#but i have to be so careful i have to build up slowly or i will overdo it and turn into like a pile of seaweed

[kateschi]

the line we crossed

synopsis: a charged night with your bodyguard leads to emotions bubbling to the surface.

pairing: bodyguard!bakugou katsuki x f!reader

the soft glow of the hotel room’s lights reflects off the polished surfaces, casting gentle shadows that make the entire place feel like a private sanctuary.

despite the quiet elegance of the setting, tension hangs thick in the air between you and bakugou.

it’s been a long night—one that’s taken an unexpected turn—and now you’re both standing in the middle of the room, the aftermath of it all settling in.

“you don’t have to be so rough, y’know,” you say, your voice wavering slightly as you pull your wrist free from his grip.

bakugou’s hand is firm around your arm, pulling you through the hallways, his frustration evident in the way he practically drags you after him.

“shut up!” bakugou snaps, his usual intensity dialed up even higher tonight.

“I told you multiple times not to go anywhere without me! and guess what? you go and almost get yourself damn kidnapped!” his voice echoes, cutting through the tension like a knife.

you feel a tight knot of frustration rise in your chest.

“why do you care so much anyway?” you shoot back, folding your arms over your chest, not entirely sure why his anger is making you feel so unsettled.

he isn’t usually this worked up, especially not about your safety—it’s his job, after all.

but there’s something about the way he’s handled the situation tonight, something that feels more personal than professional, and you can't ignore it.

“care?” his voice is thick with irritation. “are you dumb? this is my job!”

you shake your head, the sting of his words settling like a weight in your chest. “that’s not what I mean!” you fire back, your emotions rising.

bakugou is unflinching, his hands resting on his hips as if he’s expecting an explanation. and you, well, you can’t hold it back anymore.

the words spill out in a rush before you can stop yourself.

“a normal bodyguard doesn’t make sure the room is warm enough to my liking. a normal bodyguard doesn’t make sure my food is exactly how i want it every time.

a normal bodyguard doesn’t send flowers to my dressing room without me ever asking for them, and they sure as hell don’t learn every little thing about me—like my favorite songs or how I like my tea!

you’ve been doing all of that, and I don’t know why!” the words hang in the air, raw and unfiltered.

bakugou is silent for a moment, his intense gaze never leaving you.

his brow furrows slightly, and he visibly shifts his stance, almost as if what you’ve said has caught him off guard.

he glances away for a split second, then clicks his tongue, the sound cutting through the quiet room.

“that doesn’t change the fact that you’re at fault,” he mutters under his breath.

the frustration building inside you crests like a wave, and you find yourself unable to keep the tears back anymore.

your chest tightens, and you step back, not sure whether to cry or scream.

“I’m not talking about that anymore, katsuki,” you say, your voice low and shaky.

the sound of his first name leaves your lips before you can even register it, and the room falls into an unexpected stillness.

the shift is almost palpable. bakugou’s gaze snaps to yours, his entire demeanor changing in an instant.

there’s something raw in his eyes, something that hasn’t been there before, and you realize that you’ve done something—something that’s clearly unsettled him.

he opens his mouth to say something, but the words die in his throat. you can see the conflict behind his eyes, the struggle between keeping up his tough exterior and admitting something deeper.

you feel the heat rising in your cheeks, but you refuse to back down now.

“do you like me?” you ask, slowly.

your pulse quickens as soon as they leave your mouth, but you don’t look away from him. you don’t have time to second-guess.

bakugou’s face flushes a deep shade of red, and for a second, he doesn’t speak, as if the question has caught him entirely off guard.

his eyes narrow, and he opens his mouth again, but his usual sharp retort doesn’t come. instead, he grunts, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“…does that matter?” he grumbles, looking away to avoid your gaze. “I’m gonna do my job perfectly anyway,” he says, his voice rough. “not weak enough to let feelings get in my way.”

you stare at him for a long moment, the truth of what he’s saying sitting between you both. he isn’t the type to mix personal feelings with his job, but you can see it now. you can see the cracks in his armor.

“I’m not worried about that,” you say, your voice quiet but with an underlying certainty.

and before you can stop yourself, you’re moving.

your hand reaches out, your fingertips brushing against his chest as you close the space between you.

you don’t know what comes over you in that moment, but the weight of everything you’ve just said—the tension, the fear, the desire to understand him—pushes you forward.

the kiss is tentative at first, as if neither of you truly knows how to navigate this moment.

but then, like a dam breaking, the kiss deepens, and you can feel the heat from bakugou’s body pressing into you, his hands roughly grabbing onto your shoulders and pulling you even closer.

his lips are demanding, heated, and there’s something undeniably possessive in the way he kisses you, as if he had all of this pent up inside.

he pulls away suddenly, his eyes blazing with something unrestrained.

“I tried holding back,” bakugou says lowly, his voice raw and his breath ragged. his chest is heaving against yours, and his hands tremble slightly as they grip your waist.

before you can react, he pushes you back against the wall, the force of it stealing your breath away.

your heart races, your body caught between fear and desire as his face looms close to yours. his eyes lock with your own, burning and intense.

“you’ve got no one to blame for this but yourself,” he mutters.

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

[landososcar]

jump then fall ; ln4

chapter one — i’m feeling you, baby

— pairing(s) ; college basketball captain!lando norris x college tutor!reader

— summary ; in which lando was so worried about his grades falling, he didn’t realise he was too.

— warnings ; 1692 words, death of a parent (mentioned), alcohol mentioned, nothing else i don’t think!

— note ; longer note at the end but i know this is set in america but i refuse to write ‘mom’ instead of ‘mum’ idc who that bothers

masterlist , next

°:. *₊ ° . ☆ °:. *₊ ° .• *₊ ° . *☆. °:

the library was not a popular hangout space on a friday night for many of the people i go to school with — i know this because i'm one of the few people who regular the two story building.

tonight, like most nights, my corner of the library was deserted. a few students sat scattered across the first floor, scrolling through their phones or cramming for last-minute deadlines, but upstairs, where i always worked, it was silent. the kind of silence that wrapped around you like a blanket, soothing and distracting all at once.

i had just opened my laptop and pulled out my notes for monday’s tutoring session when i heard the unmistakable sound of sneakers squeaking against the polished floor.

i looked up, half expecting a lost freshman wandering in search of the printers, but what i saw instead almost made me freeze.

lando norris.

he was hard to miss — tall, broad-shouldered, perpetually disheveled in that annoyingly effortless way athletes always seemed to master. his varsity basketball jacket hung loosely on him, and his backpack was slung carelessly over one shoulder. he didn’t belong here. not just because he was the school’s golden boy or because his team was undefeated this season, but because lando norris had a reputation. parties, games, and the occasional appearance in class—those were his natural habitats. the library was not.

he stopped a few feet away from my table, glancing down at a crumpled piece of paper in his hand, then back up at me.

“are you y/n?” he asked, his voice deep but tinged with uncertainty.

i blinked at him, trying to piece together how he even knew my name. “uh, yeah. why?”

relief washed over his face, and he shoved the paper into his pocket. “good. i need your help.”

i arched an eyebrow. “with what?”

“passing calculus,” he said, flashing a grin that was somehow both charming and exasperating.

i stared at him for a moment, unsure if he was serious. “calculus,” i repeated, as if saying the word out loud might somehow make this whole interaction make sense. since when did he care about passing classes?

“yeah.” he dropped his bag onto the table across from me with a soft thud and sank into the chair. “i have no idea what’s going on in that class. coach says i’ll be benched if i don’t pull my grade up, and the professor said you’re the best tutor on campus. so, here i am.”

my brain took a second to catch up. calculus wasn’t exactly light reading, and the idea of tutoring lando norris—someone i’d only ever seen surrounded by teammates, fans, or beautiful women—felt surreal. i’d heard his name in passing a hundred times, seen him on flyers for basketball games, but this was the closest i’d ever been to the school’s star athlete.

and now he wanted me to help him?

“why now?” i asked, leaning back in my chair, my brows furrowed. “the semester started months ago. you’ve just realized you’re failing?”

he scratched the back of his neck, sheepish. “something like that. look, i know this is probably the last thing you want to be doing on a friday night, but…” he paused, his hazel eyes meeting mine, almost pleading. “i really need this… i can’t be benched—it’ll ruin my shot with scouts, you know?”

i wanted to say no, that i didn’t understand. i had other students to tutor, i had my own workload, and honestly, i wasn’t sure if he was the type to take tutoring seriously. but something in the way he looked at me—equal parts desperation and genuine hope—made me hesitate.

“i don’t know,” i said slowly, closing my notebook. “do you even have your textbook with you?”

he froze. “textbook?”

i sighed, already regretting this. “yes, textbook. the big, heavy thing with equations in it? you’re going to need one if you want me to help you.”

“right, yeah. got it. i’ll bring it next time,” he said quickly, like he hadn’t thought that far ahead. “so, you’ll help me?”

i hesitated, weighing my options. if he failed, it wouldn’t just be his grade on the line—it’d be his position on the team, and judging by the way he was looking at me, i got the feeling basketball wasn’t just a sport to him.

“fine,” i said, crossing my arms. “but i’m not doing all the work for you. you show up on time, bring your materials, and actually put in the effort. if you don’t, i’m done.”

his grin returned, wider this time, and he nodded enthusiastically. “deal.”

“—and i charge $35 an hour.” he nods, muttering something about anything is fine and i hold back the urge to roll my eyes at him, “good. then i’ll see you tomorrow.”

“tomorrow?” his face fell slightly, like he hadn’t expected this to start so soon.

“yes, tomorrow,” i said firmly, “i have to fit you in between other students whenever i can, and if you want to pass, we’ve got a lot of ground to cover. be here at eight.”

“eight a.m. or p.m.?”

i narrowed my eyes.

“got it. eight a.m.,” he said quickly, holding up his hands in surrender. he begun to get up from his chair, slinging his bag over his shoulder before he paused, “actually…” he looked at me sheepishly, “i’ve got training from six-thirty until eight, can we meet here at eight-thirty?”

i scoffed and his face looked as if he regretted asking, “eight-fifteen, i can’t do any later. i’ve got training at nine-thirty.”

his eyes furrowed at my mention of ‘training’ but before he could ask any questions i continued, “goodnight, lando,” i said, and he nodded his head, beginning to walk out of the library.

“night, y/n.”

°:. *₊ ° . ☆ °:. *₊ ° .• *₊ ° . *☆. °:

the cool night air hit me as i stepped outside the library, the faint hum of campus life echoing in the distance. a group of students passed by, their drunken laughter bouncing off the pavement as they stumbled around, but i barely noticed them. my thoughts were still tangled up in the unexpected turn my evening had taken.

lando norris. calculus. tutoring. it felt surreal, like i’d just stepped into someone else’s story for a moment.

i adjusted my bag on my shoulder and headed toward the front of the school where the large forever-open gates would lead me home.

the walk home wasn’t far—just ten minutes away from campus—but it gave me enough time to collect my thoughts. as i turned onto the street where i lived, the familiar weight of responsibility settled on my chest.

as i made it to the apartment building, i prepared myself for the three flights of stairs ahead of me—thanks to the elevator doors that still held the ‘out of service’ sign. i unlocked the door and stepped inside, greeted by the sound of soft giggles and the faint hum of the tv.

“y/n!”

my five-year-old brother, lukas, came barreling down the hallway, his tiny socks sliding across the hardwood floor. he launched himself into my arms, and i dropped my bag just in time to catch him.

“hey, buddy,” i said, ruffling his messy curls. “did you have a good night?”

he nodded enthusiastically. “we had chicken nuggets, and i beat the boss level in my game! liam helped me.”

i glanced up as liam, our neighbor’s teenage son and occasional babysitter, appeared in the doorway with a sheepish smile. “he insisted on showing me his video game skills,” liam said, shrugging. “and he was pretty good.”

“thanks for staying late,” i said, shifting lukas onto my hip.

“no problem. he’s a great kid,” liam replied, grabbing his backpack. “anything else you need?”

