#but it's still annoying to be back in this same place

[p0orbaby]

Getting You Alone Isn’t Easy

summary: two reckless lovers, one ill-timed call, and zero chance of stopping

warnings: suggestive but not explicit

a/n: the length of time it took me to decide on a title for this was painful

word count: 1.5k

-

You’re draped over Alexia, straddling her in the faint, golden light that sneaks through the blinds. Her hands grip your hips in that familiar way, like you’re the last thing keeping her from floating off. You’re gasping, breathless, clinging to the taut warmth of her body beneath you as though the world is ending and this is your only way to stay grounded. Her hands, usually gentle, are digging in hard enough to leave bruises, but she’s sweet like that, knows exactly when you need to feel it. You can almost picture the bruises they’ll leave behind, thumbprints like violet ink smudged across your skin, each one a reminder that she was here, and that she wanted you badly enough to leave a mark.

It’s been a day, one of those long ones that started with a sun-blinded hangover, progressed into a searing headache, and then—once you forced yourself to actually acknowledge the calls you missed last night—moved rapidly toward near apocalyptic levels of panic.

Somewhere between the drink you had to “take the edge off” and the fourth one you drank without even thinking about it, Alexia texted you, and it felt like a solution, or maybe a distraction, though those two things are the same to you most of the time.

So here you are, in the thick of it, your bodies wrapped around each other, your mind slipping into that strange, dreamlike state where it feels like your skin isn’t your own. Everything’s heightened—her touch, her scent, the whisper of her breath on your neck. You’re right at the edge, teetering, and then—

Your phone rings.

Of course it fucking does.

At first, you ignore it. The vibrating hum is muffled against the sheets, barely noticeable above your own heartbeat, but then it rings again, louder this time, insistent. It’s like a drill sergeant at dawn, determined to ruin whatever peace you’d managed to find. You freeze, eyes half-closed, but Alexia’s hands don’t loosen. She’s looking up at you with an expression that’s half bemused, half annoyed, as if she’s only just managed to convince herself that you’re here, and now you’re about to ruin it with some petty, buzzing bit of reality.

You almost get through it, on the cusp letting it go to voicemail or hurling the damn thing into the bottom of your Birkin where it belongs. But something in you—a survival instinct, maybe—forces you to reach for it, fumbling as you do so. Alexia’s eyes follow your hand, then flick back up to yours with an exasperated look that says, Really? Now?

You manage to grab it without rolling entirely off her, though it’s a close call. Her hands move down to your waist, still holding you in place as you glance at the screen, and of course, it’s George. It’s always George. You swear he has some kind of sixth sense, an uncanny ability to detect the exact moment you’ve slipped into some semblance of happiness, so he can yank you back with some catastrophe or another. The man is a walking interruption.

“Don’t,” Alexia murmurs, pulling you back to the matter at hand, her voice soft but firm, her hands slipping up to your ribs with a kind of slow, determined patience. But you know better. If you don’t answer now, he’ll only call back five more times, and each time, he’ll sound more panicked, until he finally leaves you a voice note that’s somehow worse than the call itself.

“I have to,” you mutter, as you answer, attempting to clear your throat and sound like you weren’t just seconds away from giving in to everything she was doing to you.

“Hello?” you say, trying and failing to keep the breathlessness out of your voice.

George’s voice crackles through the speaker, shrill and brimming with that particular brand of theatrical urgency agents reserve for “crises.” He sounds faintly nasal, the sort of voice you imagine would belong to a man with an allergy to anything fun. You imagine him sitting in his cold, grey office somewhere in Soho, every surface immaculate and white, his expression permanently fixed into a grimace of perpetual disappointment.

“You need to sit down,” he says, voice pitched in that “I’m barely holding it together” tone that never actually means anything good.

“I am sitting,” you manage, though it comes out sounding more like a gasp than anything else, because Alexia—God bless her—is now trailing her lips along the column of your throat, completely unbothered by the fact that you’re very much occupied now. In fact, you’re convinced she’s doing this on purpose, her eyes meeting yours with that devilish glint that says she’s fully aware of what she’s doing. You pull back and give her a look—part warning, part exasperation—but she only grins, slowly, like she’s daring you to keep up the charade.

George doesn’t miss a beat. “There are photos,” he says, each syllable dripping with an ominous weight that would make anyone else think he was delivering news of a tragedy.

“Photos?” you ask, as Alexia’s hand slips a little higher, her fingers just grazing the edge of your panties. You’re barely holding it together, biting down hard on your lip to keep from making a sound. “George, there are always photos. What are you on about?”

He sighs, the kind of exasperated sigh he reserves for when he’s forced to explain the intricacies of your own life to you. “Not just any photos,” he says, voice dropping to a whisper that somehow makes everything sound worse. “These are… explicit”

“Explicit?” you repeat, your voice catching because Alexia’s lips are trailing across your collarbone now, her fingers dangerously close to places that make it impossible to sound remotely professional. “Define explicit, George”

He pauses, a beat of silence so thick with hesitation you can practically see his nervous, tight-lipped expression. “You and Alexia. On that yacht. Full-on… everything. Let’s just say someone with a very long-range lens took a rather extensive interest in your… activities”

It takes a second for the words to register, but when they do, it’s like being doused in cold water. You’re suddenly hyper-aware of everything—the sweat on your skin, Alexia’s fingers toying with you, her mouth now having moved to the swell of your exposed breast. You can’t tell if you’re more annoyed or amused by the fact that, somehow, your most private moments have once again become public property.

Alexia looks up at you once more, eyes glinting with something between curiosity and enjoyment, as if she can tell exactly what George is saying and finds the whole thing hilarious.

“So you’re telling me,” you say, trying to sound casual, though it’s hard with Alexia’s hands and mouth all over you, “that someone out there’s publishing wildlife documentaries of my sex life?”

“Don’t be flippant,” George snaps, though his voice cracks a little, like he’s barely holding it together. “This is serious. The Daily Mail already has them. And they’re… well, they’re explicit. The kind of thing they’d plaster on the front page if they could get away with it”

For a moment, you consider the insanity of it all—your life, reduced to some tawdry tabloid spread, the kind of thing boring nosey housewives read in supermarket queues. You imagine the headlines, the breathless, shocked tones they’d use to describe “the scandal.” Never mind the fact that you’re not the first celebrity to get caught like this, nor will you be the last. But still, it stings in that strange, twisted way fame always does, a reminder that your life isn’t really your own.

“I’m sorry, George,” you say, barely stifling a moan as Alexia’s hand moves just right, making it almost impossible to keep up the conversation. “But I don’t exactly have a solution for you right now”

George lets out a strangled noise. “Well, you bloody well better come up with one. Unless you want the world to know what you look like without your clothes on. Which, I might add, is not exactly… career-friendly”

You stifle a laugh, more out of habit than anything else. Alexia’s fingers are moving with that slow, calculated patience she knows drives you mad, and you can feel your resolve slipping. “Look, George,” you say, your voice strained, “I’ll call you back. After I… handle things”

“What? You can’t just hang up on me!” he practically shrieks, but you’re already pressing ‘end call’ and tossing the phone aside.

The phone lands back somewhere on the bed, George’s panicked voice cutting off abruptly. For a moment, there’s silence, and then Alexia lets out a low, throaty laugh, her eyes alight with amusement. She reaches her free hand up, trailing her fingers along your jaw, and there’s something wicked in her smile that makes you forget the world outside the bedroom.

“Where were we?” you murmur, leaning down to capture her lips in a kiss, slow and lingering, the kind of kiss that makes you forget everything else.

“Right here,” she whispers, her voice soft but possessive, and you can’t help but smile as she pulls you back down, your bodies tangling once more as you lose yourself in her warmth.

[mlyscha]

↳ DRESS TO IMPRESS? ⭑

𝓼ynopsis. in which you convince your boyfriend to play dress to impress with you, will they slay the runway? 𝓹airing. enha!member x female!reader 𝓰enre. fluff, crack, trendy. 𝔀arnings. curse words, not proofread, riki is that annoying player and almost all the members are bad at this game ㅠㅠ, english is not my 1st language. 𝔀𝓬. 1k+ 𝓶asterlist.

♡ 𝓪melie's 𝓷ote: oh gosh i had so much fun writing this, especially because i am addicted to this game lol anyway, do you guys have any headcanon request? i am curious...

― 𝓱eeseung: gets upset but doesn't quit playing.

you might be wondering why heeseung changed his mood like that, and that's because placing on the podium in dress to impress is hard ― for him. in the beginning, and sometimes unfair. when you told him you wanted to play with him ― your boyfriend was feeling very happy and giddy, creating his account the same second, not knowing how he would feel a few rounds later...

"BRO?! HOW DID SHE PLACED?!" he screamed after standing up from bed while his hands rested against his head, indignant. "LOOK AT ME, I LOOK MUCH PRETTIER!" and heeseung turned his ipad screen at you after laying back on his stomach on bed. "hee, baby... your skin is literally blue, that's not what coquette means..." you replied. "nonsense, even my fit is better! and you placed second you can't say shit! i am not playing this game anymore." he argued, throwing his ipad away from him. "don't quit, continue playing with me," you pouted, waiting for a new round to start. "i'm sorry, baby, but this game is absolutely dog shi- a new round has begun?" when the sound of a new round starting echoed, his mind seemed to have changed. "... yeah?" "okay, maybe one more round won't hurt..."

― 𝓳ongseong: gets into arguments with 8 year olds.

jongseong is a good, caring, handsome and mature boyfriend, however, immatureness possesses him when playing dress to impress. just to clear things up you had asked him to play the game with you before, so nothing was new to him ― neither to you: hearing him raging about a girl talking shit about his fashion sense. i can't forget to mention that he takes this game very serious ― especially when his girlfriend has an awesome ranking.

"look at me, i look so good," "yeah... you do..." you couldn't ignore how terribly your boyfriend's makeup was done. "give me five stars, okay?" "'kay..." "baby, if this girl tells me i look terrible one more time i'll do something really bad." "babe-" " 'you look ugly'...?" he read the chat. open his microphone: "SHUT UP, YOUR FIT LOOKS LIKE A TRASH BAG AND A PIECE OF SHIT JUST HAD A BABY," "JAY! she's a kid!" "and i am eating with this outfit- tha-that's how you guys say right? eat and all...?" "yes, you ate that outfit up babe."

