#and no i want to feel them have an existence outside of this moment with this person..

[allypines]

crazy that the first thing either of us post about KoaC is a ship chart lmaoo

i'm so sorry fellswaps and swapfells but i needed room for the others

explanations (yapping) vv

first off, KoaC is predominately about a victorious!geno who enters the multiverse after erasing his timeline. The development of his relationship with Nightmare (among others) is the driving force behind the plot, and therefore it would be heavy spoilers to describe it now.

Nightmare is a badmare-leaning bitchmare, but is still only Nightmare. The human soul/essence was removed almost immediately.

Killer, Murder ("Dust"), Horror, and Cross are all under Nightmare's control. Needless to say, they hate him. They only kind of hate each other though. Killer's general nature and his position as Nightmare's favorite create a bit of distance between him and the others, but there's a trauma-bonded, coping mechanism, fucked up solidarity between them.

Despite never actually being together, Nightmare and Error act like toxic, bitter exes. Killer was the only subordinate around when Nightmare's arrogance blew up in his face, and he very, very quietly enjoyed the vengeance Error dealt to Nightmare. That's all I'll say about that for the time being lol.

Nightmare is terrified of Reaper and does all he can to avoid him. Reaper knows this and acknowledges that it's partly his own fault, but he also partly doesn't care. It isn't Reaper's job to pay attention to Nightmare, but Nightmare is familiar to him, which means that Reaper is at least a little bit fond of him. Whenever they do cross paths, Reaper makes sure to verbally poke him a bit.

Reaper and Error have a long history. Error's "job" tended to mess with Reaper's job, which then messed with Error's job. Basically, they saw each other a lot in the early days. Error found Reaper incredibly frustrating at the start, because he was unkillable, and he was taking the abominations Error was trying to erase, and he was always tALKING WHILE ERROR WAS TRYING TO FOCUS- yeah. Error loosened up over time, enough to even trade quips back and forth and compete a little. He grew a little dependent on the vague feeling of companionship between them, and Reaper was the one he went to when he wanted a way to die. Reaper, for his part, is fond of Error, but that fondness is tainted by guilt and sadness. Error is still the first Geno, and Reaper feels a bit of responsibility that he wasn't able to convince Geno to rest, thus leading to Error's painful existence. Errors cannot be "saved" by Reaper, so now all Reaper can offer him is friendly banter when they see each other.

Reaper knows Horror quite well. Because Horror was already "dead", he could see Reaper whenever he came to collect the humans Horror had killed in his AU. Reaper's reaction to Horror's situation was "yikes", which Horror found darkly funny (and even a little refreshing). They share a morbid sense of humor, and Horror genuinely enjoyed any distraction he could get from his reality. Their first meeting after Horror had been taken by Nightmare was an accident on Horror's part, but after that, whenever he needed a distraction and could get away with it, Horror would kill one random person on purpose for the chance to talk to Reaper. Reaper doesn't offer to help Horror, and Horror doesn't ask him to. Being able to talk to someone outside of Nightmare's influence, to experience any amount of normalcy, for a few moments is enough to ground him.

Reaper did not spend as much time raising Dream as Ink did, but in some ways Reaper's influence was much more important. Reaper taught Dream what it meant to be a Guardian, not a hero or a servant. He knows that Dream won't ever be able to just be a Guardian after eating the golden apple (now carrying his domain inside himself), but he does his best to help Dream figure out and understand what his responsibilities actually are. They occasionally see each other in the aftermath of Nightmare's attacks. Reaper is much softer to Dream than to anyone else, and Dream tries to focus on Reaper's voice in his head, instead of those of the villagers.

Fuck I got carried away, okay, time to speedrun the rest (edit: I did not speedrun the rest)

On the omega timeline side of things, swap sans #1 aka "swap" was living there after his universe was destroyed. He is good friends with Lust and Dance (who are besties), but his closest friends for sure are Sci and Fell. They play dnd together and other silly-serious roleplaying stuff. Blueberror offered his place in swap timeline #2 to him, but Swap declined. Even though he declined, he still appreciated the offer so so so much. Swap is Berror's number one defender and doesn't let anyone in the omega timeline get away with talking badly about him (even if he may deserve it).

Fell, Comic (classic), Sci, Swap, Outer, Dream, Blue (swap #3), Epic, and Blueberror (among others) are all part of the Reducing the Effects of Nightmare's Bullshit group. This mostly just includes providing aid to a timeline after the attack has already happened to mitigate the spread and staying power of the negativity. Epic mostly just assists Sci when he needs it, and brings every report back to Ccino's to share with the squad.

Epic sanses are epic sanses. They love each other, and they spend a lot of their time in the corner booth at Ccino's. Ccino (#2) has been in the omega timeline for years and hasn't left it. He's never met Nightmare before, and his friends (especially Delta) are insistent on keeping it that way. He knows that the Ccino from Fluffytale #1 was involved with Nightmare somehow, and disappeared (was pronounced dead) sometime after. He knows that Epic, Delta, and Color all hate Nightmare with varying degrees of intensity, so he's fine disliking Nightmare by proxy. The front counter at Ccino's is usually taken up by Outer and Farm. The three are besties. Outer and Ccino specifically being in a qpr. No one knows how Farm finds the time to laze around the cafe And grow enough to supply the cafe with half its ingredients. No one knows if he ever sleeps.

Rolling back around to Blueberror, he and Error go through a LOT of ups and downs, but they settle on being prickly besties. They can't actually spend a lot of time together before friendly arguments start to get heated. They don't Want to hate each other, so they try to avoid the past and mostly just gossip about other people. They feel tied together, but their edges don't fit together at all and being that close quickly gets uncomfortable, if not painful, but there's no one else who really gets it, so... they manage. It's not great by any means, but it's the best that two errors can do.

Blueberror and Fresh, on the other hand, get along great. On the surface, you'd think they were the best of friends, but their feelings for each other are actually surprisingly shallow. Sure, Blueberror is interesting, but he's interesting in the way that Error was already interesting, so Fresh doesn't actually spare him much of his thought or focus. Berror doesn't mind that at all. Prefers it, actually. They have a good, fun, easy "friendship" that doesn't actually require much from them.

Error and Fresh sure are something. No one knows what, but it's something.

Nightmare and Fresh are... neutral. Fresh owes much of his emotional intelligence to reading every book in Nightmare's library, which he only did with Nightmare's permission. Fresh is respectful... for the most part. He can't help but throw a half-hidden jab in here and there when they talk. Nightmare figures it's just his nature to do so, and lets him off with a warning every time. Fresh absolutely means them.

Ink is not actually around much. His "job" has him traveling all across the multiverse. He doesn't linger anywhere for very long, and he doesn't care to form any meaningful connections with anyone. Error is the only exception to this, and Ink has yet to figure out why that is. He woke Dream from his stone prison at the insistence of a Creator that doing so would help curb Error and Nightmare's rampage (it did not. One could even say it made Nightmare worse.). He'll say he raised Dream, but he didn't really do much, nor does he care about Dream any more than he does about other "important" outcodes.

Dream loves Blue (swap #3). It's actually crazy how much Dream loves Blue. Blue taught Dream to fight, Blue fights by Dream's side in a way no one else does, Blue makes Dream feel like a person, Blue catches his bad habits, Blue listens to him talk, Blue remembers his favorite flowers, how many blankets he likes to sleep with, which desserts he does and doesn't like, his opinion on cotton vs linen. The two of them are more than a little codependent actually. Blue tries to be more levelheaded about their relationship, but it's not easy to be. They're both quite young, for outcodes, and neither one has ever had a partner like this before. If they had any time to settle down, they would be able to work through it and be a little healthier about it, but as it is, Dream has to constantly protect the multiverse from Nightmare, and Blue has to constantly protect Dream from Nightmare.

Blueberror makes Blue viscerally uncomfortable, but he tries not to let that color his interactions with him.

Fatal's origins are a bit different in this multiverse than in his canon, but rest assured he still wants to kick Error's ass. Double G comes from the same inciting incident as Fatal, but has something else completely going on. He goes around interrupting the genocide scripts he finds (Ink is constantly trying to get him to stop). If he stumbles across a timeline that Fatal has interfered with, he regards the glitching aftermath fondly. He can't remember why exactly.

I think everyone else's relationships are either as expected, or not all that relevant to this specific story. None of Geno's relationships happen right away, especially not his relationship with Murder, but I had to tease that found family >:3

Ship chart but it’s not a ship chart it’s a friendship/found family/QPR chart

[fangdokja]

You were born with the most overpowered ability in existence. You just don’t care.

♡ Yandere! Superpowers AU x Fem. Reader. Golden Hero, DILF! CEO, Host Club! King, Mortal Enemy

♡ Word Count. 1,931

Your life peaked at birth.

That was it. That was your highlight. The moment you inhaled oxygen for the first time, your existence had reached its pinnacle. Everything afterward was a downward spiral of pure, unfiltered misery.

You were born into a world where everyone had a “Talent.” Superpowers. Gifts. Whatever. Some people could shoot fire from their hands. Some could turn their skin to steel. Some could regenerate even after being vaporized into atoms (cheating, in your humble opinion). And you? Well. Everyone thought you were born without a Talent. A poor, unfortunate soul—so talentless, so pathetic, so powerless, so utterly beneath them.

They were right about one thing: You are beneath them. Because you keep your head down and ignore them. Because you have mastered the ancient technique known as not giving a single shit about anyone or anything.

Your real Talent?

You can steal abilities. Copy them. Keep them. Take them permanently if you feel like it. You are, technically, the most powerful being to have ever existed.

But, you see, that sounds like a lot of effort.

So, instead, you ignore everyone, stay in your room, and play video games. You’ve never even used your ability. You don’t want to. You just want to write fanfiction, consume an unhealthy amount of energy drinks, and pretend the world outside doesn’t exist.

Unfortunately, the world refuses to pretend you don’t exist.

────────────

You’re not sure which part of your life is the most miserable—the fact that you were born into a world where everyone gets a unique, flashy ability that makes them feel special, or the fact that everyone has collectively agreed that you are the single most useless human being in existence.

Well, “useless” is relative. It’s just that you don’t give a single damn about anything. You don’t want to be a hero, you don’t want to fight crime, and you sure as hell don’t want to interact with people.

Unfortunately, the world has other plans.

Your entire childhood has been a tragic comedy of errors. Born without a visible ability, everyone—your classmates, your teachers, even your next-door neighbor’s dog—assumed you were just some talentless loser doomed to live a pathetic existence. That assumption made you the perfect target for bullying. Your classmates threw your lunch in the trash. Teachers ignored you. Some particularly ambitious kids attempted full-blown assassination attempts, only for you to dodge them on pure instinct. And all this time, you just went along with it, because honestly? You didn’t care. It’s not like they could do anything to you.

Your life should have been an isekai.

Seriously. The way you’ve suffered? Classic protagonist material. You’ve been bullied, underestimated, and laughed at for years. In a world where Talents were everything, being perceived as powerless was a death sentence. If this were a shounen manga, this would be the part where you trained under a waterfall and came back stronger.

But, nah. You just stopped trying.

What was the point?

Besides, the world had heroes. Annoying, loud, self-righteous heroes who wouldn’t shut up about justice.

———

Then, one day, you got hit by a truck.

Not in an “isekai reincarnation” kind of way, but in an “oh wow, I should be dead” kind of way. The truck, which had been barreling down the street at full speed, collided with your frail, bullied-kid body. The driver screamed. Bystanders screamed. You... blinked in mild annoyance and got up like nothing happened.

