then pulled the curtain closed.

darkness swallowed them.

it was a clean black. not moonless. just total. the kind of dark that was unable to be stimulated. paige felt suspended in it, and maybe that was what made it so easy to plummet, her mind shutting off for the first time in weeks.

they lay back to back. no noise. no light. they lay back to back. no words. just separate prayers whispered into a space neither of them believed in.

azzi didn’t sleep.

her body stayed taut with quiet alarm. the heat of another person so close, unbearable in the gentlest way. 

she didn’t sleep. she couldn’t. her body was humming, wired with the intimate electricity that arrived with a break in solitude. here was someone else, someone warm and breathing. the feeling of being perceived hadn’t worn off. if anything, it pulsed stronger now that paige was so close.

the pressure of a body beside hers, not touching but undeniably there, stirred something dreamlike. she stared into the dark, eyes wide.

paige hadn’t even touched her.  but she’d allowed azzi to tend to her. and that was worse.

they had shared water, and all the while paige had looked at her and seen someone there.

azzi had always been best under pressure. applied or not.

she didn’t sleep. 

but when morning came, she felt something as though she fit better inside her skin.  behind her, paige curled close to the diamond ridge of her spine, knees tucked in. seeking warmth. azzi lifted her hand and slipped two fingers into the curtain’s split, so that she could see the sun.

as the pale fire of a new day bled in and burned her, she thought that something in her felt rested.

© hcneymooners.

[miyaz6ki]

hi ive been reading ur works a lot recently and i enjoy them a lot!!! i love love ur writing sm hehe

if i may, can i request for a situation in where kinich and reader are friends (but have feelings for each other), and they basically have sex in a changing room while reader was asking him for his opinion for the swimwear they’d wear?

thats all thank u and pls take lots of rest !!

so sorry but i happened to make this nsfw plus afab!reader, no real gender for reader, kinich calls them flower :3

"kin'! can you come in here really quick?" you shouted from inside the second dressing room, scanning the way you looked in the mirror, twirl, and everything.

"flower, you're aware i'm a male about to enter a female dressing room?" he raised an eyebrow, later you both agreed on attending mualani's party as she came back from an abyss hunt, or at least celebrating the fact that her tribe continues to strive.

but neither of you really swam too often, resulting in no real swimwear you both regularly wore. mualani gave you a few recommendations, but you really couldn't decide.

"jus' get in here, need you for this!" you exclaimed. hesitance clear in his steps, shit you needed him? he felt his swim trunks tighten as he heard that. he already chose clothes out earlier, just finding whatever was nearest to his hair's color and went with it.

he sat right outside the stalls of the ones you changed inside. still reluctant about stepping in to assist you with "choosing a color"? shit maybe he had to check if he got the wrong size on his swimwear.

damn, maybe the moonlight-colored one looked better. or- no, maybe the one that matched your eyes.. shit what about the one that were the color of his?! he couldn't decide, but it was paradise getting to see you try different things on.

what smart, and bright idea did you have in mind that made you think it'd be a good idea to have him in the same damn room as he was while you changed.

the drop of your clothes only turned him on more, his ears turning a crazier shade of crimson. once you let him finally look, and turn around to let him get a three-sixty view of the next choice. getting a pretty little view of your ass, letting his eyes dip down a little too low when you turned back around to give a view of the front as well.

"well whaddya think!" you flash a soft smile, your hands on your waist. kinich has a hand over his mouth, in an attempt to cover the splices of his cheeks that transitioned to scarlet.

he starts walking closer, caressing his hands over your curves, every inch that he can reach, slowly exploring your body.

oh, well here you were—getting your cunt fucked crazy, letting your front face the mirror beautiful as he pounded your ass, nails dig into the soft flesh blissfully. "ssshit flower... you feel better than I imagined." he coos as the thickness of his dick hit your g-spot so heavenly.

it felt as though you sucked in his shaft perfectly. god if your pussy could speak for yourself, it'd be moaning the same way you were right now.

you could already feel the knot in your stomach tighten at the thought of this moment. "k- kin'.. ahh- fffuck anyone c- could walk in!" he chuckles with a sinister tone, raspy throat from groaning praise out into the shell of your ear, sending a few licks to it, making you shudder in pleasure.

"that's the thrill of it, pretty." he tilts your head up to make you look at the sexy scene in front of you, the mirror fogging up each time you whine, and sobs of pleasure from how it felt having someone inside you for the first time.

the calloused pads of his palms caressed your waist, his fingers marking not-so-deep crimson marks into your body. he slammed the very base of his cock into your cervix, making sure you felt everything, every inch, and width of his dick to your innermost parts.

the bliss of getting to feel every little building block fall into place as he continues his relentless pace into you. gushing your sobs, making sure they're quiet enough so the people outside wouldn't hear the way you wailed his name but loud enough for him to get turned on each damn time. your incessant pants definitely would've made it obvious to every person who passed by.

holy shit—if you kept squeezing onto him like that, he might just cum inside you and leave for the party, letting it drip as you both traveled over to toyac.

the seat underneath you creaked, "kin'! fuck," you whined as he shushed you again, fingers fitting nicely into your mouth. "q- quiet baby.. i know y'r close.." his eyes closely observed the way your chest rose, and fell, addicted to the way your body had hurried reactions to how good his cock felt up your entrance.

"y'knew haa- 'bout how i'd react nnnh- didn't you, sweetheart? hnnn-" he whispered next to the shell of your ear once more, filled with sultry lust—kissing your cheek. his hands roamed your body, feeling you up and down as much as he could.

"wan- no. need to cum together, baby.. cum with me." he sounded as if to plead, but his emerald-amber orbs you saw in the mirror spoke out in hunger, a starved man who only wants even more of your essence all over his cock.

there it was—sticky loads of milky-white released into you. kinich's hand reached under to feel the bulge he made into your stomach. he places a deep love mark into your neck as he moans into your skin. arching your back away from his chest unlike how previously you could feel his clenched abs on your spine.

"f- fffuck!" you had to cover your mouth since his digits removed themselves out and from your mouth. kinich sends swipes and licks over your collarbone and nape.

after a few minutes of breathy pants, and whimpers. he left himself inside you for a bit, lifting you up to face him as he sat down against he mirror this time instead of back shotting you from behind—

"so.. i get the feeling that you like this one the most?" you looked down onto the swimsuit that matched—even complimenting his, mualani would tease you two about it, but to be fair it is you two.

"..i'll buy it for you."

[ethe-realfantasy]

How Simon Ghost Riley falls in love with a civilian visitor... Part IV

(guys I know this is a new level of slow burn, but patience!!!!

pure fluff, Simon is still a big, burly, brooding awkward mess, but he's got game now)

────✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ────

The door to his flat clicks open. Riley greets him with the usual quiet tail wag and a low chuff. But Simon barely registers it tonight.

He toes off his boots in the dark and shrugs off his jacket, muscles tense under the fabric, jaw tight. He moves automatically, keys in the dish, kettle on, but his thoughts aren’t here.