“no, we’re good. i’ll text you about next week,” i said as he headed out the door.

once it was just me and lukas, i carried him to the couch and set him down. “it’s bedtime,” i said, giving him a stern look.

“five more minutes?” he asked, his wide eyes pleading.

i sighed, already feeling the exhaustion from the day creeping in. “five minutes. then brush your teeth.”

lukas grinned, turning his attention back to the cartoon on the tv, while i went into the kitchen. the sink was full of dishes i hadn’t gotten to this morning, and there was a pile of unopened mail on the counter. i leaned against the counter and rubbed my temples, trying to ignore the growing list of things i needed to handle.

between my classes, tutoring, and my part-time job at the diner across from campus, i barely had enough hours in the day. add taking care of lukas to the mix, and it felt like i was constantly teetering on the edge of burnout. but i didn’t have a choice.

after mum died two years ago, it was just the two of us. dad hadn’t been in the picture for years—not that it mattered. i wasn’t about to let anyone else decide what happened to lukas. he was mine to protect now.

“y/n?” lukas’ small voice pulled me from my thoughts. he stood in the doorway, clutching his stuffed dinosaur.

“yeah, lukey?” i asked, straightening up.

“are you okay?”

i forced a smile. “of course. why wouldn’t i be?”

he tilted his head like he didn’t quite believe me. “you look sad.”

my chest tightened, but i crossed the room and knelt in front of him. “i’m not sad,” i said softly, brushing a strand of hair out of his face. “i’m just tired. but i’ll always have time for you, okay?”

“okay,” he said, wrapping his arms around my neck.

as i hugged him back, i thought about the crumpled bills in my wallet, the overdue rent notice i’d stuffed into my bag, and the tutoring session i’d somehow agreed to with lando norris.

i had no idea how i was going to balance everything, but for lukas, i had to, “let’s get you to bed, luke.”

°:. *₊ ° . ☆ °:. *₊ ° .• *₊ ° . *☆. °:

— longer note ; ignore me starting a new series when i’ve only posted 3 chapters of my other series lollll umm sorry. anyways im so much more excited and motivated to write for this story so ‘packing it up’ can wait til im interested in her again im sorry.

— taglist ; im open to making one if anyone’s interested ahhahah

[noodlemoondle]

You Always Come First

(No matter how upset I am)

Zayne x Reader

summary: you and zayne have a small spat over you neglecting your health. as a result of it, you decide to sleep on the couch, not wanting to bother/upset him even further. randomly waking up in the night, you notice you’re no longer alone on the couch and do everything you can to get the doctor back in bed before he’s sore for his shift tomorrow.

tags: not proofread!, hurt/comfort? (i didn’t rlly include the hurt part of it so im not too sure), fluff, literal sleeping together, caring n sweet zayne (when is he not), self indulgent per usual

a/n: bro tumblr is REALLY testing my patience. why is it so dumb with everything i try to post. it’s literally why i haven’t posted a fic in a while. i can’t take this much longer i may crash out soon. anyway, as always hope u enjoy! (⁎˃ᴗ˂⁎)

side tangent: i actually have been so obsessed with caleb. it’s actually a problem. i have been loyal to zayne this entire time and i’ve been playing since release, but caleb is REALLY testing it. lord i’m a sucker for the protective n caring childhood friends to lovers trope (¯―¯٥) (id expect a caleb fic soon tbh if tumblr wants to stop hating me and making my life so difficult)

the fight was stupid. you were neglecting your health once again not taking your medicine, not resting, and ignoring doctors specific orders. zayne often could never say no to you, he always spoiled you and gave into any of your requests. the only time he was stern and stubborn was when it involved your health, that he doesn’t and will never budge on. you often lacked care for your health, pushing it to the back burners of your mind and often calling zayne dramatic saying “you knew yourself and your limits”. something zayne wasn’t particularly fond of. he confronted you about your recent negligence of your health and both of your stubbornness in your beliefs led to an argument.

it’s been an hour or 2 since it ended though. zayne left to your shared bedroom, most likely to do some work, while you stayed out in the living area, trying to distract yourself from the anger turning to sadness and guilt in your heart. you ended up deciding to just sleep on the couch tonight not wanting to bother him after an argument. you grabbed an extra pillow and thin blanket from a nearby closet and put on a random show so you wouldn’t have to fall asleep listening to your own thoughts. soon enough you were able to relax and fall into a slumber.

you don’t know how long it’s been since you fell asleep. you hear the tv still on as you slowly wake and become aware of your surroundings. once you can see clearly, that’s when you realize you were laying on top of zayne previously using his chest as a pillow unbeknownst to you. he has been peacefully sleeping on the couch with you for who knows how long. as you sat up in a panic you also notice a thicker, softer blanket, one you have preference for, falling off of your shoulders. instantly guilt is washed over you as you look at zayne, who is a somewhat light sleeper, somehow still deep in his sleep. you swallow quickly as you build confidence to wake him up.

you lean closer to his face which was awkwardly propped up by the couch’s arm rest, a position that you couldn’t imagine to be anywhere near comfortable. you lightly tap his shoulder and call his name trying to wake him up. soon enough he does, opening his eyes to see you staring back at him, the faintest smile appears on his face at the sight, almost forgetting of the spat you two shared earlier. before he could even say anything you scold him:

“why are you here? i was sleeping on the couch tonight. you have work early in the morning go back to bed and go to sleep.”

“couldn’t have you sore in the morning” he answers calmly releasing a small yawn in the process.

“neither can you! you have a long shift starting early tomorrow. i’ll be fine just go back to bed.” you quickly rebutted trying to push him off the couch, something that you didn’t have the strength to do, but nevertheless you persisted.

“i can get through a shift with an achy neck, however you can not.” he replies as he softly grabs your hands that are trying to shove him away back to bed.

“i know i’ll be fine. i’ll live to see another day. now go back to bed already!” you say. your voice getting louder as you’re starting to get frustrated trying to break out of his soft grasp.

“will you be joining me?” he asks softly not letting go of your wrists that keep trying to fight against him.

“no, i’m sleeping on the couch!” your voice raising above the tv still playing in the back illuminating the room.

“then it seems like i shall too” he states as he frees your wrists and pushes you back onto his chest, laying the blanket over you both.

before you can even think of a response zayne wraps his arms around your torso and closes his eyes to fall asleep once again, to which you quickly flick his chest to wake him back up. he opens his eyes again and looks down at you with an unamused expression.

“why won’t you just let me sleep here alone?” you ask in a tone he can’t quite place, nevertheless he can hear the slight amount sorrow that came along with it.

“i already told you, i can’t have you go into work tomorrow with a sore neck and back.” he says closing his eyes again despite your wishes against it.

“if you don’t wish to be with me tonight then i’ll sleep on the couch and you can take the bed” he continues. his arms involuntarily tighten ever so slightly around you showing how much he doesn’t want that.

“but i also told you!!! you can’t sleep on the couch, you have a few surgeries to complete, and you have to be in your best shape to do so.” you try to push up against his arms wrapped around you, another pointless action.

zayne sighs and opens his eyes again to look at you before speaking.

“well then you have two options. one, we both move over to the bed to sleep. or two, i sleep here and you sleep over in the room. my job isn’t physically taxing compared to yours, im not allowing you to go in if you don’t have a proper rest.”

he looks tired. you study his features before you respond to him. taking a moment to look at the eyebags under his eyes and a slight frustration growing in his face from this back and forth.

you sigh before answering “then to the bed we go”

a soft smile appears on zaynes face as he begins to get up. his neck slightly sore, but he wouldn’t reveal that to you. although it’s against your wishes, he lifts you up having you hold the blanket and pillow as he carries you back to bed.

he sets you down on your side of the bed, thinking you won’t necessarily want to be close with him tonight. not before tucking you in and kissing the top of your head whispering his love and goodnight wishes. as he gets into bed you turn to face him. once he fully lays down you scootch closer to him and grab onto the hem of his shirt. he instantly understands what you want and pulls you towards him, pressing you to his side as he wraps his arms around you.

he kisses your forehead once more and whispers

“we will continue our discussion after work tomorrow. goodnight, i love you.”

too tired to argue with him anymore you just nod your head against him replying quietly mouth squished against him making your words barely audible.

“goodnight, love you too”

[powdcr]

it's you, toots

୨୧ jinx x gn!reader

୨୧ summary: jinx confesses her feelings for you; you're seeing someone

୨୧ word count: 1.1k

୨୧ tw: mentions of blood

୭ ୨♡୧ ৎ

“Do you really think that this is easy for me?”

A sentence that you never thought you’d hear in this context, especially from your close friend that stood before you: Jinx. You had been seeing someone recently. It was someone that you had met at The Last Drop. While you were waiting for Jinx to come back from her meeting with Silco, someone had approached you at the bar. They weren’t exactly what you were looking for, but they were someone to fill the void. They satisfied your urges, gave you attention, and had a pretty face. They weren’t what you really, truly wanted though—a fact that struck you straight to the bone.

“What are you talking about?” You replied, your voice wavering like the whine of a lost puppy.

You two were standing face-to-face in a back alleyway of Zaun. The distant sounds of people bustling by were easy for you to tune out. It was like going to sleep with the fan on, you didn’t pick up on its commotion. In fact, it felt quiet—pin-drop silent. Words unspoken and misconstrued filled the silence, and instead, made your head feel noisier than your surroundings.

“You know what I’m talking about.”

You swallowed hard, looking away and then back to the blue-haired girl. “Is this about-”

“The fresh meat you dragged home from the bar, toots.”

“Why do you care about who I bring home?” You spat back at her, crossing your arms.

Jinx’s mouth, held open ready to spit back venom, was now closed. She bit her lip, some of her emotions seeping out against her own wishes. She kicked a rock before throwing herself down on a crate that was leaned up against one of Zaun's many buildings. “You don’t know the kinda effect you have on people, do ya?”

Your eyes softened at her question. Taking a few steps closer to her, you dropped your arms back down to your sides. “Effect?”

Jinx looked up at you, her eyes were longing something—something that she wanted dearly. “Yeah, you’re perfect. You make people stop in their tracks when you walk by, you’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met, and hell, you have twice the heart that I’ve ever had. I think that’s also your weakness though, buttercup.”

Your eyebrows were furrowed. This was a lot to hear all at once. Jinx was one to flirt with you constantly, but it was so constant that you didn’t think it had any depth to it. It was one of those things that just lost its meaning after a while. However, this wasn’t how she would normally speak to you. Her expression now shown of defeat, vulnerability. Her expected manic energy was replaced with one of… innocence?

“What are you trying to say, Jinx?” You asked.

“I’m trying to say…” she sighed once more, standing up from the crate and moseying over to you. “It’s you, toots, it’s always been you. I can’t stand to see you wasting your time with some bupkis from down the block when I’m right here.”

The last words that fell off of her lips were said the most slowly and held the most power. Your heart broke at her confession. The pain that shown through her pink eyes erupted a nauseous feeling within your gut. Jinx’s eyes began to tear up as she harshly rubbed them, praying they’d stop.

“Jinx…” You murmured, “I-”

“You don’t gotta say anything, sweets. In fact, it’d be better for both of us if ya didn’t.”

Just as she finished her sentence, you closed the gap between the two of you. Tender, soft lips clashed against one another. She was sweet, full of flavor, just enough to keep you wanting more. You could feel her mania start up as she slid her tongue into your mouth hungrily. Her hands cupped your face gently in contrast to her rough kiss. Her nails trailed down your cheeks and to your neck.

“Jinx,” you said, voice breathy as you broke the kiss.

Jinx looked into your eyes. She felt as though she had did something wrong, like maybe the next words that would fall off your tongue would be something like, “I knew kissing you would be a mistake.” Blood drew as she bit down on her lip hard this time.

You kissed the blood that pooled on her bottom lip, wiping the excess away with your thumb. “I was only seeing that ‘bupkis’ because I could pretend that it was you. I’ve always wanted you. You’re all I ever think about. Don’t you know that?”