It was in that moment that your guardian, the only man in the world who knows the truth, realized just how overpowered you really are. He’s the only reason you haven’t been kidnapped by the government yet. He legally adopted you, locked down any medical records that could expose your unnatural resilience, and made sure no one figured out that you can obliterate entire city blocks with a single thought. All in all, he’s a pretty chill dude. If it weren’t for him, you’d probably be strapped to an operating table somewhere while scientists poked at your brain.

But despite his best efforts, the world still found a way to ruin your life.

Enter the heroes.

────────────

♡ Yandere! Golden Hero who you hate the most.

Loud. Enthusiastic. An unbearable optimist with a voice that makes your ears bleed. He is everything you despise in a person. He bursts into rooms like an anime protagonist, calls you “young one” like he’s in some ancient martial arts flick, and has the audacity to believe in you. Disgusting.

You try to avoid him, but he’s persistent. He sees your dead eyes, your unwillingness to engage, and instead of taking the hint like a normal person, he takes it as a challenge. He’s convinced that if he just tries hard enough, he can turn you into a bright and shining hero like him. You, meanwhile, are just trying to figure out the best way to fake your own death to escape this nightmare.

♡ Yandere! Golden Hero who talks like he's in a motivational TED Talk at all times. Who believes in justice, honor, and the power of a bright smile, which is why he’s utterly convinced you need to be "saved."

♡ Yandere! Golden Hero who refuses to accept your blatant apathy. "Young one! The world is a battlefield, but I will stand as your shield!" Shut up, dude, you’re just making this worse.

♡ Yandere! Golden Hero who sees you, a human embodiment of existential nihilism, and immediately appoints himself as your personal savior. Whether you like it or not. (You don’t.)

♡ Yandere! Golden Hero who mistakes your complete lack of reaction to being saved from a villain as ‘unshakable bravery’ and not ‘I-don’t-care-please-just-let-me-die-in-peace’ energy.

♡ Yandere! Golden Hero who just knows—knows in his noble, justice-infused bones—that beneath your deadpan stare and monotone voice lies a tragic, misunderstood soul in need of his relentless, overbearing affection.

♡ Yandere! Golden Hero who loves justice but, apparently, loves you more, considering how he starts bending laws and morals just to keep you within his reach.

———

♡ Yandere! DILF! CEO who is your guardian.

The only person you can tolerate. He’s rich, powerful, and the reason you haven’t been dissected like a lab rat. He acts like he doesn’t care, but he keeps a closer eye on you than you’d like to admit. If you even so much as get a scratch, there’s a 99% chance he’s already arranged for the person responsible to disappear. Permanently.

You don’t question it. He buys you the latest gaming consoles and lets you rot in your room. You consider this a fair trade.

♡ Yandere! DILF! CEO who is the only person you can tolerate, which is a strong word because you technically live under his roof.

♡ Yandere! DILF! CEO who took one look at you, with your permanent sleep-deprived expression and social battery of a Nokia phone, and said, “Hah. Useless.” Then took you home anyway.

♡ Yandere! DILF! CEO who is the only person in the world who knows your true power. Who laughs whenever you get bullied because, in his words, “Hah! You actually let them put their hands on you?” He tilts his head, amused. “Didn’t feel like turning them into dust today?”

♡ Yandere! DILF! CEO who has trained you to be the world’s greatest heiress-slash-assassin-slash-overpowered-abomination without you even realizing it. (One day, you accidentally dodge a sniper bullet mid-yawn, and the realization hits you.)

♡ Yandere! DILF! CEO who only has one rule: Don’t. Get. Involved. He’s not having another board meeting ruined by some melodramatic hero crying about morality.

♡ Yandere! DILF! CEO who absolutely spoils you rotten—not in a ‘sugar daddy’ way, but in a ‘you-will-never-be-independent-or-escape-my-influence’ way.

♡ Yandere! DILF! CEO who casually destroys entire corporate empires just because someone looked at you wrong. (You don’t even notice until you see an international news report about a Fortune 500 company vanishing overnight.)

———

♡ Yandere! Host Club! King who is too persistent.

Somehow, you’ve also attracted the attention of the most insufferable social butterfly to ever exist. He is charming, manipulative, and refuses to leave you alone. Every time you turn around, he’s there, draping himself over your personal space and saying things like “Oh, darling, why do you insist on being such a recluse? I could show you a whole new world.”

You would rather eat glass.

♡ Yandere! Host Club! King who is every high school girl’s dream and your personal nightmare. Who runs a host club not because he needs money, but because he loves being adored.

“Hi, I’m—”

“I don’t care.”

His eye twitched. That wasn’t the script. That wasn’t how people reacted to him. He had perfected the art of being irresistible.

And yet, here you were.

Reading fanfiction.

In the middle of class.

With your laptop propped up on the desk, an entire paragraph of explicit smut visible to anyone who glanced over.

♡ Yandere! Host Club! King who considers you his greatest challenge. A girl who gives zero reaction? Who doesn’t blush, stutter, or even acknowledge his existence? Unacceptable.

♡ Yandere! Host Club! King who makes it his life mission to make you crack, not realizing that your version of cracking is fantasizing about various ways to disappear from society.

♡ Yandere! Host Club! King who has tried everything—roses, grand declarations, staged rescues. You just stare at him like he’s an interesting but ultimately disappointing lab experiment.

———

♡ Yandere! Mortal Enemy who you think is the only one with common sense.

The only person who treats you like a normal human being, which is to say, like absolute garbage. He calls you names, makes fun of your nonexistent social life, and has absolutely no idea that you could snap your fingers and reduce him to atoms. Honestly, you respect that.

He’s your ultimate enemy, but he’s the only one who hasn’t tried to “fix” you, and that makes him the least annoying person in your life.

♡ Yandere! Mortal Enemy who’s been bullying you since day one, mostly because he doesn’t understand how someone as useless as you keeps effortlessly avoiding his attacks.

♡ Yandere! Mortal Enemy who is the only one who doesn’t see you as ‘a tragic soul in need of saving’ or ‘an intriguing enigma.’ No, he sees you as the most infuriating human to ever exist, and he needs to do something about it.

He wasn’t technically a bully.

He just found you irritating.

You were slow, never reacted properly, had this vacant expression like nothing in the world could surprise or amuse you. You didn’t fear him. Didn’t respect him. Didn’t even bother acknowledging his existence unless he was actively standing in front of you.

So yeah, he might’ve knocked your books out of your hands a few times. Might’ve tripped you in the hall. Might’ve thrown your lunch away when you weren’t looking.

♡ Yandere! Mortal Enemy who, through sheer force of hate and obsession, spirals into the most unhinged, self-destructive form of love possible. (The kind that looks like ‘I’ll ruin anyone who touches you, but I’ll also break my own bones trying to keep you away from other people.’)

♡ Yandere! Mortal Enemy who goes from throwing insults to throwing hands with anyone who dares disrespect his punching bag.

———

What you did know?

This was hell. Absolute, inescapable hell.

And the worst part?

None of them were going to let you leave.

And you? You just want them all to leave you the hell alone so you can finish writing your fanfiction in peace.

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. Thank you.

General TAG LIST of “Whispers In The Dark”: @keisocool , @elvabeth , @elloredef , @mjsjshhd , @lem-hhn , @yuki-istired , @lilyalone , @starryperson , @yandreams-storageblog , @tiffyisme3760 , @songbirdgardensworld , @yune1337 , @mocalocha , @astreaaaaaa6 , @poopooindamouf , @yandereaficionado , @esther-kpopstan , @iris-arcadia

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology ♡ Book 2. Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. ♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World. ♡ Book 4 [you are here]. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. ♡ Book 5. Ink & Insight (I&I): From Dead Dove to Daydreams. ♡ Library MASTERPOST 1. The Librarian’s Ledger: A Map to The Library of Forbidden Texts.

♡ Disclaimer. Not all stories are included in the masterpost due to Tumblr’s link limitations. However, most long-form stories can be found here. If you're searching for a specific yandere or theme, this guide will help you navigate The Library of Forbidden Texts. Proceed with caution—these tales explore obsession, madness, and devotion in their rawest forms.

[lynnieverse]

like real people do // rafe cameron

oneshot

drew stakery x popstar!reader

synopsis: after a little slip up in an interview where you accidentally reveal your celebrity crush, things get a little complicated when someone starts meddling.

4.2k words

You knew doing the interview was going to bite you in the ass. Nothing good ever came from distracting you with puppies and asking personal questions. So, when the interviewer innocently asked your celebrity crush, you didn’t hesitate to say Drew Starkey. It didn’t hit you until afterward, sitting in the back of your car, debriefing with your assistant. 

“I can’t believe you said your celebrity crush though,” she said, eyebrows raised. Your heart stutters a bit and you quickly whip your head towards her. 

“No I didn’t.” 

“Um…yeah, you did.” Panic spiked through your veins, sweat beading on your brow. 

“Oh shit. Oh shit! Amara, tell me I didn’t say who I’m thinking of,” you grip her arm tightly, eyes pleading. Amara winces and looks at you with what could only be pity. “No!” 

Madelyn was going to kill you. 

You met Madelyn Cline a few months ago at the People’s Choice Awards when you were presenting. You’d instantly clicked and made plans to hang out the next week. Everything was going really great, and you were doing a good job at keeping your little crush a secret. Now, it’ll come out, be circulated everywhere online, and Madelyn’s going to think you’re some crazy stalker. How would she react to you having a crush on her co-star? Definitely not well. 

Amara places a comforting hand on your shoulder, smiling sympathetically. “It’s okay, Y/N, it’s just a silly interview. Nobody will take it seriously.” 

“Everyone will take it seriously! I don’t know why I started fraternizing with actors, I need to stick to my lane.” 

“Hey, why don’t you write a song about it? It might help.” You thought about it for a moment, feeling the familiar bubble of lyrics tickling the back of your mind. Writing always helps you calm down, maybe putting the feelings on paper would make them go away. 

As the car stopped in front of your hotel, flashes from the paparazzi’s cameras were bright even through the tinted windows. You sigh and grab a jacket, wrapping it around your head like a shield, and wait for security to open the door. You ignore the loud shouting as you dash inside, closely followed by Amara and the rest of the crew. Inside isn’t much better, but at least the other guests have the decency to leave you alone for now. 

You sometimes feel bad, often making it up later by signing a bunch of autographs outside, but right now you’re exhausted and embarrassed. The interview threw off your whole day, and you just want to lay in bed and watch trashy reality television. 

Your security escorts you to the elevator, and then does a sweep of your room before eventually leaving. Finally alone, you put on your rattiest and comfiest pajamas, take off all your makeup, and throw your hair up before jumping in bed. You reach for the remote to start your aforementioned binge, but hesitate over the little purple notebook you carry everywhere. Sighing, you know you won’t be able to relax without getting it all out. You dig through your bag and find a glittery pink pen, uncapping it with your teeth and getting to work. 

You’ve never met Drew, not once, but something about him just had you giggling like a schoolgirl. Witnessing his kindness through your constant internet stalking quickly proved to be a bad idea, because now you have a big fat crush on the man and he doesn’t even know you exist. 

Well that’s not true. Everyone knows you exist, but he would never think of you that way. Dating as a popular musician was not as easy as one might think, it’s often too much for people. The words start flowing with ease, filling up the cream pages in no time. 

Gleaming

Twinkling

Eyes like sinking ships

On waters so inviting

I almost jump in

His eyes really are beautiful. So blue, so warm. But the feelings you have aren’t logical, and they’re so exhausting. 

But I don't like a gold rush, gold rush

I don't like anticipating my face in a red flush

I don't like that anyone would die to feel your touch

Everybody wants you

Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you

He’s the internet's boyfriend right now, edits flying around like crazy. You know dozens of people back home who are definitely salivating over this man. Something about him…you can’t put your finger on it. 