In his mind you're still parked outside that damn restaurant, where you stood in front of him like you'd been made to undo him with one glance. That plum colored dress still burned into his memory like it was stitched behind his eyelids. And that little kiss...

God.

He sits down heavily on the couch and leans forward, elbows on his knees, running a hand down his face. A low growl hums in his throat: frustration, hunger, restraint.

He could’ve kissed you. You would’ve let him. Wouldn’t you?

But no. Not like that. Not tonight.

You gave him your trust, you gave him that smile, that kiss on the cheek. He’s not about to risk scaring you off with a move too fast. Not when you're something so real.

Still. He’s human.

His hand flexes once against his thigh. You looked so goddamn beautiful. That laugh? The little occasional touches on his hand? It had him thinking things... things that make his pulse throb in places he shouldn’t be thinking about right now.

Simon Riley, reduced to a schoolboy with a crush and an aching jaw from clenching too hard through dinner.

He lets out a long breath.

And yet… for the first time in what feels like years, he doesn’t mind the ache.

He leans his head back on the couch, one hand resting over his chest.

You kissed him.

He grins to himself, small, crooked, and completely wrecked.

—————

The elevator dings softly as you enter your apartment building. Your heels click against the floor, slower now, careful. The whole drive home you didn’t turn on the radio, just silence. Just that soft, growing warmth spreading in your chest like someone had lit a candle behind your ribs.

You set your purse down, slide out of your shoes, and lean back against the door as it clicks shut behind you.

"He didn’t kiss me", you whisper, blinking up at the ceiling.

But you smile and blush. You kissed him.

Even if it was just his cheek. God, that cheek.

That rough stubble. The way his lips twitched after, like he was barely keeping it together. The way he looked at you, like he wanted you, but didn’t want to take more than you'd offer.

You walk to your bedroom slowly, your hand brushing against your lips as if the memory is still fresh.

That man is dangerous.

But in the quiet way. The patient kind. Like he’s been through hell and knows that the real good things, the ones worth having, you never rush.

You sit in front of the mirror, unfastening your earrings, cheeks still flushed.

He called you sweetheart.

What were you supposed to do with that now?

—————

The light spills through the half-drawn blinds, pale and cool. Simon blinks against it, groaning low in his chest as he shifts beneath the covers. His hand reaches instinctively to the other side of the bed, cold, empty, as always.

Except this morning, something lingers in the space beside him. Not a body. But a presence.

A thought...

He lets your name settle in his head, warm and unfamiliar like sunlight on stone. The quiet hum of your laugh. The way your looked at him before slipping into your car.

He exhales and sits up slowly, rubbing a hand down his face. His day off. No shift. No weapons check. No drills.

Just him and Riley. And… the need to text you.

The phone sits on the nightstand, quiet. No notifications.

He grabs it and stares at the black screen for a moment, thumb hovering.

Too soon? Should I wait?

No. Sod that.

His thumbs move slower than usual, this isn’t logistics or report codes. This matters.

Morning. Hope your firm hasn’t stolen your soul yet. Still can’t believe you laughed at my yoga joke, that was a gamble. Let me know if you’ve got room for another one of those soon. – S

He pauses. Then quickly adds:

Also… what’s your coffee order? I owe you a properly made one.

He hits send before he can talk himself out of it. And then, God help him, immediately regrets it and tosses the phone onto the bed like it might bite him.

Riley huffs from the kitchen doorway.

Simon stands, stretching the tightness from his shoulders. He moves into the bathroom, washes his face, brushes his teeth, all while running over a dozen ways that message might’ve sounded too much. Or not enough.

By the time he’s tugging on his hoodie and grabbing Riley’s leash, he’s settled into a gruff kind of resignation. Whatever happens, at least he texted her.

That counts for something, right?

“C’mon then, girl,” he mutters to Riley, patting her head. “Let’s go make a fool of me in peace.”

And with that, they head out into the morning chill. Simon’s hood up, Riley trotting faithfully at his side, the air cold, but his thoughts full of someone warm.

—————

The air in the office is too cold, and the coffee tastes like despair. You stare at the half-empty mug on your desk like it personally offended you. Meetings, case notes, another last-minute call from the partner who thinks you're psychic. The usual.

You glance at your phone, mostly out of habit.

1 new message.

From Simon.

Your breath actually catches. You tap it open and...

Morning. Hope your firm hasn’t stolen your soul yet. Still can’t believe you laughed at my tea joke — that was a gamble. Let me know if you’ve got room for another one of those soon. – S

Also… what’s your coffee order? I owe you a properly made one.

Your hand flies to your mouth, as if the message might be too much to see, let alone read again.

“Oh my God,” you whisper, a smile stretching wide across your face, helpless. It’s so much. And so awkward. And so him.

You picture him hunched over his phone, frowning, probably typing it five times before pressing send. Let me know if you’ve got room for another one of those soon... it’s like a soldier trying to be charming while tiptoeing through a minefield.

But God… he’s trying.

You press your phone to your chest, biting back a grin.

Then you glance around the office.

“I need actual coffee,” you mutter to yourself while you grab your bag to head to your favorite coffee shop near the firm.

When you finally arrive, your breath immediately eases as you enter. The scent of ground beans, warm bread, and jazz humming low over the speakers. Your tiny haven in the chaos of the city.

You order, thank the barista with a warm smile and lean against the wall near the pickup counter. You're already pulling out your phone to type something back to Simon when..

A voice behind you, low and unmistakably him.

“You weren’t going to tell me you defected to a proper coffee shop?”

Your head whips around.

There he is.

Simon Riley, hoodie, jeans, face unreadable, like he’s surprised to see you but very glad.

Your heart stumbles.

“Simon?” you blink, and then a soft laugh escapes your lips. “You’re stalking me now?”

“Coincidence,” he says indifferently. “Riley needed a walk. I needed caffeine that doesn’t taste like punishment.”

You look at each other for a moment, a quiet beat, warm and full of something unsaid. Suddenly Riley leans into your right leg, like she belongs there. Simon looks away immediately when you bend down to pet her, like that moment is somehow too intimate to watch. It makes your heart flutter in a way you can't explain. And that dog... big, calm, intelligent eyes. That soft fur. She suits him so perfectly.

You try to hide your smile but it’s a losing battle.

“Well, good,” you murmur. “Now you can see how I actually take my coffee.”

“I was hoping I’d get it right,” he says, nodding to the counter. “Take mental notes.”

You lift your chin playfully. “It’s a little complicated.”

“I can handle complicated,” he says, gaze steady now. God his eyes.

Another silence. This one charged.

The barista calls your name. You reach for the drink, but glance back at him once more, amused, glowing, soft.

“Thanks for the text, by the way,” she says, lifting the cup. “Very formal. Very… Lieutenant.”

He groans under his breath, scrubbing a hand over his face.

You laugh. “I liked it. It was very you.”

And before he can say more, you step toward the door.

“See you soon?” you say over your shoulder.