― 𝓳aeyun: you have to be patient.

don't get me wrong, jaeyun is good at games, however, not in this one specifically. it took him about two days just to learn how to walk on roblox's games and how to jump, etc. imagine when you introduced this fashion game which you have time to dress yourself up, oh boy, he was confused. if learning the basics from controlling your avatar on roblox took him days, it took jaeyun a week to understand how to put on items, take them off, where you choose your hair and face... well, it was a pain, but he was able to get through it and play it almost normally.

"babe, why you're skin is grey?" "i didn't know where to change it," shrugs then tries to pose. "oh my god, babe, i showed you where a minute ago!" "okay, chill...! where do i pose though?" "oh my god, jaeyun..."

― 𝓼unghoon: has lots of difficulties but doesn't give up.

sunghoon is like a mix of heeseung and jake, which means he gets addicted, angry but can't stop playing and still has to be handled with patience and love. with that being said, be prepared to hear a bunch of questions and him leaving and then joining your server a few many times. also! can't forget that sunghoon is still a english learner, so the themes might be misunderstood by him sometimes heh... (ᵕ—ᴗ—)

"y/n~" he whines. "i'm done with this game!" leaves "babe, the theme was baggy and you literally dresses up as a trash bag..." "baggy means... bag? what did i do wrong?" "baggy is a style, not a trash bag," "should've told me earlier, y/n!" "hoonie-" "now everyone on the server thinks i am stupid! let's change server, join me now."

― 𝓼unoo: is the one who places first.

sunoo is undeniably the best dressed on the game among the members, usually winning against you. he has almost all the poses, knows how to layer and is always creative, even reaching top model before you.

"baby, can we play dress to impress together? i'm so close to reach top model." "yeah, su- WAIT! TOP MODEL?!" ― ooohhh, i might have forgotten to mention... sunoo plays dress to impress without you sometimes. "baby, just join me 'kay?" "sunshine, explain me how'd you reach top model before me? i play more than you do," "uh... i surely play more than you do, but okay," "wait, wha-" "babyyyy just join my server, i want you to celebrate this with me, alright?" "okay..." your heart softened when you realised he wanted you to be part of his reaching. "can we duo?" you asked. "we can, but just once; i would much rather vote you five (5) stars."

― 𝓳ungwon: jungwon.exe stopped working.

jungwon is like jake and oh gosh why i feel like every single one of them is a bit like him?!?! anyway, jungwon would be more than happy to join you, but has already told you that his skills might not really show up in this dressing game ― discreetly admitting that he doesn't know how to play it. he actually heard about the game because the other members seem to enjoy it. still, it's just not his cup of tea. however, since you were so excited about him playing with you, sigh, he might make this sacrifice ― in which he slowly gets very excited as well.

"wonnie, baby, why are you posing? you have to dress up before the times is up!" you warned him after spotting him on the game. "huh? it doesn't make sense, we have to dress up? where?" "there, baby," you gently took the ipad out of his hands and guided him to the changing booth. "oh... but is too far away from my spawn and why do i walk slower than that girl?" "because she bought a walk faster pack, now dress up wonnie, hurry up...!" "i want to buy that, how do i buy her pack?" "jungwon, dress up now, you have literally one minute." you spoke between your teeth. "okay, okay... y/n, where do i get the items though?" "jungwon..."

― 𝓻iki: it's that annoying giggly kid who doesn't follow the theme.

if you ever played dress to impress you probably came across to one of those annoying players who never follows the theme, with that, you might refuse to believe riki is this type of player; but trust me, he surely is. and why? because he doesn't take the game that seriously, doing whatever he wants and trolling people ― making them believe he's gonna gift them vip or one of the other packs.

"RIKI? HOW'D YOU PLACED FIRST?" "i'm just too good, i guess," your boyfriend shrugged, but you couldn't believe him. "you're lying." "are you saying i am not good at this game?" "..." "y/n," he would call you after suddenly bursting out of laughter. "what?" your annoyed tone of voice echoed and it sounded like his favourite music to his ears. "wanna know how i placed first?" riki looks up at you, hiding just half of his face with his ipad. "mhm..." you hummed, confirming. "i tricked a few girls saying that i would gift them vip if they voted me five (5) stars," he giggled, knowing you were about to get angry at him. "RIKI! you can't do that, imagine if that was me..." you pouted. "oh, yeah? i should've done worse then." "RIKI!" "OKAY! SORRY, enough of riki now, okay? i am baby, not riki..."

© 𝓪𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐢𝓮, 𝗺𝗹𝘆𝘀𝗰𝗵𝗮 𝗌𝓽𝓾𝖽𝗂𝗈𝓼. ⋆

[more-hysteria-things]

BEGGING FOR SOME LIKE JACK FLUFF FROM LIKE A ROUGH DAY ON SET AND HIM JUST BEING SWEET TO US!! (my first scenario🥳)

ROUGH DAY

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jack champion x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: it’s one of those days on set, and jack is not having it. even worse that it’s his birthday, the day when it’s supposed to be fun and carefree. then, you come along to truly show how much he means to you.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none! just tooth rotting fluff :)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,224

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: FIRST JACK FIC LFG.

also, since this is my other account for non-sturniolo fics i’m still putting the same tag list. if you would like to not get tagged for this blog, just let me know!

shoutout to bbg @venusbabysblog for helping me get started🥹

𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 blessing. it’s a job where you have great opportunities to meet amazing people and be in hit films, but sometimes it’s a struggle. jack opens the door to his trailer with a clenched jaw, shutting the door as he looks around. his eyebrows twitch in confusion, noticing how you’re not in sight.

your boyfriend loves to bring you along to wherever he goes for filming. one reason being that he honestly can’t live without you, but also because you’re his biggest fan and will support him through anything. usually, you’d be watching him act from afar or you’d be waiting in his trailer by watching TV or keeping yourself occupied in general. however, you’re nowhere to be seen.

he’s on a long break until later tonight, which annoys him. he just wants this day to be over. “y/n?” he calls out, peeking his head into the small bedroom. alas, you’re not there.

alarms start to go off in his head, although it’s silly. you can’t really go anywhere, but since you’re not in your usual spot, the caring boyfriend in him makes him worry that something bad has happened. especially since you didn’t text him that you were going somewhere or anything.

then, a giggle is heard along with the opening of his trailer door, and he turns around to face the noise. he takes a small sigh of relief when he sees you beaming from ear to ear holding a present bag.

while in the middle of a scene, jack texted you about the day he’s having—lines he couldn’t nail, and a director who seemed impossible to please. you frown slightly when you see his semi-disgruntled face, shuffling over to him excitedly to wrap your arms around his body in an embrace he desperately needs. he exhales deeply, bends down to nuzzle his face into your neck, and kisses it softly.

“sorry, i was hoping i’d be back before you were, but your mom and i got stuck in traffic,” you say in his chest before pulling away after long seconds. trying to make the atmosphere more positive, you smile and extend your arm with the bag in hand. “happy birthday!”

the smallest smile appears on his face, grabbing your hand to head over to the leather couch to sit down. he places the bag onto the floor, removing the tissue inside of it to reveal his presents. his eyes widen in surprise, seeing more than he thought you’d get him. “you didn’t have to do all of this...” he says, a small blush forming on his cheeks.

he pulls out the first thing that sits on top of the rest, which is a homemade birthday card out of construction paper in his favorite color. he lets out a chuckle as he looks at the front of it, seeing two drawn stick figures that are supposed to be you and him holding hands with the title in big writing: HAPPY BIRTHDAY •ᴗ•

opening the card, there’s a bunch of words scribbled on the right side.

jack,

*queue song* happy birthday to you!

i am so incredibly proud of you watching the way you chase your dreams. here’s to many more birthdays, memories, and quiet moments in between the chaos. no matter how many lights and cameras around, you’ll always just be jack to me. the one who laughs too loud, holds me close, and somehow manages to make me feel like I’m the only girl in the world.

i’m so grateful to be apart of your story.

always, y/n ❤︎

p.s. like what your name implies, you are indeed a champion.

his heart jumps with joy, closing the note and leaning in to peck you on the nose. your face turns red as you try not to beam with happiness, tilting your head to the bag. “there’s still a lot more.”

he nods, placing the card aside as he grabs a leather journal, specifically personalized for him. the border of it is embroidered with eye-catching detail, his initials JC in big cursive letters in the middle. you know jack sometimes likes to scribble lines down in between takes in a way to remember, or something to put his ideas in for fun. he flips through the pages rapidly, the gust of air flowing on his face as he smells the paper and leather mixed.

you watch his every move, nibbling on your bottom lip excitedly when he pulls out a small, navy blue box. inside of it is a chained necklace with a small pendant of a waxing crescent. the moon phase the day he was born.

scratching the back of your neck nervously, you speak. “this one’s a little girly…” you trail off. “you don’t have to wear it, you can hang it up or something for decoration. i just thought it was pretty.”

he nudges your arm with his elbow. “stop that. it’s beautiful; i love it.”

jack carefully takes it out of the box, undoing the chain and reaching behind his neck to clip it. the length is perfect, and the accessory oddly suits him. “thank you.” he says softly, running his hand over the moon and reaching into the bag once more.

this time, he pulls out two things. another book along with a film camera on top of it tied in ribbon so both items can stick together. while untying it, he notices the scrapbook underneath.

THE STORY OF US…

he glances at you as he starts to look into it. the pages are filled with film photos, ticket stubs, and little mementos from your favorite times together. you’d written little captions under each, capturing inside jokes and sweet moments. it was something he could flip through on hard days.

however, each left page is blank. “you can add to it whenever you have the time. it takes two people to make a love story, you know.” you explain, feeling somewhat cheesy and cringy at the saying, but you mean it.

last but not least, the last few items are snacks. homemade cookies, energy bars, and even a small container of his favorite food.

he feels overwhelmed by all of the gifts but in a good way. nobody has ever shown him this much adoration before, and it’s obvious how much he means to you. “y/n.” your name rolls perfectly off of his tongue, his eyes not leaving the presents now scattered on the couch cushion. “i love it all so much. genuinely, thank you.”

you place your hands on the sides of his neck so he can look at you, kissing him full of love. he cherishes you, and he couldn’t ask for a better girlfriend. he’s always so grateful that he met you that time in his hometown. you made his 𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐃𝐀𝐘 turn around completely.

“how’d you even do all of this?” he adds, starting to feel dumbfounded about how you did all of this under his nose without him knowing.

