#apologies if i've expressed any of this badly

[myownwholewildworld]

Love is heartbreak

↪ a the age of adaline inspired fic

pairing: marcus acacius x ageless!f!reader. summary: kissed by the goddess juno on your day of reckoning, you are brought back to life, condemned to wander the earth for a century. until you meet the other half of your soul who offers you the life you yearn for. but will you be strong enough to accept such promise? author's note: yes, i've cheated on my other wips, I'M SORRY. but when the angst and romance call, i can only answer - i am only human afterall. hope you like this little story that was supposed to be a drabble but ended up being this long, oops! comments and reblogs appreciated. enjoy! x warnings: 18+, mdni. soulmates trope. angst, romance, smut. mild breeding kink (soz). infidelity. mention of SA (not by Marcus) and death. dual pov. reader is female and a blank slate. reader is close to 150 years old (stopped ageing in her twenties) and Marcus is in his fifties. not beta'd and very lightly proofread, apologies if you spot any mistakes lol wordcount: ~8.4k. divider by @\saradika-graphics

“I’ll do anything to stay by your side, amica mea (my beloved). I don’t care about what the future holds if it’s not with you,” Marcus’ broad hands held yours, his thumb drawing invisible circles on the back of your hands.

You hated this — how your heart twisted inside you, torn apart by the choice you had to make. Was this never-ending life not enough punishment? No, you also had to go through heartbreak — your own and Marcus’. For love, you had to.

With eyes averted, you looked down at your worn sandals. Tears teetering on the edge of your waterlines as your vision became blurry with sadness, regrets and fears washed over you like the Tiber kissing the shore goodbye.

In your hundred years wandering the ground beneath your feet, you never had to go through this. Always so careful not to feel, not to grow close to anyone, not to really live the life you wanted, and now you were in a position where it almost felt too real.

Within reach — you only had to extend your hands and hug him in a tight, soothing embrace. Only needed to accept the life that Marcus was offering. Though as much as you wanted to—you wanted it, him, so badly—you could never.

And what was worst, you couldn’t explain why. First you would see the horror in his eyes, that frightened look glittering, then incomprehension, and finally disgust. Your heart couldn’t take it.

“But I do care, Marcus. Yours is bright, your military career is about to take off. I would only hinder you, your dreams. I am no one, and—” you tried to reason with him.

But love was blind. Love was deaf. Love didn’t care about impossibilities, because love was defiant.

At least his was.

“Do you think I care about being disowned? Do you truly believe that I would choose such dreadful life over you? Over a wonderful life with the person I love most?” Marcus squeezed your hands before one of his found your chin, tilting up your face to him. “Omnia vincit amor, et nos cedamus amori (love conquers all, let us too yield to love).”

You shook your head in denial, his words ringing in your ears like chants of war. Because Marcus waged war in all aspects of life, even in love — he’d conquered your heart so fully, you’d never asked him to return it. It would forever be his to cherish, to cry over, to destroy, to hate.

Because he would need to hate you to overcome the heartbreak you were about to cause.

“You don’t have a choice here. You are to marry the lady your family has arranged for; her family’s prestige will do you good. You’re just infatuated, Marcus, it isn’t true love,” you forced yourself to let a soft laugh out, wiping your tears as you took a step back. “At least, for me, it isn’t.”

Marcus’ expression folded and your heart with him. You hated yourself for saying such a vile lie, but a necessary one. The passage of time would not affect you, always stagnant in your early twenties after a fateful day when Juno decided to save your life from certain death. The Goddess of love and marriage was also one known for Her eternal youthfulness — one She would only share with those who had been wronged. And you had been so wronged in your mortal life.

And here you were, so close to committing the same mistake all over again. But you knew better this time — not because you didn’t trust Marcus, but because Fate was capricious. It didn’t matter if Juno was watching over you.

“You don’t mean that. I know you don’t. This is true love, lux mihi (my light), one that would live through eternity,” Marcus muttered breathlessly, reaching for you again, looking for that unbreakable connection you both strongly shared.

“Eternity? Don’t speak of things you don’t understand, Marcus,” you retorted, forcing your tone to sound mocking.

Another step back with an unmovable expression and you saw realisation dawning on him. Slowly like a river widening its meanders, steady like the constant flow of water. Relentless you were, steadfast in your resolution.

“Ave atque vale (hail and farewell), Acacius,” were your last words to him.

35 years later...

“Father, may I marry her?”

Marcus gazed down the dining table, eyeing his son with consideration. He knew what it felt like, how true love messed up your head to the point of madness. He had felt that way only once in his life, and it wasn’t for the woman sitting beside him.

As cruel as it sounded, Marcus never loved his wife, because his heart belonged to someone else — the now hazy memory of a woman who always lingered on the edges of his mind. A cruel reminder of how feeble and fleeting love was, how love turned into heartbreak with just a few words.

“At least, for me, it isn’t.”

That sentence alone had broken him, his ability to feel some sort of romantic connection died that very same day. At night it would haunt him, filling his dreams with nightmares. The same scene playing over and over in his mind, his heart cracking even more every time those words would hit him.

He’d waited for weeks, months. A year it took him to realise you truly were not coming back, that you meant it. He’d only been a plaything for you, a toy you discarded once things got too real. And at that point he surrendered to the pressure his family put on him. Marcus had followed through with the arranged marriage in the end, despite the agony and the empty hole in his chest.

And now his son was following in his footsteps. His heir looked so much like him, like a reflection of the past staring back at him. It pained him — he saw himself in Magnus, almost as if the roles had reversed and he was his own father thirty-five years ago. Pleading, asking to marry the love of his life even though his hand had already been promised in holy matrimony to another.

His wife, Prisca, waved one of her hands with disdain, the spoon clattering on the porcelain plate.

“Nonsense, Magnus,” she tutted at their son. “We’ve already been through this. You will marry Verina. You’d put us in a very compromised position with Gellius if you don’t.”

“But—”

“Quit your whining and man up, my son. Gellius is the Emperor’s best counsellor. It will bring our family great reputation,” Prisca reasoned, tone poisoned with greed. “And riches.”

“Father?” Magnus’ eyes shot to his, pleading him to intervene.

Marcus sensed Prisca stiffening besides him, gripping the arms of the chair like a vice. He didn’t look in her direction but knew how her orbs distilled venom. She would never understand what their son was talking about, but he did. Too damn right.

“I would like to meet her before giving you my blessing,” he spoke calmly, lacing his hands together on top of the wooden table.

Magnus’ eyes sparked up, a hopeful smile curling his mouth.

“Of course, of course! She’s waiting right outside,” and then his son hurried out of the room.

Prisca stood up, the screeching noise of the chair’s legs irritating Marcus.

“Like father, like son,” she muttered maliciously before disappearing too.

In this moment of silent respite, Marcus pinched the bridge of his hooked nose. The patience he had to muster was titanic. His life had been nothing but heartache and war, his son being the only reason he stood by his wife’s side in public. He’d tired of the pantomime, but there wasn’t much he could do about it.

He would meet the woman who had stolen Magnus’ heart, just to make sure there was no deception from her part. Marcus wouldn’t wish for his son to go through the same heartbreak as him. If everything was at it should, then he wouldn’t oppose.

“Father,” Magnus called, and Marcus removed the hand from his exhausted, battle-scarred face.

His heart literally stopped.

A warm smile softened your expression when Magnus asked you to join his family in the dining hall. You had been sitting patiently in a small waiting room, wondering if this was right.

The first time you had laid eyes on Magnus a week ago, your heart jolted, and your mind went blank. He reminded you so much of your one and only true love, the one you ditched thirty-five years ago because you were too afraid to embrace the beautiful life he had offered you. The one you still felt in your heart, dormant yet very present in your everyday life.

Perhaps it was wrong of you to encourage this situation, whatever this was. When Magnus had asked you that morning to join his family for supper, he had caught you off guard, so you found yourself agreeing to it.

Deep down you knew why you hadn’t disappeared yet: you wanted to live this moment one more time. Wanted to remember how it felt to be loved so fiercely by Marcus, a yearning you’d been craving for over three decades. Only this man wasn’t Marcus, only someone who was his spitting image.

One dinner, a few hours more of playing pretend, and then you’d vanish again. Leave Rome behind after such brief visit before someone recognised you. You couldn’t afford to give any explanations, so you’d only visit this place once every decade.

You walked behind Magnus, head slightly bowed and hands laced in front of you. Magnus’ broad body blocked your vision, but soon enough he stepped aside to introduce you.

You curtsied, eyes averted, fixed on the marble slabs.

Before you straightened your back and introduced yourself, the man across the room spoke your name — your real birthname.

Inevitably, your heart sank to your belly with panic and your eyes quickly drifted up to meet the darkened ones you once had allowed yourself to swim in.

Marcus. Your Marcus.

Your heart raced in your chest and filled with pure joy. You couldn’t stop the smile that had started curling your lips nor the glassiness of your eyes.

Your one and true love was staring back at you with widened, tired eyes. He had gotten up off his chair and was striding towards you before he suddenly halted a couple of meters away from you with confusion painting his handsome features. Ones that had not remained impassible to the passage of time and war, but ones that you daydreamed about every single day without fail.

So within reach — you would only need to close the distance between you two and hug him, hug him till dawn and never let go. Oh, how much you missed him, how much you still loved him. With your whole heart, the one that ached and wept with regret in your chest right now.

Would he love you back? Did you break the love you shared past the point of mending?

“What? Her name is Aurora, father,” Magnus chuckled nervously, his eyes dancing between the two of you, puzzled. “This is the woman who has stolen my heart. I would like to marry the love of my life with your blessing.”

Your eyes flew from Marcus to Magnus at the revelation, bewildered. Marriage? Was this what it was all about, the purpose of his invitation to meet his family? Marcus’ son wanted to marry you?

You had not seen that coming, as it wasn’t your intention at all. You had only wanted to live this fleeting fantasy of yours for a few days, but there wasn’t love. Not like the one you felt for Marcus, that could never compare.

“Your name is Aurora?” Marcus’ question forced you to look in his direction, your heart twisting maddingly inside you. You nodded with hesitation, “I thought you were…” Marcus pronounced your real name again, the sinking pit of your stomach churning.

“That was my mother,” you quickly came up with a lie. You could never tell him the truth.

“Your mother,” he repeated slowly, shock and pain transforming his beautiful face. “I knew your mother.”

“What? Really?” Magnus intervened with a laugh, palming his father’s shoulder. “That’s such a coincidence!”

You looked at both of them, but your eyes inevitably lingered on Marcus’ darkened ones. Would he believe your lie? Again?

“The resemblance with her is… uncanny. You look so much like her, Aurora,” Marcus rasped, taking a step back and steeling his posture with determination.

He didn’t need to speak for you knew his hurt. Because the same memories that were flooding his mind, had been drowning you for decades.

The atmosphere felt heavy with unspoken truths, your face burning — you loathed yourself for the pain you had caused him. Pain that still contorted his expression every time his eyes flicked to yours.

Would he ever forgive you? Would he know that you lied so many years ago? That you truly and irremediably loved him? That you would always do?

You bowed down your head, mainly to conceal the unspent tears brimming on your waterlines.

“So I have been told, General,” you muttered softly as Magnus’ hand rested easily on the small of your back, his lips brushing your temple gently.

“I know this may seem sudden, father, but I know that Aurora is the one,” Magnus confessed shyly, pulling your body towards him in a warm half-embrace.

Never in your life had you wished yourself to disappear so badly. Marcus’ sight burnt through you and you couldn’t help but reciprocate him. The sadness—no, the heartbreak—in them was like a dagger through your heart, and you wondered if the decision you made so many years ago had been the right one.

By the looks of it, he had done well for himself, just as you had imagined he would. The villa was beautiful, sumptuous even. It spoke of his status in the Empire, how highly rewarded he had been for his enterprise. You assumed that Marcus had married eventually after you left, and you only hoped he’d married for love.

“I see,” Marcus murmured in reply to his son, walking back to his chair. “Let’s eat first. Prisca, my wife, won’t be joining us. She had to excuse herself because she wasn’t feeling well. Please forgive her absence.”

Prisca. So he hadn’t married for love, his family had won and forced him into an arranged marriage after all. Your heart cried for him, for the injustice you had showered upon him with your departure. Perhaps he ended up loving her so his life wouldn’t be as miserable.

That last thought stung, the dagger further twisting in your heart. You wanted his happiness, but selfishly you hoped Marcus still loved you. Undeserving of such love you were, that was clear to you, but you still hoped anyway.

“Of course, Dominus,” you hushed as Magnus guided you to an empty chair.

The food served was delicious, but the silence looming over the table tinged the atmosphere uncomfortable. Magnus did a remarkable effort to keep the conversation going, but Marcus’ succinct replies didn’t leave much room for chatter. And when Magnus pushed again about the marriage proposal—to you dismay—Marcus said that it could discussed tomorrow over breakfast.

Even though the man in front of you had aged, you still saw him as he was thirty-five years ago. He had a scar on his upper cheek and across the bridge of his aquiline nose, crows feet kissing the corners of his brown eyes, his thick curls were greying, and his demeanour was more stoic, but he was still your Marcus.

The only difference though was his lack of… life. His eyes didn’t sparkle anymore, they were tinted with darkness and sorrow. Had war changed him? Had you changed him?

Your throat collapsed on itself, tightening to the point of suffocation. Just in time, you reined in the tears as the last maid removed the plate in front of you.

“I should be going,” you announced, pushing back the chair to stand up.

Marcus sprung to his feet before his son did. And when he realised his promptness, he cleared his throat but didn’t speak.

“It’s late,” Magnus said, standing up to be by your side, throwing a confused glance to his father. “Could she stay the night, father, please?”

Marcus nodded.

“I will ask one of the servants to prepare one of the empty chambers,” Marcus conceded, walking around the table to meet his son.

“Oh,” Magnus sighed, and you knew he’d hoped to share a bed with you tonight.

Your face burnt once more with shame when Marcus’ eyes looked for yours. However, you didn’t meet his gaze, scared of what you would find in it.

“Thank you, General, you are most generous,” you husked in a low voice.

“I will show you around the villa in the meantime, amica mea,” Magnus said, his hand quick to rest on the back of your waist.

You subtly flinched at his endearment. That was what his father always called you. It felt wrong when he said it now, completely out of place — it didn’t at first, when you looked at him and imagined he was Marcus instead. But with the love of your life standing firm in front of you, it sounded so vile.

This fantasy of yours was a dangerous game, one you didn’t want to play. Not if it meant hurting Marcus again, because you could see the way he studied you. How his pupils dilated with anger every time his son would seek your touch. It was killing him, and you in the process. When everyone went to sleep, you would leave in the middle of the night, as the shadow you were condemned to be.

Magnus urged you to turn around and walk beside him, when you heard Marcus gasp.

“Your birthmark,” his words stopped you right in your tracks.

When Juno touched you to bring you back to life over a century ago, Her caress left a mark on the back of your left shoulder. The shape resembled that of a peacock, the loyal animal known to accompany the Goddess.

“What about it?” Magnus intervened, confused by the interruption.