He nods, eyes lingering on you. “Count on it.”

—————

The city moves around you in its usual blur, honking horns, hurried footsteps, the buzz of conversation and wind between the buildings, but you walk as if in a dream.

A very warm, slightly ridiculous, entirely perfect dream.

You sip your coffee absently, barely tasting it. Your mind is still spinning from the moment Simon appeared behind you like some gruff, brooding apparition in a hoodie. Casual… and yet not casual at all. The way he looked at you, like he wasn’t expecting the encounter, but once it happened, he didn’t want it to end.

“Okay,” you mumble to yourself, cheeks still burning as you cross the intersection. “That actually happened.”

You try to play it cool, rewinding the details, mentally archiving every little bit of it:

The way Simon’s eyes had crinkled at the corners when you called him a Lieutenant. The faint flush that touched his face, that never happens.

How he had leaned slightly forward when you turned to leave, like he wasn’t quite ready to let that moment go.

And you weren't either.

You shake your head, hugging the warm paper cup to your chest.

It was just a coffee shop. Just a ten-minute break. But somehow it felt like… more. And you were still smiling.

You push open the firm’s glass doors and catch your reflection in the chrome: glowing cheeks, soft eyes, and a dreamy look that definitely isn’t “corporate lawyer chic.”

I'm done for, you think. You are completely, hopelessly done for.

But somehow… you don’t mind.

—————

The apartment is quiet except for the clink of Riley’s tags as she pads lazily across the floor, flopping down onto her dog bed with the dramatic sigh of a creature who’s had just enough excitement for one morning.

Simon leans on the kitchen counter, half-sipping water, half-scrolling through the news with zero interest. His mind keeps looping the same reel, your smile when you turned and saw him, the gentle way you'd crouched to pet Riley, your voice soft and teasing as you said “Lieutenant.”

He’d smirked. Played it off. But it had done something to him.

Something he was still recovering from.

He picks up his phone. No new messages.

Not that he’s checking.

You smiled, you laughed, you didn’t run off like he'd offended your entire bloodline, he tells himself. That’s a good sign, right?

Then... buzz.

1 new message.

His heart stutters in his chest before he even reads it.

Just realised I never answered your very serious and official coffee inquiry.

(It’s a cappuccino, by the way — with one sugar, not two. Very important detail.)

Also, I promise I wasn’t ignoring you. Firm coffee nearly murdered me this morning. Running into you and Riley was the rescue mission I didn’t know I needed.

Simon stares at the screen. Then reads it again.

Then walks in a small, completely ridiculous circle around the kitchen, rubbing a hand over his mouth like that’ll help contain the reaction building in his chest.

You were thinking about him.

And you remembered Riley. And you smiled.

He quickly types out a reply, deletes it. Rewrites it, too stiff. Deletes it again.

Finally lands on something that feels like him. Not too much. Not too little. Just right.

Riley says your cappuccino order is acceptable. I’m still undecided.

Also, glad I could help with your coffee crisis. Didn’t expect to see you, but…wasn’t exactly mad about it.

Let me know when your schedule allows for another coincidence. I’ll bring the dog. You bring the sunshine.

He stares at the message for a moment. Then sends it. His pulse is still annoyingly high, but for the first time all day there’s a calm settling in his chest.

God, he misses you already.

--------

You lean against the wall just beyond the entrance, phone in one hand, your other clutching the pile of papers that you have to work through tonight. The air is finally cooler, dusk melting into the warm city night, and for the first time all day, you're still.

You open his message, not knowing what to expect.

Let me know when your schedule allows for another coincidence. I’ll bring the dog. You bring the sunshine.

You stare at it. You blink in disbelief.

Then you actually let out a laugh, breathy, amused, surprised. As you lower the phone, you glance up at the darkening sky like it might explain what just happened.

“Sunshine?” you mutter to yourself, grinning against the rim of the coffee cup. “Oh my god, Simon.”

It’s too much. It is. It really is.

But it’s also… kind of perfect? He’s trying. Awkwardly. Clumsily. Honestly. And it’s endearing in a way that makes your chest ache.

You text back, thumbs flying.

That was dangerously close to being poetic. You alright over there, Lieutenant? You running a fever? (Also, tell Riley I’ll let the cappuccino comment slide… just this once.)

Tomorrow evening? I’m free after six. But only if we do something where I won’t embarrass myself terribly. No tactical drills. Something… civilian-friendly.

Almost instantly, his typing dots appear. Okay, you think, heart skipping. Now we’re just pretending not to care how fast we’re answering, huh?

No promises.

But I’ll make you a deal: I'll take you with me to one of my usual spots. Casual place. Bit of pool, maybe. I promise not to make fun of you if you’re rubbish. …Much.

You bite your lip as you look up from the screen, smile blooming across your face.

Pool. With Simon.

This isn’t dinner and candles. This is real. Laid-back. Flirty. Fun.

You type with a grin:

Okay. But only if you let me pick the first song on the jukebox. And you’re not allowed to go easy on me. I want to see your game face.

A quick pause, then his reply:

Only game face. You might regret it.

You pocket your phone, heart dancing somewhere near your throat, a blush already creeping in.

Regret? Not a chance.

—————

Simon leans against his car, matte black, clean but not flashy, practical but somehow still cool, like him. He’s in jeans and a dark henley that hugs his arms a little too well, sleeves shoved to the elbow, dog tags tucked beneath the fabric. He's quiet, focused, waiting.

He checks his watch. Then looks up and freezes.

You step out of the revolving doors, adjusting the strap of your small crossbody bag. You've changed into a casual outfit: soft, well-fitted jeans and a white shirt a little loose at the collar. Your hair is in soft waves now, just enough to look undone and effortless. You spot him and smile, warm and slightly uncertain.

Simon straightens automatically, as if the sight of you pressed a switch in his spine.

You walk up slowly, teasing a little. “You clean up alright, Lieutenant.”

He smirks and opens the passenger door for you. “You’re gonna say that now, wait till you see me playing pool.”

“Are you bad at it?”, you say as you get in the car.

“Not sayin’ a word,” he says, shutting the door after you. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

—————

It's one of those relaxed, wood-and-brick places tucked into a side street, not too loud, dim lighting, the scent of beer and something fried in the air, classic rock humming low from the speakers. The pool tables are tucked in the back, not too crowded.

Simon walks just a little ahead, leading the way, but he keeps glancing over his shoulder to make sure you're alright.

He catches your wide eyes scanning the room, the tiny smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“This okay?” he asks, voice low.

“It’s perfect,” you say. “Very… you.”

That makes him chuckle under his breath. “Not sure if that’s a compliment.”

“It is,” you add quickly, bumping his arm. “Just don’t let me lose too terribly.”

You settle into a booth with drinks before the game. He gets a beer, you get something lighter. He watches you unwind, that subtle drop of your shoulders, the way you finally breathe like the workday is behind you.

“You always this tense after the firm?” he asks, half-curious, half-genuine concern.