“i don’t kiss and tell.” you say with a smirk. “but also with the help of your mom.”

laughing, he grunts as he lays to rest his head on your stomach, your hands finding way into his wavy hair. “i’m so in love with you.” he mumbles, grabbing your hand and kissing the back of it.

best. birthday. ever.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @moncherriis @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @raysmayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @tworosesblackthorn @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hearrtsturns @freshsturns @etershine @sukiipjs @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @ivyyyyyysposts @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @mbsbaby @mattsdollie @thesturniolos @nononopenono1 @bitchydragonparadise @hrt-attack @dwntwn-strnlo @venusbabysblog @meerkatzthings @bernardsbendystraws @hoes4matthew @deareststurns @starz4star

[kkayyerr]

Go ahead and cry, little girl.

Summary: No matter how many times you had to try and leave your relationship with Rafe behind, you always seemed to find your way back to him and it’s getting annoying. This time Rafe would make sure that you won’t leave him again. Ever.

Words count: 1,7k

Warnings: Dark!Rafe, mean!Rafe, slight dom! Rafe, NSFW, smut, dark themes, daddy issues, family issues, abusive family, daddy kink, drugging, drug abuse, dub-con, overstimulation, orgasm denial, dumbification, slight dacryphillia.

You were sitting in your room, tears flushing down your face as you heard your father’s car leaving the driveway again. It had been happening every time when you and him had some sort of disagreement. Instead of talking about it and regulate his feelings he would just leave, abandoning you. Your face was puffy and gaze became even more blurry as your eyes saw the hit mark that he had left on your face, even though he promised you that he would never lay his hand on you ever again.

You knew that it was a lie, but for some reason you wanted to at least try and believe him.

Well, that was a big mistake.

When you made a decision about breaking up with your now ex boyfriend, Rafe Cameron, you had nowhere to go, but to your house, that was the same place that Rafe had saved you from.

Rafe Cameron was a great boyfriend, until he started losing his shit completely.

All those paranoidal thoughts and aggressive behaviors made you make a decision that you didn’t wanted to make at all. You had to leave before the cycle will repeat itself and you would end up in your mother’s place.

But still you had to admit, that he was the only one, who could’ve take care of you properly.

Who could’ve kiss you properly.

Who could’ve calm you down properly.

Who could’ve fuck you senseless properly.

You couldn’t help yourself but needing him, especially after every fight with your father, when you were feeling like a lost little girl, looking out for her daddy.

You put yourself together and put on that dress that you knew he liked the most, those pink tight dress that he had bought you right before your break up. Then you had put those little white bows in your hair, making yourself look all sweet and innocent, which you knew would make him forget about the way you had left him behind, even if that would be only for one night.

Soon enough you were standing there, at the Tannyhill’s door, praying that Rafe would be the one to open the door, and not someone else.

You rang the bell, feeling how your knees became weaker just because of the thoughts of him, his hands around your tired body, that was exhausted from all the sobbing.

It didn’t took him too long to open the door.

He would’ve lie if he would’ve said that he didn’t expect to see you standing there, all cute and trembling.

The corners of his lips tugged into small smile, he wanted to play pretend a little bit, made you feel yourself at least a bit guilty because of your previous behavior.

„Can I help you, mrs. independent?”

He asked mockingly, seeing you in that state, your face puffy and your eyes swollen made him feel some odd type of satisfaction. He knew that you were nothing without him, that you would crawl back just as fast you had left.

„It’s dad…again."

Your voice were quiet, but he had heard you loud and clear. Actually, he knew what probably had happened just after taking one look at you. That little outfit…

You were trying so bad to let him knew what you needed now without saying it.

Daddy.

Oh, you wicked little shit.

„C’mere.”

He said, quickly letting you inside and closing the door behind you. Locking the door.

Rafe gently pulled you closer, feeling how shaky you were and that almost made him smirk.

You were down bad and for some reasons it felt so good, knowing that this was the state that you would end up every time when you would leave him.

But you won’t leave him anymore, he would take a good care of that tonight.

„What do you need, baby?”

His fingers softly grabbed your chin, making you look at him. Rafe knew that you hated to talk about that out loud, admitting that you needed him out loud was so embarrassing to you, that one time you almost started crying, speaking about that.

„Use your words.”

Rafe demanded, looking you straight into the eyes, seeing how desperate you actually were right now. The thoughts of you needing him that much were not only amusing, but also arousing.

Fuck, you were so needy.

„Need you, Rafe”

You murmured, looking down because of the feeling of slight humiliation. But you also couldn’t denied the fact that you felt how your pussy is became wet, just thinking of how vulnerable you were right now. Sometimes you liked when he would take advantage of that, sometimes you liked him being mean to you.

„Sorry, didn’t quite catch that, who do you need?”

You knew what exactly did he wanted to hear.

Pervert.

„Daddy. Need you, daddy.”

Finally, Rafe was satisfied with your answer. His lips curled into the smirk, and his eyes darkened just for a moment. Then an expression of the fake empathy showed up, completely fooling your little lost mind.

„Do you want daddy to make you something to drink? Warm milk, perhaps?”

You nodded. For some reason, his care and his presence were the only two things that helped you calm down every time when you had a fight with your father. Even though mentally you were a grown girl, you liked how he treated you like nothing more but a little girl, you liked those moments when he would infantilize you even more.

Slowly you approached the couch and set down there, waiting for your drink, you haven’t even been paying attention to what he was doing in the kitchen, you knew that he had always knew better than you.

Rafe came back a few minutes later with a pink sippy cup in his hands, that he had bought for the special occasion when you wanted to feel…taken care of, as he would called it.

„Drink it all up, baby“

You took it with both hands a started drinking.

And the taste felt funny…

Something felt off, but you couldn’t tell what or maybe just didn’t wanted to tell exactly what was wrong with it. Warm milk slowly filled your empty stomach, and you felt comfort, just as it had happened every time before, but the comfort was strange. You felt how your thoughts started to quiet down.

„Thank you!”

You said, but your words came out different, echoed.

Rafe take an empty cup from your hands and then ruffled your hair gently, giving you a sly smile. You didn’t know what, but you could’ve tell that something was definitely weird about the whole situation right now.

Something about his behavior made your stomach twitch, as you felt a slight wave of anxiety washing over you.

„Listen, I have to…”

Just as you stood up from the couch you felt that your knees became much weaker, you almost felt to the ground but the pair of strong hands catch you by your waist, not letting you lose your consciousness just yet.

„Not so fast, baby. You think that you can just throw me away like a trash again?”

You tried to focus your gaze on Rafe’s face, but everything around you seemed so blurred, and your hearing was also slightly damaged. You gave him a quiet whimper as the answer to his question.

„Oh, I love when you’re get so quiet. Sadly, Ketamine’s effect isn’t forever.”

You could’ve guessed that his tone was mocking, but you were more busy figuring out how to at least start talking again.

His grip on your waist tightened, as your body now was almost fully in his hands, because you clearly couldn’t stand on your own.

„What? Don’t wanna me to leave you now? Huh?”

You quickly shook your head, the last pieces of your clear mind understood that you would probably end up dead if he would left you on the street right now, or anywhere beside the house.

„That’s what I thought."

He picked you up so easily, as if you weighed nothing. You didn’t even had to have a clear gaze to know where he was taking you right now.

Upstairs.

Room.

Locked doors.

Your body was put down in his bed, as he slowly were taking your clothes off. You weren’t protesting at all, maybe because you couldn’t, or maybe because you didn’t wanted too.

Little pink dress was now laying on the floor, you were left naked with only white bows in your messy hair.

„Want Daddy to make you feel good baby?”

Rafe asked, and you nodded.

Your whole body was shaking. It might’ve been a drug affect, but it also might’ve been the overstimulation that you felt.

Rafe’s fingers slowly started to play with your swollen clit. He didn’t even had given you any time to prepare yourself, as his two fingers now where already teasing your overly sensitive clit with the full force. He used you like a musician would use his instrument, listening to all that cute noises.

You bit your lip, trying to find strength not to sound way too pathetic right now, but with every try you were failing even more, as his touches got even rougher.

„Mhm”

You whimpered, one of your hands covering your mouth to give you at least some sense of control in that situation. You didn’t wanted to give him satisfaction by letting him know how much you were enjoying this.

„Wanna cum, baby? Already shakin’?”

You gave him a quick nod, and suddenly his fingers stopped just a few seconds before you could’ve get your relief. You gave him a glossy stare, trying to non-verbally ask him to go on.

„Beg for it.”

Your mouth betrayed you, when instead of a proper „please�� came out a the desperate whimper. You shook your head, trying again, and then again, but all your tries were miserable. You sounded like a pathetic puppy, trying to get at least crumbs of attention from it’s owner.

„Too bad, baby. Guess I’ll come back in the morning and we would go on from that moment. If you would ask me nicely, of course.”

Rafe teased, seeing how tears flushed down your red cheeks. He leaned down and gave you a forehead kiss one last time, before standing up from the bed and leaving the room. He then left you completely alone.

Overstimulated, crying and drugged.

Maybe you shouldn’t had left him in the first place…

Author’s note: Yeah, guys, that’s was pretty dark…

[springgirlshowers]

I got possessed by freaky bob 😈

Joost coming after a concert all sweaty but reader is freaky and finds it attractive, and ends up leading to things heating up

Aftershow

Pairing: Joost Klein x Fem!Reader

CW: fingering, oral (m receiving), p in v, teasing, overstimulation, joost being cocky as hell, very tiny bit of subby joost in some parts

WC: 3029

A/N: 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂𝓫𝓸𝓫 is calling… 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂𝓫𝓸𝓫 has entered the chat…. i’m sorry i had to, also so sorry this has been in my drafts for months 😭

You couldn’t stand the heat. It was July and Joost had festivals all month.

You couldn’t imagine how he could handle being outside for so long, jumping and running all around the stage, performing for a whole hour. Then sometimes even coming back out a few hours later for another set.

You weren’t surprised when he finally decided to take off his shirt, nor were you surprised by the screams from the audience when he did.

You found it amusing hearing the crowd cheer and fangirls scream bloody murder, you knew if you were in the crowd, you’d be freaking out over it too.

After standing way too long in the heat for you, you decided to go back to his green room. Somewhere with AC and actual cold water.

You felt a bit guilty for walking away from your boyfriend’s performance. But he didn’t mind, he knew you hated the heat and he knew you’d already seen over fifty of his full sets, maybe even a hundred. He didn’t mind if you weren’t there for a couple.

It was about an hour later once Joost got off stage, you didn’t expect to him to get back immediately, knowing he’d be getting stopped by all his friends to hype him up and he’d be engaging in conversations.

Though you knew he was near once you heard muffled compliments and thanks from behind the door.

Joost opened and walked in the door with a rag and cold water bottle in his hand.

You swiftly moved over to him and gave him a hug, not caring about the sheen of sweat his body was covered in.