Her eyes were wide and doe-like, not a descriptor that she had received often. “Really? So… you’re not gonna leave me?”

You dropped your shoulders, releasing the tension you hadn’t realized was building. “Of course, I’m not gonna leave. I know people have left you in your life. I know that, but I’m not gonna be one of them. You’re my ride or die. I’m never gonna leave you.”

The hunger within the two of you subsided as a more sensual, emotional atmosphere set in. Jinx wrapped her arms around you. She held you tight, afraid that if she let go you’d slip away from her. You were hers. You were only hers. Subconsciously, she dug her nails into your back to keep you from prying away, even if she knew you weren’t going to go anywhere.

“I love you, Jinx.”

“I love you too,” she replied after some hesitation, nervous to admit her true feelings out loud. This time it was her to close the gap between you. Jinx kissed you with delicacy, choosing instead to be careful with you. She placed her hands flat on your chest so that she could feel your heartbeat through your shirt. It was racing—a fact that soothed her, for hers was racing equally as fast. Your hearts beat together as one, strong as a jackhammer.

Your relationship was about to change, blossom into something new and passionate. It was something that you had dreamed of for years—holding her in your arms just as you had her now. Ever since the day you met her, you knew that she was the one. She had proven to be loyal: following you everywhere, blowing people up that dared to even look at you the wrong way, comforting you on your bad days, but now you were able to prove your own loyalty to her in a different way. You would make sure that she knew that she was yours and vice versa. She was your girl, always had been after all.

[sirxlla]

It Comes Naturally

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

Warnings: Fluff, Pregnancy, Slight Angst

Prompt: "Dad things he does subconciously" with buck (request by anon)

Notes: female reader, italics are actions and thoughts.

-With that said it's all under the cut-

A lot of the fatherly things he did initally came out in ways of making sure that you had properly bandaged your finger or carrying you to the bedroom when you fell asleep on the couch. It was just casually caring for your partner as one should, like making sure you had enough dinner or that you got to work safely.

As time went on in the relationship progressed, you noticed how fatherly he seemed to Chris. How he would help him every single time he had the opportunity, maybe with homework, girl talk or other general things.

Buck is so kind and attentive, most of the time he can tell how someone's feeling just by looking at their face or reading the room. He is always so good at making sure to clock your emotions and how you're feeling.

"Baby, what's wrong?" He asked as he came into the room.

"I promise it's nothing." You had said not wanting to put your shitty day on to him.

"I know that's entirely bullshit." He smiles, gently grabbing your chin so he can gaze into your eyes.

"I'm just having a rough day, I'm remembering some shit from my childhood." Your eyes slightly teared up as you are trying your hardest not to cry. He pulled you into a hug and everything starts to feel right, his hugs were all encompassing. You know how they say that everything faded and it was just you and him? Like the movies. That's exactly how it felt with him his hugs were just the best thing you could think of whenever you're feeling like shit.

His dad behavior seem to spike when his sister had a baby. Every single time that Maddie needed a babysitter he was the first person to jump on it. He tended to carry Jee around everywhere, showing her how he does everything even if she can't understand.

"And this is the smoke alarm." He held her up so she could see the smoke alarm. There was no rhyme or reason to the things that he showed her just random things around the house like the top of the fridge, the pantry or the microwave. Of course considering the fact that she's a baby she has no idea what's going on but she enjoys it just the same.

You often caught him watching Bluey, Max & Ruby, Blue's Clues or whatever TV show he had put on for the little girl, he had gotten sidetracked and sat down and started watching it. Of course it started the same way it does for every other father where they glance at the TV and slowly get sucked into the plot of the episode. A couple of times you've caught him passed out on the couch with her because the both of them had fell asleep watching television.

In a way he is very much an uncle but in so many different ways he is like a father, he's patient, kind, and understanding. Evan is the perfect partner and the perfect person that you could see yourself building a life with.

When there's a problem he always talks it out with you and you both come to an understanding and say sorry because what he says is that "it takes two people to argue" and both of you are to blame; apparently this is something that Maddie taught him when she essentially raised him. It was a way of making sure everyone felt understood and cared for in any type of relationship, it took him some time but he did realize it slowly that it was indeed true in most situations.

Evan isn't just fatherly but motherly as well, he's perfect with kids, he's a fantastic partner and a wonderful human being.

It was really early in your relationship and neither of you had talked about it, having kids. So when you saw that little blue plus sign you're nervous, not because you don't want this but because you're worried it's too soon.

"Baby, I-" You take a breath as you come out of the bathroom in your pajamas. Buck is remaking the bed that both of you didnt have time to do this morning. He hears the worry in your voice and turns around.

"Hey..." He sits at the end of the bed and pulls you between his thighs, those ocean eyes staring into yours with love and care.

"I- um... I missed my period and I didn't think anything of it because I've been stressed. You know with everything that's been happening, the fires and all?" You tell him, your heart heavy in your chest. He just listens as he knows that you'll continue when you're ready, his hands slowly rubbing your hips in silent support of whatever you have to say.

"...We- We only had one test laying around." You handed him the test and watched his reaction on his face, it took a minute of his brain processing but a huge smile covered his face.

"Oh! Oh my God! Baby, you're pregnant! This is- this is good news, this is great news!" He pulled you into his lap and hugged the doubt and worry out of you.

"You're not mad? It's really early in this relationship and I really didn't want to push anything on to you." You started crying cause you were so sure he'd be upset cause generally a lot of guys would be, it was a relief.

"Mad? Baby, I've never been happier. You- You're amazing. We can do this. Right? You wanna keep it, dont you? If you don't its okay but I just-" Evan starts to get nervous as he speaks cause he realizes he doesn't want to force any decision on you or make you feel obligated to keep this baby if you don't want to.

"I- Yeah. I do." Tears pouring down your face and onto his neck.

"You're going to be the most gorgeous mother out there." Buck rubs your back as he tries to help with the tears that are dampening his shirt You had never had this type of support in your life and you knew at this exact point you wanted him in your life in any way possible.

If at some point down the road you guys didn't love each other the same way that you do now, you know that you would want him in your life as a friend at least just to have him in your life. You'd always have a connection to him and that was even before you got pregnant, but now there was a bundle of life growing within you that was part you and part him stringing the two of you together forever.

"I'm going to be here with you as long as I breathe, I promise." He whispers into your ear before pulling back so he can see your face. Buck covers your salty tear filled face in kisses.

He always knew exactly what to do to make you smile and this was no exception, the love he gave you and the compassion and care was to be unmatched by anyone no one could make you feel like this but him.

Masterlist

[wttcsms]

anatomy of desire, satoru gojo

part ii. initial incision

with mysterious circumstances centering around a first year med student’s “suicide”, you do something stupidly noble: reporting to a detective that you saw satoru gojo slipping out the backdoor of the very same building yu haibara supposedly jumped from. in doing so, you start a twisted, sick game of cat-and-mouse with the most powerful and insane student on campus. the only thing keeping you alive? the fact that satoru gojo is apathetic towards everything and everyone, besides you. ( fem!reader )

chapter contains mentions of suicide, the first confrontation between you & gojo!!!!! word count 3.9k [ previous ] [ next ] [ masterlist ]

“You know, it’s perfectly normal to still be in shock after what you’ve just witnessed,” the blond haired detective sitting across from you pushes the tiny paper cup of tap water towards you. Your mouth is dry, but you don’t trust yourself enough to stop your hands from shaking and not spilling water everywhere, so you ignore it. 

Detective Junji Wakimiya looks no older than his early thirties, but he carries himself high, with all the experience and stature of an experienced, older gentleman. He has perfect posture, and you’re not sure how much they’re paying him to work as a police officer, but the suit he’s wearing is perfectly tailored to fit his body. Chances are, it’s a department store suit and not designer, but it still looks good nonetheless. His voice is deep, but when he speaks to you, it’s almost as if he’s taking care in saying the words gently, like he doesn’t want to scare you. 

Maybe he just wants to lull you into a false sense of security. 

After all, he reminds you that this isn’t an interrogation, and that you aren’t called in here because you’re a suspect, but rather a witness. And then, before you can ask, he clarifies that no one here is a suspect because yes, something awful has happened here tonight, but until he gets all the facts sorted, whether this “something awful” was a crime or just someone’s final choice remains to be decided. 

“Apologies for making you relive through this ordeal once again, but I’ll need you to reaffirm for me the timeline of events from your viewpoint.” He takes a sip out of his own cup, as if to signal to you that it’s safe for you to drink your own, but you swallow your spit and clear your throat before repeating what you’ve just told him.

“My name is [Name] [Surname]. I’m currently a senior studying journalism here at Tokyo Metropolitan College. Earlier today, I overheard a student having a secret conversation by the vending machines near Murakami Hall, which is where a majority of liberal arts majors have their classes. I didn’t recognize the voice, and I was being nosy when I chose to eavesdrop. I heard him mention on the phone that after tonight, he would ‘be set for life,’ and I was curious as to what he meant by that. So, I got a good look at him, saw that he was a medical student, found him online, and then I started to follow him. I lost sight of him for a few minutes while talking to a classmate, and by the time I entered the laboratory building, I was exhausted and decided that this was stupid. As I walked out, I heard the screams, and that’s when I—” 

You choke up on the last part of your statement. When you blink, you see Yu Haibara’s crumpled up body smack dab on the pavement, his blood streaming out, leaving streaks that the school’s landscaper will have to pressure wash out. 

“—that’s when I saw Haibara’s dead body.” You whisper out the last part, and Detective Wakimiya is nice enough to not make you repeat your statement once more. 

“I see.” He says, setting down his cup. “As a senior in college, you must be considering postgrad jobs now, right?” 

You’re not sure what this detective is trying to get at, but you nod slowly. 

“You seem to be bright. Very ambitious, with the way you seem to want to… How did you put it? Hunt for a good story?” The small talk — is there a bigger picture here, or is he just trying to put you at ease? You know you shouldn’t be paranoid; it’s not as if you’re being suspected of a crime or anything, but after your statement was given, you were certain that you were going to be let go. 

“How do you know what’s a good story or not?” 

“Pardon?”

“What makes you want to chase down a lead over others?” 

“Um… It sounds stupid, sir, but I get a gut feeling.” You mumble, feeling awkward and like a child. “An instinct, I guess? You know, like… When you feel like someone’s watching you, and you turn around, and someone is. It’s a weird sense.” 

He nods. “Interesting. And so, when you chose to follow Haibara, you got this feeling as well?”

“Yes, sir.” 

“Quite a story, wouldn’t you agree?” 

You wait a few seconds before replying. “Yes, sir.” 

“You’ve got good instincts, then. Even if things don’t necessarily turn out quite the way you anticipate them to. That’s just how life goes.” He leans over the table, reaching for his recorder and stopping the recording. “Even if things get scary, like I’m certain tonight was, you should still listen to your instincts.” 

You look at him curiously. Just an innocent piece of advice from a well-meaning adult? Whatever it is, you agree. “I will, sir.”

“I’m sure you have a busy day ahead of you tomorrow, what with your classes and whatever else a college girl gets up to.” Detective Wakimiya is funny in the way he seems to think he’s some sort of old man. He acts like it. 

He gives you a reassuring smile before pulling out a business card. “Here’s my number and email. If anything else about this night, anything that you might have forgotten to add to your statement, comes to mind, please reach out. I’m available at any time.” 

“Yes, sir.”

You see Yu Haibara’s face everywhere the following day. 

The picture everyone seems to be using is the same: a headshot photo of him, probably from his most recent undergrad graduation. His hair is a little shorter than you remember, but he’s smiling wide for the camera, practically beaming. He looks cheerful, happy — excited for the future, even. It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours yet, and Haibara is already haunting the halls of this college. 

There are posters and flyers tacked up on the walls of every building on campus. There’s going to be a candlelight vigil held in his honor tomorrow night; you’re not sure who the hell could possibly organize an event that big on such short notice, but in tiny, barely there font, you’re not entirely surprised to see EVENT GENEROUSLY FUNDED BY THE GOJO FAMILY. 