You nod, swirling your drink. “Comes with the territory. But today’s better.”

He quirks a brow. “Because of me?”

“I was hoping to see Riley again,” you say with mock-seriousness, taking a sip.

Simon groans dramatically. “That dog’s got better game than I do.”

You laugh, honest and soft and full. He watches it. Drinks it in.

Then he sets up the rack while you take the cue stick, holding it like it might combust. “You ever played?”, he asks.

“Maybe twice,” you admit. “And I was terrible.”

“Well. Lucky for you,” Simon says, chalking the cue tip, “I’m a gentleman.”

“Is that what they call you?” you ask, teasing again.

He gives you a flat look. “Don’t make me show you how I earned my callsign.”

You blush, just a little. “I don’t even want to know what that means.”

Simon lines up the break. Hits. The balls scatter.

You stare. “Okay that was�� very attractive.”

He raises a brow. “You sayin’ I’ve got good form?”

“I’m saying I might let you win just so you’ll do that again.”

That throws him, just for a second. Your flirtation, soft and unexpected, goes straight to his bloodstream. But he plays it cool.

“Might let you win,” he mutters, stepping back. “Always been weak for lawyers in denim.”

You miss your first shot and immediately laugh it off.

He steps behind you to show you how to line it up. “Here, hand like this.”

Your back brushes his chest as he helps guide your grip and for a second, neither of you move. Breath caught. Heartbeats loud. Heat shared in one small, electric space.

You smile at his cliche attempt to get close to you. But you don't mind it at all.

Instead you turn your head slightly, your eyes flicking to his. You are so close.

Then you shoot.

And miss again.

“Terrible,” you mutter.

“I’m havin’ a great time,” he says softly.

Your eyes meet again and this time, they linger.

—————

The ride back is quiet at first, the comfortable kind. You sit sideways in the passenger seat, one leg tucked under you as the city lights wash over your face. Your blouse has slipped a little off one shoulder, casually elegant, like everything you do. Your hair sways with the motion of the car, and every now and then you glance over at Simon with the softest smile.

He drives with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on his thigh, his body relaxed, but inside, he’s buzzing. That kind of good nervous energy that only comes from being around someone who undoes you without trying.

He glances at you at a red light.

“You always this competitive?” he asks, voice rough with a smile behind it.

You raise a brow. “You mean terrible at pool?”

“I mean dangerously charming when you’re losing.”

You pretend to consider it, then smirk. “I play the long game.”

“Is that so?”

“Mmhm. Let you win tonight. So I can destroy you later.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

Your laugh is quiet but lights up the car. And his heart. He feels it, full-body.

When you're finally reaching your place, Simon pulls into a small street nestled between tall, quiet buildings. Your appartment is on the second floor, warm light glowing behind curtained windows. You point it out.

“That one. With the little lamp in the corner.”

“Nice spot,” he says, cutting the engine. “Safe area.”

“I like to pretend I know how to pick them.”

The car hums into silence. And you both just… sit. Still angled toward each other.

Neither wants to break the moment.

“So,” you say softly, your voice dipping into something careful. “Thank you. For tonight. It was…”

“Yeah,” he says, eyes flicking to yours. “It was.”

There’s a pause. It’s charged, but tender.

You look down at your hands. “You know… I didn’t think someone like you would be into this. Dates. Talking. Cute dogs named Riley.”

Simon leans back, watching you. “You think I don’t want normal things?”, he says gently.

You shrug softly. “I didn’t say that.”

You‘re both quiet again.

“You wanna come up?” you ask, softly, hesitantly. “Just for tea. Or to say hi to the lamp.”

He chuckles, slow and low. But he shakes his head.

“Not tonight,” he says.

You nod, almost relieved that he respects the pace.

“But I’d like to see you again,” he adds.

“I’d like that too.”

“Same time next week?” he says, a little awkward again. “We’ll call it… pool redemption.”

You bite your lip to hide the grin. “Sure. But next time… I win.”

“You can try.”

You open the passenger door but pause halfway out. Then you look back at him.

“I really like this, Simon.”

He looks at you like you just knocked the wind out of him.

“…I really like this too, y/n.”

Then you're gone, walking up the steps, a little bounce in your step, his heart in your back pocket.

—————

The soft click of the door echoes behind you as you lean back against it, breath catching in your chest like you've been holding it since the moment you stepped out of his car.

Your apartment is dim and quiet, bathed in golden light from the corner lamp you mentioned earlier. It feels warm, still. Like it somehow held its breath waiting for your return.

You drop your keys in the little dish near the door, kick off your shoes with a soft sigh, and walk to the kitchen in slow steps, your heart thudding like it hasn’t quite caught up.

I really like this, Simon.

You wince a little, talking to yourself under your breath as you pour a glass of water.

“Oh my God… I said that. I actually said it. To his face.”

You take a long sip, trying to calm the thrill and the panic. Your stomach’s doing backflips. The kind you get when you throw yourself off a cliff and realize halfway down that you’re flying, not falling.

“And he said it back,” you add quietly, to no one in particular.

You set the glass down, walking over to the mirror near your bookshelf. Your cheeks are still pink, flushed from the cold, the nerves, the way he looked at you.

You laugh, suddenly and softly, covering your face.

“I really like this, Simon,” you repeat in a breathy mimic of yourself. “Ugh- who says that?”

Then, more honestly, you whisper, “…but I meant it.”

You bite your bottom lip, walking to the window and peeking through the curtain. He’s long gone, of course.

You grab a cardigan and tug it tightly around yourself. There’s a little disappointment, a quiet hum in your chest. Part of you wanted him to come up. Just to sit beside you on the couch. Drink tea in companionable silence. Maybe kiss you. Maybe stay.

But the fact that he didn’t? That he chose to wait, it wraps around you like a secret kind of warmth.

There will be time. You know it.

And you know he wants that too.

You walk into your bedroom, pulling your hair out of its loose braid, fingers brushing against the skin he looked at like it might burn him to touch it.

Same time next week?

You can't wait to see him again.

[sheaabuttaababyy]

Regret - JU and RR

Jey x Faith x Roman

Warning: Lots of Angst, masturbation, slight fluff

Sobs left Faith body as Josh sat across from her, silent. Guilt written all over his face. She wiped her tears, but it was no use. Fresh ones streaming down her face as she looked at the man sitting in front of her.

"Why? I don’t understand. I’ve been there for you for everything your ups and down. Whenever you needed me I was there. Now your leaving me for her? The one who broke your heart that I healed?" Another sob leaving Faith’s mouth at the end of her sentence.

Josh winced at her words, not knowing what to say. "I-im sorry, I didn’t mean any of this to happen." He gripped his mullet feeling stressed.

Faith scoffed standing up, anger building up inside her. "The fuck you mean you didn’t mean for this to happpen? You been fucking your ex for months while we’re engaged and got her fucking pregnant. And now here you are telling me you are leaving me to go build a family with her!!!"