“Sorry, I went in here early because it was way too hot outside.” You placed your chin on his chest, looking up at him.

“That’s fine, liefje. You’ve seen enough of my shows.” He left out a soft laugh, putting down his water and throwing the rag on the same table before bringing you over to the sofa with him.

He sat down first and you straddled his hip. Resting your arms around his shoulders.

His thumbs rubbed against your torso as he had a sweet grip on your waist.

His hair was messy, his lips were parted with a slight smile on them as he looked at you, he was still shirtless, and his skin shiny from sweat made him seem ten times sexier.

God, he looked so gorgeous.

It didn’t take you long before you pounced on him.

Kissing him all along his jaw, soon your lips moving down his neck. He took in a sharp breath as you ran your tongue along his sweet spot.

“Where’d all this come from?” He let out a puzzled laugh as you moved your mouth to his neck and combed your fingers through his hair.

“I don’t know,” You said in between kisses, “You just look really hot.” He chuckled, hearing the random desire in your voice.

His hands trailed up and underneath your tank top, pushing it up slightly, you pulled away from his neck to pull it fully off your body. Leaving you only in your bra and shorts.

He brought his hands up to your covered breasts, dragging his hands down and then bringing one up to your mouth, resting a finger on your bottom lip.

“So needy. What should I do with you?” He teased as he ran a tattooed finger all the way down the middle of your chest, stopping right above the waistband of your shorts.

“Joost, don’t tease me right now. I can’t handle it.” You let out a breathy laugh, just a tiny bit annoyed. The heat in your core getting hotter.

“I can’t help it, you look so cute when you’re frustrated.” He brought his hand back up, holding the side of your face. “What do you want, hm?” He tilted his head, giving you a cocky smile.

“You.” You mumbled putting a hand to your mouth, biting your fingernail as a shyness took over you.

“Don’t get shy on me now. What about me?” He spoke softly, putting on a fake face of concern just to mess with you.

“I want your fingers, I want your cock. Please, just touch me, for the love of god just do something.” You whined, beginning to rub your core against his thigh. Desperate for some type of friction. Anything.

He held your hips still, stopping from moving as you let out another frustrated whine again. He shushed you.

“Don’t get upset. I know what you want, turn around liefje.” His voice was supposed to be sounding demanding, but the sweetness in his tone overpowered it. You did as he said, turning and going to get up but then he grabbed you by the waist, before pulling your back to his chest and you sitting between his legs, he unclipped your bra and threw it somewhere on the floor.

He held your legs back under his to prevent you from trying to close them the minute his hands made contact with your heat, a squeamish habit you had.

He slowly moved his hands around your breasts, kneading them, pinching your nipples between two fingers and smiling to himself as he watched you squirm, pushing your back into him and silently mumbling out a plea.

He finally, finally, moved one hand down, pulling your lacy underwear to the side and running two fingers up and down between your folds.

“Oh, is this because I got you so worked up schatje?” He cooed as he felt your wetness on his fingers. You nodded against his chest.

With all the pleasure making your brain go fuzzy, you thought about how the position you were sitting in, back against his chest and in between his legs with his one hand wrapped around your stomach, it would make a really comfortable cuddling position.

You giggled silently at the thought of it, Joost grinned and craned his neck to look at your smiling face.

“What? What’s so funny?” He laughed back, beginning to tease your hole. You giggled some more and shook your head, making a mental note to tell him about it later.

“You’re not gonna tell me what’s got you all giggly?” He faux pouted though you could barely get a look at his face, dipping the tip of his finger inside you.

You were just about to tell him, deciding you wouldn’t care if it ruined the moment because he was most likely going to continue to tease you about it. As you opened your mouth to speak, he had slid one finger inside of you, a sharp gasp came out instead of words.

Quick and short repeated whines and squeals left your throat. You slid a hand over your mouth, trying to deafen your moans, Joost quickly brought up his tattooed hand that was wrapped around your breast to pull your hand away.

“No ones gonna hear us, you can be as loud as you want. I wanna hear those pretty sounds you always make.” He encouraged you, nuzzling his nose into the side of your head.

You listened to him, yet still bit down on your lip, embarrassed at all the pathetic sounding noises you were making.

His fingers began to pick up speed, placing a thumb on your clit. That heated coil in your stomach began to grow tighter and tighter.

His hand was probably going to cramp soon but he was way too focused on you and the state of bliss you were in. He placed sweet kisses among your neck and head as his fingers continued to quickly plunge inside you.

You craned your head back to get a look at his face, he was giving you such a sweet saccharine smile as his dick got harder and harder, pressing against your back.

“Gonna cum?” He pressed a quick peck to your lips. You were too close to finishing that you could barely speak, so you just nodded wildly.

Your eyes began to roll back and you shut them. Biting down on your lip so hard you swore you might draw blood, and the coil inside you finally snapped. You let out a harsh breath as your orgasm crashed over you. Joost kept up the pace of his fingers.

The overstimulation began to kick, your locked legs pressed against his and you grasped your hand around his wrist tightly, shaking your head as your face scrunched up and repeated gasps left your body.

“Shh, it’s okay. You’re doing so good, so good for me.” He kissed your temple as he continued slowly pushing his fingers into your wetness, working you through the sensitive sensation of the aftermath of your orgasm.

“So good…” You repeated his words, breathlessly and barely audible.

Your head lolled against his shoulder, he then removed his fingers from you, satisfied.

“You okay?” That cockiness was gone from his voice, replaced with care and sweetness, he wiped his fingers against your thigh.

“Just need a second.” You said, taking heavy breaths as you looked at the ceiling through droopy eyelids while he freed your legs from his.

After a moment, you soon sunk off the couch and onto your knees in front of him. He gave you a puzzled look.

“My turn.” You said, a michevious look in your eyes. This was your time to recover from the mind blowing orgasm you just had and now you get to get Joost worked up.

He gave you a toothy smile and went to reach for his belt, you pushed his hands away.

“Mm-mm, let me do the honors.” You joked as you unclipped his belt and unbuttoned his jeans.

He lifted his hips slightly as you pulled down his jeans and boxers at the same time. His hard cock sprang out and you smiled up at him.

You rubbed your thumb against his tip, collecting the precum that had leaked out. You laid your head against his thigh as you gave him slow strokes.

“Please liefje, please, I need your mouth.” He breathed out.

“You do?” You asked, bringing your head up and tilting it. He nodded slowly, letting out a small plea.

“Aww, who’s the needy one now?” You cooed at him, he just shook his head and rubbed a hand down his face, muttering something you couldn’t understand.

You decided to be nice and stop your teasing there, taking the tip of his dick in your mouth and slowly moving down.

You kept a steady pace as you bobbed your head up and down, taking in as much as you could.

He placed a hand over your head, not pressing down but just keeping it there, needing something to do with his hands.

He let out shaky breaths through his parted lips, his head tilting back and fingers gripping your hair comfortably as you worked.

He made a few small whimpers as his breath began to speed up, he sat up a bit as his hand gripped your hair and carefully pulled your mouth off him.

Even though you were looking up at him with messy hair, glossy eyes due to your previous orgasm, and pouty lips. You still looked like a dream to him.

“Zo mooi.” His voice was so close to a whisper as he rubbed a thumb over your swollen lips. “Now come up here.”

You happily did what he asked, knowing what he was asking as you straddled his lap as you hovered your hips over his, positioning yourself and sinking yourself onto his cock.

Your eyebrows knit and eyes shut as you lowered yourself slowly, getting used to his size inside you.

Once he was bottomed out inside you, he waited and let you choose to start moving when you were ready. You took a few seconds before you began a slow pace moving up and down.

You bit your lip, eyes still shut as you sped up slightly, he began to help by thrusting up inside you, making a perfect rhythm between you both.

Joost sat up and leaned into you, his turn leave sloppy kisses all over your neck as his hands massaged the plush of your tits.

You ran your fingers through his damp blonde locks, grasping onto his hair as you whined, you were getting close already.

“I thought you looked really- fuck- really good on stage. You sounded really good.” You said breathlessly, you could feel Joosts smile against your skin.

“Ja? You look good too. You always do.” Joost groaned out after a hard thrust. “Mijn lieve meisje.”

His compliment only added to your pleasure. It made your orgasm creep up on you faster and faster.

Cumming again already felt a bit embarrassing, but God, he just felt too good. You were already sensitive from your previous orgasm. He knew all your sweet spots, and how to hit them so perfectly.

“I think- I think I’m gonna cum.” You whimpered out silently.

“Go ahead, don’t let me stop you.” He said breathlessly. Oh he was doing the complete opposite from stopping you.

He kissed all over the side of your neck as you hid your face in the crook of his neck while your body tensed as you reached your high.

He slowed his thrusts once he felt your body slump onto his and your breaths become more relaxed.

He soothingly rubbed his hand up and down your back, softly whispering sweet words and compliments into your ear.

His thrusts were still continuing but slow and soft. He waited for you to bring your head up when you were ready.

When you did, you looked at him through droopy eyelids and a lazy smile on your face, a breathy giggle leaving you as he looked at you with such sweetness.

He gave you barely a few seconds before he held onto your hips and started thrusting again, watching your mouth turn from a smile into an ‘o’ shape and your eyes squeeze close.

His hands moved your hips and up and down as he thrusted his cock inside you.

Joost bit down on his bottom lip in focus and pleasure, head slightly tilted back as he looked at you.

He moved one hand into your hair, scratching at your scalp lovingly.

“Joost….I can’t, I can’t again..” You whined, opening your eyes a small amount.

“You can, I know you can.” He cooed at you as he moved his hand that was in your hair to cup your face, “Please? Just one more for me.” The neediness peeking out clearly in his tone.

“I’ll help you out, ja?” He said, moving his other hand from your waist to your clit, rubbing circles.

You took in a sharp gasp, nodding your head as your nails digging into his shoulders.

You used all your remaining strength to roll your hips against him as his thrusts became faster, harder, wanting so badly to get you to reach your third high of the night.

Your breath hitched as you did, loud squeals and cries leaving your mouth, one final cry coming out of you along with your release.

Joost never ceased his pace, still slamming up into you. He kept one arm wrapped around your hips, the other hand had gone to squeeze around your breast.

You could tell he was close to cumming once his grip on you became tighter, sure to leave marks the next day. His eyebrows creased and his mouth parted slightly, eyes shut and head leaning against the couch, small whimpers and pleads leaving him.

“Don’t- fuck- don’t stop. You feel so good, please don’t stop.” He moaned out, eyes scrunching.

“I’m not, I’m not.” You said breathlessly, using the very little energy you had left to keep moving up and down on his cock.