If you open up any social media, even LinkedIn, there are nothing but memorial posts for him. Selfies of him and other students, throwback photos, and embarrassing videos. He even has his own personal hashtag: #YuWillBeMissed. Classy. 

Last night, he was haunting you, too. When you closed your eyes after your interrogation with the detective, all you could see was Haibara’s accusatory face. You’re not sure why he’s blaming you, of all people. Maybe he’s upset with you because you couldn’t mind your own damn business. Whatever his beef with you inside your head is, you couldn’t get a good night’s sleep. And when you open the doors to the Tokyo Metropolitan Student Journalism clubroom, it’s evident you’re not the only one who couldn’t rest.

Even now, the team in charge of the school’s paper is going insane. You walk into a storm — the copier is running at full speed, and when it gets jammed (because school printers can smell fear and anxiety; they will never work when you need them the most), one of the editors for the paper curses and kicks it. A few juniors are furiously typing away at their laptops, and unlike most mornings, no one even acknowledges your arrival with a polite “good morning”. Even Sakura, for once, looks serious. 

“For the love of God, this is awful advice. We need to be instructing people on how to properly dress at this funeral. Three inch heels at a candlelight vigil is serving cunt! Four inches is giving insensitive bitch who doesn’t care about anyone besides herself!” Sakura points furiously at a line some freshman writer must have typed up in their draft. “In twenty minutes, we need a perfect edition for today’s paper. Does this look perfect to you?!” 

Tucked away in a corner of the room, you see this semester’s exchange student whispering in her phone, staring wide-eyed at the fit Sakura is throwing. 

“Osamu,” Kotori says, clutching her phone like it’s a lifeline. “I really can’t wait to be back in Osaka.” 

There are good schools in Osaka. After surveying the mess here, you even consider asking her if you can tag along with her.

It’s a sick, vain — insensitive, even — thing to notice, but you can’t help it. A majority of the girls here must have heeded Sakura’s sage advice and opted for sleek, shiny three-inch high heels. Not a single heel in sight appears to be any higher.

You suppose the noble pursuit of serving cunt is always preferable over being a bitch. Especially when you’re attending an event to remember a dead classmate.

Your peers have enough decency and decorum, at least, to keep the complaints of their heels getting stuck in the grass to a minimum. You’re honestly shocked at the amount of people who are in attendance; with the low acceptance rate and exclusivity of the school, it’s hard not to find a familiar face. Every med school student must be here, though; if even the liberal arts and STEM undergrads could make it, surely they could. 

“I heard there’s going to be a dinner afterwards,” a voice pipes up from next to you. Startled, you turn to your right, only to see Kotori beaming at you. 

“Really? Who’s catering?” You fiddle with the candle you’ve been given; everyone gathered in the main square was handed one. 

The food being served at a memorial should be the least of your concerns, but when your meager stipend barely covers cup ramen and protein bars, your stomach jumps for joy at the prospect of a meal that comes with a side of vegetables and an actual entree. 

“The Gojo family is hosting, but I heard a rumor that it’s going to be steak and lobster. So, it must be true.” 

If Haibara is inescapable, Gojo must be his shadow. He lingers around after every thought you have of Haibara, and you don’t know why, but it leaves a bad aftertaste. You briefly wonder what his interrogation with Detective Wakimiya was like. Probably nothing more than a conversation glazing the Gojo family. That’s how most interactions with older adults go for him. You’ve heard, once, that Gojo and the professors often have a funny dynamic. He makes it out to where it seems like they’re doing him a favor, but really, anybody on this campus would kill for a chance to be in his good graces. 

So what exactly was Haibara’s relationship with Gojo? They must have been close enough to where Gojo felt so bad, he would want to host and sponsor a candlelight vigil for him. Everyone around you who murmurs an anecdote about Haibara seems to only have positive things to say about the boy. Apparently, he was bright and ambitious, friendly and helpful, funny and a little weird, in a good, boyish way. He was a total open book. No one could see him killing himself. Someone even thinks he must have just accidentally fell. 

That’s the fan-favorite theory at the moment: that it must have been a bad accident. That Haibara probably was just fooling around, or trying to film a TikTok, and then he died. As morbid and awful as it makes you sound, a fleeting thought occurs.

Maybe he was pushed. 

It’s gone the minute the vigil starts, though. You don’t know why you even think that; too many true crime podcasts must be rotting your brain. That, and maybe the guilt of you basically stalking the poor guy during his last few moments on earth. 

I’ll be set for life. 

He probably was just trying to go viral on TikTok. Boys do stupid shit for online views all the time, and while Haibara must be intelligent enough to attend this school on a scholarship, it’s not like he was immune to bad decisions. Instead of worrying about the why behind his fall, though, you turn your attention to the elevated platform on the square. There’s a podium set up; usually the dean or a guest speaker will come here to give a speech, but tonight, it’s Satoru Gojo. 

Much like everyone else here, he’s dressed in all-black. Black long sleeve button down, black slacks, shiny black loafers. He walks up to the podium, but he’s not greeting the audience with his signature smile that he seems to always wear. Instead, he looks devastated. A few strands of his hair are hanging in his face as his head bends down. You watch the rise and fall of his chest, like he’s trying to practice a few breathing exercises. The crowd went silent the minute he came into view, and they’re still silent now. When Satoru Gojo is around, the world stops for him. No matter what.

After a few more seconds, he finally lifts his head, greeting the crowd with an obviously tight, forced smile. He messes with the microphone for a bit before addressing the audience. 

“Good evening,” his voice is hoarse, almost as if he’s been crying before he went onstage. Between that, and his uncharacteristic disheveled appearance, he might have been. Crying, that is. It’s weird — thinking about Gojo crying. It sounds insensitive, but you never thought of him as someone who experiences the sad and disappointing emotions other mere mortals are privy to. “I suppose the reason for why we’re all gathered here tonight needs no introduction.” He takes a deep breath. Someone is already bursting into tears. 

“Yu Haibara is — was — what I considered to be a beacon of hope in my life. He was bright. Not just in an academic sense, but something about him always radiated pure joy. As his upperclassman, I was assigned as his “buddy” during his first year orientation. I remember meeting him for the very first time, and being taken aback. I mean, we all talk about the baby first year glow, how med school hasn’t hit them yet, but damn—” Gojo lets out a sad laugh, shaking his head. “He was something else. I could tell from just lookin’ at him that nothing was going to dull his shine. He always had a positive outlook on everything, was always an optimist. I’ve never met anyone quite like him.” Gojo’s voice has a bit of a tremor to it, and more people are tearing up as they watch him grip both sides of the podium, as if to keep him stable. 

“I’m afraid that I’ll — that we’ll — never meet anyone like him ever again.” 

Gojo continues on with his speech, talking about all the things Haibara talked about accomplishing, how confident Gojo was in his potential. That Haibara was hilarious and the best junior anyone could ever ask for. That the Zenin School of Medicine will never find another student as bright and bold and ambitious as Haibara. That he’ll be missed. That Gojo has a lot of love for him, but that he hates the choice Haibara made; that despite it all, he’ll still always harbor a lot of love for him. And at the end of his speech, he reveals that the Gojo family will start funding a scholarship in Haibara’s honor, using Haibara’s name, so that way his impact will never truly die. That his spirit will still remain as strong as ever here at this college. 

Gojo’s the first to light his candle, naturally. He holds it up high, almost as if he’s aiming for the night sky. Too bad there isn’t a single star to be seen tonight. 

“To Yu Haibara!” 

Someone else sets their candle aflame, bringing the flame to someone else’s unlit wick, and eventually, going down the line, your candle gets lit, too. You share your flame with Kotori, and once the square is glowing with the comforting orange warmth only several hundred candles can provide, everyone raises their candles high.

“To Yu Haibara!” 

In the following seconds, everyone is silent and solemn. The mourning lasts only as long as the time it takes for Gojo to descend from the platform, and the conversation immediately starts back up again. All signs of despondency seem to evaporate the minute Gojo’s loafers hit the grass, and the crowd immediately parts to make way for him. 

Groups of people rush to him, to compliment him on his speech, to let him know that they’re always going to be here for him if he needs a shoulder to cry on. Every step he takes, he’s never not being bombarded by people. When he makes it closer to where you’re standing, Sakura inches towards him. 

“That was such a beautiful speech, Gojo.” She says, pretending to dab at the corner of her eyes with her black silk scarf. Sakura didn’t tear up once during the ceremony, and she would never dare to risk smudging her makeup in front of Gojo. “And you’re so strong for being able to stand up in front of us and talk about such a good friend without completely breaking down. It must have been awful to see his body, right? I know so many saw him before the cops could come and shoo everyone off—”

“Thanks,” he smiles at her, his hands tucked in the pockets of his slacks. “Between you and me? I had to hold back my tears a few times.” She gasps, staring at him with wide eyes before nodding. He’s about to walk off, but then he adds, “Fortunately, what got me through was probably the fact that I didn’t ever see his body. I was in the medical school’s library preparing for an exam all night when that happened. Wanted to avoid the sight at all costs, too, so I couldn’t even stomach opening any social media.” 

You’re not eavesdropping, you rationalize. Granted, you’re not even hunting for a story, so you’re not sure what your justification for listening in on their conversation is. It’s their fault for having a conversation so close to you, anyway. Anyone with ears can hear them. 

But your stomach is lurching now; gone is your appetite for steak and lobster. Instead, you can feel yourself being filled with dread. 

During Gojo’s “emotional” speech, you were taken aback at just how torn he was. Haibara must have truly been a close friend if Gojo’s voice is shaking when speaking about him. He even needed to grip the damn podium to keep himself upright. 

Maybe it’s because it’s so dark in the nighttime, but you couldn’t help but notice how there was no true force or stress in his grip; no familiar sight of white knuckles from holding something so tightly. And his eyes — they’re obviously the most captivating feature of his. The type of blue that’s only seen in one in every one hundred million, you’re sure. But they’re not red-rimmed or puffy, and during the speech, there was no shine that would indicate he’s on the verge of tears. And you’re certain it’s all in your head when you’re punched with the same realization that the emotion Gojo portrays to his audience never reaches his eyes. Everything about him outwardly screams a boy heartbroken over the death of a good friend. He’s full of grief, but his eyes remain as empty as ever. 

You’re not going to dwell on it any more than that; at least, you weren’t going to. Now, after hearing what he just told Sakura, you’re conflicted. 

You know what you saw that night. You saw him. You saw him. Why would he lie about his whereabouts? 

Your heart is pounding as he walks past Sakura, slowly but steadily making his way closer to you. You should just let him be; everyone handles grief differently. Maybe he was just dissociating during the speech. Maybe trauma is making him want to bend the truth a little bit. Maybe he’s beating himself up over not being there to stop Haibara, and that’s why he’s pretending he wasn’t at the scene of the crime. 

No — you forcibly remind yourself. There is no “scene of the crime.” There wasn’t a crime committed. 

But that instinctual feeling in your gut intensifies the closer Gojo gets, and it’s now or never. Right before he can slip away, you reach out for him, tugging at the fabric of his sleeve, near his wrist. He pauses, turns a bit, looks down at you.

Has he always been this tall, this imposing?

“Yes?” Despite you rudely grabbing at him, he’s nothing but cordial. You swallow hard, bringing your voice to a whisper. 

“Were you there?” 

“Pardon?” He’s smiling, but he tilts his head in confusion. “There… as in where, exactly?” 

“At Old Kashimo Laboratory. When Haibara died.” You clarify. 

“Ah, I wasn’t. I had an exam to study for, so I spent all night in the library.” He blinks, before frowning. “I wish I was there, though. I’ve been wondering if there was anything I could have said or done to change the outcome of that night…” 

Your gut twists, and you swallow hard. “But that’s the thing, Gojo.” You don’t want to say it; there’s a part of you that protests, and the stronger side of you, the one that says maybe you shouldn’t leave this unanswered, dictates that you do. “Why are you lying about being at the library?” You say it so softly, you’re not even able to hear yourself speak.