What must it be like

To grow up that beautiful?

With your hair falling into place like dominos

Every silly thought you’d ever had poured out onto the page. By the time you were finished you knew it was a hit. Grabbing your guitar you make a split second decision to tease your fans a bit. Unlocking your phone, you quickly open Instagram and go live before you can stop yourself. Your face pops up on the screen, thousands of people already in and commenting. 

“Hey guys! I just finished a new song and wanted to play a little for you if that’s alright?” You smirk, knowing the answer already. Of course, everyone starts freaking out and flooding the comments with different affirmations and emojis. You laugh, loving every second of it, before strumming the beginning chords on your guitar. 

As you start singing you let your eyes close, feeling each note in your soul, pressing every callus on your worn fingertips. The pacing is a little rough, still getting the hang of the new melody, but you know as soon as you finish that you killed it. So many fans are expressing their love for the song, already asking for it to be out on streaming platforms. Others are curious as to who your muse is, throwing out the wildest guesses you’d ever seen. 

“Chace Crawford?!” you exclaim, face contorted in surprise. “Y’all have a distorted sense of my ability to pull these men,” you laugh in disbelief. Your heart skips a beat when a couple comments actually guess correctly, but don’t react, knowing every single microexpression is analyzed. 

“Alright guys, I think I’m going to eat myself into a sugar coma while watching Love Island, but thank you for listening! I’m glad you enjoyed the song,” you wink to the camera before waving and closing the app. Covering your face with your hands, you fall backwards on the bed, letting your guitar rest beside you. You don’t even want to check social media, already knowing screen recordings of the live will be everywhere. 

Sometimes it’s crazy to think this many people care about your day to day life. The art you create touches lives across the globe. It’s both amazing and terrifying at the same time. 

Not wanting to start an existential crisis on a random Tuesday night, you quickly turn on your show and cuddle up under the duvet. 

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

By the weekend the interview was everywhere. You’ve stayed out of it, going pretty much radio silent in response. Many are asking if you’re secretly dating, if you were going to write a song for the new season of Outer Banks, if Drew felt the same way…it’s insane. 

You’d purposely put off talking to Madelyn out of sheer embarrassment. That man was like her brother and you admitted to liking him. Still, it’s time to address the issue head on, so you dial her number shakily. The phone rings three times before she answers, a sweet greeting sounding through the speakers. 

“Y/N?” You clear your throat, reluctant to speak. 

“Hey…” You wince at how rough your voice sounds, facepalming at your own awkwardness. 

“What’s up, girl?” Madelyn sounds normal, but you know she has to be weirded out by you. 

“Um, nothing much, just wanted to talk to you about something I may have said recently.” 

“Is this about the puppy interview?” 

“Yes?” Your voice comes out squeaky, nose scrunched. But Madelyn just starts laughing. You stare at your phone in confusion. What the hell?

“I can’t believe you finally admitted it, and during an interview? That was ballsy as hell!” You slowly start to regain your breath, brain processing her words. 

“You’re not mad?” 

“Why would I be mad?” she snorts.

“I didn’t want you to think I was using you to get to him.”

“Are you?” 

“No! Of course not!” 

“Okay then, there’s no problem.” A breath of relief escapes, and you put a hand on your chest. She’s not mad. 

“Thank you so much for understanding, I really love our friendship.” 

“Me too,” Mads says sincerely. “Now we just have to figure out how to get you two together!” 

Your eyes widen. “What? Absolutely not. This was not an invitation for you to play matchmaker, Mads.”

“Aw man, why not? I could literally get you both in the same room tonight.” Your heart starts beating out of your chest, feeling more anxiety talking about this than being on any stage.

“He’s probably seen the interview by now, it’s so embarrassing!” 

“It’s not embarrassing, Y/N. You’re attracted to the man, it’s not that crazy of a concept! Just give me a chance, please?” 

“Nope. I don’t want to bother him or weird him out. Let’s just do something me and you; are you in L.A.?” 

“Ugh, fine. Yes I’m here, just come over whenever.” You can feel her annoyance across the line, but ignore it. You’re not going to let her meddle. 

“See you then!” Mads ends the call, sending you back into your shame spiral. Every little thing you do is always picked apart and ridiculed in the media, and you’re usually a lot more careful with what you say. The interview slip up is going to keep you up at night for the rest of your life. 

Hours pass waiting for the appropriate time to head over to Madelyn’s house. You decide to dress comfortably, but have your makeup done on the off chance pictures are taken. The drive over is quiet, save for the initial crowd outside your house. How it’s legal for celebrities' addresses to be available on the internet, is something you’ll never understand. 

When you pull up you notice a Jeep in her driveway and shake your head. That girl is always spending money. Your phone pings with yet another Twitter update and you roll your eyes. How can this be the most popular thing in the world right now? You glance at the notification and see it’s Drew’s name that’s trending. Huh. Interesting. 

You decide to follow your instincts and ignore it, wanting to focus on girls night with Mads. As you approach the porch you find yourself nervous; even though she wasn’t mad, you still feel bad for causing such an uproar around her co-star. 

Three knocks later you're waiting outside her front door in anticipation. You find yourself shifting from foot to foot, tracing the cracks in the stonework with your eyes. When the door opens you look up with a smile, expecting Madelyn’s smiling face, only to be met with the very man that had haunted you the past week. You gasp, words catching in your throat as you stare. 

Drew was wearing a black T-shirt and grey sweatpants, his hair looked freshly cut into a soft mullet, and he looked just as surprised as you do. You can’t seem to close your gaping mouth, a pained sound escaping without realizing. 

“Uh, hi,” Drew says sheepishly, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. Eyes wide, you turn on your heel and speed walk away, leaving him alone in the doorway. You’re fumbling with your keys, cursing under your breath, when you hear a shout from behind you. 

“Y/N!” 

You almost make it inside your car when an iron grip latches onto your upper arm, yanking you back. 

“Hey!” you protest, almost losing your balance as you’re dragged back to Mads’ house. 

“Oh no you don’t, you’re not getting away that easily.” 

“Madelyn Renee Cline, let me go!” You struggle against her grip, but only cause her nails to dig in deeper. 

“You’re not leaving, Y/N, I won’t let you.” She finally stops when you’re once again at the door, but she doesn’t let go. Drew must’ve gone back inside, thank God, but Madelyn is glaring at you. 

“Don’t look at me like that! How could you do this to me?” You give her your most withering look. She rolls her eyes at you, only pissing you off more. 

“Just talk to him. I promise he doesn’t think you’re weird, or whatever you’ve concocted.”

“Well he might now!” 

“That’s your own fault, I can’t believe you ran away,” she snickers, pulling you inside and closing the door. When she finally lets go of your arm, you rub the crescent indentions with a wince. The girl has some nails. 

“Fine. Let’s go.” Mads looks taken aback, freezing in place. 

“Really?!” You give her a pointed look. “Right, be cool. Okay come on follow me, he went back to the living room.” Reluctantly, you do just that, trailing closely behind her. You’re a ball of nerves, and can already feel your stomach twisting to knots. 

Madelyn was right, he was lounging on the couch, absentmindedly scrolling on his phone. When he hears you two approach, his head shoots up and his back immediately straightens.

“Everything okay?” he asks, voice smooth and melodic. Your cheeks warm, and you avoid eye contact as much as possible. 

“Um, yeah. I just–you know.” You jab your thumb back awkwardly, not even you know what you’re trying to say. But Drew cracks a smile, looking at you fondly and nodding along, as if you make perfect sense. 

Madelyn’s eyes flit between you with a wide smile on her face. Not knowing what else to do, you sit down on the couch, as far away from him as possible, and stare straight ahead. Silence ensues, and you have absolutely no idea what to do in this situation. Thankfully, Madelyn breaks the silence. 

“So…want to watch a movie?” 

“Yes!” You and Drew speak at the same time, causing you to stare at each other shyly. Madelyn smirks and comes around the couch, forcefully sitting between you and the arm rest. You shoot her a what the fuck look and she simply shrugs. 

“I like the armrest! Scooch.” Begrudgingly, you inch closer to Drew, who pretends not to notice the entire exchange. As soon as you're settled you sit pin straight, not wanting to breach the confines of your cushion. Drew’s left ankle is resting comfortably on his knee, arm thrown over the side of the couch in what seems to be a very relaxing position. Mads rolls her eyes and pulls out an ottoman, giving you something to stretch your feet out on so you can lean back. 

It takes forever to pick a movie, suspiciously so, but it’s Madelyn’s house and you’re not going to say anything. Once she finally picks Avatar, she dims the lights from her phone and the three of you settle in for what’s going to be a weird couple hours. 

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

Everything was going fine, until suddenly Madelyn got tired at nine and decided to go to bed…leaving you and Drew alone. You mentally cursed your friend for putting you in this position, obviously not listening to the blanket “no matchmaking” statement from before. 

You glance at him from the corner of your eye and find him already looking at you. He quickly looked away and started tapping his fingers on his knee nervously. The movie had long since been forgotten and no words had been exchanged. 

“So…” you manage, turning to face him slowly. He smiles at you, running a hand through his hair and making his bicep flex. Your stomach does a little flip flop and your face reddens at where your mind went. Drew smirks like he knows exactly what just happened, but doesn’t comment. 

“I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.” His voice, oh my God. “I’m Drew, it’s nice to meet you.” He holds out his hand to shake, and you clumsily take it, feeling the warmth envelop your palm immediately. 

“I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you too,” you smile, swallowing the anxiety. 

“I’m a fan of your work, actually, you’re really good.” 

Your eyes almost bulge out of your head. “You listen to my songs?” Drew laughs and shakes his head, shooting you a look you don’t quite understand. 

“Are you being serious?” he leans forward a bit, surprise evident on his face. You scrunch your eyebrows, tilting your head to the side. 

“What do you mean?” 

“You’re easily the most popular musician of our generation and you don’t think I listen to your music?” You find yourself blushing, and a little flustered. 

“Well, I wouldn’t say the most popular…I have quite a few fans, sure, but not everyone vibes with all types of music. I don’t really know what you listen to, and I didn't want to assume anything.” Drew looks you up and down, seeming to size you up. 

“You’re not at all what I expected, Y/N Y/L/N.” 

“And what did you expect, Drew Starkey?” 

“Well, I don’t know to be honest, but you’re surprisingly humble for someone as successful as you.” You had actually gotten that a lot, although you didn’t think it was being humble so much as being a decent person. You’re still just the girl who grew up in a perfectly normal town, with normal loving parents and a wonderful home. Just because you make popular music doesn’t mean you’ve changed at all. Plus, you know it could all go away with the snap of your fingers. 

“I don’t know what to say, I’m just like everyone else,” you shrug. 

“I beg to differ. You’re…extraordinary. You have to know that?” There goes that damn stomach flip again. 

“Thank you,” you look down at your lap. “I could say the same for you. I love your projects.” His eyes light up at the mention of his work, making you smile in turn. 

“Thank you! I love everything I’ve been a part of, especially OBX. I met my second family on that set, you know?” You didn’t know, actually. Being on the road all the time meant limited options for friendships, and no time for the ones you did manage to keep. Mads is the first girlfriend other than Amara–who you employ–you’ve had in years. 

“Yeah, I love Mads already. I can’t imagine how fun it must be getting to work with your best friends every day…” your voice trails off. Drew seems to notice your shift in mood and decides to change the subject. 

“Hey, why don’t you play me something?” 