He bit his lip, his hands leaving your hips and arms wrapping around your waist instead, pulling your chest to his, and hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

He attempted to muffle his moans against your skin but it did nothing, you could still hear him clear as day.

He tried kissing your neck to cover them up, that didn’t work either, he was too deep in bliss to keep himself from making noise.

With one hand holding your waist, the other gripping tightly at the base of your hair, his hips began to stutter and his thrusts became sloppy.

“Liefje, liefje, liefje.” He cried and whispered into your skin, moving both arms around you and pulling you down harshly, “Fuck, liefje, fuck I’m so-“ His sentence cut off by a raspy groan.

He let out throaty growls as he spilt inside you. Stopping after one final pull down, burying his cock inside you. He stayed there for a second, the both of your sweaty skin sticking together.

He eventually pulled away, fully lying against the back of the couch, you winced at the slight movement, still sensitive and overstimulated.

He was flustered from the whimpers you heard him make, he decided to distract and tease you once again.

“You hold your breath when you cum, did you know that?” He said out loud, you let out a puzzled laugh.

“Don’t embarrass me.” You tried to hide your face in his neck, he gently grabbed your face with his hand.

“You shouldn’t be embarrassed, it’s cute.” He tilted his head with a grin spread across his face.

You mumbled a ‘shut up’ and turned your face to hide your smiling yet embarrassed expression. He took the chance of your exposed neck to attack it, sloppily kissing on it.

You squealed and tried to back away, every single part of you was so sensitive right now. Joost kept a tight hold on you as you squirmed.

“Joost!” You laughed, trying to push his head away again.

“Sorry, sorry. It was staring at me.”

“You’re evil.” You shook your head playfully.

“You’re beautiful.” He tilted his head and smiled lovingly at you. You shook your head and looked away. Only he could be this sweet and kind after fucking your brains out.

“You wanna get back to the hotel? I think we both need a shower now.”

[loveanddeepspice]

𝕋𝕖𝕞𝕡𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝔾𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕖

✞ synopsis:  you've come back to the small town you grew up in for a visit. though your relationship with the catholic church and faith in general have been strained since you were younger, you find yourself drawn back to the church... or more specifically... the new priest... you aren't ready to share your secret sin with him... but you may not be able to help yourself.

✞ pairing: sylus x curvy fem!reader

✞ rating:  18+ (minors do not engage)

✞ cw:  religion (catholicism), priest, lapsed faith, adultery, priest kink, suicidal mention, dead parent, sex, masturbation, drugs (marijuana), mentions of other drug use, drinking (more will be added when/if they arise)

✞ disclaimer: this fiction explores a romantic relationship between a lapsed Catholic and an unconventional priest. it is not designed to be inflammatory or critical. catholic authors were asked to participate in the process. we hope you enjoy it, but we know that these topics can be sensitive, so please skip this fiction if it will in any way offend you.

✞ chapter:  5 / ?

✞ co-authors:  redbriony, confuseddoughnut (they do not have tumblr)

✞ ao3 link:  here

✞ chapter synopsis: a series of risky decisions gets you into more than one kind of trouble.

✞ index: chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 | chapter 5

Please comment on this post if you want to be added to the tag list for updates!

The next few days were spent in the confines of your childhood home, your bed almost becoming your permanent address as you thought about that kiss. The kindness and how the words expressed resonated with you in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time.  But more than anything, how the kissing Father Sylus had made you feel - the tenderness of it all. But surely you were getting ahead of yourself and even found yourself a little disgusted with yourself over the whole encounter. 

But he had just been so close, too sweet, and his face was so beautiful, and all you wanted to do was press kisses all over him. 

But it’s wrong, isn’t it? 

Something inside you rebelled against the idea for obvious reasons. Any resolve you had would disintegrate when you decided to act or speak on it. 

But then, one evening, Rafayel called. You barely answered in time because part of you was hoping it would be someone else.

“Hey babe, just wanted to check up and see how you’re doing. Haven’t heard from you.” 

You blinked, frozen for a moment as you twisted into a sitting position on your bed. “Fine. What’s up?” 

He chuckled, and you weren’t sure if he was annoyed. You felt slightly upset at yourself for not reaching out when you could have. A normal rekindled friendship typically involves a friend being there for the other, especially after what he revealed to you. But before you could follow up with an apology, he spoke again.

“Nothing in particular. I wondered if you wanted to get some of the old gang together and go up into the woods like we used to.” 

You knew the place he was walking about, the old lumber yard out in the middle of the woods where the kids from town used to gather. It had been a favorite spot to hang out, build bonfires, other illegal shit teenagers liked to do when they wanted to get away from their parents. 

“What do you mean ‘the gang?’” You asked. 

“Well, uh, it’s just gonna be you and me. When I tried to call anyone else from school, they either laughed at me for being back here or didn’t answer.” You could hear his nervous laugh when his words cut off. “Still a small town, and everyone is the same.” 

You couldn’t resist, though. Even if you were a bit too old for that behavior. Reliving your past was one of the reasons you returned home in the first place. “I have nothing better to do, so yeah. Sounds great.” You paused, wondering if you had said the right thing, hoping that Rafayel understood what you meant. “Sorry, I’ve been…not myself lately. Lot’s on my mind.” You rubbed the back of your knee with your fingers before standing, keeping the phone to your ear as you crossed the room to where your suitcase lay open on a chair. 

“I get it.” He responded with a laugh, light and airy in a way that made you smile. “Life is pretty shitty, especially for people like us who - well, you know.” There was a hint of apology in his tone as you heard him open and close a door. “This is the perfect opportunity for me to listen to you now.” 

“I kissed the priest.” 

“Fucking, what? The hot one?” 

You sat on the edge of the bed, leaning forward a bit, a bit shaken now with your admission. Even though you had spoken it out loud, you still felt as if you couldn’t totally come to grips with the situation. 

“Well, yeah. He’s the only one.”  You said, curling your hand around the hem of the comforter. “And I’m also in love with a married man. I’m losing it. This is what happens to people who don’t peak in high school or something!” 

Rafayel said nothing, obviously processing. Then he began to chuckle, which turned into a laugh. Then, he let out the most ridiculous roar of laughter. 

“Wow,” he managed to gasp out after a bit, only to laugh again. You could imagine how his shoulders probably shuddered as they shook and the grin plastered on his face. “Okay, once Talia goes to bed, I’ll grab her car and pick you up. And then you’re explaining this whole damn story to me. Got it?” 

“Got it.” 

“I can’t even comprehend this,” Rafayel breathed after you recounted your tale of how you ended up back home, finishing off with the way Father Sylus had kissed you and the way your panic overtook you. He shook his head, hands clenching and unclenching, brow knitted as he looked at you. 

The two of you sat in Talia's car, parked outside the old lumber yard in the woods. The empty dirt parking lot was bathed in the moon's light peeking through the clouds. The bowl on the dash between you both served as a reminder that some things hadn’t changed and that this was the first place you had smoked weed. 

Rafayel picked it up, fingers curling around the glass as he brought it to his lips. The flick of the lighter illuminated his face in the dark car, shadows dancing across his cheekbones as he inhaled deeply. You couldn’t blame him for his reaction. 

When he passed it to you, you mirrored his actions, feeling the smoke fill your lungs and the earthy taste coating your tongue. You held it in briefly before exhaling slowly, leaning back into the passenger seat. 

“And Xavier asked me out.” You said. 

Your friend’s face contorted in disbelief before he let out a short burst of laughter. “You’re joking, right?” 

“Nope.” You giggled and looked out towards the old building before you, wondering how he could think you were making any of this up. 

“Damn, you have three guys chasing after you, begging for scraps. I bet the doctor has loads of money.” Rafayel clicked his tongue thoughtfully. “This is every girl’s dream! I don’t understand what the problem is.” 

And as if it suddenly hit him all at once, he started to laugh, and the laugh turned out to be contagious. You both soon ended up in a fit of giggles inside the growing colder car. 

“I mean, what am I supposed to do? Ask him to leave his wife?” You huffed. 

“Relax! Think about it. People get divorced all the time.” The high was definitely setting in as Rafayel rested his head on the back of the seat. “And if he’s as hopelessly infatuated with you as you said, he might do it anyway.” 

“Rafayel! That’s horrible.” 

He leaned in and playfully nudged your shoulder, saying, “I can’t help but be honest with you. Who would I be if I wasn’t?” He caught the look on your face and rolled his eyes, flicking the lighter absentmindedly. “Or, you know, you could just call him up and give him a piece of your mind. Maybe that will push him right in the direction of Silver Springs.”

You rolled your eyes and muttered, feeling the familiar laziness creeping into your body. You barely resisted the urge to snort at his suggestion. “The Fleetwood Mac song?” 

“Yeah, Stevie cursed him, you know. Lindsey. In ‘97. Hexed him right on stage in front of everyone. So if I were you, I would call him up and tell him what direction he can shove his thumb up his own ass.” 

You laughed again, shaking your head at Rafayel’s ridiculous suggestion. The pot was doing its job, making everything seem way funnier than it should be. 

“I don’t know, man,” you sighed, sinking further into the seat. “Even if Zayne does leave his wife for me, which would be so wrong, what about Father Sylus? I mean, I kissed a priest, for Christ’s sake!” 

Rafayel took another long drag from the bowl before setting it between you in the cupholder, smoke once again billowing in the car as he responded. “Hey, forbidden love is the hottest kind. And I figure if I’m going to get any entertainment out of this town, it’s gonna be from you at this point. So just call the fucking doctor while I’m still high.” With that, he shoved your shoulder, and you turned and shoved him right back. 

You grumbled as you reached for your phone, unlocking it as the smoke settled around you. You scrolled through your contacts until your thumb was right over the number. It was so tempting, especially with the encouragement of the young man beside you - but you stayed still. 

You’ll never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you. 

“Fuck it.” You breathed deeply, heart hammering, and hit the phone symbol. As soon as you heard the first ring, you nearly jumped. 

Why do I do this? A mantra in your mind, like a worm in your skull, beating against the insides repeatedly with a tiny hammer. 

You waited, putting the phone on speaker so the idiot beside you could hear. After a few long rings, you were about to hang up when there was a click. An unfamiliar voice picked up instead of the one you were used to, and the wave of anxiety almost made you dizzy.

“Hello?” Her voice was soft, not as straightforward or bubbly as you had imagined she would sound.

Silent, you swallowed thickly, and along with the fear, you felt the ache settle in once again. The sharp guilt began coiling around you. You looked toward Rafayel, who suddenly looked just as panicked as you. He quickly grabbed your phone, raising an index finger to his lips and giving you a stern look. 