But he does. You know he does, because the look in his eyes turns cold, colder than you’ve ever seen them. For the first time, you see a glimpse of emotion behind his icy blues. But it isn’t grief, and it isn’t anger. You don’t know what it is, and you almost regret grabbing his sleeve in the first place. 

“That’s a pretty harsh accusation to make.” Gone is his cordial tone. You resist taking a step back from him. “A pretty baseless one, too.” 

“I saw you.” You dare to look him in his eyes. “That night. You were leaving out the back door of the building, and a minute later, Haibara’s body was found. I don’t know the med school’s campus all that well, but the library certainly isn’t behind that old lab, is it?” 

Gojo stares at you for what feels like forever. You’ve never been scrutinized before, but you wonder if this is what a cell under a microscope feels like. The feeling of being completely and utterly exposed is a scary one, and it sounds so silly. Who is scared of friendly, kind, golden boy Gojo? 

No one is. But right now, the man staring you down isn’t the Gojo you’ve heard stories about. 

You blink, and he’s back to smiling at you, almost as if the conversation you two shared never even happened. Maybe it never did. Maybe you’re the crazy one. 

“Well, it was nice chatting with you.” He’s speaking at his normal volume now. “Hey, what was your name again?” 

He poses it as a friendly question, but you know better. 

“[Name].” 

He repeats it back, obnoxiously slow, sounding out the vowels and all. “Pleasure to meet you, [Name]. I hope I see you soon.” 

Somehow, he’s made a pleasantry sound like a threat.

[electricalcheese]

hai.. it's my birthday (jan 21) (first time posting on trafficblr hallo)

too much to put in tags and i dont want clutter. don't know if anyone cares but i'm gonna yap. i've been getting into it more and i'm slowly building my way up.... i first watched lizzie and i mainly watch her! then like. i really enjoyed watching her sessions and like! she's only in a few and i was craving content. a few weeks ago i started watching joel's wild life pov because i'm familiar with his content and i started watching more of his. i absolutely loved limited life so i went ahead and watched grian and have been binging thangs! ok bye i'm scrambling back into my little hole. also iam am unable to draw full bodies (i drew grian full body a few days ago)

[makeyoumine69]

helloo, can you do something like where patrick has a crush on you but your with someone else, how do you think he’ll react?

𝐀/𝐍: Hello dear anon! Thank you for your ask!💕

𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒: [MASTERLIST]🪓

Thoughts: Well, if we're talking about the canonical version of Patrick, he probably wouldn't care if you had a partner, because this man saw no obstacles on his way to the object of his obsession. It could also be that Bateman would first try to get to know you better and find useful information about your partner to play around with. This bastard would manipulate the facts and try to gaslight you, he would try to instill the idea of you breaking up with your date as if it was your own decision. But if you still didn't buy it, Patrick might eventually turn to what he was so good at—killing people he didn't like.

Drabble:

Sitting on one of the benches in Central Park, you watched Patrick walk back and forth in front of you, his hands hidden in the pockets of his dark blue coat. 

"I still don't understand one thing," the man murmured thoughtfully, glancing at the cloudy sky from time to time. "You told me your partner didn't treat you right. And I remember it so well, you can't fool me by saying that you didn't."

You rolled your eyes in annoyance. "Uh, if I only knew that you would use all my words against me... I would never tell you this," you replied, but there was no negativity in your tone, just a slight hint of nervousness. "My partner...he's a complicated person and we're having a really hard time in our relationship...but that doesn't mean I'm going to have an affair behind their back." You explained, and it made him stop pacing and focus his attention entirely on you and you alone. "Although... I do enjoy spending time with you."

Oh, that little praise of yours was like balm to his ego. Bateman grinned haughtily and gave you a devious glance. "Of course you do," his low chuckle, the way he smiled as if he already had you in his hands, only caused more anger to build up in your chest, but you managed to keep your composure. "I doubt your dear friend will ever be able to take you to the places I have... do they even know about it? About all the dinners, launches...dates we've had?"

"They weren't dates!" You retorted and quickly got to your feet to face him, and even though you tried to look confident next to him, his looming figure still made you weak in the knees. "We never kissed, we never... I never even thought about it!"

"Really?"

A broad, foxy smile still played on his smug face, and it became even more cheeky as he took a step closer to you, almost brushing your noses. The unexpected closeness hit you like a sunstroke in the middle of fall, it was abnormal and you didn't even know how to react. Patrick's lips were only a few inches away from yours, they looked so plump and kissable, but then you shook off all the little thoughts about how his lips would feel when the two of you finally kissed.

"Patrick, we can't," you turned your head to the side in protest at the last moment, and Bateman pecked your cheek instead. "Uh...listen..."

"No, you listen to me," the man cut you off and placed both hands on your shoulders, their weight feeling oddly comforting, almost euphoric. "You say you need them so much, yet you keep seeing me," his words were only a whisper as he drew near your ear, the heat of his steady breathing scorching your skin. "Something's definitely not right. Don't you think so?"

Your mind was a total mess, at some point you even felt disgusted because Patrick was right. Your current relationship had come to a standstill, and your partner wasn't really trying to fix it. Such relationships were only draining, but did you really know Bateman well? What kind of man was he? Money and wealth could make almost any person act like a master of the world, but the nature of Patrick's arrogance was different and twisted.

Tilting his head to the side, Bateman tittered and slowly, almost imperceptibly, pressed the knuckles of his hand against your cheek. "I know you have a big heart, darling," he muttered, leaning closer, his thumb tracing invisible spirals along your jawline. "And I know you even care about people like your partner, but they don't deserve it, believe me. It will do them good... if you gently tell them that it is all over. You don't want them to get bruised, right?"

Why did his words sound so... disturbing?

Ignoring the knotting feeling in your stomach, you didn't flinch and let him plant another kiss on your burning cheek, the sweet scent of his cologne wafting around you like a cobweb, binding you to him and you could swear you were literally paralyzed for a moment.

"I need... I need some time to think things over," you finally managed to say, raising your dizzy eyes to his walnut ones. "If you really...are interested in me, I hope you will understand and give me some space."

He hummed at first, but didn't remove his hand from your face; in fact, he placed another hand on the back of your neck to hold you in place. Then the man pulled you closer so that you nestled against his strong chest as he hugged you tightly.

"Well, hmmm, I guess you're right," Patrick's heart was thumping against his ribcage and you could literally feel it, somehow surprised that men like him could have hearts at all. "But don't make me wait long."

And there you fell into this man's trap.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my writing community to know when I update!💞

[flowerandblood]

✨ blog & writing & life update ✨

I haven't been here for a few weeks, but it was the best decision of my life: focusing on what's important helped me calm down and finish all the tasks I set for myself. My husband defended his doctoral thesis, and I finished my little book. The experiences and thoughts related to pregnancy inspired me to create illustrations in which I reflect how I see our parental roles: the characters look like me and my husband. Below you have an example of what it looks like inside.

My pregnancy is progressing well; my belly is already visible and I can feel the baby moving. It's a strange and magical feeling to know that there's another life inside you that's trying to communicate with you in this way. We still don't know the gender, but on February 11th we have an ultrasound where we should officially find out how things are going. We are so excited: if it's a girl, we'll name her Łucja (Lucy), and if it's a boy, we'll name him Ignacy (Ignatius).

My husband is suffering because he's sick and we're isolated in two different rooms. Seeing me pregnant has awakened a kink in him that he clearly wasn't aware of and he has to touch me all the time: not that I'm complaining. My libido hasn't decreased at all during pregnancy, so I'm happy to hear his words of excitement and observations about how my body is changing and how much it arouses him *cough* *breeding kink*.

Am I still writing? Yes! I'm working on a oneshot set in The Price of Pride universe, the one where Lady Royce meets Aemond as a child. It'll be a long, self-contained story, and a gift to celebrate my two years here. I'm writing very slowly, but because of the lack of pressure I don't care too much about it and I'm building it up into a whole piece by piece. I don't know when I'll be able to finish it yet, but I'll definitely publish it. I'm still on hiatus, but I want you to know that you have something to look forward to!

[gingerteawrites]

teehee are u able to write a fic about geto and y/n baking together and having a movie night in? yes im delusional LMAO

A/N: Omg my very first Anon request?? Girl if you're delusional, I'm the president of the club! I'm so happy you asked for this, and hope you enjoy this little thing. Unfortunately I am still busy as a bee, so expect slower updates on this account for at least a couple of weeks😔🤚🏾

Content: Geto x female reader, fluff, established relationship, non-sorcerer AU

Some days, life pressed heavy upon your shoulders, a weight borne in weary steps and silent sighs. Obligations clung like shadows-- engagements to honor, duties to mend, and the world, ever unkind, offering only the worst of itself.

It came to a point that most interactions began to feel like a chore. The mere presence of others acting like a draining force on your already dwindling energy.

But when the *ding* sound of a notification on your phone pulls your attention to the device, you feel part of the exhaustion melt away as your lover's name pops up on the dim screen.

[Hey there pretty girl, are you still up for movie night?] The text from Suguru immediately brings a smile to your face, and your fingers are quick to type a reply.

[Yes! Your place at 8, right?]

[Yup, I'll come pick you up. See you later, love]

The anticipation for the evening gives you the strength to push through the mountain of work you have to do. And as soon as you register the roaring of Geto's bike outside your building, you are quick to grab your things and rush to the door, leaving behind the chaos of your own world.

You unlock your door, breathing in relief as fresh air filled your lungs.

"Hey," you smile, letting him engulf you into a warm hug. You smell the sandalwood of his cologne, closing your eyes.

"Hey," he replies, rubbing your back gently. He pulls away to let you close your door, and then interlaces your fingers as he leads you over to his bike.

You slip on your helmet with ease and climb on the vehicle, wrapping your arms securely around his torso. A routine that your mind welcomed, slowly silencing your spiraling thoughts from the day's events.

As if sensing your fatigue, Suguru rides a bit slower than usual. The quiet rumble of the bike's engine fill the silence. And his hands, rubbing your thighs occasionally when stopped at red lights fill you with peace. His own little way of saying he was there, that he cared.

When you finally walk into his apartment he strides into the kitchen, tying a dark apron around his waist.

"You can just relax and pick a movie, baby," he speaks from behind the counter, while you're still putting your stuff down. Incense sticks fill the room with a soothing smell, and like everything about Suguru, the apartment's ambiance makes your body relax further. But you perk up at his words.

"But we were supposed to bake together," you walk over to him, a slight frown over your features.

His expression softens even further, reaching out to hold your cheek. A large hand settles on your face and you feel his warmth seeping into your skin. "You look exhausted," he sighs, watching you nuzzle into his touch. "You could have canceled for tonight, you know?" He would never want for you to feel forced to be around him. He wanted to be your peace after all, and never a source of weariness.

You look up at him, stepping closer. "I'm glad you're trying to be considerate, but I really want to do this with you,"

His other hand finds your waist, rubbing soothingly along it. The movement sends pleasant shivers down your spine, and you relax further against him. Suguru smiles, placing a soft kiss on your cheek, "Alright then pretty," he pulls back. "Cookies it is?"

"Cookies it is." You confirm.

Suguru wraps his spare apron—unofficially yours—around your waist and queues up a bossa nova playlist before you both get to work. A relaxed ambiance settles over the room, the sweet aroma of batter curling through the air.

At last, you slide the cookies into the oven, turning just as you close the warm furnace. Before you can step away, Suguru pulls you close, his arm slipping around your waist.

There were birds in the sky But I never saw them winging No, I never saw them at all 'Til there was you~

You giggled lightly as he swayed with you around the small kitchen, humming along to the lyrics. The deep rumble of his voice reverberated through his chest and to yours, making your own body thrum with the rhythm of love.

"You're such a romantic," you whispered when the flute outro drew to a silence, your body still firmly planted against his.

"Only because I love you so much," he replied with that same easy smile. As if the depth of his affection did not rock you entirely. "Do you still want to watch [comfort movie]?"