You immediately freeze. “What?” Drew smiles and stands up, searching for something. He disappears in the hallway before emerging a minute later with a beautiful acoustic guitar in his hands. You immediately feel a pull to grab it and start playing, but are still confused. 

“Here,” he hands it to you. “I want you to play me something…something nobody has heard yet.” You immediately start racking your brain and decide to take a leap and play something that could get you in trouble. 

“Um…okay. This is something I was actually working on today. It’s not finished but I can play a little.” You nervously pick up the guitar, but immediately relax when you feel the rough strings beneath your fingers. You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and try to forget the gorgeous man in front of you. 

In the middle of the night, when I'm in this dream

It's like a million little stars spelling out your name

You gotta come on, come on

Say that we'll be together

Come on, come on

Little taste of heaven

You manage to take a peek at him while you strum, catching him totally entranced by the sound of your voice. A little confidence boost flows through you as you continue the song. 

But you're untouchable, burning brighter than the sun

And now that you're close I feel like coming undone

In the middle of the night, we can form this dream

I wanna feel you by my side, standing next to me

You gotta come on, come on

Say that we'll be together

Come on, come on

Little taste of heaven

You strum a few more chords before stopping, silently waiting for his reaction. He’s staring at you, mouth parted slightly. 

“Another,” he whispers. Surprised, you do what he asks, pulling another unfinished song from the vault in your mind. This one wasn’t about him, not like the last one, but it still applies. 

I will not ask you where you came from

I will not ask you, neither should you

Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips

We should just kiss like real people do

You hum for a little longer, this song actually being one of your favorites. Drew is starstruck, an unknown look on his face the whole time. He seems to snap out of it and clears his throat. 

“Wow, Y/N. You’re amazing…those were amazing. Were they about anyone in particular?” You internally panic, because duh. But you don’t want to weird him out. 

“Um, the first one was,” you whisper, avoiding eye contact. You feel the couch move, and look up to find Drew right beside you. His leg was flush with yours, and he was so close you could see each and every freckle splashed across his cheeks. You also notice his eyes crinkle at the corners slightly when he smiles. 

“Can I confess something?” he says softly. You don’t trust your voice, so you nod once. “I saw your interview.” Immediately, the embarrassment causes your face to turn into a tomato. 

“Uh–about that…I–” You don’t really have an explanation, but you scramble for one anyway. Drew chuckles and grabs your hand, effectively stopping your rambling and making you redder at the same time. 

“Y/N you don’t have to be embarrassed. Did you see my interview?” What interview?

“No? I didn’t know you did one. Should I have?” He squeezes your hand gently and his eyes bore into yours. 

“It would’ve made this a lot easier,” he jokes. “They asked for my response to being your celebrity crush.” Fuck. 

“Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cause drama for you.” 

“You didn’t, I promise. But do you know what my response was?” You shake your head. He hesitates for a moment before grinning, almost shy. “I said that’s a crazy coincidence because you’re my celebrity crush.” Hold the fucking phone, did he just say what you think he said?

“What?” 

“I think you’re beautiful, talented, kind, and I’ve always wanted to spend time with you. I didn’t think it was even in my realm of possibilities. Then you befriended Mads, and I thought maybe I had a chance…” Your brain must be short circuiting, because no way in hell Drew Starkey just said the feelings are mutual.

“Oh,” is all you can manage.

“Oh? That’s it?” he smiles, intertwining your fingers. 

“I’m honestly so surprised right now, I don’t know what to say.” 

“Say you don’t think I’m a weirdo.”

“I don’t think you’re a weirdo,” you shake your head. 

“Say you’ll go out with me?” his pitch rises with uncertainty, looking nervous for your response. 

“I will definitely go out with you.” Relief floods his features and he tugs you closer, pulling your legs on top of his. 

“That was terrifying,” he says, massaging your calf. 

“I still cannot believe this is happening right now,” you tell him honestly. 

He smirks, leaning in close. “Believe it, baby.” Your heart skips a beat, mind going blank momentarily. 

“I think I owe Mads a thank you,” you giggle. 

“Fuck that, I’m sending her a damn gift basket.” 

“You’re so right, she’s getting an album dedication from me,” you joke, causing Drew to poke you in the ribs. 

“Hey, no fair. She’s going to like that so much more!” he whines. You can already see yourself falling head over heels in love with this man, and that scares you more than anything. 

“Don’t hate the player, hate the game,” you hold your hands up in defense while Drew rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever, let’s just watch another movie.” 

“Sounds like a plan!” you hear from behind the couch. The two of you immediately jump, scared out of your minds, until you realize it’s just Madelyn creeping in the hallway. 

“What the fuck?!” Drew yells, clutching his heart dramatically. 

“You were supposed to be asleep!” You cross your arms, glaring at your blonde counterpart. She sucks her teeth and shrugs, walking over and plopping down on the couch.

“What can I say, somebody had to get you two together.” You share a look with Drew, both of you simultaneously not surprised, but exasperated by her little games. 

“You’re insane,” Drew tells her, taking his spot back on the couch and throwing a pillow at her head.

“It worked didn’t it?” 

Yeah. You thought. It really did. 

[shoopsthereitis]

that's just how it goes

jegulus | messy exes | 2k | nsfw | sprinkle of cheating |

Regulus knew this was a bad idea. There was no reason for James to come back to his flat tonight, and yet here he is. The darkness of his bedroom cocooning them, as though the rest of the world doesn't matter, doesn’t exist. Like ivy has grown around them keeping them trapped here in this moment and they can pretend all their problems are imaginary.

“Regulus,” James whispers against his neck, for no other reason than just to taste his name, he’s sure. The smell of alcohol on his breath lingering still, surely still on Regulus’ breath too. 

The funny thing is that Regulus didn’t even want to go out tonight. But Lily dragged him anyway. Promises of you’ll have fun, it’s been so long, Pandora and I miss you. And it’s true, Regulus hasn’t seen them much since starting his graduate program. But his studies come first, they’ll always come first. So when he showed up at the pub, he realized how much he missed everyone. Barty and Evan were practically hanging off of him, like they tend to do, Pandora and Lily were smiling, so Regulus let himself indulge. He probably should have said no to the third drink, but he was having so much fun. It had been so long since he had fun.

Then the night took a turn. Regulus went to the bar to grab a glass of water, attempting to offset the sharp buzz in his mind, and when he turned around, the breath was knocked from him completely.

James. 

They hadn’t seen each other in nearly a year, not since James moved three hours away, but Regulus hadn’t gone a single day without thinking of him. Two years of a relationship don’t easily fade away, especially when the only thing that tore them apart was circumstance. Well, not the only thing, Regulus admits. Toward the end, they both said things, hurtful things, that left scars harder to heal than distance ever could.

Looking across the bar at James was like looking at his own mangled heart outside of his chest. His ribs split open and echoing the empty space where it used to be, the bloody mess of it James still holding in his hands, and probably always will.

And when James caught his gaze and gave him a small smile, it felt as though a flower bloomed suddenly, fragile and beautiful, amidst the wreckage of his caved-in chest.

Like magnets, they were drawn to each other. Fumbling through awkward hellos and how are yous, slipping quickly into familiar touches, soft glances, and palpable tension that hummed between them.

Deciding to go home together was easy—almost as if it wasn’t even a question between them. Regulus should have anticipated the reactions from his friends: murmurs of it’s not a good idea, this never turns out well for you, and are you sure? But of course, Regulus was sure, because it was James. He would always be sure of James, no matter how much they’d hurt each other, or how much they likely will again. What was once beautiful between them had twisted into something painful, love now tangled with hurt, binding them both together in a way that made them willing to face that pain all over again whenever the opportunity arose. 

The ride back to Regulus’ was quiet. A hand on the thigh, a cheek rested on a shoulder, lips pressed to a temple.

“You want this?” James had asked.

“Always,” Regulus answered. 

It’s a sigh of relief when they both slide into Regulus’ bed, his back against James’ chest. It’s a delicate dance they both know well, careful not to push things too far. The way their bodies slot together like the last missing pieces of a puzzle you thought were lost and finally found after months only makes it worse. James’ hand splayed across the expanse of Regulus’ stomach, finger lightly flicking his navel piercing, skin touching skin everywhere they can. 

“I miss you,” James says, lips grazing so lightly along Regulus’ neck, a ghost of a feeling.

 He cranes it to give James better access against his better judgement. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”

“I’m just telling the truth.”

James pulls Regulus’ body closer, as though they could fuse together, and Regulus lets him. James could flay him open and take him apart completely, muscle by muscle, bone by bone, and Regulus would be okay with it. 

“James, we shouldn’t,” Regulus says unconvincingly to even himself.

“You keep saying that word,” James whines.

“What?”

“Shouldn’t.”

“It’s true,” Regulus admits, even though it feels like a lie in his mouth.

“Do you want me to stop? Just say the word Reg, and I’ll stop, you know I will.” And Regulus knows it’s true. One word and this would end, James would roll over, and maybe only their shoulders would touch and neither of them would sleep. Instead they’d lie there awake silently, not saying any of the things going through their minds. “Tell me, do you want me to stop?” James asks again.

“No–no I don’t want you to stop.” It’s a whisper, a hint of desperation in his tone.

So James doesn’t. His hands once again pulling Regulus against him, fingers squeezing his waist as a low noise rumbles in the back of his throat, vibrating against Regulus’ too hot skin.

“James.” This time it’s Regulus, saying his name just because he likes how it tastes in his mouth.

“Please.” He noses along Regulus neck again, lips pressing to that spot behind his ear that always drove the both of them crazy. 

It’s that word—that soft, desperate plea—that fractures Regulus. Shifting his hips back, their bodies grinding together like they can’t help it, it feels inevitable, as if everything leading up to this was destined the moment their eyes met across the bar. James presses a kiss to his neck, slow and deliberate now, but neither of them makes a move to turn their bodies, to face each other and the truth of what’s happening. A part of Regulus knows they both understand that if they do, this fragile moment will shatter. They won’t be able to stop, not once they acknowledge everything between them. He can’t bear to look into James’ hazel eyes—the eyes that have always seen him more clearly than anyone ever could. Eyes that read him like an old, well-worn book, every word etched into James’ memory.

Regulus’ eyes slip shut, falling into the sensations of his body. James’ skin, the calluses on his hands as they roam up and down his sides, soft lips that he’s missed sucking bruises into his neck, sending him to a place he hasn’t been able to reach since he and James broke up.

At some point, they lose the small shreds of clothing either of them were wearing, their bare bodies flush. One of Regulus’ hands has reached behind him, tugging at the strands of James’ wild hair, pulling small gasps and quiet moans from him, the sounds bringing goosebumps to Regulus’ skin. James is hard against his back, and all Regulus wants is to feel James inside him, but he knows they shouldn’t. If he does, if they do, Regulus will be back at square one, grieving the relationship between them, grieving the lost friendship between them. And that might have been more painful than any of it. When trust is already difficult, losing one of the few people that you’ve given it to is world shattering.

James must feel the same way, and when his cock slips between Regulus’ thighs, he welcomes it. Squeezing his legs around it when it slides back and forth. The metal of James’ piercing, the single bar on the underside of his shaft, rubs against his legs and Regulus moans loud and filthy.

“Fuck, James, I missed you. I miss you,” Regulus babbles. 

James’ hips keep rolling forward, his hand tightly gripped to Regulus’ hips, and Regulus hopes it leaves a mark. Something to remind him this was real, this happened. James was here, and his again if only for a minute. 

“I’m sorry, Reg. I–shit–”

“Don’t, not now. Don’t ruin it.”

Regulus feels the subtle nod of James’ head as his teeth nip his ear. Whimpers falling past his lips and worming their way into Regulus’ eardrum and deep into his bones.