“Hi! Uh, I’m calling about your car's extended warranty!” Rafayel quickly stated, cutting off whatever the woman was about to say next. Then, he turned and threw your phone out of the open window. 

The two of you stared at each other blankly. Then, all the adrenaline hit you at once, and the numb haze obliterated. 

“Oh my God, fuck!” You managed to say, trying and failing to fight the delirious laughter that began wrapping through your body. You barely noticed your vision clouded with tears, and your next laugh came out mixed with a sob. “That was his - and you just - HA! You threw my phone out the window!” 

“Listen, Y/N, I don’t think that was a good -” 

“FUCK.” You kicked the dashboard with your foot, the glove compartment popping open and spilling its contents onto the car's floor. “How could you throw my phone out the window like that?” you cried, turning to glare at Rafayel through your tears. 

He held up his hands defensively. “I panicked, okay? I didn’t want you to do something you’d regret later. That was his wife on the phone, not him! What were you going to say to her anyway?” 

“I don’t know!” you wailed, burying your face in your hands. The high rapidly dissipated, ruined, and replaced by a growing despair. “I’m a horrible person. What am I doing with my life?” 

Rafayel sighed and scooted closer, draping an arm lazily around your shaking shoulders. “Hey, you’re not a horrible person. Do you want a Xanax?”

“No, I don’t want Xanax! Go get my phone!”

“Okay, okay! Just chill out.” Rafayel moved to open the car door but paused, a muttered curse leaving his mouth before he hurriedly attempted to clean up the drug paraphernalia scattered on the console. Then he turned just in time to have a flashlight shone in his face. In all of your agitation, it appeared that neither of you had noticed the other vehicle that had pulled up. 

“Hi, Tara.” Rafeyel greeted the deputy at the window with a thinly veiled hint of irritation as he shielded his eyes with the back of one hand. “Good to see you.” 

Tara looked at him, and then her eyes landed on you and widened slightly, her mouth parting as she put the two of you together. “Really? You’re back home?” 

Tara was only a couple years younger than you, and there was no surprise that this was her chosen profession. You remembered how she used to hang around all the time in high school, staying behind and hoping you’d ask her to hang out to go to a party. Even back then, it was as if you couldn’t shake her, the girl pursuing anything and getting into anything she could think of. 

“So, uh.” Tara leaned over and peeked into the car, leaning her free hand on the window. Perfectly manicured nails and the same cherry red lipstick; her features and skin soft. “What are you guys doing?” 

You started to laugh again, unable to resist the odd delight rippling through you. Rafayel tensed, and his lips pressed together as he looked at you in warning. 

“Nothing, officer.” You answered with a grin. “Don’t you have more important things to do? What’s all we ever did when we came up here?” 

Rafayel slapped a hand to his forehead. Tara scoffed and looked around nervously, as if confused as to how you reached the admission you realized shouldn’t have slipped out of your mouth so easily. Her sudden lack of boldness reminded you of the faux courage she often displayed when she was younger, which was why you were never that close with her. 

As long as you’ve known Talia, she was the type to call the priest whenever something happened. Even though you partially expected it, you were still on edge seeing Father Sylus walking into the tiny police station with her. 

You were sitting on a bench with Rafayel, feeling angry and frustrated, and your high completely came down when the two of them walked in. Your head snapped up at the sight of the tall man next to Talia, looking composed and put together while she looked like she had just taken a sleeping pill. It truly was no surprise to see Talia rushing in to rescue Rafayel from whatever trouble he had gotten himself into. 

“Rafayel.” Talia’s small, five-foot frame was in front of her nephew. “You…” She rubbed her temples and let out a groan. 

“Sorry, Talia.” He held up his hands, which were cuffed together, a bit of a chuckle leaving his mouth as if he thought this was the most amusing thing that could possibly happen to him. 

You averted your gaze again, the memory of the kiss burning in your mind, and you couldn’t bear to look up. A fresh wave of shame washed over you. Talia’s exasperated voice faded into the background as your heart pounded. 

“Come on, let’s get you two out of here,” Talia finally said with a sigh. She turned to Tara, who was seated at the desk nearby. “I’m assuming there won’t be any charges? They were just being stupid, right Tara?” 

Tara glanced between you and Rafayel, conflict flickering across her face. You could see the gears turning in her mind, weighing the social capital to be gained by letting this slide versus following protocol. After a tense beat, she sighed and waved a dismissive hand. 

“Yeah, yeah. Come on, let’s go fill out the paperwork.”

Talia nodded curtly and followed Tara out of the room, and an awkward silence descended, thick and lingering, although you couldn’t pinpoint the cause of it. You kept your gaze fixed on the scuffed linoleum, tracing patterns with your eyes. 

“Hey, Father,” Rafayel said, “What’d Talia say when she called you?” 

“She asked for a ride, said she would kill you, and needed someone to perform the last rites.” 

Rafayel let out a short laugh at Father Sylus’ dry response, but you remained silent, still unable to bring yourself to look at the priest. Your mind kept replaying that moment - the gentle press of his lips against yours. How could you face him now, after what transpired between you? What would you even say? 

“Right.” Rafayel hummed, “Suppose I should thank you then. Potentially saving my soul and all that.” He nudged you with his elbow, “Ain’t that right, bestie?” 

“Yeah, thanks.” You mumbled, only lifting your head when Tara appeared in front of you to remove the handcuffs from your wrists. Talia moved before her nephew, jingling her car keys before dropping them into his hands. 

“Let’s get out of here before I change my mind, Rafayel,” She grumbled. He flashed her a cheeky grin but wisely kept his mouth shut this time. 

“I can take Y/N home.” Father Sylus nodded toward you once you stood and shook out your wrists. Nervously, your eyes flickered to Rafayel, who looked terrified for you for a brief second before mouthing the words, 'Touch his butt.'

A moment later, you found yourself outside the police station next to the priest who had consumed your thoughts since that ill-advised kiss. You shivered in the harsh autumn breeze that cut straight through the light jacket you wore. You risked a brief glance at Father Sylus. He stood without a jacket, radiating heat, and for a moment, you wanted to press against him to feel that warmth. 

You found your words. “I - I can get home on my own,” you said, a bit harsher than was necessary. “I’m an adult the last time I checked.” 

Father Sylus paused at the bottom of the steps and turned around. There wasn’t any tension or hesitation in his tone, just like the other night. He was just genuinely inquiring. “How are you feeling, Y/N?” 

Shivering slightly and wrapping your arms around yourself, you looked toward the man and offered a smile. Your voice had the faintest tremor as you tried to joke, “I’ve been better.” 

Father Sylus glanced at you from the corner of his eye as you fell into step beside him, releasing a little snort at your sarcasm, a gesture that, for some reason, sent a hot rush of awe through you. 

“That’s all right, Y/N.” He said with a sad smile. “We can talk about it later if you want. For now, the important thing is getting you home.” Reflexively, his hand came to rest on the small of your back as he steered you toward the parking lot.

Just the brief caress of his warm hand on your back made your thighs clench. It didn’t mean anything, you told yourself, but your stomach churned as the sweet electricity of his touch rushed through you. 

Stop it, you told yourself. He was just showing you where he had parked. Yet his lingering warmth was flooding your senses. Swallowing thickly, you pinched your brows together and hoped you didn’t actually upset him in any way. 

“Should I be worried?” he asked. 

“About what?” 

“The things you’re into.” 

Stopping, a hard lump formed in your throat, and the entire world fell into a hush. The nearly pitch black parking lot of the police station, the night chill, the beautiful priest that just - was he teasing you, now? 

“Again. I’m in my twenties. Weed,” you snapped, emphasizing the last word, “Isn’t a big deal.” 

His palm felt scorching through your jacket as he closed a hand around the top of your shoulder, squeezing gently. 

“Hey now,” He said, making your breath hitch as you stiffened slightly. “It was just a question.” 

You said nothing, simply sliding into the passenger seat of Father Sylus’s car.

A quiet settled between you two in the car, then. All you could do was look out the window at the dark neighborhood and overanalyze every word, every touch, trying to pinpoint exactly how you felt. But how could you even explain that the man beside you gave you the thrill of wanting to do something terrible? Because there had been a moment with him, something that broke the reality of the relationship the two of you had. It didn’t necessarily feel awful, more like an unspoken truth waiting to be expressed. 

You tried to control your emotions and thought process, registering that you were in front of your house now. Just as you were going to say goodnight and grab the door handle, you heard Father Sylus speak. 

“I owe you an apology for the other night.” The quiet murmur was easy to miss, but you did everything possible to hang onto the sound. A mix of breath. You looked back at him, trying to catch his eyes in the darkness only illuminated by the porch light from the distance. 

“I don’t want to make things difficult for you.” He continued, “I’d still like for us to talk.” 

As tempting as it was to open the car door and leave, the ache in your belly nearly overwhelmed you. A terrible, crushing sense of longing settled in. Knowing where the lines were drew a blank in your mind. Where the hell were you supposed to draw the line? Fuck, was this situation genuine, or just one of opportunity? 

“Can I ask an inappropriate question, Father?” You choked out, swallowing the lump of anxiety that wound its way around the base of your neck. You watched as he shut the car off.

“What is it?” He wasn't looking at you, but the hand still on the wheel tightened slightly. 

Inhaling deeply, your heart thumped at an aching speed as you murmured your question, your voice beginning to betray how much he affected you. “Do you kiss a lot of girls?” 

“I beg your pardon?” 

Why the hell did you mean to bring that up? What good would knowing do, even? Right, of course, you would just go ahead and ruin the image of purity - what was the worst that could happen? 

“Well,” You continued, unable to stop yourself but choosing your words carefully, “You kissed me. So, do you kiss a lot of girls?” 

Father Sylus was quiet for a long, brutal moment. You felt sweat bead on your skin despite the car being cool. Clenching your fists and digging your nails into your palm, you try to brace yourself. You hadn’t intended to ask your question so outwardly , but what other way was there to put it? 

“Y/N, you’re trying to minimize our connection,” he said. He took a deep, steadying breath and then rubbed a hand over his brow. “And I can ignore it. I can try to pray for the strength to bear it.”

Then, he met your gaze directly. In the light from the porch, you could see how his crimson eyes tore into you, emotion suddenly exposed and bared. For the second time, he had allowed you to glimpse what was hiding under the careful mask he put on. 

You almost flinched as he touched your knee, his tone dropping. “But I won’t diminish it.” 

You found yourself falling, then, into those wounded eyes. You slid your hand forward and set it over his, the heat from the simple touch making you feel like you had touched an ember. 