You smiled, "Of course! Unless you want to watch something else," you secure your arms around his neck, enjoying the proximity as you still gently swayed to the instrumental suite that began to play in the background.

He shakes his head, drawing closer to give you a quick kiss on the lips, sweet and soft, almost too fleeting. "Your pick tonight."

No time passes until you're curled up together on the couch, the movie score ringing melodiously in the background.

But your attention is not on the screen, you could recite the whole movie without watching anyway. All that mattered was Suguru's arms around you, his chest pressed against your back, his hair tickling your cheek as it fell away from his face, the feel of his hands absently caressing you. The way he quietly hummed along to whatever tune that he recognized from the movie. Him, with you.

In his arms you felt safe, warm and loved. You could forget the weight of obligations, even if for a moment. And that was something the chaos of the world could not take away from you.

I hope you enjoyed it! Please feel free to request anything else :))

comments and reblogs are much appreciated (❁´◡`❁)

[apeninastory]

ivan as a tragic-love character (pt.4e?) | Cure edition

Here we go! Last step - for now, because I'm definitely looking forward to Ivan's solo part 2, they own it to us!!

But first, part 4 HERE + a little recap!

Vivimeng gifted us three beautiful tracks with glimpses of Ivan's mind and feelings - and for that, I'll be forever grateful. I can't even begin to say how fascinated I am with this character, it feels like an eternal mistery the more we are shown about him.

Song-wise, we have Nowhere, Black Sorrow and Cure - listed in order of composition/performance and in a somewhat chronological order of the hints about the growing maturity of Ivan's character. Taking into account that the last two were probably not written by Ivan (but are still meant to partly speak about him and his relation to Till), the first his definitely the best portrait we have. Nevertheless, each of them gives us a piece of Ivan as seen from his own eyes/the eyes of Vivimeng, each with something more and something less.

Where Nowhere recounts his life, from his childhood to his years at Anakt up to his graduation (how he tries to fit in, how he imitates to compensate, how the dissonance between the Ivan he is and the Ivan-character he builds forms the mask everyone sees, how he learns to control his emotions, even those he doesn't comprehend and make him bitter, numb, resigned), the delivery of Black Sorrow is its direct outcome.

Nowhere has a flat rhythm, but it's full of complex, vibrating emotions, memories, considerations and images. Black Sorrow has a much more monolitic scenary (black everywhere), but has such richness in the way Ivan sings it and portrays its content - how the power in his voice builds with past flashes of Till, coming out hoarse and breathtaking. I love the play of opposites here, it feels like we are discovering two sides of the same character - the inner, numb voice of a Ivan who offers us a window to his soul and the charming, smiley boy on stage who tells us the story of a sorrowful unrequited love (where in reality, much deeper, it is not only about that, but also about how this world is taking the chance of keep loving Till from the shadows away from him).

Ivan doesn't pretend love from Till - that's not the kind of violence Ivan or his love are made of. It is more a type of intensity, of desperation born from lack of understanding and small, sudden epiphanies - from a need that is also quiet, wary and respectful.

Ivan's love is not pretty, soft and rosy. It blooms in secret, it is obsessive and requires petty attention. How could it not be? Imagine a boy who has never had anything for himself making his first friend. Imagine him being charmed by him and thinking about him and finding his eyes on him all the time - imagine him provocking him, hurting him, feeling guilty and fascinated and confused, because he doesn't really know how people show affection to each other, has never received love and care during his childhood, when it is most important and educational. Imagine him projecting all his hopes and positive feelings onto that person - would his mind accept that person slipping away from him? Till represents so much to Ivan - and contrary to many opinions, it is not Mizi who keeps Till away from Ivan (Mizi is part of what makes Till special in Ivan's eyes). On one hand, it is Ivan himself; on the other it is, of course, their lack of proper communication that makes Till iperaware and wary of Ivan.

Ivan's love is the result of normalized abuse and the lack of stability of an entire life, of the newfound happiness, quiteness, intimate dependability he formed with Till slowly slipping away from him because the alien society decided that they were meant to participate in a game where only one of them (or none) would come out alive. No matter how obedient Ivan is, the stage awaits both him and Till, and he will either die or have to live without Till.

This is the background on which Cure is performed.

12] Cure, or Ivantill at their best (and our worst)

Cure holds a special place in my heart, and I think we all know how impactful Round 6 was on all of us. While a big part of my previous posts were closely related to Ivan as a character experiencing the world, here I can finally delve into my babies' round however I like!

I don't really know how to talk about Till's verse, but I've been looking forward to it. I'd love to analyse him as a character, and I may do that in the near future, but I feel like I wouldn't do him justice - even though both me and Till are INFP and are quite similar. So forgive me if I lose his characterization along the way.

Allow me, to the tips of your fingers Allow me, to the ends of your feet Dissolve me in your gaze I don't want to let you go Please, leave me scars Please, hurt me so that Not a single drop of me remains Let me drown in you

If Till wrote these verses and I was on the receiving end of them, I'd swoon so bad I wouldn't know what to do with myself. But I can't help but think how well they match the second part of the song, when Ivan comes in, so I'm guessing the lyrics were written by the same person (alnst directors or whatever, but neither Till nor Ivan) with a precise theme in mind? Like, impossible love, a love that can never be?

That being said, we know he is thinking about Mizi. (But.)

There is none of the usual bite in Till's voice, but it is still full of emotions. The verses he sings seem like a prayer. A request to touch someone, manifesting his wish of not wanting to let go of that person. It's like he is saying through Cure's lines, "if I am really forced to let you go, if there is nothing I can do, please leave scars on me and make me forget about everything by drowning and losing myself in you/your memory - make me numb to everything so that I don't have to face this alone".

It feels to me that, since Till knows he is about to lose either himself or the one he considers a dear friend (death, either way, will be the outcome of this round), he reaches out to what has always been a source of solace and relief, his safe heaven - the memory and image of Mizi -, to get strength from her. So, while it is true that he is thinking about her, I also think he is reaching for her hand in his mind as a mean to brace himself for the inevitable. There is none of the usual heat in Till's tone, it's like he already perceives the defeat looming over him - he dies or Ivan dies, and either way, it is a loss for him.

There is another interpretation that I want to add, though (one we can make in retrospective, one we all probably matured after Till's death). Let's think about R7 Till - a Till that has already lost Ivan. I feel these words would take a deeper, more desolate nuance, one where Till is asking Ivan to either stay or scar him in a rhetorical way, because Ivan is already gone and he has already hurt Till beyond belief with his sacrifice and the feelings he never revealed. During Blink Gone, Till can't help but drown in his last memory of Ivan.

So maybe, while singing these verses, he is not directly asking Mizi to scar him, nor is he asking Ivan - maybe he is asking god, any god. Maybe there is no one behind those words as Till sings them - after all, I can think Till writing/saying this to Mizi, nor would he say it to Ivan (not pre-Round 7, at least). Those lines are for us, for the ivantill we see and could have been.

Until these falling stars Are buried in the blur of time On your icy lips Read my soul Yes, my soul, oh, oh

I love how perfectly these lines fit ivantill from an outer perspective.

Stars are an important element for both of them, and here, it feels like Till is buring that particular memory deep into his mind - to forget? To hold it dear one last time, since he starts to feel he doesn't have the strength to go on? Without Mizi, Till's chant is teary, a prayer with no god in sight, something sang as a last resort.

On your icy lips - another plea to the singing partner, almost like a prediction of who'll die and have their lips turn cold. If this song is meant to follow the theme of impossible love (not unrequited, just impossible, since one of the two has to die), how profound it is? Something like, "On your lips linger the words with which you will read my soul", as if the first singer is asking the second to dig into his soul and tell what he found there. "Read my love/affection for you in my soul, you know it's there, even if this is the end for us."

Maybe it's time I drown.

Oh, the irony! If only Ivan would do that! Read the affection Till has for him, find it engraved in Till's soul and heart - not romantic in nature, perhaps, but affection nonetheless. Till is unconsciously making a request that Ivan doesn't really hear and has no time to fulfill. Who is contributing in making this love impossible? Huh?!

Even if your cold words Carve scars beneath my eyes May they linger on your tongue You can break me apart Noticе my pain And mend me right now To quiet my fеars I'll drown in you

Ivan's verse are meant to be for Till. No discussion about that. Whoever wrote/chose the song knew - their relationship is made of harsh words and scars, but it holds especially true in Ivan's case. I'll go slow here.

Even if your cold words carve scars beneath my eyes, may they linger on your tongue - It starts with "even", so we already know that whatever comes after, no matter how bad it is, they are not considered totally negative on the singer's part. This song - this moment - makes Ivan realize that despite the harsh threatment he and Till reserved to each other, despite how he himself was far from gentle with the younger boy, he accepts it all. Till's "cold words" can "linger on [his] tongue", can be directed at Ivan, Ivan is fine with it and is giving him his permission: you can break me apart.

Why? Because maybe, like that, with Ivan bleeding from the harsh threatment, Till may notice [his] pain and decide to mend [him], make him whole again. Ivan's words are also a prayer - an hopeful, honest one, contrary to the resignation we find in Till: "do to me whatever you want, I'll accept all of you. Can you please heal me right after destroying me?"

One last request. One last hope, as if hoping to finally have Till look at him.

To quiet my fеars, I'll drown in you - This is probably the part that breaks me the most. Because I don't believe that Ivan wasn't afraid in that moment. For him, these are his last moments, the last minutes he gets to live and to see the person he loves. No matter how indifferent he is/fakes to be of everything, I can see him being afraid and reluctant in those instants - not to die for Till, but to die and say goodbye to him.

I think this is the moment Ivan knew for sure - or at least, since I am bad and am angst-addicted, I like to think it. This is the moment Ivan knew, despite all his own quirks, that he loved Till, and that he should have threated him differently. That's why his comic has so much of what he felt during Round 6 - regret, gratitude for Till being a victim to his shallow emotions and relief, I fear, for being able to do something that can be universally recognized as a symbol of true love (sacrificing himself).

Sick of these nights to come To be engulfed in silence In your gaze, where I'm seen Consume me, yes, me, oh, oh

I said before that something Ivan probably liked about Till was that he didn't have to pretend with him all the time. He could be annoying and a bit violent and unsufferable, and Till would yell at him but still let him stay near. Fake smiles didn't work with Till because Till is sensitive to emotions and their autenticity.

These linese are another fitting set of words for Ivan. I imagine him envoloped by the silence of the night, day after day, as he waits for the inevitable round, imagining him and Till singing together one last time. And of course, the one thing he has always (consciously and unconsciously) wanted - to be seen by Till. He pleas to be consumed, "consume me before death comes to me, before I take the last step and close my eyes and won't be able to see you ever again. Consume me with your eyes, for there is no other way I'd want to die".

To this everlasting melody Face to face, we dance With our story Lost in forever's embrace

Only the first two lines are delivered before the foreseeable tragedy strikes.

To this everlasting melody - I love the use of "everlasting". In a way, this moment will remain eternal, to us and to both of them, as it is the last instance of Ivan and Till together.

Face to face, we dance - These words hold Ivan's desire, but will never come true. Or in a way, perhaps, they do. Ivan's hands are on Till and he leads the younger boy to the end of the song.

These lines offer us the image of something that never will, a truth that is explicitated by the following words: With our story lost in forever's embrace. This song is meant to create a fixed moment of something that the two singers will never be able to replicate.

But we don't even get there, because Ivan notices Till giving up, can't even fulfil the entirety of the song and directly stalks toward him, reaching for Till and granting himself one last selfish wish - something Ivan had asked of Till at Anakt, but was denied.

And the rest is history.

SPECIAL] Of Ivan, Till and love.

Cure represents ivantill not because the words that compose this song are written by them and have to fit them (since they weren't, I think), but because these words describe what they are, what they are not and what they could have been. They mirror their known and unclear dynamics, the feelings they awarely hold for the other and those they can't perceive but that we can see.