“Touch yourself, love. Please, for me?”

Again, Regulus doesn’t stand a chance when James says please. So his free hand moves to fist around his cock, achingly hard and leaking against his stomach. Regulus times his own strokes with James’ thrusts between his thighs, and for a moment, he can almost convince himself they’re back a year ago. Before everything changed, when things were easy, when they were happy. 

But beneath the surface, there’s a heaviness, a quiet sadness between them that hangs in the air, persistent and unspoken. It lingers like tangled vines, creeping up the walls of an old building, vines you tear away, only for them to grow back, stronger each time, no matter how hard you try to rid yourself of them. 

Too much has happened, and things will never go back to how they were. 

But for now, they have this—this fleeting moment. And right now they can make each other feel good, even if it’s laced with pain. Like a bruise that’s healing, the kind that stings when you touch it, but in a strange way, the pain feels almost soothing, a reminder that something broken can still feel alive.

Both of their movements grow faster, more erratic. Whines mingle in the air and Regulus isn’t sure who they belong to. Whispers of please, more, faster, I still love you. 

James’ hand leaves Regulus’ hip, and for a second he mourns the loss of his touch, until there’s a pressure around his throat. A familiar touch that brings Regulus to the edge instantly. James squeezes under his jaw, tongue licking along his neck, rumbling vibrations against his back as James chases his own release. 

Heat builds low in Regulus’ core. Heat in his core and pain in his chest as his hips shift back and closer to James. Both of them lost in the moment, lost in each other. 

It’s not surprising, when they come together, streaks of white spilling onto the bed. Another tangible example that this was real, that it happened, that James is here. 

James is here.

Here.

And fuck, Regulus misses him so much.

Bodies twitching, coming down from their orgasms, reality shifts back into focus. James is pressing soft kisses along all the marks he left on Regulus’ neck, and now that it’s over, Regulus lets himself turn over, desperate to feel James’ arms wrapped around him, to bury his nose in James’ neck. Just one more time.

The warmth of James' body surrounds him, the musky scent flooding his senses. It burns in his lungs, like the relief of releasing the last breath while drowning, his body screaming not to breathe, even as every part of him aches for the air, the desperate, painful release that comes with it.

James mumbles something into his hair, something Regulus doesn’t quite catch.

“What?” Regulus asks into his chest. 

“It’s fine. It doesn’t count. We didn’t really—”

Regulus shifts back, blood turning to ice as he meets James’ eyes. “What the fuck do you mean?”

“I—we didn’t really—did we? It doesn’t count.”

Reality comes back to Regulus. The truth between them that at this point, all they can really do is hurt each other. “Why don’t you want it to count, James?”

James bites his lip, words stammer out of him. “I–I’m seeing someone.” The words come out broken.

Oh.

There it is.

The pain that always lingers between them. Regulus is silent for a long time. 

Ultimately, he knew this was a bad idea. Lily told him, Barty told him, everyone did. He knew it was going to hurt. 

But then again, Regulus has always been a bit of a masochist.

“Okay, It doesn’t count,” he whispers as he nuzzles back into James’ chest. Fingers threading through his curls and lulling him to sleep.

The last thing Regulus hears before falling asleep is a quiet, muttered, I’m sorry.

He doesn’t have it in him to say anything back. So he drifts to sleep.

It’s unsurprising, and probably for the best, when Regulus wakes up alone.

That’s just how it goes.

[marlodramatic]

pick me! pick me!

I literally became a fan like a week ago and I have some insane insight still fresh in my mind. I will disclose: I knew sorta about them. I am younger than them but don't remember anyone directly speaking about them in my presence. I heard their names mid 10s but not sure related to what, and I remember Tumblr exploding when they came out, but again, none of my mutuals in my previous blogs were phans. I again heard about them when they came back from hiatus in the form of trending topics on this site.

Now, I think anyone who boils down DNP's popularity to "are they or aren't they?" (including baby boy Danny) are oversimplifying it, and it's horrendously self-deprecating of Dan, which, mood.

With my limited knowledge of them, the above points of awareness in my small corner of the world were more the introverted weirdos happy to have serotonin. Games, banter, comfort.

My many blogs across this site and my subscriptions on yt were like anime (hello, sailor moon revival blog) and I was cosplaying as a (secretly) bisexual christian good girl who didn't even know what trans or cis was. So I did see a few very rare strays of assumptions which were always clapped into silence by people asking for respect.

When they came out, I didn't see anyone ship in my newer, more closeted blogs. Instead, again, an outpouring of love and support and applause for the videos. (I think at that point I just assumed they were married and had a strong fanbase atp)

When they came back and blew this shit up again, I only ever saw happy humans. Again, games, some bunch of shit I didn't recognize then but now realize was the weird ass alien language???, and just overall chaotic disbelief that they came back. (And bets whether 1D were next.)

I did see a few more theories then that they might be romantic but not the creepy, mouth foaming insane and perverted assumptions about them. These things fizzled away under the countdown. (Ig to the next video? Idk, weird time for me irl)

My impression from the very far outside has been they're weirdo gamers on yt with their niche super fanbase.

In fact the many people, besides my Cynical Friend, I've spoken to irl have the understanding that Dan and Phil are just a comedic pair of gamers.

That was why when I was having an almost 24hr panic attack after literally fleeing my whole life, I tried them out. Anyone even scrolling through my posts in the tags has seen me fall for them. My anxiety is much better, my mind is on them instead of Death™️ snd I've laughed so hard I almost had an accident at 32.

It really is so easy to believe and fed the negative assumptions about ourselves. Dan has inspired and helped MILLIONS. Dan has done publicly what some of us cannot think privately. Phil has probably saved more lives than he can imagine. Phil probably couldn't understand his mere existence is comforting, with his breezy attitude and smile. It's not a fatal flaw to fail to see how others perceive us, but it is a tragedy that the viewpoint we focus on is negative.

When I spoke to my Cynical Friend, she went off about shippers. She always does. And three years after learning about real people ships, I've never been able to put into words that I'm not spying or prying or obsessed with these perfect matches.

I couldn't explain why I found Ryan Bergara looking at Shane Madej in the early years spark some vague recognition, or why when I found out about the Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson ship I literally LITERALLY almost died. But after watching Dan and Phil, I knew exactly why some people might comb over thousands of moments with a fine tooth comb or play videos at .75 or read interviews in magazines they'f never even heard of. The answer fell off my lips and after, I understood, "I just want to see gay people happy." And it wasn't "gay people in love."

It is so easy to simplify and explain away your success and accomplishments with dribble. It's easy to overlook someone else's feelings because of your own. It's not easy being known, it's not easy being overstimulated with the same damn shit, but it's your responisibility to improve the way you think.

So on the off chance Dan or Phil see this, you're looking at a very loud section of the Phandom. To the majority of us, we tune in, rewatch because we like the content you show us.

Source: youtube comments, phans who have talked to me, people blogging in tags, phanart, the far and old reaches of the community they have built.

Ok I’ve just had a truely eye opening conversation, I was talking to a non dan and Phil fan friend of mine and she casually said “oh well people only really watched them because it was like the mystery of whether they were together or not”

and then I remembered the line in Dan’s diss track where he says “the only reason you get views is because you’re another white guy that people ship with his friend because they think it’s kawaii” and now I’m thinking, is this true?

like I personally would watch them no matter what, like even if they both had secret other spouses, it makes me sad though that the general public and maybe even dan and Phil themselves could think that the only reason they’re entertaining is because their relationship is ambiguous, I think they’re genuinely very smart and incredible entertainers and they should be proud of that

[hrizantemy]

Tbh, it‘s not just the problems that come down later like when Nyx loses both of his parents because of the damn bargain…

The very thought of sharing everything, and I really mean LITERALLY EVERYTHING with someone disturbs me. Feyre doesn’t have anything that used to belong to just to her anymore. Her soul, her time, her entire future and now her death is shared with Rhys. Even her past can’t be her own if Rhys is free to go into her head and look at her past memories.

This would make me feel.. suffocating. I would need some time to breath, which means time away from him for a long time. I would think of bringing Nesta and Elain (pre acosf) to the continent (and the other courts too) and we would deal with our shit there without anyone interfering and I‘m sure that would‘ve helped our relationship, especially for Nesta, far more than when the Inner circle keeps interfering. Mating bond is closed, mental shield is up. We‘d be gone until we‘re all 3 healed, relationship stronger than ever and I have plan for my future. The very thought of my entire existence depending on someone else is scaring me.

I‘d rather much grieve my loved ones than literally die with them. Feyre can’t do shit anymore without making sure that Rhys is safe, literally.

And sure, you could say that Rhys also has nothing of his own anymore, but Rhys has already lived for centuries, of course he‘d then choose a simple life. Feyre is only in her 20 and she barely had a good childhood. That girl needs time away from him to get a clear mind.

In the words of Sexyy Red: “Fuck Feyre’s baby dad.”

Now, let’s get into it.

The way the series presents Feyre and Rhysand’s relationship as the ultimate ideal—this all-consuming, soul-deep connection—ends up feeling less like love and more like a loss of identity. Love should enhance who you are, not erase it. But Feyre’s story becomes increasingly about how she exists in relation to Rhys rather than as her own person. The moment the mating bond snaps into place, everything about her life, choices, and even her death revolves around him.

And it’s not just about the literal aspects of their bond, like the bargain tying their deaths together. It’s the psychological weight of it all. Feyre doesn’t have space to process her trauma alone. She doesn’t get a break from Rhys being inside her head, her memories, her emotions. There’s no room for independence because even when she thinks she’s making her own decisions, they always circle back to Rhys. And since Rhys has positioned himself as the person who “saved” her from Tamlin, there’s a deeply uncomfortable undertone of permanent indebtedness.

The scariest part is that she never even considers walking away—not because she doesn’t want to, but because the narrative doesn’t let her. She’s never given the time or space to even question whether this dynamic is healthy for her. And she should have had that chance. Feyre was thrown into a life-changing bond at an age where she barely had a chance to live. The girl spent her entire human life in survival mode, then her Fae life immediately became about either escaping Tamlin, fighting wars, or being Rhys’s equal in power. Where was the room to discover herself?

Your idea of Feyre, Nesta, and Elain leaving to the Continent is brilliant because it forces them to exist outside of the people who have defined them for so long. Imagine what could have happened if they had the chance to just be—to build something for themselves away from the expectations of the Night Court. Nesta especially needed to be removed from the suffocating pressure of the Inner Circle’s forced interventions, and Feyre desperately needed to see herself outside of the “High Lady” identity that Rhys pushed on her. They wouldn’t be coddled or controlled. They’d be able to make mistakes, explore who they are without judgment, and heal on their own terms.

But instead, Feyre is locked into a fate where she can’t even breathe without Rhys being a part of it. The more you think about it, the more terrifying it is. It’s one thing to love someone deeply, but it’s another to lose yourself in them entirely. Feyre never gets the choice to be her own person anymore—her past, present, and future are all dictated by her mate bond, her duties, and her role as Rhysand’s other half. And the worst part? The story presents this as romantic.

It’s not romantic. It’s suffocating. Feyre deserved the choice to live for herself.

[thedissonantverses]

Am a non-binary person who identifies frequently as Transgender. It was my understanding as of what is now probably old information from 2015-2018 era, that transgender is the absolute umbrella term for everyone outside of the gender normative (queer being above that one, being an umbrella term for everyone outside of the normative period).

When Taash says they are not trans, I suspect they meant trans in the specific context as it applied to Mae (who was AMAB trans female), as it was Mae who Taash spoke to.