Slowly you looked over your shoulder to glance at Marcus. His eyes were a window to his restless, half soul, desperate and blown — he knew. He searched your face for a crack, a way in, but your expression didn’t tumble.

You wished you could veer around and throw yourself in his arms, kiss him and apologise, ask him to take you back. But you just couldn’t. Love was heartbreak, and it would have to remain that way if you didn’t want to hurt Marcus even more than what you already had.

“Nothing,” he grumbled, jaw tight with a tic on the muscle.

Marcus stirred in bed, unable to get any sleep.

Your face haunted him brighter than ever — every time his eyes shut, your sorry expression would gnaw at the confines of his mind. Seeing you right in front of him after so many years, all curled up to his son’s side, drove him mad.

At first, he thought himself crazy. You looked exactly as you did thirty-five years ago — not even a wrinkle kissed your skin, not a greying hair anywhere to be seen in your plaited hair. So when you explained you were the daughter of the woman who broke his heart, he had believed you.

That was until he saw the birthmark on your shoulder. The unmistakable shape he had joked about in the past, telling you that you had been kissed by Juno Herself at birth. It was impossible that you had inherited such a peculiar mark.

But it was even more impossible that you had remained as youthful as you were, as if not a single day had passed. How was that even possible? Some people were gifted with slow ageing, he had seen some, but to remain exactly the same? No, there was something else lurking, an explanation he could not grasp because it was too surreal, too unfathomable for a mortal.

Marcus needed answers. His mind was a tangled mess, this new discovery shining a different light on the conversation that destroyed him over three decades ago. Did your words have a meaning he had not been able to see before?

“Eternity? Don’t speak of things you don’t understand, Marcus.”

What had you truly meant by that? Did you understand what eternity really was in a level he couldn’t even start to comprehend?

Heart pounding, he quietly removed the covers and sat on the bed. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that Prisca was sound asleep. Not that she would miss him anyway.

In darkness, Marcus palmed around until he found his toga and quickly changed to then walk out of his bedchamber with a clear destination in mind.

He trudged along the cold corridors of his villa until he found the door to the room you were sleeping in. For a second, he doubted, thinking he was crazy for the implausible reason taking form in his mind. But if it wasn’t that—that you were, somehow, ageless—he still needed to know why. Why hadn’t you aged? Why leave him? Why not tell him the truth?

As his shaky hand lifted and curled to knock on the wooden plank, the door swung open.

You appeared under the doorframe with a wild expression and widened eyes, obviously in a hurry to leave. Again.

“Marcus,” you gasped, one hand flying to your chest in surprise as your beautiful eyes met his.

He froze in place, all the words he had planned to say stuck to the back of his throat, forming a lump that would not let him speak. Your beauty was dazzling, but it was the buried love he harboured for you what stopped him from talking as it resurfaced.

His memory of you had not faded, able to remember every single feature of your face regardless the passage of time. Everything about you was engraved in his mind, but he had almost forgotten how sweet you smelt. Roses, with an earthy hint of grass.

As your scent numbed his mind, Marcus finally found his dry tongue.

“Don’t leave, please. Don’t leave again,” he begged in a hoarse whisper, his eyes diving in yours.

You looked up at him and he felt himself under a spell. The same one you had him under years ago, when the heart was shattered and the mind bleak. Because even when you waved him goodbye, he still loved you. Never stopped, was never able to hate you for what you did, what you said.

“Can we talk?” he pushed before realising your eyes were glassy with sadness. “I know your name is not Aurora. I know it’s you.”

Your bottom lip trembled as a single tear fell from the cliff of your lashes. Moved by his own ghost of the past, Marcus reached for your cheek with his palm, the thumb brushing away the tears that followed the first one.

You let go of a deep sigh, kissed the palm of his hand and nodded. His heart was beating so loud, so fast, he almost missed your words.

“I owe you an explanation, Marcus,” you finally spoke, a broken sob almost tearing his resolution.

As you stepped aside, Marcus came into the room you were so eager to leave behind. Your heartbeat had spiked the moment you saw him and hadn’t slowed down since then. Perhaps you didn’t die of heartbreak but could die of a heart attack.

For decades you had been running until you found him. Until Marcus made you believe you could have everything he promised. It had been the first time you had actually considered growing roots. But the thought of not being able to grow old, to see the love of your life wither away while you remained sane, was paralysing. You had panicked — too scared to accept the love of a man who would give up everything for you, too frightened to trust someone again.

But was Marcus not worthy of your trust? He demonstrated repeatedly how he would always protect you, always cherish you. Not only with words, but with actions too. He had been so considerate, so loving, for a moment in the past you thought it a ruse. How could someone be so damn perfect and still be real?

Your heart clenched in pain, seeing him latch the door behind him and turn around to face you. The look of confusion, of sorrow, ate at your conscience. Under the candlelight, his torn features stuck out, time unforgiving. He was still gorgeous, would always be in your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” was the first thing that slipped out before the quivering of your bottom lip let out a sob. “I’m so sorry, Marcus. I didn’t know Magnus was your son, otherwise I would have never—” you shook your head, taming your cries. “I should have known. He looks so much like you. When I first saw him, I thought it was you. That somehow you had been able to still time and be with me.”

You sobbed a pitiful laugh, unable to look him in the eye. It was shameful having to admit something like this — that you had chased after a boy because he reminded you of someone you loved. But despite your immortality, you were still capable of human mistakes.

“So you didn’t know he was my son?” Marcus asked quietly. You could see the inner workings of his mind ruminating as you shook your head no. “Do you love him? Were you really going to marry him?”

The questions caught you off guard. Although at some point you were expecting them, you didn’t think it would be this early in conversation. It might be for the better if it got out of the way as soon as possible, so you could explain yourself.

The first cut would be the deepest, although the rest would still hurt.

“I love the idea of him,” you emphasized, ashamed of yourself for giving in to such fantasy. “I thought I could love him the way I did you, that he could be a vessel of my love for you. That I could, for a few days, remember how it felt— how you felt. That I could have you one more time,” you paused and sighed, intertwining your hands together to twist them nervously. “I only met him a week ago, marriage did not cross my mind at all. I was going to leave once—”

“Once it got too serious,” he finished for you.

Marcus went quiet again, his eyes transfixed on you. You wished Juno blessed you with the ability to read minds, to know what he was thinking right this moment. Did he hate you for what you just revealed? Did he think you were sick for trying to live out a fleeting dream? Would he forgive you for such despicable behaviour?

“Do you still love me?” his gravelly voice was so low, for a moment you thought you had imagined it.

But the doubt, the fresh hurt in his wounded gaze, told you otherwise.

You gaped for air, your lungs strained with sorrow. You should fib, stand by your initial lie, tell him you didn’t. But what had that gotten you the first time around except for a life of misery and loneliness? What had that gotten him?

“I do. I do love you, Marcus,” you whispered, out of breath due to the pounding of your heart. “Couldn’t be any other way. You’re the other half of my soul that I’ve been missing for so long.”

Time stilled as you looked Marcus dead in the eyes. You were not expecting anything out of your raw confession, because the time for those had passed. It was what you should have said thirty-five years ago, not now. You were too late to mend the love that had slipped through the cracks of time.

“Then that’s all that matters,” he finally broke the silence, his voice laced with emotion.

The admission shook you. Could this be true, really happening? Did he still love you after all this time?

In a couple of strides, you found yourself in his arms, the way it should have been ages ago. His forearms wrapped around you like a warm blanket as his head bowed down to taste your lips.

You kissed him back, first sweetly, then fiercely. You kissed him with all the unexpressed love you held in your heart, with the passion your true love deserved. His tongue was as sweet as you remembered, as soothing as your memory recalled. A dance ensued, his tongue reading a love letter to yours.

Your hands, which had been resting on his chest, drifted up to cradle his face — his moustache and stubble pickling the skin of your palms. Marcus untied his mouth from yours to kiss your tears goodbye, then pressed a peck on your forehead. His heart was beating as loud as yours, in unison like true soulmates.

“I’ve missed you. I never stopped thinking about you, lux mihi,” he confessed under his breath. “Life was never the same after you left.”

His admission made your heart flutter even further, and you couldn’t help but let your hands roam his back. Your fingers played with the knot holding the toga in place, his seeping warmth beckoning.

“I need you, Marcus. Make love to me,” you pleaded, leaving a love trail of kisses on his neck.

Marcus’ chest rumbled at your plea, his lips hunting down yours in a heartbeat. His hands were quick with your clothing, worshipping the curves of your body as it was revealed to him. You did the same with his toga, until you were both bare, standing in front of each other.

You saw his eyes lingering on every nook and cranny of your skin before they found yours. A thunder of connection ran through you, of yearning. On your tiptoes, you kissed him again, pressing your breasts onto his chest while your fingertips traced the map of his back.

You didn’t expect all the bumps and grooves you found on his skin; battle scars dotted around everywhere. Some thick and protuberant, some thin and soft. Marcus keened at your touch, silently letting you know that some of them were too sensitive to be caressed.

How much hurt his body and heart had endured, a life dedicated to war and duty. Your heart cried for him, for not being able to be by his side when he needed you most. Had you taken up his offer, had he run away from responsibility with you, his skin would tell a different story.

But the past couldn’t be changed, only the present was malleable enough to shape a new future.

Slowly he pushed you towards the bed, his hands resting on either side of your waist while his thumb drew lazy circles on your bristled skin. Raking your fingers through his silver curls, you leaned back on the mattress, his warm body blanketing yours.

His hands found the apex of your breasts, soft fingers rubbing your taut nipples as your head tilted back. Marcus licked the salt of your exposed neck, finding your pulse point. He kissed the spot and lingered, your vein pulsing against his lips as one of his hands discovered the slick your thighs harboured for him.

The feathery caress of his ring finger outlining your seam turned you into a whimpering mess. His pad stroked your nub, a slight flick followed before it slid down your slit and found your weeping hole. He circled it a few times, taunting you effortlessly, before returning to your clit.

You heaved, lips pursed so your moans would stay contained. In the dead of the night, you worried this show of love would seep through the walls. But not even the thought of his marriage, the thought of Magnus lying in bed a few rooms over, could stop you from joining your bodies together the way the Gods intended.

Marcus’ mouth travelled down the column of your neck, kissing the center of your clavicle before he went further down. Your unattended nipple was soon enough smothered by the wetness between his lips, and you fisted his hair in response, gently tugging at it.

“Marcus,” you moaned, eyes shut. Rejoiced.

One nipple drowned in his spit, the other pinched between his fingers, and his ring finger pressing tight circles on your thudding clit had you fighting to remain silent. But the moment the hand between your hands moved down and his digit teased your walls apart as it sank in your slick warmth, you couldn’t stop the muffled yet loud moan.

“Sing for me, meum corculum (my little heart),” Marcus husked. The gentle pumping of his finger in your wet heat had you quietly howling a few seconds later. “That’s it.”

Your felt your walls contract, pulse around his finger, holding onto him for dear life. Feeling your need as his own, Marcus dunked his middle finger in your pussy too, stretching you while his thumb stroked your clit. The combination of it all made you clench around him, almost begging for release.

“Let go for me,” Marcus asked between licks, and you couldn’t resist his prayer.

The coil that had been tightening inside you finally snapped, releasing a wave that coursed through your quaking body like a tumultuous sea. Your back slightly arched as your thighs trembled around his forearm, chest rising with a dire need for oxygen.

Marcus chuckled softly, setting your nipple free as he searched for your mouth again. He devoured you as you came down from your high, his erect cock gently resting on your mound. The weight of it on your sensitive skin felt like it belonged. The anticipation of welcoming him inside you made you gush.

“Let me drink you, kiss you, savour you,” he pressed a kiss on your mouth after each pause.

Your skin flushed; the proposition was somewhat indecent. It was lewd, frowned upon, and you were tethered to the chains of social decency. But there was nothing decent about infidelity, after all.

“Please, mea vita (my life). I can make you reach for the moon and the stars in the ceiling above if you let me, make you touch them,” he promised.

You shyly nodded, and his boyish grin grew wider, his lips tensing. So contagious, you smiled back as he came off you and moved your body until your butt was on the edge of the mattress.

He scooted you over towards him until the back of your knees were resting on his shoulders — leaving you completely exposed to his hungry gaze. His eyes lingered on your leaking dampness, his dilated pupils tracing the outline of your seam. The intensity of it all, the deep connection, made your thighs press together against his neck, wanting to hide your core from him.

You had nothing to be shy of, as Marcus had already seen you bare before. Sex with him had always been ardent, fervent — the heat of passion always got the best of you both, a certain urgency to consummate your love. But now? Now was different. There was no rush in his movements, in how his thumbs pried your pussy lips open, in how his warm lips brushed the sensitive skin on your inner thigh. His calm confidence in taking you as he had promised was new to you, who never had all the time in the world. But right now, you did. For Marcus, you did. Always would.

Your lashes fluttered, kissing the apples of your cheeks the moment the languid strokes of his tongue met your swollen flaps. He kissed one gently, then the other, before the wet muscle lapped from your gushing hole up to your clit. So venerating were his licks, your limbs relaxed at the intimate kiss.

“You taste like ambrosia, lux mihi. The best relish I have ever been graced with,” his hot breath collided with the cold skin on your slit, your body trembling in response.

“Marcus, please,” you begged, although you were not sure why, or what you were asking of him.

He didn’t leave you waiting again. His fingers sank in the flesh of your thighs while his tongue dived inside your slick furrow. So dextrous were his charges, you couldn’t help but mewl like a starved kitten in a back alley asking for leftovers. First, he flicked your excited bundle of nerves, and then he suckled on it, his jaw working you through the climb to another orgasm. The buildup was intense, but it became feverish the moment his finger joined the action — it slid easily inside, curled to caress the precise spongy spot of your arousal.

Unaware of your own actions, one of your hands slithered down your belly until you fisted his curls — pushing him towards the centre of your heat, not away from it. He hadn’t lied — the stars appeared behind your eyes, bright like the future you wished you had with him. A sea of constellations, all imploding at once in an amazing rain of stars that blinded you as you came crashing down from the skies.

You heaved and wailed his name in ecstasy, your entire body quivering with the strength of a thousand suns. Your entrance clenched around his finger as you held your breasts, your thumbs ghosting the taut buttons. You leaked your pleasure on his mouth, and he drank unashamedly, grateful of your offering.

A sweet kiss on your mound before he towered over you, and you could only look at him in awe with raw, true love. When his battered body blanketed yours, you draped your arms around his waist, hands lightly resting on his lower back. The knowing smirk on his lips spoke of a muted “I told you so.”

“I love you,” he whispered instead.

Your heart swooned and healed and cried and exploded. All at once. He hadn’t said those exact words yet, but they were veiled in every sentence, every action he had said or done tonight. Deep inside you were eternally grateful that he hadn’t grown to hate you, that his love for you remained intact despite heartache, circumstances and time.

Unbeknownst to you, tears welled up, ones that Marcus drank too. As he did, your palms stroked his ribs, careful to avoid the scars you had come to learn were too delicate. Eager, one slid off his skin until your fingers wrapped around his throbbing manhood. Eyes down, you saw the pearly bead of pre-cum commending you to butter it on his flushed head. With your thumb you caressed the tip, and Marcus’ lips parted in need — an invitation you quickly accepted, dunking your tongue in his mouth.