This song is meant to be a melancholic love story of inevitable loss between the two singers, but the roles appear to be unclear, like the two of them don't fit perfectly - like they are being forced in those roles. Despite that, they are the perfect pick for the song. Why, then, can we still perceive this as an ivantill song? It's because we know that Ivan loves Till and that Till cares about Ivan, and no matter what we see, Till does feel anguish at the idea of losing him. It is not a conventional performance of an impossible love - it's the ivantill version of it, where what makes it impossible is not only the system they live in, but their miscommunication, antics and reciprocally hiding their true feelings for each other, be it love or something else.

That's why the round and the interpretation of the song are so complex. Mizi was Till's inspiring force and now, in Roung 6, she becomes the source of his remaining strength. It's either he lives or Ivan does, and since he doesn't have the will and energy to go on, Till gives up. He taps on his memory of her and closes his eyes to everything around him, lets himself go and accepts his own death. Maybe that's the moment the idea of Ivan's departure stops weighting on him, because it's when Till stops fighting and singing and knows that if he'll die, Ivan will live, so he stands there and waits. Little does he know...

Till's reaction to the kiss (surprise, resistance, resigned acceptance), the point where the song is interrupted - it is all emblematic of the armonization they should have reached at that point of the performance but never achieved, not on stage, nor in their relationship. The first time I saw the kiss (as an outsider to the fandom, since the kiss was the first thing Alnst related I ever saw - yeah spoilerr I know, twt's algorithm is cruel but knows me best), I had the impression that the gray-haired guy's rejection of the kiss wasn't out of disgust or anger, but of shock and apprehension - like he didn't expect it and was worried they'd get caught. I didn't know they were on a stage (and I though Ivan was police lol), so I was sad when the black-haired guy was shot, but I remember thinking "omg did he do that stunt the protect the other one? Does he love him?" and was immediately sold.

I stand there even now. Ivan does not hesitate - and the moment he reaches for Till, Till's pupils dilatate at Ivan's touch. My brain literally exploded at this detail. Till doesn't start resisting until after Ivan initiates the kiss, and he is just half-heartedly trying to get away - he probably has no energy and is confused as hell. Ivan's closeness doesn't seem to bother him, it's only the kiss that he has no explanation for. He doesn't even struggle when Ivan strangles him.

We know why Ivan did all of that - we know Till was in his mind until the very end, that he probably attacked his opponent to e disqualified and killed. Ivan's sacrifice reflects his last thoughts - I should have been kinder. His last little peck on Till's lips looks like an apology, for the previous forced kiss and everything else.

Heart-breaking highlight of this section: affection was something Till taught Ivan without even realizing. Better, it is something Ivan learned by watching Till nuzzling flowers, raging against injustices, blushing for love, getting offended and sad over something hurtful. That's why Ivan's love was unclear to him but so painfully obvious to us.

Let's remind ourselves a couple of things. Till wasn't aware of Ivan's feelings for him. I feel like he is the type of character that has great empathy and perception, that can easily resonate with the emotions other show and project on him or their surroundings. That's what makes him so vivid, so enraged. Till can't un-feel - it's what makes him so dear to my heart, and what probably made Ivan so intrigued with him. So he probably feels guilty and confused and angry. Those emotions fuel him during the last round, and even if we know (and he probable knows, too) that is isn't enough, he fights.

On the other hand, the Ivan we know loves surprisingly quietly. In secret, in the privacy of his mind and in the background of his own song. The Ivan we know shows affection loudly, hungry for attention, but from behind a wall. Then he brushes it off as if he is mocking his own crush, teasing and childish about admitting his interest. Letting Till know that his affection is real is useless, and nothing will come out of it. Each action has an effect, a consequence, and he probably thinks that a love declaration is done in the hope of receiving affection from someone special. Ivan believes love is unrelated to him, so what's the use? Till would reject him and grow awkward with him and Ivan wouldn't be able to stay by his side anymore, so he only has something to lose. He can't pursue it, can't be greedy for more, because he would be undeserving of it all the same - of Till's good heart, of whatever hunch of affection Till would confirm of having for him.

Ivan wants, but doesn't know how to deal with it. And despite it all, he still reaches for Till - because how can you suppress love in those little moments where your body moves before your mind?

I am not sure if I covered eveything I wanted to say, but writing about them is such a beautiful experience, I probably won't refrain from adding stuff on tumblr if I feel like it. In the end, we go back to the original question I had in mind when starting all this - the idea of Ivan being a tragic-love character, and what it entails.

For someone thinking to be unlovable and with his "unrequited" feelings for Till, Ivan's character has as much to do with love as all the other characters, if not more. Alien Stage itself is a question, reflection and celebration of love. I think that ultimately, it is open to interpretation, as we all have different degrees of sensitivity and can read things in different ways, just like Ivan's askewed perception of himself and how, in his constant, quiet search to fit in and imitate others, he never truly understood that he was indeed loved.

Each character has their own definition of love, and Ivan felt like he did not belong to any of them - while in fact it is not a quest of fitting definitions, but love itself that adapts to the people we have and want in our lives.

So, does Ivan want to be a tragic-love character? Does he willingly become it? I don't think he wants, but in the end, his character intertwines with this vision because even if he can't accept the idea of being loved, he is loved - and his unawareness enhances the tragic nuance of it. Does he actively reject love? Yes and no. I think he'd be happy if Mizi or Sua or Till were to manifest affection toward him, but he'd probably accept it on surface level, or believe they fell for his facade/are doing it out of pity or without truly knowing him.

Consciously, he simply believes that just like people breath and exist, he can't be loved. He didn't have the time, the means and the chances to actively overturn this belief. The tragedy of his character hides in his nature, upbringing and dissonance: it is partly an obvious, inevitable outcome and partly something he didn't stop from happening (because for him it was equally unavoidable). For us, he is a character doomed to a tragic love story. For Ivan himself, love has never been in the picture - his affection was a quiet, brimming thing, and he could only... bury it with himself.

[soaps-mohawk]

Hehehe thank you for giving me the permission to yap. Idk how long this will end up being so grab a snack to read-

(and to my ask before. I agree with you. I was close to rage quitting SO MUCH but then I'd cry cause I didn't want to loose where I was in the mission so I cried my way through it. Darn you Kyle for falling out of that plane... and yes. I used youtube vids for the alone mission HELP)

Okaayyy my fic idea. Its possibly going to be a dystopien omegaverse fic, reader is a omega, Price and Ghost are alpha's and Soap and Gaz betas (I've always imagined them like that since reading ur fic, but i make them other things depending on the ship. and what the story is like. like nikprice, i oftern think of alpha x alpha or make John a omega heh)

So outline part 1 is, the worlds population has been greatly plumeting, since the old goverment wasnt strict as the new one. The new goverment takes over, and builds a intitute that forces omegas into it as soon as they present to teach them to be the 'perfect omega'. its one of those VERY messed up places, like the guards or workers dont give a damn, they get no help and are brainwashed to not tell anyone abt how it works. (This was one of the parts where i was scared it was close to urs, thats why im yapping now so if u think its too close u can scold me and tell me to think of smt else LOL)

As soon as omega's hit 18, they are sent out into a pack or with an alpha. betas can join a waiting list, but alphas get priority. Now, when the rest of the task force was offered, they declined. But poor Johnny just wanted his own lass, he didn't think it'd be bad. so he joins the waiting list, and ends up getting reader. And well the rest arent happy cause now they gotta help look after this traumatised lil thing.

What i was thinking, Johnny has never had a omega, because of the intitute and goverment. So he has no proper idea on how to care for an omegas needs, like heats and everything. so he ends up getting the rest of the team to slowly help (it overtime becomes a poly relationship) but as reader feels safer, she ends up feeling safe enough to talk about what happened in the institute (cause whos gonna come after a military pack, they're protecting her?!)

but ofc, the goverment finds out and like nup they aint having that, and they take her back. (this is sometime idk when) but they all end up turning against the whole goverment and yada yada. Theres prob A LOT i would change so far and add, but I havent gotten that in depth yet.

do u think thats too simular to CRCB... idk I was thinking about it once then i remember oh crap thats sounding a lil familiar- part of the reason i wanted to tell you abt it, also just bc i wanted to yap abt it bc if i end up writing/changing it its just rlly interesting. you dont veen gotta answer this if its too close just msg me and scold me HELP-

anyway ill stop my yapping before it turns into a novel.

Reminder to get a drink and a snack, I hope you can get plenty of rest <3 (apologies for any spelling mistakes, I'm half asleep and couldn't be entirely bothered to reread and Im just praying it makes sense. Grammarly dont like me)

I think that's a great idea!! Very unique!! I'm glad I could inspire you to write your own fic and I don't mind the similar ideas. (So long as credit is given where credit is due)

[opalcicle]

If They Call Me a Slut, You Know it Might be Worth it for Once

Ch. 11 - No Rest

I start getting ready to relax before my stream, climbing out of my clothes into a big sleep shirt. There's a knocking on my door.. Did I forget something in Charlie's car?

"I'm sorry- I just- I needed to-" he grabs me by the face, kissing me so forcefully our noses knock together. He doesn't stop, hands finding their way down my body. Suddenly he's got me pinned to the inside of my door. His teeth tug on my lips until I let out a soft whine and his kisses travel down to my neck, biting harshly at my skin.

"Charlie!" I call out when he bites in a little too hard.

A low moan, almost a whine escapes his mouth as he makes himself stop. "Fuck, I want-" he cuts himself off again, hands squeezing me hard. One is holding my leg up around his hip, the other pushing my wrist to the door. He's pressed into me and I can feel his cock on my abdomen.

Slowly, carefully, I reach over and click door locked.

He's on his knees in one breaths' time, sliding my leg up over his shoulder. Charlie buries his face in my cunt, making me whimper again. His tounge moves fast, licking at my entrance, pressing in. I'm still tender from a few days ago, but the intensity of the moment captures me completely. He groans hungrily with each movement. I don't even have time to get used to the sensation before he pulls away, standing and taking his long, throbbing erection out. I'm pinned again as he moves back in to kiss me, the taste of my pussy on his lips. One leg is lifted, returning to it's spot around him, and I feel him pressing his cock to the sore entrance between my legs. He pushes in quickly and we both make desperate gasps. I wrap my arms over his shoulder as he lifts me off the ground, both legs now around his waist. My back presses against the door and he thrust in again. His fingers press and grab at my ass while he rocks in and out of me. I'm dizzy, in shock from the suddenness, but it feels so fucking good.

"Mmm- Char- leee, fuck!" I moan out loud, and as he pounds me against my door it creaks and rattles. Hopefully the neighbors aren't in the hallway.

"I'm going to fuck you forever," he growls the words into my ear. It sounds like a threat, and I take it as a promise. The sex is so much more frantic than last time. It's scary, and hot as hell. If this man really wants to make me his, this is exactly how to do it.

His thrusts stop and his cock slips out. The break in rhythm is too sudden and I groan in protest. I feel myself being carried away and I hold on tight. Charlie takes me into my kitchen and sets me down. I try to take a step toward him, but he grabs my arm and turns me toward the counter. Holding my forearm tightly, he presses my face down into the counter top, bending me over. It's only seconds before I feel him pressing against me. Charlie rams his dick in so hard I stumble. I don't even have time to steady myself, he just steps forward and pushes his cock back in. He is more careful this time, but only a little. Using my free arm to keep me balanced, pressed up onto my tiptoes I feel an orgasm building too fast.

"Cha- ah ah ah! Oh fu- uh- uh-! Char- lie!!!" My cries are cut off everytime his hips hit me. He realizes I'm getting close and let's my arm go, grabbing the sensitive spots on my hips and pulling me back with each thrust inside. My mind forgets everything but the sensations he's giving me, and pleasure shakes me as my body goes tense. I feel my pussy grip him tight and hear him make the most heavenly groans. The world around me fades for a moment, and I don't know exactly when it happens, but when I come down I've sunk to my knees.

Before I come completely back to reality, Charlie pulls me backwards, moving me to the middle of the floor. "Good girl," he whispers as he strokes my hair.