For anyone curious in the order of umbrella terms as I understood them:

Queer < Transgender < Non-Binary (yes this is also an umbrella term) < specific gender identity

And there might even be more steps between. Feel free to correct me though, as I am of the older queer crowd and likely running on outdated definitions (but wiki seems to support... doesn't mean it's right at this current time)

Hahaha no worries! I’m glad people feel they can talk about this stuff with me. I want to be a safe person for the community and I’m glad y’all feel comfortable enough to chat with me about it!!

I think where this gets people is not every non-binary person considers themselves trans! And there has been push back at least in my circles because trans to some means they’re “supposed” to transition at some point. But not every non-binary person feels that way and many aren’t comfortable with the implication they need to fit somewhere on the gender binary. But like you said a lot of non-binary people are perfectly fine with being seen as trans.

And because it’s so new in English to even be acknowledging trans people exist I think people sometimes get lost in the weeds on the semantics. Because I think your interpretation of Taash is correct they’re not trans in that they don’t seem to have any interest in transitioning to another gender. Non-binary seems to suit them just fine. But as a broader label trans works if we’re saying something along the lines of “Taash is a member of the trans community.” If that makes sense.

This is one reason I caution people against getting too invested in labels! When we start getting super concrete it can come across as gatekeeping especially when talking to other queer communities from different regions. We start policing each other when really it’s meant to increase understanding between us. The language around this is changing all of the time as our understanding and the science does as well. On top of English isn’t really good for capturing all the nuances of gender as it is.(I don’t think that’s what you’re doing anon! It’s just where the seams in the community start to show)

https://www.rainbow-project.org/what-we-do-mean-by-trans-or-non-binary/

Again I am far from the last word on the subject and if others have more thoughts I welcome them! This is also a subject that varies quite a bit region to region and culture to culture and it’s why we want to encourage more trans and non-binary rep across the board. But also I want to encourage other non-westerners to voice their opinions too! Third genders are quite varied and it’s a subject with a lot of history tied up in it that’s broader than I want to put into a tumblr post at the moment haha.

[phoenixblaze1412]

if I may request this, do you know ‘a quite place’? So imagine dottore doing something then getting into our world filled with super-hearing monsters. I feel like he would try to experiment on them, while we hold him back. It was a funny thought I had in school.

The wind howled outside, sending a cold shiver through the cabin you’d taken refuge in. You glanced nervously at the front door, where the eerie silence of the world beyond stretched out like an ominous void. The creatures that roamed the earth, monsters with supersonic hearing, had made normal life impossible. There was no room for mistakes. Every sound, every step, every breath had to be carefully calculated.

But your world had just become even stranger.

You hadn’t been able to explain it at first, the strange rift in the air, the crackling hum that seemed to vibrate through the ground. One moment, you were picking up supplies for the house, and the next, a figure appeared in the middle of the yard—an absurdly tall man dressed in a mix of elaborate, scientific attire. You froze, staring at him, unsure if your mind was playing tricks.

He seemed just as confused as you, adjusting the strange mask on his face, his crimson eyes scanning the surroundings.

“What in the world is this place?” he muttered to himself, his voice muffled but still audible, given the lack of any immediate threat.

You immediately shushed him, gesturing for silence. "You... have to be quiet!"

The man raised an eyebrow, clearly not understanding. "What is this nonsense? Silence? I can speak when I want."

"No, you can't," you whispered urgently, pointing toward the forest, where the sound of leaves rustling might very well be their death sentence. "There are creatures out there—monsters that hear everything. If we make any noise, they’ll come."

The man’s gaze narrowed in confusion, but then, as if he’d just realized the gravity of the situation, he looked around again. His eyes widened with fascination. “Fascinating. So, complete silence is key? How does one survive under such circumstances?”

“By not making any noise, obviously,” you grumbled, not sure whether to be more worried about him or the creatures outside.

He ignored your advice, taking a slow step toward the window, and immediately knocking over a pile of old cans from the shelf. You froze in horror as the sound echoed through the room.

“I’m sorry—” he started, but you quickly grabbed his arm and yanked him back.

“Shh! Do you want to get us killed?”

The man blinked at you, bewildered. “You’re awfully handsy for someone so concerned about silence.”

“Not the time,” you hissed through gritted teeth, pressing a finger to your lips.

“I see.” He nodded, clearly intrigued by your seriousness but still unaware of the weight of the situation. “Tell me, how do these creatures respond to sound? What exactly are they capable of?”

Despite the rising danger, you couldn’t help but exhale in frustration. “Okay, fine. They can hear everything. And they’re fast. And they’re lethal. That’s all you need to know.”

He scratched his chin, then, as if you hadn’t spoken at all, began to pace the room, his boots scraping against the floor. “Lethal, you say? Fascinating… Perhaps I could analyze them—experiment, really. I could learn so much from them. The auditory mechanisms of such creatures must be truly extraordinary.”

Your eyes widened. “Wait—did you just say experiment?”

He stopped pacing, turning to you with a wicked gleam in his eyes. “Yes, of course. Why not study them? I could learn their hearing capacities, study their anatomy—oh, this is truly an amazing opportunity.”

“No! We need to stay silent, not provoke them!”

But Dottore—because, after a few minutes of your own investigation, you learned he was Dottore, an exiled genius from another world—was already deep in his own thoughts, working out plans in his mind as though the quiet world didn’t exist.

He fiddled with a strange device that had appeared out of nowhere from his coat and began muttering to himself. “If I amplify the sound, I can measure the response rate of the creatures… Yes, yes, it will be perfect. Just need a test subject.”

You grabbed his arm again, this time with desperation. “No. You’re not using any experiments on them! We’ll all get killed. You’ll get us killed!”

Dottore turned to you, his crimson eyes twinkling with excitement, and then smiled a little too widely. “If I’m not allowed to experiment, then what exactly should we do with ourselves?”

“Stay quiet!” you shouted, panic creeping into your voice. “They’ll come if we’re not careful!”

Just as you spoke, the sound of a twig snapping from outside made your blood run cold. You motioned desperately for Dottore to follow you as you both crouched down beneath a window.

The monsters were near.

You waited, holding your breath, hoping the creatures hadn’t heard. Then you glanced over at Dottore, whose face was still lit with the fever of curiosity. He couldn’t help himself. Despite everything, he leaned closer to you, his voice barely above a whisper. “You do realize that keeping quiet is counterproductive to true scientific progress.”

You shot him a look that could kill. “I’ll give you scientific progress when I’m dragging you away from the monsters’ claws.”

But Dottore, ever the curious one, was having none of it. He stood, his foot scraping the floor slightly, but he didn’t notice. You quickly pulled him back down, but it was too late. A guttural screech filled the air.

The creature had heard it.

"Run!" you shouted, grabbing Dottore’s arm and pulling him toward the door. “Now!”

You both burst out into the forest, staying low as you sprinted through the trees, Dottore awkwardly stumbling behind you. He wasn’t used to running silently, his boots making an unfortunate noise as he tried to catch up. “You really need to teach me how to move stealthily,” he huffed, trying to match your pace.

“You think now is the time to learn that?” you shot back, darting between the trees.

The creature’s screeches grew louder. You could hear it coming closer, but the dense woods seemed to give you both a slight edge. You grabbed Dottore’s hand and yanked him to a hidden hollow in the trees, both of you huddling together in silence.

For a moment, the air was still, the screeching monster’s noises fading into the distance. You exhaled shakily, wiping the sweat from your brow.

Dottore, however, was still full of energy. “That was invigorating! I must admit, your world has a certain charm. It’s dangerous, yes, but the potential for experimentation is…” He trailed off, clearly distracted.

You gave him a sideways glance, still panting. “Did you just enjoy running from a monster?”

Dottore smiled sheepishly, but there was a sparkle in his eyes. “Perhaps a little. But I think I would enjoy this partnership even more, if you—”

You cut him off with a finger to his lips. “Don’t even think about experimenting on them. Or I’ll leave you behind next time.”

For a moment, the two of you locked eyes, an unspoken agreement forming between you.

Despite the tension, despite the danger, you found yourself smiling. The world around you may have been full of silent monsters, but there was one thing you could both hear clearly— a growing connection.

Dottore’s lips curled into a teasing smile. “Deal, then. But only for now. You know, silence is a most intriguing concept. I’ll have to learn more about it later.”

You rolled your eyes, but deep down, you knew this ridiculous, dangerous adventure was only just beginning.

[jackass-jones]

Really into the episode of Ouran where this girl confesses her love to Mori but he doesn’t feel the same because he’s into Honey and the girl’s reaction is just like YIPPEE I LOVE YAOI THATS SO COOL FOR YOU YAY 🥰

[abimee]

ruyan is literally so beautiful that i get ill looking at her

[milfgwen]

as someone who isnt like. huge on d3stiel. i will say it is interesting going through and seeing all the 'big d3stiel' moments in context and some of them are very 'yeah, i get that' and othes are '...you have to purposely take this extremely far out of context and then spin it around in a circle to interpret it the way you did'

[featherymainffins]

I'll be real when I started a book club as a part of our university's queer club I wasn't expecting literally everyone there to be interested pretty much exclusively in lighthearted romance books, ie the exact genre that makes me want to climb onto a pyre and call myself Jeanne d'Arc.

[superstargaycare]

HES SO FUCKING RIGHT.

He’s so right on every single point he’s making. I’m completely new to this fandom, but I’ve been watching this show for years. And from what I’ve seen on here, he’s spitting on every single point he’s making.

Apparently nobody can do no wrong in these shows, unless you’re a women

This is an issue in every single fandom, but it’s SO prevalent here. I’m sorry to the VAs that have to deal with the brunt of people’s misogyny. Earth is one of my favorite characters. I was skeptical when they first introduced her, but they’ve crafted such a compelling and emotional story arc with her. Kat and everyone else on the team is doing an amazing job.

We don’t owe you good writing

There’s a little part in me that self-indulgently wishes they’d stayed doing those badly rendered 3D model thumbnails. Because at least then people knew what they were getting into. This show will NEVER be a well-written masterpiece. It’s well written at moments, for sure. Honestly, most of it is well written.

Not just “well written considering their resources” or “well written for a forever series”. No, just full stop, this show is good. But people desperately need to remember that this is five nights at freddy’s roleplay. This is a story told through fnaf vrchat. There is genuinely no need in the world to take it so seriously.

I know the bad writing moments can be disappointing (nexus fan over here). But that’s how the cookie crumbles sometimes. There are still real people behind this series, so please just try to be more considerate of what y’all put out there.

Hey guys please watch this clip created by JustALilKid taken from Davis' stream.

This community has gone so downhill one of the main, iconic and good people, Kat, is considering quiting.

All because we're greedy pieces of shits.

We gotta get our shit together friends, this is not fucking okay. Why do the VAs and ordinary people in the fandom keep having to deal with this crap?

Why can't people just keep hate to themselves?

What pleasure do they get out of saying in the public:

"Oh this is absolute garbage blah blah".

I'm sorry once again for opening my mouth, I don't know if anyone else will make a post about this. I have to thank my friend @sili-redwing for pointing this out on a group chat we have.

[grugruel]

Can you do that for me?

Pairings: ruined!Jayce x f!reader

NSFW/MDNI

Masterlist

Summary: Formerly partners, you've started a new business in Zaun after Jayce's disappearance. One day, after hearing whispers of Victor's apparent evolution, Jayce shows up unannounced.