A few pumps had him groaning and soon enough you were guiding him to the pocket of heat between your thighs. His cockhead kissed your gushing entrance the same way his lips did — knowing, denuded, possessing. And slowly he made his way in, parting your flesh like a new stream disturbing the earth beneath. The burning sting was most welcomed, blossoming into a fullness you had craved for decades.

“I’m home,” Marcus rasped when he was fully seated in your cunt.

Your throat clamped a little, emotion overtaking your senses the same way his erection did.

“Welcome home, dilectus (beloved),” you muttered with a loving smile and teary eyes.

You melted into a slow kiss as Marcus rocked his hips, rutting into you almost lethargically, wanting the moment to last. You let him set the pace, the drag of his cock in your pussy a delight that had you reaching for the stars again and your inner walls squeezing him tight. The sweet rhythm of his swaying tightened the slick, hot coil that pooled low in your belly, and the moment Marcus gained momentum, you followed.

Needily he started fucking into you with precision, chasing both of your highs. His dick pulsed inside you, your heartbeat instinctually adapting to his in a second. Both so close to the sky above, gasping for air now, you rocked underneath him to amplify such pleasure.

“Marcus,” you whimpered, your hands now cradling his face. You lost yourself in his eyes, blown and loving. “Please, inside,” was everything you murmured.

Even after your petition, the snap of his hips against yours didn’t falter. Instead, the pace increased as his wild orbs studied your blissed out expression.

“Do you mean it?” You nodded effusively. “Do you want your belly round with my child?”

You didn’t even know if it was possible — yes, you looked young but were closer to a hundred and fifty years on this earth than to the day you were born. The fertility of your womb was one you never dared to test in your immortal life, but the thought of having such a memory—someone—to remember him by when the days grew cold and the nights dark was overpowering reality.

“Yes, I do,” you reassured him, pecking his lips softly.

His head fell, his face resting on the crook of your neck, while he made love to you. His moves stuttered, announcing his climax, and your pussy hugged him tight in a natural response. The moment the first ropes hit your cervix, you came undone too. As Marcus filled you with his warm spent, you creamed around his beating girth, your hands holding onto his shoulders as your back arched and your nipples kissed his chest.

It took both of you a few minutes to come down, for the haze of lovemaking to slowly dissolve in the musky air. Marcus hungered for your lips and he hunted them down with eagerness. Your bodies finally untied, his cock leaving you empty yet satisfied.

You hoped—prayed—his seed would take root in your womb. Even if it was impossible, the sliver of a miraculous possibility gave you a resemblance of hope. So you pressed your thighs together, greedy of his gift.

Marcus rolled off you, falling onto his tummy besides you. Quickly you laid on your side, your fingertips tracing the lines of his skin again. A feathery touch to alleviate the harshness of life. He unburied his face from the pillow and turned to look at you.

His smile was instant, and so was yours.

For an hour no words were spoken at all, no sleep was achieved either. You both remained silent, staring at each other, soaking up the love that flooded the chamber.

Replacing your fingers with your lips, you kissed the scars on his back, his shoulders, his arms. And finally his nose and cheek, where you dawdled as if your caress could erase the pain they inflicted.

“What are we going to do, amica mea?” Marcus husked after what felt like an eternity.

Reality set in, leaving a gaping hole in your belly. What could you do? Would you be strong enough to stay by his side for however long the goddess Mors took to claim him? Strong enough to build a life you knew was ephemeral? And once he was gone from this mortal plane, what would be left of you?

The choice was an impossible one. One that you should have made decades ago, when the heart was whole and the mind still strong. Now you knew how arduous life was without him, how—for years—you had looked for him in the small details and every single man who resembled him, how the regret and the grief haunted you at every turn of a decade. Now you knew that life wasn’t worth living if you didn’t have Marcus to share it with.

You traced the profile of his nose with your lips before pressing a soft kiss on his.

“I am not sure, but I am willing to try… if you are,” you whispered, leaning back.

The implications of such life were huge for him. Married, with a son who though himself in love with you, an acclaimed General who served Rome even when Rome didn’t serve him. His responsibilities were greater than yours, Marcus had so much to lose. Had you accepted his proposal when you should have, neither of you would be in such dire situation.

Marcus sighed heavily, rolling onto his side to face you. His calloused hand cradled your cheek, his eyes filled with a determination you wished you had back then, when life was easier.

“There is nothing nor no one that could stop me from spending the rest of my life with you, lux mihi,” he mumbled, hand dropping to your hip. “I said it then, and I will say it again: I do not care for this life if you are not with me. I don’t care about reputation nor retaliation. For over fifty years I have done what was expected of me, and I am done living my life for Rome and her vice. You’re the stars that light up my path in the darkest of nights, the warm sun that guides me home. For however long you’ll have me, I’ll be with you. My heart was always yours, mea vita, since the moment I landed eyes on you. And I don’t want it back, ever, even if you have to leave again.”

The softness of his delivery, the truth his words emanated, brought tears to your eyes. You thought yourself unworthy of his love, his devotion, when you had only caused heartbreak. But this was your second chance, one you were not going to let go.

You moved closer to him as his arm wrapped around you. With your forehead resting on his naked chest, you traced invisible lines on his ribs.

“I won’t leave. That broke me once, can’t handle it a second time. I love you and want to spend the rest of our time together showing you how much I do, making up for lost time. For however long,” you repeated, kissing his chin.

There was a brief pause, and you knew what his next words would be.

“How old are you?” the question you had always avoided, dreaded.

“Close to three times your age,” you confessed, looking up at him through your lashes.

The answer slowly sank in, but instead of horror, incomprehension and disgust, you only found acceptance. As if it was just another fact about you, nothing of major importance.

“You look amazing for being close to one hundred and fifty years of age,” he joked with a grin to lighten the mood. You let out a soft laugh in response. “How? If you want to share.”

The story of how you came to be ageless wasn’t a pleasant one. But your life was full of secrets that had ruined every human link you had to this earth, and you wouldn’t let them spoil the only real connection you had left.

“I… I was promised to a man, one who I thought was worthy of my love. There were things I was blind to at that time, and only time showed them to me. I thought everything was going as expected, he was always so courteous and respectful in public. Until our wedding night, when he…” you paused, the memories too painful even after all this time, “he abused me, and let his friends use me. When they were done, they left me for dead in a ditch.”

Marcus’ arm draped around you tighter, his heart beating so loud you could hear it thumping against his chest. He hugged you close, his warmth calming and reassuring. Marcus was nothing like that man, if your abuser could even be considered a person. You knew he never would be so despicable — you were as sure as the first lights of the sun would wake you up tomorrow.

“It took me hours to finally drift away. And when I did, Juno greeted me. Said the man had wronged me, and that I should have a second chance to understand what marriage and true love actually were about. Then she touched me right here,” you caressed the peacock-shaped birthmark, “and breathed life into me.”

Marcus leaned back a little to inspect your torn features. The heartache he had to endure paled in comparison to yours. How could someone inflict such hurt on another? He couldn’t even fathom such disgusting scenario. That man was the reincarnation of evil, and he wished he suffered the most agonising death.

He had only seen your soul’s purity, your kindness, your benevolence. Anyone who didn’t was blind.

“You did not deserve that ending, amica mea — no one does. He didn’t deserve you,” his heart cried for you, for the weight you had carried for over a century. “You’ve got the purest heart I have ever known. A soul that I will protect until my dying breath.”

“A half soul,” you interrupted him, and Marcus looked at you confused. “Because your other half completes mine.”

His heart jolted, this time because of the sweetness of your confession. That muscle had grown bigger in the last two hours than in his entire lifetime. He sworn himself to stand by your side, come what may. You would never be wronged again, not if he could avoid it.

“We’re leaving tonight,” Marcus declared without skipping a beat.

“What? What about your wife, your son?” your eyes had widened, but his resolution was firm.

“My wife… she’s not been my wife for years. She’s poison. And my son…” he shrugged, conflicted. “He’ll eventually understand, or so I hope. I believe he might already have an inkling that something weird was at play from the moment I said your real name.”

“Marcus, are you sure? You’d be sacrificing so much for me, I wouldn’t want to—”

He didn’t let you finish, his mouth covering yours in a passionate kiss that slowly turned gentle and soothing. Your hands caressing his battle-scarred skin was like a balm; your touch the first and only one to cure all his ailments. Unhurriedly, he sat back up on the bed, dragging you with him.

“Let’s leave now. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you, lux mihi,” Marcus purred against your lips.

Fifteen minutes later, you were both clothed and atop of two horses, blending in with the shadows of the night that concealed your departures, in search of a new life. Together.

taglist: @orcasoul @lilac-boo @picketniffler @almostfoxglove @gothcsz @liciafonseca @namenotimportant1373

[vbecker10]

Don't Interrupt Me

Pairing: Loki x female reader (Y/N)

Summary: Loki and you have finished a mission but he's furious with how reckless you were with your own safety.

Warnings: Implied smut at the end and Loki being super protective of you

A/N: This is neither of the two fics I'm supposed to be working on but here we are lol. I've been binge watching all of the Mission Impossible movies and there is a line in the third movie that stood out to me (I put it in italics for anyone who's curious)... I wasn't sure if I wanted to use it for Loki or Director Fury but I went with Loki so here it is! I hope you all like this super short little fic! 💚💚💚

Smoke rises from the abandoned Hydra base, the ground shaking under your feet as another explosion rips through the building. Running through the densely packed trees, there's no need to look back to know you're protected, the green haze of Loki's magic follows you both between the trees, shielding you from possible debris and shrapnel.

You can hear the sound Loki's heavy leather boots on the crisp snow right behind you. The Asgardian could easily out run you but he never would, the god purposefully slows his pace to let you lead the way out of the forest. The freezing wind stings your face but you keep your head up and facing forward in the hopes that you can avoid looking in Loki's direction for as long as possible. You can only imagine how disappointed and aggravated he must be with you after how badly you screwed up.

He hasn't said a word since you were chased through the empty base by a wall of fire and smoke you had set into motion. Loki's magic held back the heat and flames until you threw open the metal door and escaped into the snow and wind. Once he felt you were a safe distance away, he released the fire and the explosion tore through the base.

After running for what feels like forever, a relieved smile spreads across your lips when you finally see the edge of the clearing where you landed the jet nearly two hours ago. You risk looking over your shoulder at Loki, the excitement you feel immediately vanishes when you see the expression on his face.

You sigh heavily, your breath visible from the cold air as you slow your pace to a brisk walk. A shiver runs up your spine and you pretend it's because your tactical suit isn't made for these freezing temperatures but you know it's because Loki has moved to be next to you and you doubt you will be able to out off this conversation until you land at home.

"We're back at the jet, cap," you inform Steve and the team back at the Tower.

"Glad you made it out safely, that was a rough one, huh? The weather report looks a bit dicey so we're sending a new flight path to the autopilot. Come on home guys," the super soldier responds through your earpiece.

"We will not be leaving quite yet Captain," Loki says in a stern tone, you can feel his piercing gaze even as you stare at the snow at your feet.

You turn to look up at the tall god, hoping an apology will help calm him, "Loki, I'm-"

"You triggered the explosion in the base well before you were instructed to," Loki states, leaving no room for arguing not that you were going to because you both know he's right. You were supposed to wait until you were outside, deep in the woods before you set off the chain reaction that would demolish the base but you hadn't and you didn't honestly have a good excuse.

"I thought-" you say but he doesn't give you the chance to finish your sentence.

"No, you didn't think, that much is very clear," he says and you bite your lip anxiously. "I mean honestly, did you even listen during the mission briefing yesterday? Or maybe you just think orders and directives don't apply to you, is that it? Do you have any idea what could have happened to you if I hadn't been there to shield you from the initial blast?"

"I-" you barely make a sound as you lift your head.

"Don't interrupt me when I'm asking you rhetorical questions," he says, his eyes locking on yours.

You put your hand over your mouth, trying to silence the nervous giggle that threatens to escape.

"This is not funny," he says, his anger fading as concern swiftly takes its place. "You could have been seriously hurt, or worse Y/N... you can't be this reckless," his hand lifts slowly to cup your cheek.

"I know," you look down again as his thumb strokes your skin. "I'm sorry, I forgot the stairwell at that East end of the base had been blocked. I should have waited until we were both clear."

"Yes you should have," he agrees in a much calmer voice.

"Good thing I had a really hot overly protective god to keep me safe though, right?" you say with an overly exaggerated grin.

"You truly are an insufferable little mortal," Loki says with a deep sigh but you can see him fighting to keep from smiling.

You giggle, "That's not what you called me last night... or in the shower this morning."

He lets out a light chuckle and shakes his head. Just as he opens his mouth to respond you hear Steve in your ear, "Um guys, we can still hear you."

"Thank you for not telling us sooner captain," Loki says with an eye roll and you take the distraction as an opportunity to place a light kiss to his cheek. He raises an eyebrow at you and says, "We're getting on the jet now, we will inform you when we get closer to the Tower."

Once Steve acknowledges him, the trickster removes his earpiece and smirks at you, "Get in the jet, darling. We will continue this discussion in private."

You bite your lip and turn to walk towards the jet, thick clouds of smoke still visible over the tree line behind you. You remove your own earpiece when you feel Loki's hand move to your lower back, "I really am sorry."

He closes the rear door with a loud thud that echoes through the empty jet. "You can apologize for making me worry on the flight home," he says while you engage the autopilot. "We have roughly three hours until they will expect to hear from us again." You giggle when Loki takes a seat and motions for you to come to him.

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚 Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

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[uzurakis]

as a fellow nagumo lover, how about i request nagumo saving reader (who’s also an assassin) while she’s badly injured and teasing her as she recovers 🙃

your eyes flutter awake, and you're greeted by the sight of yoichi nagumo lounging in a chair by your bed, his feet propped up on the edge. those dark eyes light up the moment he sees you stir.

"well, look who's decided to join the land of the living~!" he exclaims, a wide grin spreading across his face. awhile ago, you slowly regain consciousness, the beeping of the hospital machines faintly registering in your ears. the body of yours feels heavy and sore, memories of the mission flooding back; remembering the ambush, the fight, and then the pain. but most of all, you remember nagumo’s face, his expression uncharacteristically serious as he saved you. and you don’t see that often, never, actually.

you try to speak, but your throat is dry, and all that comes out is a croak. nagumo jumps up, leaning over you with an exaggeratedly concerned expression.

"oh no! have you forgotten how to talk? i guess i'll just have to handle all the conversation from now on," he says, feigning a dramatic sigh.

you roll your eyes, managing to croak out, "water."

he grabs a cup of water from the table, but instead of handing it to you, he holds it just out of your reach. "first, you have to answer a riddle. what has four legs in the morning, two legs in the afternoon, and three legs in the evening?"