Before you knew what you were doing, you leaned across the center console to kiss him, slow and sweet. 

Please don’t push me away.

For a moment, you feel his surprise. However, just before you pull away, he pulls you forward, one warm hand sliding up your back and the other threading through your hair gently, reverently.

You moan softly into his mouth, and his grip tightens slightly. He deepens the kiss, pressing his tongue into your mouth. You lose yourself in the feel of his lips on yours, his hands on your body.

The gentleness he handles you with stokes the fire within you, warming you from the inside and slowly turning into a fever. You long for him to hold you tightly, to show you he wanted you too - you need that affirmation. 

Then his lips grazed the shell of your ear, voice husky and warm. “You’re far too close for your own good.” 

What sort of torment was this? All these words hung in the air that you wanted to say, but none came to your mind except for - 

“Fuck me,” you rasped. Your face felt hot as the words spilled from your lips, driven by the intensity of your want. “Please, I -” 

He silenced you with his mouth, capturing your lips again. His kiss is no less intense and consuming but maintains a level of restraint that a part of you hoped was rapidly crumbling. Your hands move on their own accord, reaching for his belt. 

A hand on your wrist stops you before you can go any further, his skin like silk against the pounding pulse point of your wrist. It was a heavyweight, slowly making its way up to where your heart was beating wildly. 

He’s looking directly into your eyes when he brings your hand to his mouth, kissing your knuckles gently. 

“No here, sweetheart.” His voice is feather-light as he speaks. “Not like this.” 

While he let go of your wrist, something unseen held you in place. But it was only momentarily before the horror of what you had tried to do crashed over you. 

“Oh, fuck, I’m so sorry, I - what the fuck am I doing?” 

With the state you were in, it wouldn’t take much for the well of tears to come. Unable to look at him, you unlocked the car door and pushed it open, nearly tripping on your feet as you stumbled onto the pavement. 

You didn’t look back, fearing falling apart, and slammed the door shut. 

Rather than going through the front door, you circled the house and went up the back porch through the kitchen. Once inside, you walked past your dad in the living room, who was sleeping on the couch with the television blaring and a near-empty bottle of beer within arm’s reach. 

You went into the bathroom in the hallway, shut and locked the door, then slid down onto the cold tile. 

The rejection shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. No, this was different. Something deep inside, something raw and fiery, made the ache grow exponentially. It was the memory of the touch, the intoxicating mixture of scents. 

Anger clawed its way to the surface because you couldn’t even wrap your head around what you felt. How pathetic, how foolish, how humiliating. 

Clutching the sides of your head, you let out a scream, frustration causing your body to shake. 

You wanted so badly to disappear. 

Did God have a sense of humor or something? 

tag list: @celestialforce @readerxyourbabe

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Past and Present

A very big thank you to @poetnix29 for providing me with a source of inspiration in the form of one of their poems (linked below). Do go check it out, especially if you're a transformers/megop fan all the poems are rly good I promise you.

I did make Megs a little crazy in this fic but I'm pretty sure eons of war will drive anyone a little crazy yea?

Megatron can't help it, his spark thrums every time the familiar flash of red and blue appears in his vision. Even though he's covered in Energon, both his and his enemies', the Prime is still a sight to behold. The Autobot leader's Energon axe swings gracefully through the air, slicing a blaster in half before tearing through metal and wires alike before coming down to deflect a blade aimed at his legs.

Beautiful, is all the Decepticon leader can think, even as Autobots hound him from all sides. They are nothing but pests, blocking his view of the only one who truly matters. He hungers to know the emotions the stoic Prime hides behind his battle mask, to taste the anger he knows for certain is lurking behind the calm facade. He loves pushing Optimus to his limits, testing the boundaries for that sweet satisfaction of knowing he is the only one who can bring the Prime to life.

"Megatron!" Ah, there it is, the oh so familiar battle cry. The Prime has finally made his way over, blue optics blazing with a fury reserved only for him and Megatron feels special. The Decepticon warlord smirks, swatting away the annoying Autobot who tries to attack him and focuses on the mech in front of him.

"Optimus," he very nearly purrs. Megatron shoves away the thought of how similar Orion and Optimus' optics look when angry and deletes it, Megatronus and Orion are dead now, replaced by leaders of opposing factions who are determined to kill one another to win this wretched war. Still, Megatron can't stop thinking of how the light reflects off the red and blue armour at just the perfect angle, giving the Prime a sense of divinity.

Said divine figure had a deep gash in his shoulder he could have well avoided had he not pushed one of his precious Autobots out of the way of the explosion, and he now places himself between Megatron and the annoying Autobot, urging the pest to run.

That damned selfless nature of his, Megatron muses, once he had thought it endearing, but now he found it irritating. He unsheathes his blade, licking his fangs in anticipation for the fight to come. The only opponent to ever get him this fired up is Optimus, and he's almost afraid to find out what happens when he kills the Prime, but it's not as though he's not going to try anyways. He knows they're both difficult to kill, they've survived time and time again where most could not, and that eases his spark just enough for him to bring his flail down with all the might he can muster.

He relishes in the way it punches through armour, smashing apart metal and ripping through wires, eliciting a grunt of pain and for a moment, he sees the bright blue optics wince in pain, but the mask quickly slips back on and Megatron has to dodge a swipe from the Energon axe. He laughs, closing the gap so that his fists can continue the work his flail has started and feels the rush of air as a fist nearly clocks him in the cheek. He retaliates with a punch of his own which also misses, and he can feel the thrill of battle coursing through his veins.

This is how it's meant to be, a deadly dance of death, a clash of weapons, an exchange of fists, nothing else can satiate him, and judging from his opponent's gaze, the same goes for the Prime. He sidesteps yet another blow, laughing at the growl of irritation from the usually calm Prime and rams into him, tackling the red and blue figure to the ground.

Optimus throws him off with a grunt, but Megatron lands on his feet, fusion cannon already charging up. Optimus quickly fires a shot of his own from his blaster, catching the Decepticon warlord in the shoulder. The Prime doesn't give him a moment to rest and charges forward, slashing open a cut on his cheek. Megatron simply grins, the sting of the wound only serving as fuel to strengthen his attacks and licks the Energon that drips into his mouth, sending Optimus reeling with a punch to the stomach area.

How does Optimus taste, he wonders, watching as more Energon oozes from the Prime's injuries. He's never been one to obsess over anything, but his arch nemesis is slowly starting to change that. He hates how all he can think about now is Optimus, from the way his hands curl into fists to the way he shifts into a defensive stance. He can see the scratches on the red and blue armour amidst the wounds that litter the Prime's frame, the little twitches of his audial finials as he tries to formulate a strategy to take his enemy down.

He grins, but it's quickly wiped away when Optimus staggers slightly. His spark aches and his lips curl into a frown, but the worry is quickly replaced by white hot hate when the Autobot symbol on Optimus' shoulder flashes into view.

Orion is no more, he reminds himself, all that remains is the traitor Optimus Prime. Still, a part of him wants to linger on the past and leave this war behind, but he knows that future has long been buried in the ashes of war. He moves to close the gap so that he can rip the damn symbol into pieces but then a blade swipes at him and he leaps backwards, avoiding the blow.

Typical Optimus, still able to fight back despite the numerous injuries that would have rendered a normal bot unable to move.

His lips curl when he sees the fire in the light blue optics that once looked upon him with nothing but pure adoration and he swings his own blade, wanting nothing more than to split the orbs apart but another figure jumps into the fray, blocking the blow. Other Autobots scramble to get their precious leader to safety and Megatron watches them go, knowing this will not be the last time he and Optimus cross blades.

This war will go on until one of them inevitably falls, even if it means they are the last ones remaining on the battlefield. Destiny has carved this path out for them, star-crossed lovers to enemies, kindred souls ripped apart by the hand of fate, and Megatron regrets nothing. He would do this all over again, given the chance, to see the look of seething fury upon the usually impassive face of Optimus Prime, to devour the look of devastation upon the Prime's face as he rips apart the innocent, to know that he would be the only one Optimus would ever think about.

He laughs, tearing open the healing injury on his cheek as it dawns on him. They are bound indeed, by the red string of fate, whether as lovers or enemies, and neither can run from the other. He will forever chase Optimus, and Optimus will forever chase him. They will obsess over each other for all eternity, never able to wipe the other's past self from their memory, but never able to stop trying to kill one another because they both know the war will not end otherwise.

Megatron laughs and laughs at this new revelation, but Megatronus weeps for the past that can never be reclaimed.

[withlove-xixi]

— THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN MISSING YOU AND WANTING YOU BACK: chilchuck x reader

ᥫ cw: angst, break up/divorce ᥫ wc: 820 ★ we are back baby!! oh and if it's written weird, then its just because this a sort of vent i guess ? im fine really, i just want a way to verbalize my emotions rn and there just so happens to be a conveniently placed divorcee in front of me (‾̀◡‾́ ๑) cross posted on ao3

— MORE THAN ANYTHING, CHILCHUCK CRAVED WARMTH

[♡]: chilchuck isn’t the best when it comes to his emotions. at most he can tell what he’s feeling, he knows he’s angry when he comes across particularly annoying people, he knows he’s happy when he has a nice drink of something expensive and delicious, and he knows he’s sad when he’s missing you.

CHILCHUCK WISHES, with every atom in his body, with every bit of his soul, with every ounce of his heart, that he could be selfish.

There’s this part of him that’s missing, some part he had a feeling he would lose, one way or the other; that part was you. As ashamed as he is to admit, the thought has passed his mind more than he’d like, as if he had already counted how many steps there were left until you walked another path, how much more grains of sand were left until you grew tired of him. Chilchuck can’t blame you— He could never bring himself to do that. Not when, in the depths of his sorrow-laden heart, he knew it was his fault.

He wants to say the signs were there, because if he had looked back at the final moments of his life with you, they were there; all the telltale symptoms of a dying love. It was the way you gradually stopped coming by the door to greet him when he came home, the way your eyes had slowly grown sullen with worry and exhaustion, the way you eventually he’d come home to find you already asleep. 

It had all happened gradually, not enough to have been particularly slow, but enough that the half-foot should’ve noticed from a mile away.

So, Chilchuck wishes he were selfish. This loud, angered part of him wishes he hated you. He wishes he hated the way your eyes shone when you looked at him, the way you smiled when he kissed you, the way you’d whisper a syrup-coated “I love you” before bed. With every fiber of his being, Chilchuck wanted to hate you. He’s convinced it would be easier that way, it’s easier to strike down your enemy, it’s easier to kill a stranger. But it was you, sweet, kind-hearted you. The same you that had tucked Chilchuck into bed when he got sick and was too stubborn to rest, the same you that had bought him an expensive bottle of ale on a random weekday just because, the same you that he had danced with in the rain the first time he asked you out, the same you that blew him kisses when he left, the same you that leaned against him when you were tired.