"Faye, I know your mad and you every right to be, but I have to be there for my kid. I know it hurts but Emma is different now, she isn’t the same girl who used to break my heart and use me for my money. She loves me.

"I LOVE YOU, IVE ALWAYS LOVED YOU THROUGH EVERYTHING. I never cared if you had money or if you were broke I Loved you Josh, and this is how you repay me!?"

"I’m sorr-"

"It’s always I’m sorry, oh I’m so sorry for hurting you, fuck you piece of shit. Your nothing you fucking cunt. You and that walking std deserve each other. I hope she gives you a fucking disease from how many niggas she fucks daily" Josh blinked not believing what he was hearing. This wasn’t the sweet faith he knew.

"Just get the fuck out my house and give me my fathers ring back" Eyes going to his left hand, where the ring sat on his ring finger. Slowly twisting the black band off, he held it in his palm, it quickly getting snatched out his hand.

"Take this mothafucka too, give it to that bitch" Taking her engagement ring off throwing it directly at the forehead at her now Ex-fiancé, bouncing off and falling in his lap. He picked it up holding it in her direction. "You can keep this, it’s still yours"

"I don’t want it. I don’t want anything you gave me or anything that has a trace of you. I want you burned out my Brain, no reminder of you" Josh stared at her in disbelief, his chest starting to feel heavy.

"The fuck you just sitting there looking stupid for? Get. The. Fuck. Out" finally standing up, he got up going towards the front door before leaving, his eyes now burning.

3 months. 3 months since that night and Josh’s life has been, hell.

Currently he was sitting in his living room, staring at nothing in particular. "Joshyyy pooh" Emma’s loud annoying voice, was heard making him roll his eyes. "What?" He knew he responded harshly but he didn’t care, she’s been on his nerves.

"I need some money" of course, money. It was always money with her. "I already gave you so much already. Where did all that go?"

"I spent it all on shopping" she spoke like it was nothing. "You shopped for the baby too right? Cause that’s what most of the money was for"

"Why would I use the money you gave me for the baby?" Josh looked at her as if she was dumb. Which she was.

"Emma don’t piss me off right now. You literally said that’s why you needed it"

"Oh I spent that on a Birkin bag" she giggled, pissing him off even more. "Pleaseeeee" she got on her knees pulling on his shorts. His face was straight, not reacting at all. Once she got his pants and boxers down, she took ahold of his soft dick.

Five minutes of trying to get it up, but it was still on soft. "What is wrong with you? It’s been three months and your dick still can’t get hard" Josh just shrugged not even bothering to look at her as he grabbed his phone. It’s been like this for months now, everytime he tries to do anything sexual with Emma, his dick could never get hard anymore.

She huffed scrabbling up to get back on her feet. "Can I just get some money now? I tried at least." Josh shook his head, eyes still on his phone. "No" Emma let out a frustrated scream, stomping to the front door, leaving the house.

"Finally" Joshua whispered relieved that the cause of his headache was gone, as he logged onto his fake account on instagram. Immediately he went to Faiths page scrolling through her pictures.

As he continued to scroll, his dick jumped seeing her pretty face and body. "Fuckk" he clicked on her bikini picture, grabbing his dick that was now standing hard and tall.

He spat on his hand, bringing it back to his lower half, stroking himself. "Fuck, Faith. Why you gotta be so sexy" he groaned tossing his head back, imagining it was her he was fucking. Remembering how her sweet moans were, how her ass would ripple each time he fucked her from the back, how good her pussy tasted on his tongue. His eyes shot open feeling his nut coming, his eyes fixated on his phone, looking at the picture of her.

"Aghhh fuck" he shouted his hand moving faster. His body stilled, stomach flexing as ropes of cum shot out his tip. "Fuckk faithhh" he whimpered, coming down from his high. He sighed, looking up at the ceiling. What the fuck has his life come to?

Looking back at his phone he was about to exit out but noticed her new picture. The fuck? He clicked up the picture of her sitting on pink flower petals.

Faithmonae ✔️

Liked by Trinity fatu, Roman Reigns, Kehlani and others

FaithMonae✔️ My man really went all out for me🥹❤️

KennedyRyan New man!?!?

WWE_gossip Tea for meeee

Natnatpat Aww period get spoiled sis

Tinamonae Being treated the way you should. I know that’s right

Josh’s head flooded with a million questions, new man?? Who the fuck is this? Who did this for her? Has she really moved on from him that quickly? Getting up he went to the washroom to clean himself as he called his twin.

"Yoooo, what’s up?" Jon’s voice came through, but Josh had no time for funny talk. "Who the fuck is Faith’s man?" Jon went silent on the other end, irritating Josh further. "Stop playing with me Jon, who is he? I know her an Trinity still talk and she tells you everything."

"I don’t know man" the older twin replied. "Stop fucking lying to me!"

"you better watch your tone, before I do sum you won’t like. Plus I’m being for real i don’t know, she won’t even tell Trin who it is."

He rubbed a hand down his face feeling overwhelmed. This was all too much to take in. Josh knew he fucked up. Putting her through everything, leaving her for his Ex who did him wrong and is doing it again. He fucked up.

But he never expected her to move on. Especially this quick. "Tell Trinity to ask. Ima find out which fucker tryna take her from me."

"Bruh leave her alone. You already put her through so much shit, she’s finally moving on. Finally happy don’t ruin that for her."

Closing his eyes he listened to his brothers words. He should leave her alone, but he can’t. He wants her back. "You know I can’t do that Uce. I need her. All of this made me realize how much I need her, she’s my other half. I’m miserable without her."

"Well who’s fault is that?" Josh put his head down in shame. "Mine"

"Exactly. You need to focus on the child you put in that whore. If it even is yours."

"It is mine!" Josh shouted feeling anger. "I know how Emma is I get that. Her ass wouldn’t go that far and lie though, I know that for a fact."

"Right… anyways I gotta go lil bruh, talk to ya later"

Josh found himself driving to his twins house, as he got there he saw his cousin Joe and little brother Joseph already there a hanging out in the family room.

4 tequila shots in and he found himself spilling out everything he was feeling to them. "I took care of her, let that bitch stay in my house. Gave her everything she wanted, just for the baby to be someone else’s." He darkly chuckled taking another shot. The burning in his throat, feeling too good to him at the moment.

"5 months ago I thought I was gonna be a dad, I was ready to see my baby girl. And s-she" he swallowed back the sob that was built in his throat, washing it away with more alcohol. Remembering the day he was in the delivery room with Emma as she gave birth, the baby coming out looking nothing like him at all. And even freshly out you could tell, even the doctors and nurses knew it. And the way Emma cried as Josh questioned it. He knew for a fact it wasn’t his child.

"She lied to me. Used me. Again. I left the best thing that ever happened to me, to raise a child with her that wasn’t even mine" he gripped the tequila bottle not even bothering to pour it in the cup anymore.

"I mean you put yourself in this position. You made the decision to go back to her and fuck her. Even if she didn’t lie about this whole baby thing, you still fucked up, and ruined everything with Faith" Joe’s voice rang out, making everyone in the room look towards him.