"nagumo, seriously?" you rasp, your annoyance mingled with a slight, very tiny hint of amusement. man, i just woke up, you say in your head.

he only chuckles and finally gives you the water. "fine, i'll let you off this time. but only because you look like you’ve been through a meat grinder."

the cool liquid soothing your parched throat as you take a grateful sip. "thanks.. for the rescue," you manage to say.

nagumo waves his hand dismissively. "oh, don't mention it. just another day in the life of your favorite assassin."

don't mention it, he says with a casual wave of his hand, his trademark grin firmly in place. but beneath that easygoing facade, he's a whirlwind of emotions. the memory of finding you bleeding and unresponsive still haunts him, a gnawing fear that he might lose you forever. he can still feel the cold dread that settles in his stomach when you don't respond to his frantic calls, the way his heart pounds in his chest as he carries you to safety. every step is a desperate prayer that you'll hold on, that you'll survive. seeing you lying so still, so vulnerable, shakes him to his core. regardless of his lighthearted demeanour, he can't shake the residual anxiety of nearly losing you, the concern that one day his abilities may be worthless to keep you safe.

"favorite, huh?" you tease, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the pain.

"absolutely," he says, winking. "and you know, you gave us quite a scare. i mean, i had to carry you all the way back here. do you have any idea how heavy you are?"

you glare at him playfully. "maybe if you weren't so scrawny, it wouldn't have been a problem."

the guy laughs, the sound infectious. "touché. but really, you had us all worried. even sakamoto looked like he might actually break a sweat."

"i'm sorry," you say softly, feeling a pang of guilt for the trouble you caused. “i really thought it could handle them by myself. sorry..”

nagumo's expression softens for a moment, his usual levity giving way to genuine concern. "hey, don't apologize. i've got your back, and you've got mine. besides, it’s not like i’d let anything happen to my favorite partner, riiight? why are you looking at me like that?”

before you can respond, he suddenly leans in close, a mischievous glint in black pupils. "oh, by the way, did i tell you? i told the nurses you’re afraid of needles. so they might have a surprise for you when they come to change your IV."

your eyes widen in horror, and he bursts out laughing at your reaction. "relax, i’m kidding. or am i? guess you’ll find out soon enough."

"you rascal," you mutter, shaking your head.

"you owe me a box of pocky sticks," he says with a grin, leaning back in his chair.

despite the pain and exhaustion, you can’t help but smile. "i guess i do."

he reaches over and gently squeezes your hand. "get some rest. i’ll be here when you wake up. and who knows, maybe i’ll have another riddle for you."

"great," you say sarcastically, if it’s not for your injuries, maybe you’ve already thrown a pillow at his face. though, you know you can always count on him to be there for you, pranks and all.

@uzurakis

[love-byers]

(warning: long)

we should talk more about mikes choice of words in the rink o mania fight, or rather the writers choice of words

"You basically sabotaged the whole day!!"

sabotage

in case you need a reminder of what sabotage means

deliberately destroy, damage, or obstruct

mike is not just saying will was being a douche for moping, rolling his eyes, and barely talking. he's saying wills a douche because he's doing it on purpose. not even just on purpose either, he's saying will planned this. will wanted to ruin the day. mike thinks will was out to get him by withholding his friendship. obviously will wasn't doing any of this, he just moped because he felt brushed off by mike and was ignored (or so he thought).

that kind of behavior, thinking the consequences of his own actions are a planned attack against him, is very consistent with the way he acted in s3 when el dumped him and he blamed it on max.

we can connect this directly to mike's apology where he calls himself a self-pitying idiot. the self-pity is mike allowing himself to believe it's not his fault that his day sucked, that it's not his fault will is acting this way. deep down he knows it's his own fault by purposefully brushing will off at the airport, but he was being so self-absorbed and self-pitying that he convinced himself it wasn't.

"why is this on me?? why am i the bad guy??"

so lets go through this again, inferring from mike's own words.

when will left hawkins, he felt weird. he'd just spent the whole summer trying to be grown up and acting like he didn't care about dnd anymore, shutting will down and really hurting him in the process, so he probably feels embarrassed that he now feels the exact opposite. he enjoyed spending time with max, lucas, and dustin but it just wasn't the same without will. he missed will so badly that the fact that will was barely reaching out got to his head, and he felt too insecure to find out for himself. he didn't know if will felt the same way or if he was doing fine without mike, making lots of new friends and enjoying life. he was afraid he'd lost will. then here comes el with her letters saying how life is awesome and they have lots of friends. mike probably thought, oh now i'm DEFINITELY not telling him how i feel. the letter about will potentially liking a girl was the final straw. wow. so he's occupied with some girl and thats why he won't talk to me. so now mikes determined to not give will an inkling of an idea that he's bothered or that he cares. psh, mike could care less. maybe when will sees that mike totally doesn't care he'll feel like he screwed up and he'll be super nice to compensate and win mike back.

so mike gets to lenora and hey, will, i totally don't care about seeing you, see how i dodged your hug? i don't care. then he sees the painting. maybe it's not for someone he likes, maybe it's for me. here you go will, opportunity one to win back my affection.

"Uh, what's that?"

"Um, it's nothing, it's just this painting I've been working on."

"Cool."

operation-act like i don't care: EEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR FAILED.

LOOK at his face bro. he looks heartbroken.

from here on mike just got more and more annoyed. will isn't trying to win him back, he isn't compensating for the months of silence. he's acting sad. he's acting sad? he has the audacity to act sad after he made all these friends and left me behind?? no, this is not my fault, this is not on me. it gets under his skin in a way he can't ignore. those feelings of guilt and annoyance that will is causing mixed with his months worth of self pity and convincing himself he's not the problem leads him to another thought. he's doing this on purpose. he's punishing me. this was his plan all along. he's trying to ruin my day for no reason, because i clearly didn't do anything to deserve this.

then angela shows up and humiliates el and mike, for some insane reason, uses this as an excuse to express his anger to will, even though it had literally nothing to do with will.

"You should've told me she was having trouble."

"Well, I didn't know they were gonna be here, Mike."

"Yeah, but you knew she was having trouble for like a year and didn't tell me."

in WHAT world is this will's fault?? he had absolutely no idea el was lying until that day. and mike is blaming him? no, he's really not, he just wants a reason to express his anger without having to admit why he's angry.

"Well, I didn't know she was lying to you."

"Is that why you decided to be a douche to her all day?"

her. he's hiding behind el's name. psh, what? i don't care that you weren't talking to me, it's because of el.

el just got publicly humiliated and mike thinks now is the time to get on will and act like el's biggest problem was will not talking to her?? no way. he just doesn't want will to know that these are his feelings.

"I wasn't being a douche!"

this completely sets mike off. how dare will act all innocent after what he did to me all day? any part of him that was trying to hide that will's behavior is bothering him has been completely overridden. will purposefully withholding his attention from mike has pissed him off soooooo badly that he can't keep it to himself anymore or hide behind el.

"You were! You were! You were rolling your eyes, you were moping, you were barely talking you basically sabotaged the whole day!"

yup, thats right will. i know exactly what you're doing and i'm calling you out on it.

"Well she was lying to you, Mike! Straight to your face ever since you got here! And...and I've been a total third wheel all day it's been miserable. So sorry if I wasn't...if i wasn't smiling."

third wheel? really?

"Yeah, whatever man."

"Well what about us?"

"What?"

i imagine this is where mike shits himself. i mean he literally stops in his tracks. will is directly addressing what he'd been trying to hide his care for the whole time, them. all of a sudden after all these months, he cares about us? and it's poking at that weird feeling he had, like he missed will too much. like he was feeling too much.

"What, you're mad that I didn't talk to you? Seems like you've made it super clear you're not interested in anything I have to say."

"That's just not true."

mike says that so fast it's like a knee-jerk reaction. of course he cares what will has to say. all he's wanted all day, and all this time for that matter, was for will to talk to him. and will is blaming him?

"You called maybe a couple times. It's been a year, Mike. Meanwhile El has like a book of letters from you."

now mike's defense is kicking in. he feels like will is directly picking at that feeling. the weirdness. the fact that he feels differently for will than the rest of his friends, even his girlfriend.

"That's because she's my girlfriend, Will!"

"And us?"

now the alarms are going off. he knows something. "us" for will in this moment is just their friendship. "us" for mike is something more, because that's what's been brewing in him the whole time they've been apart. internalized homophobia in 3..2..

"We're friends! We're. Friends."

"Well, we used to be best friends!"

oh. he was just talking about our friendship. i was tweaking a little bit. and...ouch. will just officially said they aren't best friends anymore. and he's blaming it on mike. but mikes defenses are still up high.

"Well...well maybe you should've reached out more, I don't know! But why is this on me? Why am I the bad guy?!"

then will is lost for words, and he just look sad. and as mad as mike is, he hates seeing will that way.

i imagine the day or two between this and his apology, mike went over this fight in his mind multiple times. and the more he thought about it, the more he realizes, ah shit. i was way too in my head and this was completely one sided. will wasn't plotting against me, i just felt so bad for myself i convinced myself i did nothing wrong. all this because i thought he found new friends and i felt bad for myself. and now i've lost my best friend and made him feel like all of it is his fault. i have to let him know it's all on me.

tldr: mike is weird and gay.

[delulu4anime]

𝔚𝔢𝔩𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔗𝔬 𝔓𝔩𝔬𝔱 𝔈𝔩𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫⇥ ꜱɪᴛ ᴘʀᴇᴛᴛʏ ꜰᴏʀ ᴍᴇ

🪦ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ⇥ ᴛɪᴍᴇꜱᴋɪᴘ!ᴛᴇᴛꜱᴜʀᴏ ᴋᴜʀᴏᴏ x ᴄʟɪɴɢʏɢꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

🪦ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪᴛᴇʀᴀʀʏ ᴘᴀꜱꜱᴀɢᴇ⇥ ᴄᴏᴄᴋᴡᴀʀᴍɪɴɢ

🪦ᴛʜᴇ ᴇᴜʟᴏɢʏ⇥ ᴜꜱᴜᴀʟʟʏ ʜᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ ʜᴏᴡ ᴄʟɪɴɢʏ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴏᴛ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ʜɪꜱ ᴛʀɪᴘꜱ ʙᴜᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ʀᴇᴀꜱᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴀᴄᴛɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀɴ ɴᴏʀᴍᴀʟ. ʏᴏᴜ ꜱʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴍɪɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍᴏᴜᴛʜ. ʜɪꜱ ᴘᴀᴛɪᴇɴᴄᴇ ʜᴀꜱ ʀᴜɴ ᴏᴜᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ʜɪꜱ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇꜱꜱ.

🪦ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢꜱ⇥ ᴄᴏᴄᴋ ᴡᴀʀᴍɪɴɢ, ᴘɪᴠ, ᴅᴏɢɢʏ, ᴄʀᴇᴀᴍᴘɪᴇ, ɪᴍᴘʟɪᴇᴅ ᴏʀᴀʟ, ᴏɴᴇ ʙᴏᴏᴛʏ ꜱᴘᴀɴᴋ

🪦ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴠᴏᴛɪᴏɴ⇥ 1.5ᴋ+

🪦ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴇʀᴍᴏɴ⇥ 🔞ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛ. ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏᴜʟꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ɢʀᴀᴠᴇʏᴀʀᴅ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴋɪɴᴅʟʏ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴅɪꜱᴛᴜʀʙᴇᴅ. ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ɴᴏᴡ🔞- ꜱʜᴏᴡ ᴏꜰ ʜᴀɴᴅꜱ ᴡʜᴏ ᴇʟꜱᴇ ɴᴇᴇᴅꜱ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʟᴏꜱᴇʀ? ᴀɴʏᴡᴀʏꜱ ᴋᴜʀᴏᴏ ɪꜱ ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ-ꜱᴇᴠᴇɴ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪꜱ ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ-ꜱɪx. ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛᴀᴋᴇꜱ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ ɪɴ ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ-ᴏɴᴇ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴋᴜʀᴏᴏ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛꜱ ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ᴘʟᴀʏ. ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴅᴀʏ ᴇʟᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴏꜰ ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ. ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ!

🪦ᴛʜᴇ ʜʏᴍɴꜱ⇥ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ɴᴏᴡ, ɪ'ᴍ ꜱʜᴀᴍᴇʟᴇꜱꜱ/ꜱᴄʀᴇᴀᴍɪɴ' ᴍʏ ʟᴜɴɢꜱ ᴏᴜᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴀ/ɴᴏᴛ ᴀꜰʀᴀɪᴅ ᴛᴏ ꜰᴀᴄᴇ ɪᴛ/ɪ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀɴ ɪ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀɴ ɪ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ/ꜱʜᴏᴡ ᴍᴇ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ꜱʜᴀᴍᴇʟᴇꜱꜱ/ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ɪᴛ ᴏɴ ᴍʏ ɴᴇᴄᴋ, ᴡʜʏ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʏᴀ?/ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴡᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴇʀᴀꜱᴇ ɪᴛ

brat

/brat/

noun DEROGATORY•HUMOROUS

a child, typically a badly behaved one.

    Coincidentally that would the perfect word to describe you right now. Kuroo knew that he had been traveling a lot due to his job at the Japan Volleyball Association. With his promotions and pulling in more youth to enjoy volleyball just as much as he did, he was able to get people like Ushijima to come back to play for Japan. He felt like his phone was ringing off the hook, emails seemed to be never ending, and a few hours of sleep due to different time zones was a norm. It was something you understood and you were there for him. Always supporting him, always making sure he was taken care of. You usually didn't mind being away from him because you were just as busy with work and uni classes. Usually. 

    Kuroo had come back from a recent trip that had taken him away from you for nearly two weeks. Video calling was starting to become a nuisance because unless he was sitting in his hotel room the screen would freeze too much. The bed seemed so much bigger and colder than it usually felt. Wearing his clothes to bed only made you miss him more and when you were extra needy your fingers did nothing to reach the spots he could without even trying. It really wasn't your fault the way you practically tackled him when he got home. Nor was it your fault when you tried to attack him with kisses. No…but what was your fault was the way you continuously pouted and whined as you sat in his office. So much so that he finally had enough. 

If you were gong to be making those noises you would whine while sitting pretty on his lap with him buried in your aching core. You hadn't realized till now that maybe just maybe you shouldn't have been a brat. But you had a hard time expressing yourself properly which often came out in a bratty way instead of simply just saying you missed him. You had to show him which usually worked. However, your boyfriend lacked a little less sleep which meant he had plenty of time to deal with your bratty behavior. It's why you trembled on his lap and you were not allowed to move or else you wouldn't get anything for weeks. The worst punishment for being a brat like you. Your breathing was labored as you looked down to see Kuroo writing down his plans for the next few weeks. He was so easily focused on his work as if you weren't on his lap…on his cock.

    "Baby...please...please let me move." You whine out and Kuroo glance at you for a second before looking back down at his work.

    "No." He said in a firm tone. 

    "T-Tersu...I've already apologized a million times." You whine again. 

    You have the audacity to shift your hips against him for any kind of friction. It causes him to give you a warning swat at your thigh. You immediately stop your movements and tilt your head back to rest it against his shoulder. Your body trembles more and he doesn't even look over at you. His attention moving from the paperwork to his laptop. He shifted so he could start typing an email and it only caused you to clench around him. You could tell his breath shifted when you did so but he went right back to typing. You couldn't help but groan in frustration wondering how he could keep his cool. 