I gaze up at him, eyes lingering on the erection above me, and then move to his face. His expression sends a shiver through me. It's a mix between desperate and smug. I feel clit pulsing and slip my fingers between my legs. My eyes flick back to his cock, and I lick my lips.

"You want a taste?"

I sit up on my knees and open my mouth. My eyes close, expecting to choke on his cock, but instead I feel it slap the side of my face. When I peek again he's holding his erection, slowly stroking it. I whimper like a mutt begging for scraps. Charlie teases the head past my lips, rubbing precum up my cheek and over my nose. I open my mouth wider in response. There's a slapping sound on my face again as his hand travels down his shaft and lets go, springing his cock towards me. This time I'm ready, grabbing him by the dick, and leaning forward to take him in my mouth.

"Ohgodfuck!" He gasps out a bundle of words all mixed together. Charlie grabs the back of my head, pulling me towards him roughly.

The eager sounds I make with my mouthful are barely audible under Charlie's loud moans. I can tell he's holding back, and grab him by the back of his thighs, pulling him deeper in.

He practically screams, "OH GOD!" tilting his head back and gripping my hair. He fucks my face faster, and faster, and I feel his legs start to buckle when he steps back, panting as his cock leaves my mouth. He'd gotten close, but stopped.

I cough, tears and drool running down my face.

Charlie joins me on the floor, pulling his shirt off to wipe my eyes and mouth. I take the opportunity to run my hands over his chest.

"You-" I cough again, then give myself a second to breath, "you look like a Greek fucking god, Charlie,"

He laughs, and threads his arms under mine to pull us both up.

"I wanted you to cum," I pout.

He helps me get steady on my feet before getting a glass down from my cabinet. "Not a chance, I'm going to breed you," he's turned away, getting me a glass of water, and sounding so damn nonchalant.

"You- you're-" I stammer, and when he turns back my mouth is hanging open. I'm stunned.

He hands me the water, "drink,"

I comply, unable to wrap my brain around any thought. When I finish, he takes the glass from me and sets it down. He turns to me and pushes me into the counter with a hard kiss. I suddenly feel his hand between my legs, fingers slipping inside and curling. I break the kiss with a gasp.

"You get so wet for me, babe," he whispers into my neck, "like you were made for me,"

I whimper at his words and he starts to finger me slowly. He holds me up with his other arm around my waist. My body melts into him. I'm already tired but I know he needs me. My thoughts drift while he sends little pulses of pleasure up through my body.

My hand lazily travels down to his cock, brushing against it before wrapping around. Still slick from my saliva, it doesn't take much effort for me to stroke it back and forth, back and forth. Charlie's breath catches and his hips start to press forward when my hand nears the base of his cock.

His palm presses on my mound and I rub against it in time with his thrusts. I shift my body so as he slides through my hand his cock rubs against my abdomen. Lips find lips, and his tounge finds its way into my mouth. I whine and my grip tightens. His moans send vibrations through my head and our pace builds. Again I feel an orgasm approaching. My legs tremble and my whines grow urgent. It's building so slowly until Charlie's fingers pick up the pace.

"Cum for me," he demands as our kiss breaks for just a breath.

I'm close- so close- searching for the moment that sends me over.

Charlie kisses down my neck and I bury my face into his shoulder. "What's the matter, babe? Can't finish?" His voice drips with sarcasm as he teases me.

My face gets hot fast, and I mumble nothing-protests into his skin.

"Aww, my little slut can't make it there?" I hear the smirk in his words and my body tenses. "Oh you like that?" His teasing continues, "you like being my little slut?"

I'm embarrassed. Frantic whimpers leave my mouth and I can feel the myself about to cum.

"Poor, little slut," he ends the sentence in a sharp bite on my skin.

I scream out, whining into him as my abdomen tightens and I go completely tense. Each time I relax another wave of blinding, white hot sensations stab through me. It's almost too intense. I feel like I've lost time, my head swirling as I remember the world around me. Trying to speak, babbles of nonsense escape from my mouth.

Charlie holds me in a tight embrace, preventing me from falling to the floor again. "Good girl," he whispers as his soft kisses find my cheek.

I giggle, sounding like I've lost my mind. I definitely have.

After I've had a moment to breath, Charlie leads me to my bed, sitting me on the edge and crouching in front of me.

"You're so damn cute," he murmurs sweetly, "let's get you cleaned up a little," He spreads my legs open and pulls my large sleep shirt up so he can get a good look, "Oh baby, you're drenched," and licks his flat tounge up my inner thigh.

A sharp exhale escapes me and I lean back to steady myself. Charlie grabs me by the front of my shirt, pulling me back to him. Looking for something else to hold me steady while he licks away at my thighs, I grab onto his hair.

"You're kind of a legs guy, aren't you?" I manage to tease between uneven breaths.

"How'd you know?" The no shit, really? kind of tone in his voice makes me pout. I try to retaliate by squeezing my legs around his face. The guttural groan he makes between them tells me it had the opposite effect. I giggle as he pushes my legs apart again, continuing to move his tounge closer and closer to my core. When he does, his tounge presses slowly, licking bottom to top. As it flicks past my clit I squeal, grabbing him harder by the hair. I'm growing wetter and wetter. I don't think he's going to be able to lick me clean. A few passes later, his tounge circles my clit again.

I tense, "nnng!" My sounds are shaky. I know I'm going to reach the point of overwhelm soon, and more than anything I want to last long enough for him to fulfill his promise of breeding me. My hands release from his hair, unclenching and resting on the bed. "Charlie, this is a lot- I want- you said-," I'm having trouble asking for him to fuck me again, to cum inside me.

"What is it?" He asks with encouragement. While I find my words he rests his head on my leg.

"Its- it's okay," I stutter.

He groans slightly as he lifts himself back up to sit beside me. His arm finds its way around my waist and he pulls me in so I'm leaning on his shoulder, "tell me," he whispers as he runs his fingers through my hair.

"You said you want to- that you were gonna," I feel my face flushing, and my voice gets quieter as I speak. I lean in close, and almost whispering I say, "Charlie you promised you were gonna breed me. I want your cum so bad. But we're tired, and I-"

He cuts me off with a passionate kiss. Catching his breath again, he softly muses, "Never too tired to make you mine,"

My heart flutters and jumps. I kiss him again. "I need you so bad. Please..." I whine softly.

Charlie takes me by the hand and we climb to the middle of the bed. I help him out of his jeans. His kisses are tender, travelling over my neck and jaw. He straddles me, cock tapping on my tummy while he pulls my shirt over my head. When it reaches my wrists he grabs tightly, wrapping the shirt around them like make-shift cuffs. He tries my wrists together with an expert swiftness. I watch with wide eyes until my bound arms drop back over my head.

"Good," the sweetness in his voice hides something instinctual that seeps through. He places pillows under my back, raising up my hips. "Now you're ready to make my babies,"

God damn, this is hot. I didn't know Charlie had a breeding kink. I didn't know I'd want him to claim me like this. The part of my logical brain that remembered I couldn't get pregnant was shut down and I was ready for him to fill me. On his knees his cock lines up perfectly with my raised pelvis. Charlie runs his hand over my hips, waist, and abdomen. It feels like he's stalling and I groan in impatience.

"Just wait, babe," he smiles over me. "I need one more thing,"

"Anything, Charlie," I smile back, though by body is burning for him.

"Tell me how much you want it," his eyes meet mine with a devilish gaze.

"Oh babe, so bad," I start as he teases his cock on my pussy.

"How bad?" His eyes are closed, head tilted to the side, like he's listening intently for the right words.

"So, so bad. I want to feel you inside me, I want to feel your cum seeping in," I test to see what he's looking for with the description.

Charlie makes a little hum that sounds like satisfaction. The head of his dick presses just inside of me, "Yeah?"

I take a quick breath, trying to decide on what to say. "I want, I want you to-" I'm uncertain with my words, about to tell him something new. "Charlie, babe, please make me a mommy,"

His resolve breaks and he sinks into me with a gasp of surprise and excitement. Though he's trying to, he can't hide what my words did to him.

His reaction spurs me on as the feeling of his hard cock presses against my insides. With intention, my next words come out desperate, "Fuck a baby into me?"

"Nnn!" His eyes are squeezed tight and his hips buck forward automatically. On instinct Charlie pulls me closer by the hips, fucking as deep as he can with each movement. Even through his wild desire, he starts out slow, pausing each time he hits my cervix.

I groan in pain and pleasure with each thrust, clenching tight around him. My bound wrists strain against the shirt holding them together. I want to grab him, to pull him close. It's no use, he's tied a good knot.

"You're gon' have my kids," he mumbles between grunts and tense breaths. He picks up the pace but still takes a half second to hold his dick in me with each thrust. I try to find his rhythm in my head, but it leaves me frantic and whining, unable to prepare.

"Pleeeease!" I cry, and he responds by moving faster.

His body is so tense, and I can tell he's trying to fight his orgasm, to last longer.

"Please cum in me, Charlie!" I cry out, "Breed me! Make me a mommy!"

My whined words push him past control and somehow he slams into me even faster. When he cums he rams his cock as deep as it goes, his body shaking against mine.

"Ohh fuck, that was.. that... You're .. holy fuck," he mumbles, keeping his cock inside to fulfill his fantasy.

"Charlie?" I ask as he catches his breath. Making my words sweet I continue after a breath, "Come here. Please?"

A huge grin of satisfaction is plastered over his face. He slips out of me and places himself next to me on the bed, pulling me over to rest my head in his chest. I squeeze at the movement, unable to balance myself with my bound wrists. Charlie pulls the knot apart with one hand and I wrap around him in an instant.

Purring in a daze I ask him, "Can you set some alarms? I stream at seven,"

"Of course," he kisses my forehead and hugs me close to him, "Of course, baby,"

[lolly-dolli]

Here's what you're gonna do.

You're gonna go down to your local Aldi's, buy a 24oz bag of frozen mango chunks, a bag of rice, and two cans of black beans.

If you don't already have them; salt, lime or lemon juice and cumin; maybe some meal prep tupperware. Pouch tuna if you like that stuff.

Once home, put that bag of mango chunks in a bowl full of warm water so they defrost. Don't pen it. The bag needs to stay closed. This'll make sense later.

Prepare enough water in a pot to cook two cups of that rice. Make sure the pot's big. Big enough to hold way more rice than you expect there to be. Add a teaspoon of cumin, two tablespoons lime or lemon juice, salt according to preference. Pat of butter.

Boil. Make sure the butler's melted. Stir to combine.

Add your rice. Cook according to rice bag.

If you have a protein, you can cook that now. 20-30 minutes at your disposal. If not, that's why we got the second can of beans for.

I recommend Aldi's tuna steaks - quick to defrost, 5 bucks for 2-3. Lean protein. Real nice. Creme de la crumb's tuna marinade also works real nice if you have the energy.

A pouch of tuna's just as good functionally.

Less mercury that way.

You can mix it in that if you want, too.

Strain your beans. Conserve a little bean water for the rice if you want.

Your rice is done.

Add your beans. Twice as many if you're feeling like it'll be a bad week. Two or three pouch tunas too if you want a little extra.

If you have the lemon pepper kind you can probably nix the citrus juice.

Now we go back to your mango. If all's worked correctly, the warm water should've thawed them somewhat, the heat warming the air in the bag.

Dump 'em in, turn the burner to low heat. Stir until well combined.

Portion out into Tupperware.

You've got a good couple meals right there. Even more as side dishes if you have the energy to cook chicken nuggets or fish or veggies or whatever.

Lunch. Breakfast. Dinner.

Carbs to keep you awake and moving.

Protein to fuel your muscles.

Bit of fiber to push it all through your guts easier.

Citric acid to avoid the scurvy.

Can be eaten hot or cold, and the shit's good, too.

You're gonna have something tasty to eat whether you can operate a microwave or not this week.

That's what you're gonna do.

[aforeffortenjolras]

unexpected day off + home alone. spent the morning watching youtube and playing stardew valley. just worked out and now shower + tea + reading on the porch. what are you guys up to?

[whenthegoldrays]

Wait. But what if Henry is majoring in architecture.