Josh snarled, listening to his words. "I know man"

"Do you? Cause you treated Faith like shit. Fucking around with that dumb bitch Emma. She literally cheated on you multiple times when you were together." Joe let out a laugh before continuing. "You were so lucky to have Faith, she’s a woman every man wanted. Beautiful, smart, loyal, caring. She helped you at your lowest times, she’s the reason why you were doing so good in your career. Now look at you. A fucking bum, with a fucked up life." Joe stood up feeling slightly angry, still not believing how dirty his cousin did her.

"I told yo ass if you don’t treat her right, don’t get mad when someone else does. And look at you now, your mad cause now someone is treating her how she deserves and it isn’t you that’s doing it." Josh stood up, his cousins words triggering him. He knew he was right.

"MAN SHUT THE FUCK UP" Jon and Joseph quickly rushed between the two as they sized eachother up, looking ready to fight one another. "Chill chill" Jon pushed his twin slightly back. "Nah he got me fucked up" Josh threw the bottle at the wall causing it to shatter.

Joe stepped back, grabbing his keys off the glass table. He walked pass his cousins stopping at Josh. "Your pathetic" he smiled in his face before, going to leave out the house. Door slamming shut leaving the three brothers in silence.

2 months since the big fight with Joe. The two didn’t talk at all. Josh’s been busy, trying to focus on wrestling, it not going so well. He’s been lacking, he knew it and the world noticed too. He’s been trying to get in contact with Faith sending her messages, emails, calls from different numbers, but she hasn’t responded to a single one.

Josh pulled into a 90s themed diner, one that he and Faith used to go to all the time, when they were together. Getting out the car, he walked towards the diner before stopping In his tracks. The sight in front of him breaking his heart. Watching through the window he saw Faith and Joe laughing flush against eachother in a booth, feeding each other, small kisses between each bite, happy smiles planted on their faces.

His eyes burned with tears seeing them together. feeling betrayed and hurt. He watched Faith get up from the booth placing a loving, kiss on Joe’s lips, as she turned around to walk away, he didn’t miss how he slapped her ass making her giggle.

Body on fire, shaking with anger, he took long strides, going inside the restaurant. He stopped towards his big cousin, who was drinking his coffee, legs spread apart one arm across the booth seat. A smirk planted on his face seeing his upset lil cousin. "Sup cuzzo"

"What the fuck are you doing with her here, why are you kissing, hugged up, dammit everything!"

Unfazed Joe took another sip before. "We’re together" he spoke casually.

"How could you do this to me? You know I still wanted her? Wait You the fucking guy who got her all those pink flowers?"

"Correct"

"You went after her three months me and her separated?" Josh slammed his hand on the table, causing it to shake.

"Actually. I went after her 2 days after y’all called it a quits"

"Ima kill yo ass." Josh said lowly gritting his teeth. His eyes drifting off to his cousins left hand, a Black band resting around, on his ring finger. The same one he wore around his, a time ago.

Joe smiled, looking into his cousins eyes. "Do it." Sending him another smile, his eyes landing behind Josh, a wider and genuine smile taking over his face.

"Babeee, my feet hurt I think I need a massag-" Josh felt his heart stop hearing that sweet, angelic voice again. 13 months it’s been, since he’s heard it.

Faiths voice faltered seeing her ex. "Oh, hi" she spoke awkwardly, her eyes darting between the two cousins. "Faith" he let out a loss of words seeing her in-front of him.

His eyes drifted downwards, landing on her stomach that was slightly swollen, her hand protectively over it, a big diamond, decorating it. Josh felt sick, like he was going to pass out. Not only was his big cousin, dating her. They were engaged and are having a baby together."

"No" he whispered. Joe quickly stood up, already knowing Josh was going to cause a scene. "Baby go to the car I’ll be right there" passing Faith the keys, he gently guided her to the exit.

"But-"

"Sweetheart. Please."

Her eyes went to Josh who looked like was going crazy as he mumbled to himself. "Okay, please be quick" nodding his head, placing a kiss on her lips, mumbling a quick "I love you" against them, before she left the building.

"You got her pregnant man" Josh pushed Joe’s chest, hyperventilating.

"Hey, hey! Look at me." Gripping the back of his neck her put his forehead against his. "You never deserved her, ever. You took her for granted, this would have never happened if you did your part as a man and Treated her right. You can’t be upset with me, and you Damn sure can’t be mad at her. You did this" Joe spoke harshly, before pushing Josh back, his ass landing on the booth chair.

"I love you little cousin, but I love her more. Me and Faith are going to have our little boys in 3 months so please, for the love of god. Let us be happy, let her be happy. That’s the least you could do" pulling 3 hundred dollar bills, he placed it on the table as a tip, before, leaving.

Josh put his head down on the table, a cry leaving his body.

"Sweetheart, I thought I told you to go into the car" Joe said walking towards Faith who stood outside the entrance of the diner. "I know, I know. I was just worried about you" he took her hand placing a kiss on the back of it.

"Don’t worry about me, you know I can beat anyones ass" his playful tone, making her laugh. Reaching the car he opened the passenger door , helping her get in. Rubbing her stomach, he bent down placing a kiss on it, doing the same to her lips, before rounding the car to get in the driver seat.

Inside the diner, Josh watched with a heavy heart. Seeing Joe and faith together, sharing looks of love just like they used to. Tears fell down his face as he saw their car drive away, leaving him feeling broken and alone. A big reminder of what he had lost.

Author note: Well damn.

🏷 @charmed-dreamssss @usoinked @mselenalovebug @theusotwinzcom @bloodlineslut @trippinsorrows @catxo @whowrotethenote @uceyliyahh @adoreesun @christinabae @mjonthetrack

[scarletemeterio]

hii, saw u wanted arcane requests. from what ive seen on tiktok, apparently jinx was able to escape after the explosion in the very last episode and survived and ran away on that blimp thing, so could u please write a jinx x fem reader where after the explosion, jinx comes to get reader and they run away together happily to another region to have a fresh start and have a quiet, peaceful life. 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼 pls and thank you.

A Fresh Start (Jinx x Gn!reader)

Warnings: mentions of death, use of (Y/N) once

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort

Fandom: Arcane

Summary: see request

Word Count: 1.6k

No set pronouns for reader

•••

You still remembered every detail, every word said, replaying the moment in your head. You'd had a fight with Jinx, nothing serious you'd thought, but when she and Ekko found you, you could see the pain in her eyes. She came running to you, wrapping her arms around your neck.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean all those things I said,” she apologized, her voice breaking. “You've always been there for me, and I've been ungrateful about that.”

You hugged her tightly, with your arms surrounding her waist, hiding your face in her shoulder.

“It's okay, it doesn't matter now,” you mumbled. “Are you okay?” You asked, breaking apart and caressing her face.

She simply nodded, but you could read her like an open book, and you knew that there was something she wasn't telling you.

Before you could keep questioning her, Ekko decided to speak.