Little did you know that it was taking everything in him to pound into you. He had to keep his word to himself; don't give in. It’s what you deserved after running your bratty mouth a little too much. He continued to type as it filled his at home office and soon his voice filled the space too. Calm and commanding which knew meant he was unhappy with your behavior.

    "You're staying here until I'm done with my work. No more moving, no more whining. Do you understand?" Kuroo said as he shifted again and you swore he did that on purpose. 

You meekly nod your head as you close your eyes. This was simply torture. Listening to him type word after word while you cockwarmed him should be labeled as cruel and unusual punishment. Regardless you responded to him nonetheless.

    "Yes sir."

Kuroo smirked as he heard your response knowing you were going to act right which he was thankful for. He couldn't go anymore time without you. He had missed you so much and you had to ruin it by being a brat. Kuroo leans forward to whisper in your ear and you whimper at the movement. He relished the sight of his girl being so obedient now.

    "Good girl."

A shiver runs down your spine at the praise and you can't help but tighten around him again. He lets out a groan and moves his hands to your hips. You thought he was going to finally move so you decided to sweeten the deal.

    "P-Please...promise I'll never be a brat again."

Kuroo hummed softly at your words as he brushed his thumb over your exposed skin. He had to talk himself off the ledge; keep calm.

    "I don't know if I believe you."

    "Please," You whine loudly. "Promise I'll be good forever. Just wanna move. S' torture."

Kuroo let out a breathy chuckle as he listened to you whine. He let go of your hips and returns to the email he was typing up before.

    "And why should I believe you, princess? You were pretty bratty tonight."

    "Because I hate this punishment." You huff out which only earns you another chuckle from your boyfriend. 

    "Well I hate when you get bratty as soon as I come home. I want to spend time with you too but sometimes I just have to work on a few more things last minute. Doesn't mean I don't love you or don’t want to spend time with you." Kuroo said and you registered his words...really registered them this time.

You knew had the tables been turned you would've been upset about Kuroo being clingy too. With uni class and your full time job it was hard enough as it was to juggle your schedule so you couldn't imagine what it was like in Kuroo's line of work. You let out a sigh and nod your head as you watch the way his fingertips move over the keys. The veins in his hand on the back of his hands running up his arm and under the rolled up sleeves of his work shirt. 

    "I know...just get in my head sometimes is all." You murmur and the silence fills the room again. The only thing filling the space if the clicking of the keys.

That's all he needed to hear to know that you actually meant it. It did fill him with a bit of guilt for doing this and so with one last word typed out he suddenly shoved you forward against his desk. He set a brutal pace as his desk knocked against the wall repeatedly. Pens rolling off the desk, paperwork bunched and crumped in your grasp only to fall down to the floor. You moan out his name over and over again as his grip on your hips is bruising.

    "Missed this so much princess. Feels so good wrapped around me." Kuroo moaned out. 

You reached one hand out to place it against the way so you wouldn't hit your head against the wall. The other reaching back to rest of his abdomen as your ass slams back against him.

    "So hard to control myself with your tight cunt squeezing me like a vice." Kuroo grunted as he felt himself already getting close after nearly an hour and a half of you cockwarming him. 

    "B-Baby m' gonna cum...slow down!" You cry out and he lets out a breathy laugh. 

    "This is what you wanted isn't it? So be a good girl and take it." Kuroo said with harsh thrusts.

    Your combined moans fill his small office and you know the neighbors will have a word with your two tomorrow but you can't bring yourself to care too much at the moment. It all felt too good to care about the punishment or the fact he had been gone for so long. All that mattered was the two of you joined together as one. It was no wonder just a few more thrusts late you both were coming undone together. You cried out for him while he finished inside you with your name of his tongue like a sweet melody. After he catches his breath, Kuroo leans forward and starts placing soft kisses against your shoulder blades. You turn and look to see you had not only smashed a bunch of random keys in the email but you also accidentally sent the email to Kuroo's boss.

    "Oops." You sheepishly said and Kuroo turned to look at his laptop.

His eyes widened and he quickly went to go and try and fix the accidental mistake.

    "Shit. He's going to be so confused," Kuroo mumbled before he gave your ass a light spank. "Get on your knees and clean me up while I fix your little mistake." Kuroo teased.

©ᴅᴇʟᴜʟᴜ4ᴀɴɪᴍᴇ 2024 ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

ᴅᴀɪʟʏ ᴄʟɪᴄᴋꜱ

ᴘᴀʏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʀᴇꜱᴘᴇᴄᴛꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴀ ᴅɪꜰꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴛ ɢʀᴀᴠᴇ

[sainzproductions]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 ⋆ 𝐜. 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐳

where you belatedly realize, you and carlos may never want the same things in life

INSTAGRAM 🔒

liked by lewishamilton, landonorris and others

yourusername favorite time of the year🌅🧜🌊🩷🍷

carlossainz55 eres mi chica favorita todos los días

translation: you're my favorite girl every day

landonorris i think my invite got lost in the mail..

yourusername sorry i didn't want my competition on a trip with me🙄

landonorris why are you so jealous of me

landonorris carlossainz55 tell her who came in your life first🤨

carlossainz55 y/n did. '10. she was wearing a black cami top, with a dark navy blue jacket with a nets print in the front.

yourusername 💅💅💅

landonorris okay... you weirdos🙄 go and be disgusting off my timeline

yourusername you want me to fly you out huh?

landonorris so badly... i'll do anything for it😩🙏

maxverstappen1 can i fly out with lando? 🙋

yourusername depends, can you make it clap?🤔

maxverstappen1 i can make it go wooo!!

↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-

You'd somehow, found yourself entrusted with a bright eyed, enthusiastic baby who was blowing bubbles from his mouth; chubby arms flailing by his side, as you held his small frame cautiously. His mother, one of carlos' many cousin had dropped the baby on your lap, before clamoring towards the bathroom in a haste to relieve herself.

“Don't look so stiff, y/n.” Blanca laughed at your shaken expression, crossing her arms in a resolute manner when you tried to hand the babbling baby to her. “Consider it practice, hermosa. He loves you, look.” she raises her eyebrows, gesturing with her hands to the baby who's bright eyes were intent on your face, giggling and muttering incoherently to himself.

You held the baby like it was a foreign object, hands hoisting him up by the armpits— your posture betraying your lack of finese in handling a fragile human being. In all the years, you've maintained a safe distance from any and possibly all soft headed creatures called babies. You've always appeared scared, and cautious when presented the opportunity to hold other people's children, opting to, instead politely decline and shrink behind whoever was accompanying you at the present moment.

“He's... something.” You tilt your head at the baby, slightly taken aback by the way he mirrors your movement. Blanca laughs, clearly enjoying your predicament.

“I don't know who's more charmed.” She teases, leaning back in her seat as she watches the hesitance slowly, but surely transform into fascination. The young one, as if sensing your initial reactions to his person, garbled more nonesense as if to maximize his cuteness— his chubby cheeks buldged, lips wobbling as he giggled, appearing delighted by your complex expressions.

“He's drooling, blanca.” You state, exssperated yet somewhat amused.

“Babies drool, y/n. They aren't the most intelligent creatures at that point.” You faintly hear the distinct sound of a shutter clicking, and you snap your head towards her— catching her with a phone in hand, a sheepish expression present on her face. “You looked identical, i'm sorry! I've always thought this would be you, someday. I mean, you went at it like bunnies when we were all younger—”

“Blanca, eso no es algo que digas en voz alta,” that's not something you say out loud. you chide, feeling your cheeks warm.

“Lo siento, hermosa.” She giggles, nudging your shoulder in apology, although you couldn't help but notice her expression shift slightly. “You can't blame me. When i think of you and my dear brother, i see you with ten little juniors running around your yard whilst the rest of us just borrow one of your children.”

You roll your eyes playfully at her ridiculous dream, “If i ever let it get to ten, you should tell him to get off me.”

The baby you were holding whines, wriggling to rest his head on your hands while blinking slowly. He was incredibly well behaved despite his drooling antics; and you couldn't help but notice the distinct features of a sainz in his face. Those warm brown eyes... and he was growing into his tall nose and matching trademark grin. He was adorable, you begrudgingly admit.

In a lapse of proper judgement, you allowed the baby to rest it's head on your shoulder. The toddler melting into your arms, quietly. Well behaved. Making himself comfortable in your arms. He was so tiny, you muse. So fragile and weak, you'd easily understood why there was such a thing people call a mother's instinct.

“You should have one first.” Blanca states, a soft smile on her face while you have your moment of realization.

“What should she have first?” Carlos asks, raising an eyebrow at your hushed conversations, pressing a chaste kiss on your cheek as he takes the seat beside you.

“Kids, carlos. It's impossible you have never thought of it.” Blanca answers like it was the obvious.

“I don't think it's anywhere near our future.” Carlos chuckles as if his sister had just told a joke, appearing taken aback as he belatedly notices the toddler on your arms who'd easily amused himself with the strands of your hair.

“How can you say that?” Blanca chides, hints of reproach evident in her tone. It is, afterall, somewhat strange that he thought of it in such a way— your relationship had been longer than any of hers had lasted, and it left a truly icky taste in her mouth.

“It's a converstation between y/n and i, Blanca. I don't think it's any of your business.” Carlos turned civil all of a sudden, snapping at his sister.

You bit your tongue to stop yourself from saying anything, the atmosphere suddenly becoming charged with tension.

“Oh muchas gracias, chica! I'm sorry i shoved him in your care,” the unnamed cousin thankfully interruped, oblivious to the tension in between you three as she took the baby from your hands. “Carlos, i haven't seen you in some time! How long will you be in spain?” she started chatting up to your boyfriend casually.

Blanca saw your eyes cloud briefly, she could distinctly class the change in your visage to longing.

Perhaps you weren't at all allergic to babies. Maybe she'd read you wrong. Maybe Carlos read you wrong.

↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 1, 894,929 others

carlossainz55 you and me against the world

landonorris called me single in every language

username taking a toaster bath later🚶‍♀️🚶‍♀️

username my unproblematic parents🥺😭😭

username i'd trade a limb to have a love like carlos and y/n🙃

↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-

The drive to your home was silent. Neither of you spoke. You allowed yourself to bask in the tender, but welcomed ache in your limbs as a result of a day spent under the sun and swimming for the better part of the eventful day. You'd thoroughly enjoyed the time you've spent just frolicking in the water and playing around with Carlos. It was always worthwile, there weren't many opportunities you had to spend some uninterrupted time together.

If he wasn't on a racetrack, zooming by in a blur, he was occupied with meetings, press and proper workouts inbetween, leaving you with scraps of his attention.

“Y/n?” Carlos repeats your name, failing to snap you out of your thoughts. With one hand on the steering wheel, and the other in your grasp, he tugs at your intetwined hands. It made you look at him. “I've been calling your name a couple of times, querida. Is there anything wrong?” He worries.

“Nothing's wrong.” You assured him, trying to muster a smile. He pauses, as if measuring his words. “You've been quiet.” you hum in response, looking out of the window as the car moves again.

“Talk to me y/n...” he utters, resembling a plea.

You take a deep breath, clearing your throat. “I'd rather not.”

His jaw clenches, muscles tensing at your short responses. “Is this about the conversation with Blanca? We've talked about this a million times; there's no one else i'd want all the permanent shit other than you. But you know right now is a very delicate time of my career and i can't—”

“risk jeopardizing any of the opportunities that comes my way.” You repeat monotonously, looking at him. “I know, Carlos. I know where i stand.” you said it with such certainty, the fact itself ingrained in your very being after so many years of falling behind his priorities.

He's made it clear, time and time again.

“But i don't want to wake up one day, and realize i have to start all over again because i spent all my time waiting for a moment that would never happen.” you weren't loud, nor were you screaming. Yet it dealt the same weight and hurt, that made him unable to refute you.

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Redownloaded GFL because of your blog (also the main reason why I got into it in the first place) and I was surprised with all of the QOL changes they made.

My favorite so far is the non-critical auto repair after battles and it got me thinking how would the AR & DEFY girls react to an SO who scolds them when they return in critical condition but repairs them as tenderly and with as much care as possible despite their harsh demeanor. (Basically a tsundere SO who's worried sick but refuses to admit it)

Love your blog and I hope you're doing well. Thank you for continuously feeding my (and everyone else's) obsession with raifu's.

(GFL) AR Team and DEFY's S/O repairing them

AR Team: M4A1, M16A1, ST AR-15, M4 SOPMOD II, RO635 DEFY: AK-12, AN-94, AK-15, RPK-16

It has been too long since I have written the Raifus on the blog, time to rectify that. Also TSUNDERES WOOOOOO-

M4A1 winces from the light of S/O's blowtorch welding her metallic limbs back together.

Seeing it return to green status in her eyes, she simply sighs when S/O stands up, shifting their welding mask up in order to look at her.

Seeing S/O cross their arms, M4A1 already knows what they're about to say.

(M4A1) "S/O, I know I-"

(S/O) "Went overboard? Psh, that's never stopped you before."

M4A1's hands took a moment to readjust themselves as S/O examined one of her legs that was currently sitting on a nearby table, badly damaged.

(S/O) "It almost seems like what I request to you and the Commander just gets ignored deliberately. Do you think I can repair you all the time without any effort?-"

(M4A1) "S/O."

M4A1's arm that revealed her metallic frame grabbed S/O's hand, finally making them pause.

She gently tugged S/O toward her, and despite their angry expression, the tears forming in the corner of their eyes betrayed any lingering anger that may have been present.

And with her one arm that had the synthetic skin remain, gently wiped away S/O's tear.

(M4A1) "...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you."

(S/O) "...If you don't mean to do that, then just come home in one piece so I don't have to do this."

Their voice dropped to nearly a whisper, but she had no trouble hearing them clearly.

S/O let M4A1's hand linger on their face for a moment while they took a deep breath again, though this time much calmer than before.

(S/O) "Now stand still, I have to make sure your leg is properly patched up."

(M4A1) "Thank you, S/O."

S/O averted their gaze to grab her leg, though she knew the real reason they refused to meet her eyes, bringing a small but sad smile to her lips.

(S/O) "Don't thank me. I've yet to finish...And you're not walking out of here without my help, understood?"

(M4A1) "Hah, got it."

S/O grumbled under their breath as M16 sheepishly let her jacket drop.

Only to reveal an entire forearm missing.

(M16A1) "...For the record, that wasn't my fault."

(S/O) "Couldn't have grabbed the missing part?"

(M16A1) "It was uh...a little beyond recovering at that point."

(S/O) "You are going to be the death of me, Sixteen."

(M16A1) "Heh, come on! I'm making sure you get Griffin's paychec-"

(S/O) "By what, making sure I put you back together like goddamn Humpty Dumpty everytime you come back?!"

M16 flinched by S/O raising their voice, and only noticed now how tightly S/O was gripping onto her remaining hand.

Which also was damaged.

(S/O) "I get taking damage during a mission, it's unvavoidable, but 90% of the time, it is!"

(M16A1) "...S-S/O, I didn't mean to-"

(S/O) "Don't apologize. Just...Don't make me work so hard."