Wordcount: 4.2 k

Warnings: Some canon stuff (beware spoilers), pinv sex, angst, fluff, fingering, slight handjob, choking, biting, creampie, doggy, missionary, cowgirl (a lot of positions), sub/dom/switch!Jayce, power struggle, fight for dominance, praise (f and m recieving), spanking, overstimulation, "I love you", difficult feelings, hot depraved Jayce.

AN: Not proofread, I intend to make a few changes to it later but wanted to get it out. Might be spelling mistakes. I tried to fit a bit of everything into this. ENJOY GIRLIES🎀

Having pulled the curtains aside, a vigilant man inspects the dark streets below. "He's almost here, ma'am," the man says, eyes following the subject. There's a slight stiffnes to his stance, as if he's readying himself for a fight. "What do you want us to do?"

"Let him in," she smiles at him faintly, attempting to reassure the large man before returning to her paperwork. "Dont give him trouble, there's nothing to fear."

The guard nods slowly and crosses the room to leave, he knows she's right. Yet, he stays in the doorway, shoulders slumped and arms crossed.

Warm light creeps in through the entryway, contrasting the faint light that Zauns streetlights provide for her otherwise gloomy office.

Noticing how the strong wash of light remains, she looks up at her guard to find another question lingering on his lips. "I've know you long enough to tell when something ails you." She leans back in her chair.

He catches her gaze reluctantly, facing away before he speaks. The man clears his throat, he knows he's crossing a line. "He's trouble, if you ask me. The boys and I-"

The woman pulls her glasses of and sighs, done with her work for the evening. "Im a big girl, I can handle myself."

The guard leans against the doorway and shrugs in reluctant recognition. "We're worried for you, ma'am-" but catching himself on his words, his hands gesture to remedy his meaning. "Respectfully, of course," he ads quickly, aversed to insult his employer.

The woman stands slowly, walking around her crammed desk to casually prop herself next to him. "I know," she reassures, placing a soft hand on his chest. "But I'll be fine, send him in."

The large man huffs. "We'll be outside then," he begins, but as the next words begin to form on his tongue, he decides against it, solely out of trust for his employer. If he could, he would've added 'when you need us'.

She doesnt doubt it, nor does she take offence. They're a tight knit family down here, she cares for them as much as they do her. But this would be an interaction no family member should hear. "That won't be necessary, keep to the foyer . . . Now go," she hurries him, careful to keep an understanding smile on her lips lest he changes his mind.

With a heavy breath and one last glance, the guard reluctantly closes the door and heavy footsteps recede.

She sighs, moving to brace her hands against the desktop and preparing herself for whats to come, for what she suspects.

She lights the lantern on her desk and waits. Only a moment later the same warm light creeps into the room. She twitches, unprepared for his arrival inspite of her efforts as the squeaking door slices through the eerily silent space.

In her peripheral, a fallen man stands. He's tired and dirty. Cut up and run down. There's a moment of contemplation between her and the newcomer, she does not move and neither does he. It's been a long time.

Squeak, thump, click . . . Pause. He's locked the door. A heavy thud between metal and wood sounds next, there's a faint sound of coarse skin sliding along fine metal before the familiar vibrations of hextech dies out.

All that exists between them now is heavy breathing in two parts, laboring against their own minds and bodies.

The floorboards begin to creek, irregularly, as if the weight placed upon them has not yet decided it's course of action. She grips the desktop harder, fingernails burrying into fine wood. She can only guess why he has come. "It's Viktor, isn't it?" She breathes, trying hard to keep her voice steady.

She gets no response, the only answer she recieves is the creeking of floorboards as the uncertain weight shifts back and forth. But that is all the answer she needs.

Having seamingly made up his mind, determined footsteps approach her in a sudden haste. Srong arms wrap around her body, pulling her toward a hard chest in a tight, tight embrace. His head collides with her shoulderblade as he burries his face in her scent. Muffled by her body, strained breaths blow welcome warmth onto her skin.

"What's happened?" She whispers, not entirely sure she wants the answer for she can smell him now. Metal and gunpowder. But it's not the type raw metal used for smithing or creating, it's not the metal she's used to. No, this is pungent, corporeal. It's blood. "Jayce, please . . . " She begins, 'talk to me' her lips shape, but no sound comes out. Unable to muster the strength.

"Cant- I cant . . . talk about it. Not now, not yet," he manages, voice rough as if he has fought and damp breath raising goosebumps on her neck. "I just . . . Needed you. I need you."

A strong hand slides higher, knuckles intently brushing the underside of her breast. "Can't think anymore."

And inspite of her better judgement. "Ok," she agrees, whispering, as if her consience wouldnt be able to hear. She's missed him, worried for him. So, her body betrays her.

Laying her hand on top of his, she guides him over the hill of her breast.

His breath hitches while his other hand move downward, tracing her ribs, down her waist, stopping on her thigh and squeezing tenderly. Soft flesh dimpling beneath the force of strong fingers. "I've been lost, " his voice breaks. "Missed you." His hands slide further down to slither under the slit in her dress.

"No feelings right now, Jayce . . . Please, just-"

Two fingers slip inside of her and she gasps. "No feelings," he assures, placing a gentle kiss on her neck.

"Good, good . . . " she moans.

While massaging her breast his thumb finds her clit and tongue her neck, gently nipping and sucking on the crook of her neck. Her body grows to weak to hold itself upright so she puts her weight on her arms. Noticing, he holds her tighter and pushes her weight against the desk. "Already?" He whispers, dragging his teeth along the shell of her ear as his fingers steadily thrusts in and out of her. "You're making it too easy for me."

A breathless chuckle leaves her, crammed between heavy groans. "You work with your hands . . . Mmmh, unfair advantage."

He bites her earlobe, tugging, teasing. "So do you, if I remember correctly." A grin twists her lips as her hand reaches between them and palms his enlarged bulge. He hisses as she begins to stroke it, heat immedietly surfacing as the friction between fabric and skin grows. "Mhhg, that's what I thought," he groans. "Good girl."

He pushes a third finger inside off her, curling them at just the right angle.

"Fuck!" Her free hand curls into a fist, joints having nothing better to do than occupy themselves in anyway they can. He puts more focus on her clit, rubbing dutyful circles into and and finally pushes her over the edge. "Mhh, shit-"

His fingers slow down as she hits her high, gently leading her through it as he supports her weight. "Just breathe, that's right . . . "

Her breathing has become a mixture of moans and wheezes, the pleasure stimulating every nerve in her body. "Did you . . . ?" She asks, suddenly remember her hand on his clothed member.

"No," he whispers and kisses her temple. "Theres time." He tries to turn her around. But fear grips her. "No-" she stops him, gripping the edge of the desk to keep herself in place. Seeing the changes up close would make them real, would make whatever he has come from, real. "I can't look at you . . . not yet." She reaches over her shoulder to cup his jaw, and just like that, their bubble of reminiscence bursts. They arent colleagues anymore and havent been for a long time. Nor is their third party longer there to rationalise with them. A shrap jab strikes her heart. "Give me time, and just," her other hand reaches behind her, grabbing the fabric on his hip to pull him closer, pressing his erection against the curve of her ass. "Like this for now, Jayce. Please . . ."

His head lulls against her back, pushing his forehead firmly into her spine whilst releasing a big, shaky breath. She can feel him bare his teeth, silently working through the consequences of his actions.

He doesn't answer, he only obeys.

It goes silent for a short moment, until the warmth on her hips disappear and the metal clanging of a belt buckle sounds behind her.

Quickly, one hand returns to her thigh to pull her dress over her ass.

"Dont hold back," she says.

There's a pause in his movements. "Are you certain?"

She nods and he wastes no time. Pushing himself against her, his knees spread her legs efficiently, just liked they've practiced many times before. With no further warning, he sinks into her. One hand crossing over her waist as the other grabs her shoulder, then sets a ruthless pace.

Somehow she knows he needs to get this out of him, the pent of fury and need. But she doesnt complain, he always knew what he was doing.

The sound of slapping fills her office, while the lewd squelching from her previous orgasm further spurs them on. He bends over her, changing his grip. Fingers snaking around her throat as his knee and free hand work together to fish one of her legs onto the desk, hitting her deeper, harder. His thrusts are no longer about speed, but of that one special little spot.

He puts pressure on her throat, almost painstakingly so. But it feels heavenly and she wouldn't have it any other way.

With each rut, his members perfectly fills her. His face is next to hers and he kisses had bites around her neck and ear, making sure she knows how good he makes her fell by grunting and moaning right into her ear. It makes that pulsing in her core worse, and he seems to notice.

"Yeah, you like that?" He groans, kissing her soft skin right behind the ear.

"Mmmhmm," she hums, voice vibrating with the bumping of their bodies. Doing her best to keep silent, afraid that one of her guards suddenly decides to check up on her.

"Let me hear you, use your words," he breathes, flexing the fingers around her throat and biting her shoulder.

"Fuck-" her knuckles and nails take turns in destroying her desk, scratching and denting the expensive wood grain. "I like making you, mmh . . . feel good." She manages, words stuttering between thrusts.

He gently pulls on her ear with his teeth. "Good," he whispers, then releases her throat and places his hand on the back of her neck, pushing her against the desktop.

Slap. His hands comes down on her ass, then gripping the plump flesh hard to lessen some of the stinging. A jolt of electricity shoots through her and her insides clench arouns him.

Jayce whimpers from the sudden, godlike pleasure. "Wanna hear you, honey, don't be shy." His hand comes down again, harder this time.

She squeezes around him, nerves on fire as she feels her second climax building up inside her. She moans as tears run down her face, happy pleasurable tears only Jayce has been able to produce.

"That's it . . ." He slaps her ass a third time, and the wall inside her core crumbles. With a whimper, she comes. "You did so good, lovely, im almost there," he assures her. Tears stream down her face as his thrusts grow irregular, but continues to pleasure her body. "Fuck," she cries, squirming from the drawn out orgasm. One hand holds her steady at the hip while the other slides up her back, rubbing her tender body until he brushes away stray hair from her profile.

"Hold on a little longer, just breathe, baby," he comforts her, such a stark contrast to the rough thrusts he's been dealing her body. Her fingers are jittery from the overstimulation, they ached to touch him, pull his hair, anything. But she can not reach, so she presses her palms against the table to keep them occupied.

As he sees her tear streaked face, one last blow lands on her ass and he too, comes. He collapses on top of her, they attempt to regain their strength as their sweaty bodies lie flush against eachother.

After a few moments of breathing heavily together, Jayce wraps an arm around her torso and splays his hand over her rips, pulling her with him as he straightens out.

Taking a deep breath, she closes her eyes and turns around. Hands finding his face, guiding her lips to his.

"Please look at me, my beautiful girl. Look at me," he pleads, murmuring the words against her lips.

She opens her eyes and his breath hitches. Yellow, brown irises meet her won. They're the exact same ones she knew not too long ago. Except . . . Haunted.

His fingers brush along her cheek, jaw and down her throat. She winces at the soft touch and his brows furrow in confusion.

Capturing her chin, he tilts her head back.

"It's fine, I'm fine," she whispers, assuring him as she sees his expression. Pure shock animates them.

"I don't-" his fingers trace the red marks running around her throat and tears begin to form in the corners of his eyes. "Im so sorry." He falls to his knees, hands resting against her chins as he hides his face between them. "I don't know-" he chokes and kisses her legs with remorse. He pecks her delicately, trailing his lips over her knees and up her thighs, hands following behind, tracing the outside of her legs until they reach her waist and encircle her. He hugs her tightly, knees sore against the hard wood. "Im not right," he breathes, head lulling into her lap. She can feel wetness coating her skin, running between her thighs.

She exhales heavily and slides down the desk until the hard wooden floor welcomes her thighs.