“I hate to interrupt the sweet moment and everything, but we have to hurry if we wanna survive,” he said. You gave him a confused look, slowly breaking your embrace with Jinx.

“Yeah, the world is basically about to end,” the girl said. And both she and the boy tried their best to give you all the information you needed, trying to come up with a plan.

When you were almost finished with the globe, Jinx pulled you apart for a moment, wanting to talk to you.

“I really am sorry about before," she started saying, “I just couldn't think straight at the moment and I took it out on you.”

“Hey, I said it was okay and I meant it,” you comforted her, grabbing her hand.

“I just don't want us to be on bad terms, we don't know what could happen out there,” she whispered, trying to hold back her tears.

“We're not on bad terms, okay? Don't worry about that, my love,” you answered, not wanting to think about the worst case scenario.

“Thank you for not giving up on me, (Y/N), I'm so lucky to have met you. You mean the world to me, and I love you so much.” Tears were already falling down her cheeks, making it hard to contain yours too.

“I love you, too, baby.” You pressed your foreheads together, closing your eyes to better savour the moment. “Don't worry, we're gonna be okay,” you tried to reassure her. “I'm not saying today will be easy, but we'll make it, and soon this will all be just a dark moment from the past.”

She wrapped her arms around your neck once again, not being able to control her sobs anymore. You were taken aback from the sudden action and her reaction. Her embrace was tight and almost filled with dread, almost as if she was certain something bad would happen. You decided to get those thoughts out of your head. Danger was knocking at the door, and you couldn't ignore it anymore; the moment to fight had come.

When you got to the fight scene, Vi quickly joined you, and so did Vander. Ekko took control of the globe, making it crash into the building, knocking the air out of your lungs. When you finally got back on your feet, you quickly went to help Vi and Jinx against Vander, but a hard blow at you was the last thing you remembered before losing consciousness.

You had no idea how long you were out of it. Ekko's figure was the first thing you saw when you woke up, and he helped you sit down slowly.

“Hey, easy there,” he said. “You got hit pretty badly.”

“I'm fine,” you groaned. “Where’s Jinx?” He ignored your eyes, tilting his head. “Ekko?”

He only had to look at you, and you could instantly feel the world crumble around you. Tears quickly flooded your eyes, still looking at the boy in front of you.

“Tell me it's not what I'm thinking,” you pleaded.

“She sacrificed herself to save Vi.”

You closed your eyes, letting the tears roll down your cheeks. You wanted it to be some sick joke, for her to get into the room and tell you that it wasn't true, that she was fine and you didn't have to worry about anything. But you knew her, and you knew something felt off about her in that last conversation you had. Turns out something bad did end up happening.

•••

Not many days had passed, the pain still fresh. You were lost in your thoughts, staring at the city in front of you. You were in the spot Ekko had shown you not long ago, trying to find a bit of peace in contrast to the mess in your head.

Life in Zaun was very unpredictable, which made it difficult to make long-term plans, but also made it easy to not get attached to anything nor anyone. But Jinx was the exception. You just couldn’t stop yourself from getting attached to her, and now you were suffering the consequences.

To be honest you wouldn’t really change anything, not even the pain you were feeling right now. Changing things would mean not even getting to know her, and you were grateful to have met her, to share your life with her. You were simply paying life’s price for love.

You suddenly felt a presence behind you, but you kept your gaze to the front.

“I'd really like to be alone, Ekko,” you said, assuming that the boy had come to check on you.

“I'm not Ekko.”

You froze in place. You had to be hallucinating, it had to be the only explanation. She was gone, and nothing would change that. You shook your head in disbelief, looking up at the sky.

“I'm even hearing her voice now,” you said. You could feel that presence even closer now, and you quickly grew frustrated with what you thought was your own mind. “Leave me alone!” You screamed, turning to the presence behind you and freezing once again when you finally saw her.

“Hey, it's me,” she whispered.

You quickly got up, never breaking eye contact.

“But- You- How?” It was all you could say, barely whispering, still not truly believing what you were seeing. She was right there.

“I guess being injected with crazy amounts of shimmer to keep me from dying had its perks,” she explained almost jokingly, trying to lighten up the mood. “I managed to escape the explosion.”

“But I don't understand. Why didn't you come back right away? Why let us believe you were dead?” You had a million questions in your head, and you could feel your heart beating like crazy.

“I needed everyone to believe it, to have a fresh start. Vi would never give up on me if she knew I was still alive; she'd follow me to the end of the world.”

You still kept your distance from her, it all seemed unreal. A few minutes ago you were grieving her, and now she was right in front of you, as beautiful as ever. But you felt anger inside you as well. She could've told you, she could've saved you from that horrible pain of thinking she was actually gone for good.

“You knew you were gonna fake it all along, didn't you?” You realized, thinking about that last conversation you two had. “That's why you were so emotional, so shaken and distressed.”

“Baby, I-.”

“You knew, right?” You interrupted her, voice cracking with your words.

“I did.”

You closed your eyes. You didn't really know when you'd started crying, but the tears kept falling down your face.

“You let me believe you were dead, Jinx! Dead!” You didn't even try to hide how emotionally distressed you were. You needed to let everything out. The blue-haired girl broke the distance between you two, holding you in her arms while you sobbed into her chest, quickly collapsing to the ground.

“I'm so sorry, baby. I made a mistake and I should've told you,” she said while running her hand through your hair. You could tell by her voice that she was also crying, filled with guilt. “I'm sorry, please forgive me.”

“I get why you did it,” you told her after a while. “I don't blame you for wanting peace, but you have no idea how much it hurt me to think that I'd lost you.”

She cupped your face and made eye contact with you before pressing your foreheads together. “I'm sorry,” she repeated, feeling like she could never say it enough times to express just how much she regretted not letting you know before.

“I'm just glad you're actually okay, love.” You leaned in to her touch, savouring the moment after such turmoil.

She gave you a kiss on your forehead before speaking.

“I want you to come with me,” she uttered.

“Come where?” You questioned.

“I don't know, away from here,” she replied. “I really want that fresh start, but I know that trying to live without you would be absolute hell. I've had many uncertainties in my life, but you just feel right. If there's something I'm sure of is that I love you, with every part of me.”

“I love you, too,” you told her. “And I'd also follow you to the end of the world.” You let out a hopeful smile, and so did she before cupping your face to kiss you.

Her lips against yours felt absolutely right, like it was just the way it had to be, forever and ever. You belonged together, and there was nothing you wanted more than to build a future with her, away from all the ghosts from the past. You knew it wouldn't be easy, both of you had a lot to let go of but with her by your side everything felt a bit easier, and for the first time in a long time, you felt hopeful.

•••

i absolutely loved this request, thank you anon! i'm a sucker for angst

also i'm 100% sure she's still alive

[syluslnd]

hello! ive been enjoying lots of ur fics >< can i request maybe sylus finding out in the middle of sexy times that the reader is a little ummm masochistic 🫢

when you tell sylus you want a little pain during sex

The atmosphere in the room was hazy,soft shadows dancing along the walls as you found yourself lost in the sensation of Sylus's hands on your skin.