S/O gaze lingered on her missing limb, to which she responded by grabbing their hand and resting it near her eyepatch.

(M16A1) "Come on, can't have your skills going rusty, can I?"

Her tone was cheeky, but her volume was soft, letting S/O's fingers brush against her cheek before going to grab repair tools.

(S/O) "At this rate, I'm going to need a drink..."

(M16A1) "Heh, wanna share? It's on me."

(S/O) "...Then I'm grabbing the most expensive Jack Daniels they have."

And to that, M16's cocky attitude deflated.

(M16A1) "...Shoulda kept my mouth shut."

STAR rolled her arms the moment she felt the connection back online.

(ST AR-15) "Thanks, feeling much better now."

(S/O) "These parts aren't cheap, STAR.-"

Before she could retort, S/O pulled her wrist towards them, examining it with a scanner before nodding in satisfaction.

(S/O) "And contrary to how you think, your life isn't something to throw away either."

STAR opened her mouth but instead of any reply, only a sigh came out.

(S/O) "If you won't think of yourself, then at least think of me. I have to be the one making sure you're all good to go before you tear yourself apart again."

(ST AR-15) "...R-Right."

S/O shook their head as their hand shifted down into hers, holding it firmly.

(ST AR-15) "I don't plan on going anywhere, S/O."

(S/O) "Hm. Tell me that when you're not coming home to me in twenty pieces."

ST AR-15 wryly grinned at S/O, playfully kicking at them with a missing foot on her right leg, exposing both synthetic skin and the electrical bits inside.

(ST AR-15) "Twenty-one, actually."

S/O turned around to grab other tools, but STAR could tell they smiled at her joke.

(M4 SOPMOD II) "BOOOOOREEEED!"

SOPMOD aggressively wiggled her metallic stumps where her arms previously where, whining as she bobbed back and forth on the table.

S/O focused their attention on finishing the last of the repairs on her arms, with them sighing loudly.

(S/O) "SOPMOD, I told you before, I'm nearly done."

(M4 SOPMOD II) "You said that forever ago!-"

(S/O) "Three minutes-"

(M4 SOPMOD II) "FOREVER!"

S/O did their best to ignore her pouting as they finally completed the necessary adjustments, moving to reattach her arms.

(S/O) "You wouldn't have to wait like this if you just listened to RO, y'know."

(M4 SOPMOD II) "Bah! I wouldn't have been able to kick their asses if I hadn't!"

(S/O) "Plus, you're making me work harder than I have to."

She raised an eyebrow at S/O's words, a grin quickly growing.

(M4 SOPMOD II) "Don't act like that you wouldn't be worried if you weren't the one doing my repairs!"

(S/O) "Please, I already have so much work piled up, I-"

SOPMOD yelped the moment a hiss came from her right arm reattaching, making S/O's heart drop as their eyes widened.

(S/O) "S-SOPMOD! Are you alright?!-"

And their worry was replaced with annoyance as SOPMOD's pained expression transformed into a cheeky smile, tapping S/O playfully on the nose with her claw-like finger.

(M4 SOPMOD II) "Gotcha!"

(RO635) sigh "You have my thanks and apologies, S/O."

S/O shook their head as they softly brushed RO's hair to her back, getting a closer look at the damage on her shoulders.

(S/O) "Hm. I know you avoid damage whenever you can. Just stay still."

Though their tone was cold, it didn't bother RO in the slightest.

She knew how they really felt.

(RO635) "Truthfully, I'm fine S/O. You don't need to worry too much-"

(S/O) "About the bullet that almost tore through your connections on this arm? On the contrary you're giving more reasons to worry."

(RO635) "A-Ah..."

RO's hands rested on her lap, with S/O's head near her neck.

Feeling her core thrum faster as she quickly examined her surroundings to make sure no one was looking, RO stole a quick peck, kissing the top of their head making S/O freeze.

(RO635) "...Sorry, bad time?"

(S/O) "Just...warn me next time before you snap me out of my focus."

12 hummed idly while S/O examined her hand, which was currently beside her, separated from her arm.

(S/O) "How in the world did this happen?"

(AK-12) "Well, you can't just sit on your thumbs all day without doing repair work! Just making sure you're not out of a job."

S/O rolled their eyes at her smug tone, but said nothing as they went about repairing it.

(S/O) "I do repairs everyday while I'm back here, thank you very much."

(AK-12) "Then you won't mind doing one more for your beloved, would you?~"

(S/O) "Isn't it your job to make sure you don't get that hurt?"

(AK-12) "My job is to fulfill whatever Angie tells us. Same for you, as far as I recall."

12's eyes opened slightly as her smile grew.

(AK-12) "And...I'm fairly sure you're not supposed to be treating me like a princess either. But no complaints from me.~"

S/O's cheeks darkened the moment they realized their position: kneeling in front of 12 while putting her hand back gently, which the hand promptly patted S/O's head.

Making their eye twitch as 12 laughed.

If 94 could bow in apology, she would.

However, she was currently laying on the table as multiple mechanical arms set about repairing the damages on her, with S/O standing next to her.

Several bullet wounds were inflicted on her, thankfully mostly superficial, but heavy duty equipment was required.

(S/O) "Good god, how did this even happen?"

(AN-94) "It was my negligence, my apologies S/O. I will have to be more alert."

S/O's hand reached to her lower back, moving her to sit upright as the arms whirred away to give them space.

(S/O) "You better. I don't want to have to do this everytime."

(AN-94) "The last thing I want to do is burden you."

(S/O) "Hey. I didn't say that-"

(AN-94) "But-"

S/O put a finger to her lips, making her blink as her eyes trailed to her lover, who was in the process of covering their mouth.

And failing to hide a blush.

(S/O) "I just...don't want to see you hurt, Ninety-Four."

(AN-94) "S/O"

(S/O) "I said please extend your arms. I have to do final inspection and see if I need any touch-ups."

(AN-94) "...Understood."

94 heard them clearly, but still didn't understand why S/O always seemed flustered saying these kinds of things.

15 stoically turned to S/O as they finished their repairs, allowing her to stand up properly, with S/O gently guiding her up.

She gave a single nod, slow and grateful.

(AK-15) "Thank you, S/O. Your repairs are efficient as always."

(S/O) "Can't have our strongest given to some shoddy engineer, after all."

She hummed in agreement, before taking a moment to bow.

(AK-15) "I apologize for having made the mistake of getting hurt to begin with."

Truthfully, 15 always took the worst of the damage, but that was because she was essentially a walking tank.

Hell, S/O was fairly positive 15 could actually beat the tank to death with her bare hands.

(S/O) "D-Damage is unavoidable. Don't apologize for it. As long as you always come back to me, it's fine."

A moment passed before S/O's eyes widened, in disbelief in what 15 got them to say out loud.

(AK-15) "Is something the matter? Your heartrate has spiked-"

(S/O) "N-Nothing! It's nothing!"

16 raised an eyebrow seeing how kindly S/O attended to her.

Not a moment ago they were chastising her for even taking damage, making S/O work so hard.

(RPK-16) "My, what happened to that foul attitude from earlier, S/O?"

(S/O) "What are you talking about?"

She giggled, tilting her head past the equipment to see S/O tending to her leg.

(RPK-16) "Do you perhaps find peace working on me after all? You don't seem nearly as upset now that I'm here-"

(S/O) "Psh, don't get it mixed up. I'm happy to get you fixed and out of the repair bay."

(RPK-16) "Aw, you do care!"

(S/O) "About my work-"

(RPK-16) "And, you're working on me."

S/O mumbled something, making RPK-16 laugh.

Humans were so prideful sometimes...

Well, all the time really.

[callme-holly]

Do you think maybe you could write for Johnny where he goes on a first date with reader but he’s nervous and kinda messes it up but they try again and it works out? Sorry if that’s too specific!! Love your writing ♥️

'𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐬' [𝐣𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - I'm so sorry if parts of this doesn't make sense, I've been so sick this past week, my lungs are actually giving up on me.

Anyway, illness aside, as always I hope ya'll enjoy this and my asks are still open for requests!!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 897 words

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - mild swearing and Johnny being Johnny <33

Johnny Cade chews on his bottom lip nervously, his fingers tapping against the surface of the table as he looks anywhere but you. He knows he should start up some sort of conversation; hell, he invited you here in the first place, but every time he opens his mouth to speak, he can't seem to muster up the words. His tongue feels like sandpaper, his throat dry and scratchy, and he can't help but notice the way you’re watching him from the other side of the table, eyebrows raised slightly as if you can sense that something is troubling him. 

Your eyes are gentle and sympathetic as they hold his own gaze firmly in place, but there's something else there too, something akin to sympathy. Or maybe it's concern. The same sort of concern that you would show to a frightened child or a scared cat. Johnny is not either of those things.

He clears his throat, looking down at his now half-empty coke bottle.

“So, uh,” he begins, running a hand through his hair awkwardly, not quite meeting your gaze. “What d'ya wanna talk about?” He tries to sound casual, but there's an underlying tone of nervousness that he can't seem to hide as you shrug slightly in response to his question.

 “Well, I don’t know,” you say softly. “I suppose we could talk about anything.”

His mouth opens, then shuts again just as quickly.

Anything? That wasn't helpful at all... 

“Do you... um...” He trails off for a second before shaking his head slightly. This was ridiculous. He knew what he wanted to say; why couldn't he get any fucking words out around you? 

Johnny shakes his head. “Never mind,” he mutters, his voice quiet as he goes back to staring at his coke bottle. You watch as his fingers tap idly at the glass, huffing out a small, quiet sigh. 

After another moment of silence, you reach across the table and take one of his hands, gently entwining your fingers with his. He stills instantly, startled by your touch, and you pull back slightly.

“Sorry. Was that too forward?”

“No!” His voice cracks slightly as he blinks owlishly at you. “Uh, no. It was... um... fine.” He takes a deep breath to calm himself. “It's fine. I mean, you just... surprised me, that's all.” He laughs weakly before clearing his throat again. “What did you say you wanted to talk about?”

You smile faintly. “I didn't.”

“Oh.” He swallows thickly, trying to ignore how badly he wishes he could just turn and run for the door. Why had he let Dally talk him into this? His buddy didn’t know any more about dates than he himself did. He should’ve gone to Soda instead. 

“Johnny?” Your voice pulls him from his thoughts, and he turns to face you again, finding you watching him intently, an unreadable expression on your face as you slowly begin to pull your hand back once more. “Are you okay? You've been acting weird since we got here. If you're uncomfortable, I understand. We can leave and find something else to do.”

“No!” He blurts, reaching to entwine your fingers, only to knock over his drink in the process, the contents promptly spilling over the table and, much to Johnny’s horror, onto you. His eyes widen in dismay, and he stands abruptly, grabbing a handful of napkins from the table across from you and wiping up the spill as fast as his trembling hands will allow, a string of apologies tumbling forth from his lips as he does so. 

“Shit, I'm sorry,"  he manages to stammer before you cut him off.

“It's fine, Johnny. Don't worry about it.” You stand slowly from your seat, trying to ignore the cold press of the wet fabric on your skin as you usher him out of the diner, ignoring the strange looks you receive from other patrons. 

As soon as the door closes behind you, the greaser is throwing apologies at you once more, running a hand through his heavily greased hair. “God damn it, I'm so-”

You shake your head. “Hey,” you interrupt quietly. “It's okay. Really.”

“Still…” He hesitates, taking in a shaky breath before starting to speak again. “Look, can we maybe try again? Somewhere that isn't a busy diner with loads of people.” He rubs nervously at the back of his neck, unable to meet your gaze.

He didn't usually have a problem with busy places, but he certainly didn't enjoy it when everybody's attention was on him, their judgement heavy and suffocating as they bore holes into him with their disgusted stares. 

He shakes his head and adds, “Maybe somewhere with a lower risk of me spillin' my drink all over ya.”

Your lips tug upwards. “Sure, we can try again. How about a movie on Friday night?” 

Your suggestion brings a light flush to Johnny's cheeks, and he nods eagerly. A movie might help to take his mind off everything, to take away from his nerves a little bit. 

“Yea, sure.” He pauses and bites at his lower lip briefly. “You need me to walk ya home?”

You laugh softly. “No. It's only a few blocks. You get yourself home, Johnny Cade.”

He nods, looking hopeful. “Right. See you Friday?”

“Friday.” You confirm, offering him one last smile before heading off in the direction of your house, leaving him standing dumbfounded on the curb.

Gosh, wait until Dally hears about this... 

𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬!!

[oceaneyesinla]

Horror Games

This is a silly idea. It's also the first time I've written for Bakugo but my Bakugo loving mutuals have converted me (if i've butchered your man and he's horribly out of character, please tell me!!!)

If you can guess what horror game i was thinking of when i wrote this, you get a cookie!

Divider by @/cafekitsune

The only sounds in the room are your breathing, the clicking of your keyboard keys, and the sounds of the game running on the screen in front of you. You’re alone in the apartment, and you decided to make the most of it; you’re playing a horror game, one you’ve wanted to play for a while, and you’ve gone all out. Headphones on, lights out - crafting the perfect atmosphere to get a good scare. It’s not often you play horror games; you’re a scaredy cat, cowering in Katsuki’s arms whenever a horror gets picked for movie night. You’re not much better in real life scenarios - you still haven’t lived down your last trip to a haunted house with Denki, Eijiro, Mina and Kyoka.

You love the story behind these games, though, so you’re willing to be brave. How bad can it be, anyway? You’ve watched so many playthroughs of other people playing - surely the jumpscares can’t get you that badly.

Everything is going well - the chicken is staying the fuck away from you, the fox is keeping its ass behind its curtains where it belongs and you’re already mentally patting yourself on the back. Maybe you are good at games after all.

Then two things happen at once. A giant blue bunny face fills the screen accompanied by a horrifying scream. That alone would have been fine. Scary, but fine. Except that at the same time, the main room light flicks on, surrounding you with unexpected light.

You let out a scream of your own, ripping your headphones off your head and pushing your chair away from the desk. The combined momentum of shoving away and trying to turn around to panic about who or what was turning the light on in your empty apartment makes the chair lose balance and you end up in a heap on the floor, still screaming as your eyes adjust to the brightness. Your heart feels like it’s about to beat out of your chest, your palms sweaty.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Katsuki is already moving towards you, clapping a hand over your mouth to quiet your scream even as he skims the other across your skin, checking for any injuries. His eyes, too, are studying you, crimson gaze watching your expression for any pain.

You wiggle your mouth away from his hand, “What am I doing? What are you doing?! You’re supposed to be out with Eijiro and Denki!” Residual panic is making your voice pitchy and your words rushed.

Now that he’s reassured himself that you’re none the worse for wear after your little impromptu meeting with the floor, Katsuki is doing a terrible job of hiding his laughter, “Kiri got called in for a last minute patrol - we rescheduled for next week. Did you not see my text?”

“Clearly not!” Your fear is wearing off, and Katsuki’s laughter is as catching as ever. Soon, you’re both giggling as he helps you to your feet, rubbing at the skin of your thigh soothingly when you wince at the dull pain there. He tucks you against his chest, pressing a kiss to your head as he murmurs an apology into your hair (even if he doesn’t sound particularly sorry, with laughter still colouring his words).