They stay like this for a good long while, she's in no rush and neither is he. Over and over again, her fingers comb through his overgrown and unpreened hair while the sensation of his seed drips out of her. Sharp nails gently scratch at the nape of his neck, they trace his bonestructure and play with its halls and valleys. The back of her fingers caress the length of his nose and sharpness of his cheekbone.

All the while Jayce lays wordless, occasionally squeezing her thighs, her hips. Occasionally trailing featherlight touches along her legs, watching with wonder how goosebumps rise and fall.

She chuckles beneath her breath. It's the same expression he used to get when making progress in the lap, just like when they first cracked the hextech runes. "Jayce," she says, attempting to grab his attention.

Crouching beneath her, he looks up from her lap, chin resting on the softness of her flesh. His face glistens and eyes plead. He looks at her with fatigue, wordlessly asking for her forgiveness.

"What happened?" She asks, her voice soft but words demanding. She's not getting dersuled this time, she needs answers.

He shakes his head, reluctantly drawing his lips into a thin line as he breaks away from her gaze.

Her eyebrows twist together. "What have you done?" She asks, anger laces her tone now. But he closes his eyes, the corners of his eyes gleaming again. The fingers burried in his hair curl into a fist and she pulls his head back, forcing him look at her. "What. Have. You. Done?"

His eyes shift between hers, uncertain, unwilling. "He's gone . . . " He begins. "I had to, I had to–the hexcore, it was poisoning him, spreading like a disease." His voice is coarse. "I had to stop him, there was no other choice."

Her eyes grow. Viktor . . . Gone? She could only assume when Jayce suddenly pays her a visit, but never dared believe.

"I never ment to leave you," he says, hand reaching out to grab her waist. "You have to believe me." He rouches the fabric at the waist, white knuckling it out of desperation for an ounce of u derstanding. "Hextech isnt what we thought it was, not anymore. Viktor couldnt see it, he was infecting the undercity, it would've spread to Piltover, the rest of the world if I didn't stop him."

She shakes her head in disbelief. "But he was saving them, freeing them of shimmer."

"No . . . they weren't themselves anymore. I've been away, lost. I've seen–" She waits for him to continue, but he doesn't. "The hexcore mutates them, changes them. I had to stop him. It, the core."

Her eyes drift the Jayce's hammer posted by the door. "Like your hammer?" She studies the now misshapen weapon, once crafted with obsessive precision. Her eyes drift lower along the neck and over its face, blood splatter.

She looks away, closing her eyes to recollect herself. Remembering to strongly the smell of blood Jayce had arrived with.

"Yes," he says. "Like I did." His hand reaches up to loosely cup her face. She notices how the crystal from his old bracelet has fused with his skin. Her fingers run along his arm and slides along the crystal, feeling it, inspecting it. "I didn't chose this," he murmurs. "I didn't chose to leave you . . . I love you." His hand falls back to his side.

She's taken aback. Its not something they've said before, not while still partners, not before all of, this . . . But despite herself, she believes him. They were colleagues for a long time and affection had always kept them together. He wouldn't hurt Viktor without reason.

With hooded eyes and parted lips, he studies her, waiting for her judgement.

"You had to," she nods, seamingly decided.

Relief and disappointment floods his face all at once. He'd expected an 'I love you' back.

She leans in, kissing him for the first time since he disappeared. Finally reunited. "We'll get through this, ok?" her voice is uncertain, what's happened has not been fully processed.

"Ok," he agrees and straightens his back, carefully placing small kisses along her abdomen as he does so, afraid he'll scare her away. "I've missed you so damn much." He levels his head with hers, meeting her gaze head on.

"I've missed you too," she responds. "But I need you now, Jayce. Can you do that for me?" She places a soft kiss on his lips.

"Certainly," he murmurs against them.

She stands, slinding his hand into hers and leads him to the bed. With his back to the bed, she places her hands on his chest and pushes him into sitting at the edge of the bed.

One leg over the other, she straddles him, standing on her knees so he has to look up at her. His she brushes the hair away from his eyes and lowers her lips to ghost over his. Their scared and quivering, needy to be on hers.

His hands slide up her sides and curves around her back, coming to rest in the arch above her ass. Gently, he massages circles into her skin, tickling her intentionaly.

She squirms beneath his touch, luring a satisfied grin from him. "You look good like this." Her fingers run through his beard, tracing his new scars. "Dangerous." Reaching down between them and into his pants, she pulls Jayce's member free and lowers herself just enough to tease his tip.

With a hiss, he locks his thumb over her hipbones and wanting to guide her onto him.

She shakes her head, a smirk playing in the corner of her lips. "My turn," she whispers and pull the straps of her dress down, letting it gather at her hips. Jayce's eyes immeidetly fall as his hands slide up her ribs with a specific destination in mind. "Dont touch," she warns. "Now look at me, Jayce." Her chest is inches from his face, but unallowed to look and unable to touch, his eyes appear like that of a wounded stag.

Her nimble fingers work on the buttons of his shirt and quickly slides it off of his shoulders. "Ive missed this," she purs, dragging a finger down his torso, her nail leaving a white scratched up mark behind it. "But this is new," she refers to the chest hair she's never seen before. "I like that, too." Her lips meet his jaw as she leaves kisses all the way down to his collarbone and shoulder. Her continues down his abdomen and below his v-line, then there's a sharp intake of breath as she stokes his member, circling the leaking pre-cum around his tip.

"Devil woman," he groans, but there's a twisted smile to his lips.

She returns it and takes a step back, letting the dress fall completely as if wanting to prove his point and oh, how she revels in the desperation on his face.

Her gaze fixes on his hands, clenching and unclencing in his lap, knuckles white from the strain. She bites her lip. "You look good like this," she repeats. "All, fallen apart . . . " She steps closer, placing herself between his legs. "Bloody and broken."

Never has he taken his eyes off of hers, and as she lowers herself onto his lap once more, she finds his member and lines him up. And finally, she sinks onto his thick inches. Still, he does not touch her. There is only a desperate whimper leaving his lips at the much needed pressure. Obedient, or respcetful? Either way, he deserves his praise. "Good boy. Now, touch me," she whispers and topple them over.

He twitches inside her at the words, but before she can react he's upon her. Fitting one breast into his mouth and the other in his hand, he licks and spits and squeezes. Sucking the entierty of her tender, plush flesh into his mouth.

"Ooh," she braces herself, strings of pleasure and heavy breaths return to them. "You liked that didn't you, pretty boy?" All she gets in response is humming between the lewd, obscene slurping.

Alright, then. Putting a hand on his chest for support, she begins to move, rocking back and forth just watching his expression of pleased torture.

Moving his hands to her hips, lips tear free from her breast for some much needed air, only to replace them upon her lips and kiss her with fervour.

She sits up, getting a better vantage and he follows not long thereafter. Unable to sit by and let her do the work. Leaning back on one hand and wrapping the other around her back, he helps her rut against him while he can't softly thrust up to meet her. "Fuck me- Jayce . . . " She gasps, hardly able to get enough air to moan.

He grins against her lips, sharing their breaths. "You liked that didn't you, pretty girl?" He mocks her.

She laughs breathlessly and digs her nails into his biceps. "Naughty," she murmurs and bites his lip, drawing blood. Again, she feels his member twitch amidst all the rocking between them. Their eyes meet and share a knowing glance. She cocks an eyebrow, he blushes. "That's what I thought," she smirks. It's her win, for now.

Unable to let it slide, Jayce takes the reigns. Flipping them over, he pins her beneath him without missing a single thrust. Amidst the confusion, he interlocks their fingers and pulls her arms above her head, stretching her out and limiting her movement.

She squirms against his restrains, testing the limits but he's rock solid. With her legs around his waist, he thrust perfectly into her and she cant help but roll her hips. She can feel the knot tightening in her core and she furrows her brows with displeasure. Missionary always did her in, he'll win. "Unfair," she moans, throwing her head back as waves of pleasure wash over her with every movement of his hips.

He moves one pair of their locked hands down so ha can stroke her throat with his thumb, placing soft kisses on the damage he caused.

His tenderness alone could cause her to crumble. "Put your back into it at least," she whines, realising she only had her pettiness left. Being beneath him, in his control feels way better than any win she could earn.

A breathless chuckle leaves him. "Yes, ma'am," he grunts, releases her and pulls out before he hooks her legs over his shoulders and thrusts back in. Hands finally free, she cups his face and pulls him in for a kiss concealing the cries bubbling up in her throat. For as it stands, he moves expertly and he's deeper–better than any man ever has been. "Fuck me-"

He smirks. "Tell me I'm good, again . . . " Shes uncertain if this is his ego talking or- "Please, please tell me im good," he whimpers, kissing her inbetween every word.

Without warning her third orgasm washes over her, back arching and nails digging into Jayce's cheeks. "You're so good to me," she sobs. "Such a good boy."

His thrusts falter and then he too, comes. Filling her with his seed, once again.

With shaking limbs he falls to her side, one arm draped over her chest. Both breathing heavily as they regain their senses.

"You win," ge admits and kisses her temple.

Yes she does. "I love you, too," she smiles, heart and teeth achingly sweet.

[readwritealldayallnight]

“I just can’t believe it Si…”

“I know, lovie. Me either.”

“They’re so perfect…” you mumble dreamily, only half aware that you’re still going on about the sight in front of you, an overjoyed smile stretched across your lips as you lean back against Simon’s strong, muscular chest. He has his arms wrapped around your middle, chin resting atop of your head as he also gazes down before you both. “I can’t believe we actually made them. We made these perfect little things…”

“Dunno about we, I think you’re givin’ me too much credit there.” He admits, adjusting to press a quick kiss into your hair, craning his head so that now his cheek is smushed against the crown of your head.

“Don’t sell yourself short mister,” You laugh, leaning your head back to try and catch his eye, reaching a hand up behind you to run your fingers through the hair at the base of his scalp, earning a satisfied hum in return, feeling the vibration of it going through his chest into you. “You definitely were a part of the process, Simon. Couldn’t exactly have planted those seeds myself.” You add with a wink.

“Oh I remember, love, I was there.” He chuckles as well, his eyes meeting yours, the overwhelming feeling of pure contentment radiating off you both, the love he has for you reflected back at him in your own shining gaze. “You that did all the hard work though. Growin’ ‘em til they were ready.”

“Yeah but they’re our babies, Si.” You insist, his grip tightening around you at yours words.

“That they are. That they are.” He agrees, glancing down at the baskets set before you.

A moment passes where you continue to hold onto one another, enjoying the bliss that is existing alongside each other, feeling the other breath, heart beats falling into rhythm, both simply appreciating the view in front of you. Though you can’t see him behind you, Simon’s smile is wavering, unsure how to pose his next question, not wanting to sound as though he’s making fun of you.

“We are going to use them at some point though, right?”

“Eventually.”

“M’not sure how long berries last, lovie. And Johnny’s countin’ on that pie we said we’d-”

“Simon,” you cut him off. “Johnny’s damn desert can wait. I’m admiring my children.” You decide, casting another glance towards the baskets full of fresh blueberries, strawberries and raspberries you’d spent so long growing, the very literal fruits of your labour, the first successful pickings from the garden you and Simon planted outside your new home.

“Oh, so they’re your children now, are they?” He teases.

“If you’re talking about eating them so soon then yes, I will take custody.” You joke right back.

“Why’re you so gorgeous when you’re bossy?”

“Probably a side effect of the military, my love.”

“Well maybe we can look at having me plant a different kind of seed soon, aye? Kind that takes about nine months to grow?”

[carp-esh-ove-lem]

sigh i truly am not a huge fan of when Specialest Boy in my fanfics