His touch was both familiar and electrifying and every kiss he pressed against your neck sent waves of pleasure through your body. The tension between you had built slowly throughout the evening but now, as he pinned you beneath him, your breath came out in shallow gasps, anticipation tightening in your chest.

Sylus's lips hovered just above yours, his dark eyes watching you closely. "You're so quiet tonight, kitten. Something on your mind?" His voice was a low murmur, teasing yet filled with that commanding tone you knew so well. His hand slid down your side, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist, making you squirm beneath him.

You bit your lip, feeling the heat rise to your face. There was something you'd been keeping to yourself, something that bubbled up whenever you were with him like this. But admitting it... that felt dangerous, even though you knew Sylus would never judge you.

His hand gripped your thigh, a firm but controlled pressure and you could barely contain the shiver that ran through you. The words fought to escape your lips, the confession you'd been holding back all this time. You closed your eyes, feeling your pulse race faster than the beat of your heart.

"I... I need to tell you something" you whispered, voice trembling slightly.

Sylus paused, his gaze narrowing slightly but there was a curious glint in his eyes.

"Hmm?" He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. "What is it, sweetie? You know you can tell me anything."

You swallowed hard, your fingers gripping the sheets beneath you as you tried to summon the courage to speak. "!... um..." You felt your cheeks burn, your body reacting to both the vulnerability and the arousal building inside you. "I think... I like it when it hurts a little."

There. You said it. The confession hung in the air between you, your heart hammering against your ribs as you waited for his response.

Sylus didn't move for a moment, his eyes locking onto yours, the smirk tugging at the corners of his lips slowly spreading wider.

"Oh?" His voice was low, dangerously soft.

"You like a little pain, kitten?" He leaned down, his mouth brushing against your ear as he whispered "I didn't realize you were such a masochist."

Your stomach twisted in nervous excitement as his words sank in. You nodded, feeling your breath quicken. "Yeah... just a little. I didn't know how to tell you before."

He chuckled softly, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes again. "You're full of surprises tonight." His hand trailed down your thigh, only this time, his grip tightened

-just enough to make you gasp softly, your body responding instinctively to the mix of pleasure and pain.

Sylus's eyes darkened with something deeper, a mixture of desire and control. "You should've told me sooner, kitten” he said, his voice taking on that possessive edge that always made your pulse race. "You think I wouldn't enjoy that?"

Before you could answer, he brought his lips to your neck, biting down gently at first, then harder, his teeth sinking in just enough to make you wince. The sensation shot through you, a sharp thrill mixing with the pleasure, and you couldn't hold back the soft moan that escaped your lips.

"Mmm, there it is” Sylus murmured against your skin, clearly pleased with your reaction.

"You like that, don't you?"

You nodded quickly, your hands clutching his arms, anchoring yourself as your body hummed with a new kind of intensity. "Yeah... i-I like it" you admitted, feeling your voice tremble with both excitement and nerves.

Sylus's smirk deepened as he pulled back slightly, watching you with a predatory gleam in his eyes. His hand slid up your body, his fingers curling around your throat-not hard enough to hurt but enough to remind you that he was in control. He leaned down, his lips brushing against yours as he whispered,

"Then I'll make sure you feel every bit of it."

His grip on your throat tightened ever so slightly, making your breath catch in your throat, your body arching up toward him. He knew exactly how to toe the line between pleasure and pain, pushing just enough to make your body crave more.

As he kissed you, his hand moved again, delivering a sharp, deliberate slap to your thigh. The sting sent a jolt of heat straight through you, your gasp muffled against his mouth. Sylus pulled back just enough to see your reaction, his eyes dark and filled with amusement. "That's it, sweetie. Don't hold back."

Your heart raced as the intensity between you grew, his touch now rougher, more deliberate. Every slap, every bite, was calculated, designed to push you further into that heady mix of pain and pleasure and through it all, he watched you, his expression unreadable but his every move purposeful.

"Tell me what you want, kitten" Sylus growled, his hand delivering another sharp smack, this time against your ass, the pain leaving a warm, pulsing sensation behind.

"Tell me how much you like it."

You whimpered, your body shaking with the force of the sensations coursing through you. "I... I love it" you managed to breathe out, your voice breaking. "I love it, Sylus..."

He grinned, clearly satisfied with your confession, his mouth descending on yours in a rough, heated kiss. "Good" he murmured against your lips, his hands gripping your body possessively. "Because I'm just getting started."

[revelboo]

got myself the cutest little bluestreak (amongst six others) after you made me fall in love with blokees! i may thank you, but my bank account certainly doesnt. the pains of aud 😭 gonna need to keep buying when another sale comes around til i get myself jazz and prowl hehe

apart from that, im not sure if this has been asked before or if ive missed anything, so sorry if i have, but im curious, do you write for female bots?

The boy! I just write for the mechs, because it’s what I personally prefer and I just do this for fun.

Where I Belong Pt 15

Bluestreak x Reader

• Staring at you, your cheek resting in his palm as you sleep stretched on your side against him with flowers tucked in your messy hair, he doesn’t want to go back. Not yet. Not while you look so peaceful. He’s pretty sure that you’d thought he’d been joking when he’d told you the two of you could build a home and just stay here. Belong to each other and forget the war, duty, and responsibility. So tired of fighting. And he needs this. Because you’re never disappointed in him, never dismissive.

• Whatever your head is laying on shifts slightly under you and something gently bumps your forehead. Eyes opening as Bluestreak shudders against you, the chevron on his helm brushing you. “You okay, baby?” You ask, touching his jaw and his optics open and find you. And your head is forced up to avoid the sharp points of his chevron when he buries his face against your throat.

• “I’m okay,” he murmurs, venting slowly, dragging your scent deep into himself. Grounding himself with you. Feeling your hand stroking his helm and you start humming softly to him. Soothing him when he should be the one taking care of you. He’s older, bigger, stronger, but still clinging to you like a frightened youngling. Afraid. Always afraid and nervously rambling and you let him. Never tell him to shut up. Never get angry.

• Humming a lullaby to him, you feel him curl closer against you and you play your hands over him. Feel his door wings tremble under your fingertips. “Should we head back?” You ask and he vents against your throat. Relaxed with him, you stretch out your legs, a knee sliding against his leg. Have you ever felt this at home with anyone else before? Like you could tell him anything and there’d be no judgement. Like you’re seen and known.

• “Not yet.” Just wants this moment to last. Because right now, there are no nightmares. No ghosts lurking at the edge of his awareness. Here with you, this is all there is. Just you and him, the sun low behind the trees to throw dazzling lances of gold through the leaves, birds singing above and the beat of your heart against him. “I just-I need this. Just a little longer, okay? And then we’ll go back.” Pleading softly and stuttering into silence when you brush a kiss against his chevron with a soft ‘okay.’ Curling closer, he relaxes.

Previous