“Why were you even playing a horror game anyway? You can barely get through a horror movie without hiding behind me. What made you think making it interactive would help?” He’s speaking the truth, but that doesn’t mean you like it. You push him away with a pout, sticking your tongue out at him for good measure. It’s not fair that the smile he shoots you in response makes him look so pretty.

“Alright, c’mon sweetness. I brought cake. Truce?”

You perk up immediately, lips ticking up into a grin as you beam at him. He scoffs at your 180, but still grabs your hand to lead you to the kitchen. You’re already fantasising about the cake he’s about to feed you (and the squirty cream you just know he’s brought home too, just because it’s your favourite) so you stop in your tracks at the finger in front of your nose.

“If you have nightmares tonight, don’t expect me to coddle you. You did this to yourself, sweetness.”

You cross your arms, defiant, “I won’t have nightmares!”

You do. And despite his earlier words, Katsuki still pulls you into his chest and murmurs comfort against your skin, rubbing his warm hand up and down your back until you fall asleep again, slipping into much sweeter dreams of being in his arms.

@pixelcafe-network

[robinvomit]

Hi 👋🏾

So I’m actually the one who asked for a list 😭. I’ve actually been reading for work for months now but never followed because when I go on a fanfic deep dive I never pay attention to the users but now I’m realizing you’re one of the few writers I always come back too.

I never thought I would app your name on the list because I’ve actually read fanfic made but ChatGPT and it was NOTHING like your work. I just want to say I’m truly sorry because I never meant to cause any harm. I just wanted to spread awareness especially after finding a fic I loved only to find out it was plagiarized.

Again I’m soooooo sorry and I hope things get better. ❤️‍🩹

Hello 💙

I have nothing against anyone being curious or paranoid by any means — we are living in a time where business and everything else use ai. Not to mention the authors who have been published and caught using it. I hold absolutely no grudge against those wanting to know or even being suspicious. However, I am against people who uses albeist and racist slurs while saying they aren't targeting people, then begging for proof and not acknowledging it.

Had she come to me and asked, I would have answered. I would have sat down, did a video, wrote something, and shown proof that way and been like; hey, it's cool, yadayada. But, one:

She decided to come onto my page and "check it" because she's apparently an accurate living god damn ai detector — must be an android, idk. — and decide my work was either """too good""" or "not good enough" without opening her fucking mouth like a civil TWENTY TWO YEAR OLD, grown ass adult would have and tbh, I truly hope wherever she's studying law finds out about her fun hobby of bullying and harassment online.

Again; there was absolutely NO reason to use the term "demented monkey". There will be no excuses made on that.

When I explained myself, even that I have posted notes, notebook scans, lives, had video calls, etc. I was told "I'm seeing a lot about writing but no proof."

Doesn't even have the balls to acknowledge the proof I posted, APOLOGIZE for being a raging fucking TWAT to the point people have deleted their blogs. Not to mention, gloating and assuming that reaction and not wanting to deal with her harassment means someone is guilty.

She refuses to actually behave like an adult in any of her replies and is acting like she's God's gift to ai writing.

She named the list "People who use ai" without a SINGLE thing to back up any of her claims besides an "indicator" list that sucks ass and doesn't even fit ANY of the blogs she listed.

She had the nerve to read through my page. See that I just had a DEATH in my family. That I am dealing so badly with my mental health I'm barely eating, sleeping or wanting to move and decided; "sorry if this causes you distress".

Not to mention the people in her posts like "haha all these blogs are 100% ai" — I'm sorry.. my fucking expression of how I express grief is fucking ai written? The damian posts I've done for self comfort on fucking borderline personality disorder are ai? I had to have a ROBOT write how I FEEL and deal with MY mental disorder? How the fuck would ai have the capacity to write that correctly when it doesn't have the ability to *have* a mental disorder — especially when they are so tailored to everyone outside of main symptoms for diagnosis.

She's pushing a really fucking dangerous narrative against authors that people really love and it's not going to end well when all of us up and fucking leave. AI. LEARNS AND COPIES. FROM. US. Did everything think the shit with ao3 was just funsies? Giving ai some bedtime stories? NO. It's so it gets BETTER. So it LEARNS. God, has NO ONE ever watched a single movie or TV show about AI? Go watch the new Mission Impossible, for fuck's sake.

When those of us that write and draw and do all the other crafts decide to stop, put our tools down and walk away because of halfwit people like her? I don't want to hear shit when people are left with ai.

And this isn't again YOU. I understand you meant no harm — YOU weren't out here baselessly accusing people with your quirky little look at me haha I know how ai works and these people write BETTER than me so obviously they use ai list. I fully accept your coming forward an apologizing. None of this was your fault because so what you asked — she took it too damn far. I hope you do enjoy the work I have posted, that is what it's here for.

But me? I'm done with this. I am done with all of this.

Clarifying again because I am clearly pissed; I am by NO MEANS upset with you. At all.

[batsarebetterthanpeople]

Izzy doesn't even have a coming to terms with his sexuality arc in season 2 it's much closer to gender, and I've seen a similar gender expression journey to Izzy in season 2 on the middle aged straight dads of queer children. I'm gonna gear my description of what happens towards a father and son example because Izzy's hang ups are very much about toxic masculinity, but I'm a transgender man and I'm on the journey I'm about to describe with my formerly borderline terf mom, so it can apply to other genders.

Anyway: At first the dad who I'm positing is like Izzy punishes his son for putting on a skirt or holding hands with a boy, then he realizes how badly trying to suppress his kid's sexuality is hurting his kid, who he loves in spite of the way he's treating him, so he does his best to change his mind and learn about the queer community and then eventually he goes to a pride event in an I love my gay son shirt and then the son feels like he can finally bring his boyfriend over for dinner and maybe someday the dad apologizes even though its awkward or maybe they let it go unspoken. I've even had a friend who put his reformed homophobic dad in drag makeup for TikTok content.

I'm not saying that's exactly what happened to Izzy, I suppose if we mapped this onto Izzy's journey Ed would be the son but a big part of Izzy getting better was him having a bunch of gay coworkers do something nice for him in a way that had nothing to do with Ed, which doesnt usually happen with the reformed parents, or maybe it does idk I've only experienced it as the queer child or as friend of the queer child so I wouldn't know. Also they usually don't perform in drag shows. But I would also say that they aren't usually pirates on boats where every single other person is queer in some way. The places where Izzy diverges off this path have nothing to do with Izzy coming to terms with any lust for men he may or may not have and everything to do with the setting he's in.

Also to be clear I'm not saying Izzy is straight, I'm just saying the jury is still out. He could have been out the whole time or he could have come out in 2.02 when he said "I have love for you" or he could have meant that platonically and died in the closet or he could have meant that completely platonically and been straight or aro/ace, but whatever way you slice that his season 2 arc is way less about coming out and coming to terms with his own sexuality and way more about learning to accept Ed for who he is and every other queer person around him by proxy.

[writrevampire]

hii would u write cullens x reader there reaction if you were pregnant? like your still human so there’s like a 90% chance you won’t survive and stuff?

(sure!!)

Carlisle

• does as much research on the subject as possible, and knows that the chances of survival aren't great

• absolutely ready for anything

• does NOT want you going out anywhere. anything can happen ANYWHERE, and he'd rather you be at home

• consistently monitors your symptoms, and writes them down -- wants things to be well documented for future hybrids

Esme

• helps you in looking for baby names

• always cooking -- if you crave something, it is DONE

• helps you with everyday tasks -- bathing, brushing your hair, doing your nails. whatever you need

• loves imagining what the baby will look like

Jasper

• he is consistently overwhelmed and. tbh. not very helpful in much

• emotional turmoil KING

• "how are you?" every 5 minutes

• ALWAYS asking Caslisle how you're doing

Alice

• drawing pictures of what the baby looks like -- before, during, and after birth. knows what the baby will look like before you do

• knows LITERALLY everything about the baby. height, sex, gender expression, eye color, all of it

• collaborates with Esme to help you come up with baby names

• buying you books, toys, etc., in preparation

Emmett

• much like Jasper. has to keep himself busy, usually by hanging out with Jasper

• does all the rough work -- putting together the crib; getting the bedroom ready

• stressing out KING

• does not know how to regulate himself. so he usually just hangs out outside the house, going hunting

Rosalie

• extremely excited for you, but somewhat sad at the same time

• looking forward to having a baby in the home

• wants to help you in every way possible, before and after the babies arrival

• seemingly becomes softer, more motherly. opens up to you a lot more about her personal life, and how badly she wanted her own baby

• "maybe one day."

Edward

• can hear the babies thoughts. and it's freaking him the FUCK OUT

• does not enjoy this. at all. rather than crashing out, he is simply anxiety ridden

• finds himself watching over you, constantly, like a dog

• if you have to go somewhere, trust, he is close behind

• makes sure that if you have any odd symptoms, you are automatically in Carlisle's hands

(thank you for all the requests lately, cullen requester! apologies for being slow. i've come down with some wicked strep throat and my first day of the semester is soon.)

[habitsbf]

alright... waddling in here nervously. I luv talking about habit but I have really niche opinions about it I think but I figured you might be inch rested in them. I get a lot of my habit headcanons from a close friend of mine (seasoned-siffrin here on Tumblr, but I don't think he's posted many of his habitisms) but I've built off of them on my own as well

okay. well. I was here to bounce of the last ask about the seven deadly sins theory LMAO. I've not heard that one and I see where they're coming from, what with the present religious themes of everymanhybrid (and a good lot of slenderverse series in general, I've noticed), but I think habit has a bit more nuance than that. not a dig at prev, of course, I'm just excited teehee

habit describes himself in canon as Mankind's Bad Habit, and if I remember correctly Evan Jennings continues to refer to him this way in non-canon instances like streams. it's been a while since I've touched up on Evan's personal takes on habit, so if any of this is lukewarm-cold takes feel free to bite me for it. I don't think "Mankind's Bad Habit" is an accurate way to describe habit at all.

well, okay, in many cases it is. what we see of him in emh, canyouseethewords, and from the extra lore we're given about him, he sure as shit does seem like the worst of the worst- but as he is a personification of the concept of habits, there's an opportunity for more layers to what he is; not just bad habits, but habits as a whole. humanity is flawed. our bad habits speak far louder than our good ones. it only makes sense for this entity to reflect that.

I think looking at habit through the lens of human morality is also going about it the wrong way. this creature is beyond our comprehension, and is more conceptual than he is physical. he doesn't operate on the same moral scale as we do. when he expresses little care about his horrific actions, I don't personally believe it's just out of numbness or sadism, but the way he as an entity is wired. there is no real good or bad for habit, as he is just a reflection of us and our behaviors. associating him with the sins doesn't make much sense if you look at him through that lens.

sorry I just crawled into your asks and spit out a yap fest I sit and think about this beast frequently. kick my feet and twirl the phone line around my fingers while I talk about him and such. I like studying him under a microscope :3

DUDE I GENUINELY ADORE YOUUUhjdhjfihh YOU GET IT YOU LITERALLY GET IT. EXACTLY. dont apologize for yapping, i rarely get serious asks that align with my views on HABIT, so this was like a breath of fresh air for me HAHA.

HABIT does not view things the same way we as humans do. you are spot on about that. he is NOT human, and the EverymanHYBRID crew tries so hard to remind us of that. HABIT is his own thing, his own kind of being, he doesnt have our morals or views. it makes sense why he doesnt operate or even think like we do.

HABIT takes interest in things seen as brutal, horrid, and beyond fucked up. it makes sense for him to be curious about the bad in humanity. feeding off of what he has seen and knows, he uses all of this stuff as scare tactics. HABIT so badly wants to be seen as horrifying, as something that is pure evil, something that no god could ever defeat or save others from...

but, like you said, "mankinds bad habit" isnt exactly fitting for him. if HABIT truly was all things bad, he would be even worse than he currently is. he would be so much more brutal, so horrible that nobody could even like the guy, but that just isnt the case. HABIT has some positive characteristics, even if they are small, they are still very much there. theres parts of him that still make him likable. HABIT is not ALWAYS bad. he is not CONSTANTLY evil.

in series, in the video "Half-acre of ash", he quite literally has a moment of vulnerability, showing that he isnt completely enjoying what hes doing. he mentions how he gets to "hunt them, and eat them, and cut them, and burn them" but "its the same." HABIT seems happier in videos where hes simply around Vinny and the videos where he is getting closer to the ending of the current iteration. i know hes happy committing violence too, but thats a normal for him. violence is a huge part of who he is. its understandable why he gets bored of it sometimes. to him, its something he just does every once in a while. its like a hobby for him. while we view it as bad, he views it as good.

HABIT is wired to crave and commit violent acts. he ISNT wired for normal casual interactions, and i (getting into some semi-headcanon talk here) genuinely believe he enjoyed Vinnys company, so having to trash all of that and restart YET AGAIN probably makes him feel alone. he has stated before his only "friends" are slenderman and the rake, and those two probably arent the most fun to be around. the dude craves a positive relationship, but his nature and want to be viewed as evil gets in the way of that. he wants a break. it makes you feel bad for the guy regardless of all the horrific things he has done.

ANYWAAAYS, i too frequently think about this beast 🫶 i mean, come on, this things my entire personality and surrounds my online presence. I LOVE HIM!!! I THINK HES GREAT!!! i absolutely love being able to discuss him in extreme detail and just ahhshkdjehJHKDDHJHhdhf hes so neat. hes such a cool character. idgaf if hes "overpowered" hes perfect to me. I 💜 HABIT.

[abearinthewoods]

i get where you're coming from. or i think i do? apologies but i haven't read all your posts so i may really badly slip up here. you may have also completely changed your beliefs and i couldn't tell. but try to give me the benefit of the doubt as i'm giving you.

i think it's very hard to see a lot of activism say that men are responsible for a lot of things--a lot of feminist language centers around pointing out how masculinity is used to perpetuate harmful systems. it can be crushing, especially if you're a man yourself or if you have male friends, and you think "there's no way that they could all be secretly evil!" and you're right! they aren't!

here's the thing. what feminism is trying to do is help people confront that our society benefits men first and foremost. (we'll get to emotional repression later--i promise i'm not saying that men not getting to express their emotions is good) for example, look at economic wage disparities. statistically, men are going to earn more than women even if they're working the same job. our country has existed for over 200 years, and for less than half that time, women have been able to decide who runs it. i think it's pretty fair to say that women got dealt a bad hand in the formation of our country, and even if more privileges are being awarded to them, the *extent* of these privileges are still limited.

the thing about how women are seen as more emotional and men are meant to repress these emotions are absolutely true. but that said, do any of our systems treat women WELL when they're emotional? half the time, if a woman is emotional when she goes to the doctor, any of her issues will get marked off as her being on her period. on the off chance she *is* taken seriously, that doctor now has to get this woman taken seriously by a ton of other medical workers just to get her examined so that they can *maybe* find the problem. that's just one example about how the systems of american society (i just realized i kind of assumed you were american which is on me, but this applies to really any english-speaking country. even the UK, with its free healthcare) can fail to accommodate women, or more commonly, actively try to prevent them from being comfortable. so even when women are emotional as they're often seen, they're still not allowed to do a lot of things men can. which brings us to emotional repression in men. obviously, it is categorically Not Good that a lot of men are forced to repress their emotions to exist in the world, but the thing is that this is way more part of misogyny than misandry. the government or whoever's in power has the idea of a Man (i've capitalized it here, because this idea of a Man isn't synonymous with all men. it's a hypermasculine macho man who never questions authority because he gets to be the authority too). anyone who deviates from this idea deserves less rights, for this Man is the one in charge, the one who runs things, the one who rises to the top. when women are born they've automatically strayed from this idea of the Man, so a lot of their rights are automatically stripped away. when men are born, they're on track. but if they get emotional early on--uh oh! that's straying from the idea of the Man. they're girly, they're like a woman--you know, the people these guys think don't deserve any rights? so that gets punished and not permitted. this is an extension of hatred of women, not of men. misogynists and the people who perpetuate these gender roles see it as deviating from what makes a Man, so it's gotta get snipped away. ultimately, while women are often seen as having emotions and men aren't, neither of them will be taken seriously if they act emotionally.

i'd also like to talk about your post about male-focused language in feminism. there's... one thing i'm kind of confused about, so i apologize if i take an aggressive tone. i promise i'm asking genuinely. with that said: how is toxic masculinity the same as internalized misandry? they're quite literally opposites. if you had an internalized hatred of men, would this not express itself as an external dislike for any other men? guys who practice toxic or hyperperformative masculinity often believe themselves to be genuinely superior to women, and it makes sense--that's what they've been told their entire life. i really truly don't understand how that's internalized misandry if it's literally expressed as hating women. regardless, i *can* see why you'd dislike the term male privilege. it's not trying to say that all men inherently have a leg up on women--for one thing, trans men and men of color both go against the aforementioned idea of a Man, so they're automatically losing a lot of privileges. the thing with male privilege is what i was talking about earlier, where men categorically get more privileges than women. a man isn't always looked at weird for owning a gun and sometimes carrying it with him. a man isn't seen as hysterical for his lower back hurting. a man often isn't going to get fired for taking emergency leave (while women taking maternal leave will get dropped without notice). that's what male privilege refers to, not any sort of idea that men are going to be rude dipshits 24/7 who can never experience things similar to women (i don't think you've said this but a lot of people who i talk to about why feminism has so much male-targeted language say that that's what male privilege means.)

mansplaining isn't to target men's gender when they're condescending for no reason, it's to explain how their gender intersects with their behavior--as a man, they are commonly seen as smarter and better, and mansplaining is when the man, perceived as intelligent, talks down to or condescends to a woman who he sees as unintelligent. there is an intrinsic power dynamic to that sort of condescension due to gender roles, and that's what the term mansplaining seeks to point out. similarly, manspreading refers to men who are trained to intentionally take up more physical space than others and how this can demonstrate a lack of care for others who might be sitting next to this hypothetical man. i agree with you though that "manchild" is an outdated term.

i hope this helped recontextualize a lot of the stuff you've talked about. i truly mean to be amicable here, and i think you've got some important things to say on how men are mistreated--but again, i think that stems more from a hatred of women than a hatred of men. i hope you have a good day, genuinely, and i hope i could help shed some light on these issues

p.s. i haven't seen it discussed on this account but you mentioned in a few posts talking about trans men issues, and so i thought i'd mention why people talk about not liking the term transmisandry in case you're confused, just because i was confused too at first. the thing with transphobia against trans men is that transphobes and bigots who target trans men don't do it because they view trans men as weak men, they target trans men because they still view trans men as women (for the record trans men are obviously and unequivocally men just so you know where i stand on that). people who talk about transmisandry being a bad term to refer to targeted violence and hate speech against trans men aren't saying that because they don't think trans men have any targeted hate against them, they're saying that because the misandry part of the term is misleading--bigots don't hate trans men because they're men, as the misandry part of transmisandry would imply, but rather because they're TRANS, and thus transphobia is a more accurate term to refer to how trans men are targeted for their identity.

p.p.s. sorry for writing a whole essay in your askbox

this has been in my ask box for over a month. It was sent shortly after i came out as a trans woman and references a lot of things i said before including things i said from a personal prospective thats been slightly more illuminated.

However the entire post is somebody explaining basic feminism 101 to a 35 year old trans woman who has been arguing gender online for 15 years.

Anyways, men are oppressed for being men.

Only reactionary bigots have an issue admitting that.

Misandry is real.

Only reactionary bigots have an issue admitting that.

Using more inclusive and less problematic language appiles to men too:

If men are telling you gendered framing like mansplin makes them uncomfortable and that they fear it will lead to gender based stereotyping and the singling out of just men for extra scrutiny, the correct response is to sit down, shut up, and listen.

Re: transmisandry. So what you are saying is trans women like myself must never call the hate they get "transmisogyny" because the hatred is based off of seeing them as men? Surely you understand how problematic that is? (Not the misandry argument, which ive made many times, the objecting to the use of transmisogyny as a term). You are demanding trans women dead gender themselves to talk about their oppression)

If you gave trans men the same empathy you already give trans women you wouldn't need me to reverse the genders to see why what you said was problematic.

Google the gender empathy gap and tell me how you can make arguments over who is or isnt more or less oppressed while such a large subconscious bias exists mostly unchecked.

Google gendered hyperagency and tell me feminism doesnt have a unchecked tendency to fall victim to it.

Google in group preference bias by gender and tell me privledge/oppression/power excuses for not caring about mens issues or why they "dont exist" doesnt fail because it wrongly assumes the in group preferences seen in minorities also exists in majorities. (Men do not look out for other men the same way women do except when in female dominated spaces where they act the same way women in male dominated spaces act only to have it be policed as misogyny and fear of independent women.)

Re:toxic masculinity as internalized misandry. This is a stupid wedge you don't apply to women or other groups which how i know you still have unchecked biases toward men to work out. Is "i'm not like the other girls" not just toxic femininity, crab bucket tearing down other women to help with one's own anxieties? We don't like to call it that thou because it blames the victim. Even the woman who has internalized society's messaging about women so badly she would tear down other woman in hopes of raising above that messaging, still deserves to be understood as a victim of that messaging. So we call it internalized misogyny instead.

As a trans woman i can tell you that internalized transphobia was like 90% of my life before i came out to myself. This is a very universal experience from what i've read. I internalized transphobia, i invited it into my head and heart and let it color how i saw the concept of trans women so badly it contributed a lot to how long it took me to come out to myself.

Also as a trans woman i see a lot of talk in baby trans spaces about how "you don't have that toxic masculinity anymore to keep you from trying the things you want" or many other variations on that theme, but is that not talking about internalized misandry going away, not toxic masculinity? How somebody who views themselves as a boy will internalize society's messaging about what boys are allowed to do or wear and avoid doing something outside of that messaging. Have they not internalized society's misandrist messaging about what boys can wear? and when they attacks other boys along that same measure (or attack them for still trying to meet it in the nice guy "i'm not like the other guys chads" variation), are they not doing what you say doesn't happen?

We call it toxic masculinity because this way we can blame and shame men for falling victim to the conditioning rather then see them as the victims we see when it happens to women. (even othering them as a different type of man/masculinity so one doesn't have to feel connected to them or the standards they represent, oh wait, thats more "i'm not like the other girls" but for the other gender! (I wonder if there might be any gender based gaps that might help explain why we never recognize it as the same when it's done to boys? maybe along the lines of sympathy or empathy? na, that can't be, men aren't oppressed!))

[blorbocedes]

hiya! I've recently returned back to tumblr and somehow seemed to have remembered your name. I've dearly missed you!!! The last time i was on here, the zendaya throuple movie had been released, and I remember you writing the most magnificent lewis and nico fic, which was so gut-wrenching and honestly so tantalisingly hot. I no longer dabble in ao3 but was wondering if you had any published book suggestions/reading recs of similar writing style. Your writing had been (still is if you're currently writing) so so so mesmerising, so my thought process is that you must've read a tonne of books to get to such a wonderfully expressive and creative writing style.

If it isn't too much of an ask, do you by any chance have book recommendations? Preferably women centric or anything in general.

Thank you!! Hugs and kisses are being sent your way. I'm so happy I've rediscovered you again!! AND ALSO MAX VERSTAPPEN IS A 4 TIME WORLD CHAMPION

💞💞💞

(apologies for any spelling error 😅)

hiii first of all thank you so much for the kind message 🥹🥹🥹 welcome back!

secondly unfortunately all I do is read nonfiction that's related to my degree.

HOWEVER. I asked two women @karlmarxverstappen and @gayferrari who DO read and I trust their taste implicitly, and I asked them for reccs on women centric books that are fun and fucked up because that's how I'd describe my style and here's the reccs:

Tampa by alissa nutting, bunny by mona awad, all is well by mona awad, casandra at the wedding by Dorothy Baker, animal by lisa Tadeo, big swiss by jen beagin, boy parts by Eliza clarke

Young adult cosy read about creepy faeries — <https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18298890-cuckoo-song>

victorian England version of The Handmaiden (book it's based on) <https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/8913370-fingersmith>

LESBIAN NECROMANCERS IN SPACE <https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/52057544-gideon-the-ninth>

thriller by the author of gone girl which I also rec <https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18045891-sharp-objects>

not fucked up but a women centric comfort read <https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/32075853-erotic-stories-for-punjabi-widows>

creepy novelette :3 <https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/89724.We_Have_Always_Lived_in_the_Castle>

English Victorian missionaries bring jesus christ to the fae world it goes badly also there's (spoiler) ||incest|| <https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/34643773-under-the-pendulum-sun>

girl tries to get a MFA and it's a literal horror show <https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/42732512-bunny>

my best friend's exorcism <https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/41015038-my-best-friend-s-exorcism>

straight up horror but very well written I LOVE the protag <https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/55713043-my-heart-is-a-chainsaw>

also if u do romance this is my romance entry point, it's not fucked up but the main character is over 30 which is very rare in romance <https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/51589631-last-tang-standing>

[from-stars-to-shadows]

ᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛɪɴɢ

Note: I got a really stomach turning anon yesterday and I've been feeling pretty badly about it so I decided to make a comfort fic on the subject of it. (basically an anon told me they were going to take Ani away from me.) I don't expect anyone to read this and I usually keep these fics to myself but if you do end up reading it, thank you.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Kaden sat quietly on the edge of their shared bed, their hands nervously twisting the fabric of their shirt. The playful spark in their green eyes seemed dulled, their usual humor absent, they felt like a droid with it's power shut off.

Anakin, entering, paused in the doorway, his eyes narrowing as he took in their posture.

“My angel?” he said gently, stepping closer. His eyebrows furrowed in concern “What’s wrong?”

Kaden flinched, startled, before quickly shaking their head and averting their gaze. “It’s nothing,” they replied, their voice too small...too unconvincing.

Anakin frowned and dropped to his knees in front of them, his hands resting on their thighs. “You’re a terrible liar~” he said, his lips quirking up in a faint smile. “Tell me. Please.”

Kaden avoided his gaze, their fingers knotting and unknotting in the fabric. “It’s stupid...” they mumbled. “You’ll think I’m being dramatic—”

Anakin leaned forward, trying to meet their gaze. "Try me, angel"

After a long pause, Kaden let out a shaky sigh. “Someone… someone told me they were going to take you away from me. They said you’d leave me for someone else...for...them..that they're going to take you... That, they're better for you..”

Anakin’s expression hardened instantly, his jaw tightening. “Who said that?” he demanded, his voice low and edged with barely restrained anger.

“It doesn’t matter.” Kaden said quickly, finally meeting his gaze. “I didn’t believe them at first, but then… I don’t know. I started overthinking, and now I can’t shake it. What if you do find someone better? What if someone does come and take you away? What if Someone—”

“Stop.” Anakin cut them off firmly. His hands slid up to cup their face, his thumbs brushing against their cheeks, his metallic hand felt cool against their skin. “Stop right there.”

“But, Ani—”

“No..” he interrupted, his tone leaving no room for arguments. “I don’t want anyone else, Kaden. Not now. Not ever. You’re it for me. Do you understand? You. Only you.”

Kaden’s lip trembled, and they glanced down, their eyes glossing over, overwhelmed. “But what if—”

“No ‘what ifs,’” Anakin said, his voice rising slightly, not in anger but in desperation. “There’s no one out there who could even come close to you. I wouldn’t even look at them because I don’t care about them. I love you. And anyone who thinks they can take me from you doesn’t know me at all. Because nothing and no one will ever tear me from you.”

He moved to sit beside them, tugging them into his lap and wrapping his arms tightly around them. His grip was possessive but warm and protective. “You’re mine sunshine...” he murmured against their temple, his breath warm as it fanned against their skin. “And I’m yours. Forever and always.”

Kaden’s arms circled his waist, their fingers clinging to the back of his tunic. “I’m sorry..” they whispered. “I know I shouldn’t let it get to me, but…”

“Don’t apologize my love” Anakin said, his lips brushing their hairline. “I hate that anyone made you feel like this. I hate that I didn’t notice sooner.” He tilted their chin up and pressed a soft kiss to their lips, lingering just long enough to make Kaden’s heart flutter.

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against theirs again. “You’re the funniest person I’ve ever met,” he began softly, his eyes locked on theirs. “I love how you can make me laugh even when I’m in the worst mood.”

He kissed their nose.

“I love your laugh,” he continued, planting a kiss on their cheek. “It’s the best sound in the entire galaxy.”

Another kiss, this time on their other cheek.

“I love your eyes..” he said, his voice dropping slightly as he kissed the corner of one of them. “They’re so full of life, so beautiful...like emeralds.”

Kaden started to squirm, their cheeks warming under the attention Anakin was giving them. Their stomach filling with butterflies.

“And your empathy,” he added, placing a kiss on their forehead. “You care about people, even when they don’t deserve it. That’s not weakness. That’s strength few possess.”

Kaden finally let out a small chuckle, their shoulders shaking as they tried to hide their face in Anakin’s chest. “Starfire, stop, you’re going to make me cry.”

Anakin grinned, his lips brushing against their ear. “But I’m not done yet.” He nudged their cheek with his nose to kiss their jaw, his voice dropping to a teasing murmur. “And your body. Maker, Kaden, you’re so soft and so warm~. You feel like you were made just for me and me only, like I am made for you and you only.”

That broke Kaden, and they dissolved into giggles, their hands playfully shoving at his chest. “Stop it!” they said between laughs, their green eyes lighting up again.

“There’s my favorite sound~” Anakin said triumphantly, leaning back on his hands to look at them with a smug grin. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah..” Kaden admitted, their smile softening as they chased after his warm, snuggling into him once more. “Thank you, Anakin..”

“Always.” he promised, pulling them closer for one last kiss. “And next time, tell me when someone’s bothering you. I’ll set them straight and make sure they know exactly where I belong. With you and nobody else.”

Kaden rolled their eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “I love you, you know.”

Anakin’s arms tightened around them, giving them a squeeze. “Good. Because I love you too and you’re stuck with me forever.”