Chilchuck’s eyes hesitantly dart around the house, now more empty than ever, and only then does he realize the scar you had carved into it. He sees the window where you’d have stood waiting for him to come home, the couch where you two would come napping together, the kitchen where you made sure he was loved with a warm meal, the hallway littered with little notes and letters you two had given each other over the years. If he closed his eyes, he was still there; the smell of warm roast from the kitchen and fresh flowers in the living room

The house was well-loved, scorched with the memories you had together, every nook and cranny a different moment of tenderness and love. And more than the house, Chilchuck was well-loved.

His hands hold the kisses you pressed into his scars, the warmth of your cheeks, the weight of your body. His tongue brands the sweet way you taste, the motion of your name spilling from his lips. His heart beats with every ounce of love he still carries for you, and with it, every infinite moment you might never share.

It’s why Chilchuck wishes he was selfish. He wishes, truly, that he could simply pin the blame on you, trash his well-loved house, still neat and tidy like you had left it, like you always kept it, and tell everyone that knew you of how you so suddenly up and left without so much as a note or a goodbye or a kiss or a “I’ll see you again, someday.” But instead Chilchuck is left to wallow in some strange sort of illness, a terrible mix of grief and guilt and indifference.

It’s this gloom in his heart that he doesn’t like, the same feeling he had been recklessly burying beneath work, what are his plans next week, what should he eat for dinner. He can’t really tell what exactly he’s feeling, mainly because he doesn’t want to. It was as if his whole being had been shrouded in darkness, not enough to consume him just yet, but enough for him to notice from a mile away, enough to cast a permanent shadow on his life.

He needs to be selfish, put himself above you, above how he hurt you. Chilchuck needs to parade around town waving a flag of victory on how you had so tragically left him. He needed to be selfish, to find a way to absolve himself of this heavy guilt that nearly crushing is poor body.

More than to be selfish, Chilchuck needs a drink.

[blushblushbear]

Scale, Seth and Haru husband headcanons pls?

ngl I think all 3 of these dudes would have a weird adjustment period to being husbands, though frankly I think Scale would maybe have the easiest time (well-- MAYBE Haru, but okay---)

Scale

I think the biggest change from boyfriend to husband is going to be him questioning if he should continue his assassin work

He's not going to set down his knives quickly or lightly but like----

he has a spouse now

he doesn't want them becoming a widow/widower

OR EVEN WORSE GETTING CAUGHT UP IN HIS BUSINESS??

bruh, he would DIE

I highly doubt he'd actually end up quitting but there WOULD be some changes around here

for starters--- he has a better divide between his personal and professional life

This is maybe me watching too much venture bros but I really do like the idea of Scale adopting a sort of on the clock/off the clock mentality ("That's my business-- but we're not at the office right now, ya see")

also he gets WAY more protective

your home is probably laced with all kinds of booby traps

and he DEFINITELY makes you run drills

like fire drills but instead of fire it's enemy assassins

Aside from the stuff pertaining to his career, he's actually a very sweet and loving husband

Not necessarily a 'I made a home cooked meal in my apron' every night kind of loving but more a 'I stopped by that place you like and got us dinner' type

also def kind of nerdy husband but less about magic or dnd and more about weapons and armor (though don't get it twisted, he'll get down hard on some dnd)

lots of quality time whenever he's home

lots of texts when he's away

lots of cuddles on the couch and falling asleep in each others arms

he knows your favorites and brings flowers when he's been gone for a while

you're his home <3

and frankly he's very protective of that home

Seth

okay honestly

Seth is probably the one who has to step up to being a proper husband the most

at the start he's definitely bad at this whole 'being a good husband thing'

but all it takes it you getting visibly frustrated with him a handful of times and he realizes he needs to up his game

his life is REALLY different now, but if he gets to spend it with you it's worth it

and for what it's worth he's actually really good at apologies

and also good about being sincere about them too, it's not just fluff to get him out of trouble

he's also very protective of you but he's not as 'DECLARATION OF HIS UNDYING LOVE AND PROTECTION AGAINST THE LIGHT OF THE MOON' as Scale is about everything

also is actually really good at listening to you vent/share work drama

also always offers to send your annoying co-workers to hell

you say no but the offer still stands

is only really good at barbecue and baking so anything too far past that you're gonna have to order in or cook for the night

also I don't know if he'd suggest this first but if the subject of having date night comes up he's actually really really about date night

likes to take you somewhere nice or fun or both

also will try to convince you to adopt a hellhound

this will be a forever conversation in your marriage, just letting you know now

Haru

so look

I'm not saying Haru would ever cheat on you

actually far from it

BUT I WILL SAY that going from a long ass life time of tom catting around every night to a committed long-term monogamous relationship is going to be a major life change for ANYONE

including Haru

that being said that's actually kinks you worked out early in your relationship

I do get the sense that Haru low key misses his old life a bit, but knowing you has changed him too much and he could just--- never go back ya know??

and frankly he wouldn't want to

but again that's like--- also stuff that was dealt with during boyfriend stage

actually honestly, once you're committed to each other, he legit doesn't see you as anything other than his mate

married or not his attachment is the same honestly

marriage isn't JUST a human thing but it's more of a you thing that a Haru thing

as far as he's concerned you two are as good as married already

all though who could pass up a party to show you off and celebrate your union???

so yeah-- you'll have to bring it up, but Haru is down to marry you right away

so I think with Haru, YOU'RE going to have to change your life the most due to marriage

he's kind of the leader of a whole group of people

he's not going to make you come live with them, but you ARE gonna have to at least be next door

that's gonna be the biggest marriage hurdle depending on who you are

though if push comes to shove he is willing to find a successor and run away with you

but low key please don't make him do that cause his people need him and he loves them and also he'd feel guilty about it FOREVER haha

but yeah past that married Haru is not much different from boyfriend Haru except he's a little bit more clingy/up front about pda etc cause HEY that's his SPOUSE, he's allowed

he also does REALLY LOVE calling you his spouse in front of anyone and everyone as many times as he can

[izudeeilo]

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

You can study me

Sero hanta smau

volley-ball player sero x art student fem!reader, no quirks au, college au.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Senior year is finally here! You thought that this time, the teachers would be more lenient with you and your classmates, but not at all. In fact, they even got stricter... They assigned you a half year-long work, which would be worth 30% of your final grade. What does the work consist of, you ask? Making a complete study of the life of a student you need to pick and paint it.

But... you can't pick a friend

Part .2 • Part .4

Part 3

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You all walked into the club you’ve been going to since you can remember. It was your favorite because it played primarily 80s and 90s music, the whole club was also 80s themed.

The floor tiles were black and white, disco balls adorned the ceiling and casted beautiful lights all around the place.

You squeezed your eyes shut a few times from the bright colour lights emanating from above you as you made your way through the crowd with your friends.

Squeezed between people you danced to the music that was already ending, Izuku was next to you and Himiko and Ochaco right in front of you.

The next music played, and you jumped onto what you thought was Izuku’s arm and yelled “Oh I love that song!”

You turned your head and were met by Mina with a smile on her face and wide open eyes.

”Y/n! What are you doing here” she screamed, her hands going to your shoulders excitedly.

”The same as you, I would say, I’ve never seen you around here before” you chuckled, happy to see a familiar face.

”I figured I would try something new this time and I absolutely love it here!! Even more now that I know you also go here” she smiled, nudging your shoulder.

You took her hand and led her to your friends after she said she came here alone and you offered to spend the night together.

And as the song played, A forest by The Cure, you locked your eyes with her, and you both began dancing together. Her, in front of you, both shaking your shoulders from left to right in rhythm. Throwing your heads back, hands dancing in the air as you breathe in the alcohol fuelled air.

Come closer and see. See into the trees.

You all chant the lyrics and whirl around on the dance floor, moving your bodies from side to side.

After an hour or two of dancing, Mina led you all to the bar and ordered 5 blue lagoons.

”That’s on me you guys” she grinned at you, twirling around on her chair.

You all looked at her with disbelief, trying to insist on paying for your own drinks, but she declined and said it was nothing. You took your drinks when they were ready and went to sit around a table a bit further away.

She was so easy to get along with, like you all already knew each other. The conversation was going smoothly and you spent god knows how long talking about anything and everything.

Getting up from time to time to dance when a song you liked played.

You didn’t even order more drinks after that, too lost in the conversation to think about anything else.

Down Under by Men at Work was playing in the background as people still danced on the dance floor, the mix of sweat and alcohol slowly filling the air.

”I can’t believe that, how didn’t you tell us, my heart is breaking” Ochaco fake tries, clenching her chest.

Izuku hides his face and laughs “I couldn’t. It was a way too embarrassing moment to share with anyone.”

Mina throws her head back and laughs, and we all follow after her. She wipes a tear from her eye before continuing.

”I think it was the hardest i've ever laughed, I will never forget that scene” Izuku nudged her shoulder playfully and chuckled.

”So I heard from Kacchan you’re looking for a new place?” Izuku suddenly says.

We all turn our heads to them with a questioning look.

“Oh right that! Yeah my roommates are kicking me out for no reason” she leans back in her chair with an annoyed look.

”Seriously— What the hell is wrong with them?” you say revolted. What kind of roommates just kick you out like that you thought.

“The not so nice ones” she laughs “They’ve always been assholes but since it was a big house and they went out a lot, I thought it would be easy to avoid them and mind my own business.”

You sit here bewildered, wondering how she even managed to live more than a few days with these kinds of people. Living in a house where you always checked if there was someone home, not leaving your room when you wanted or needed to. Absolutely insane.

The girls and you quickly look at each other and nod with a small grin.

”You know me and the girls live together, and there's actually one bedroom we don’t use. Well, mostly, we only put random boxes in it or stuff we’re too lazy to put in the cave.” you say with a slight laugh.

Mina looks between you, Ochaco, and Himiko.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying? “ Mina leans forward, hands gripping the seat she was in.

You nod. “Come live with us!”

She gets up almost immediately and goes in for a big group hug, squeezing the breath out of your lungs. Jumping in circles screaming.

”Oh I can’t thank you guys enough. You genuinely just saved my life” she hugs you again, one by one this time.

It was an impulsive decision but you didn’t regret it one bit. Mina was a sweet and funny person and you knew she would bring even more wonderful energy in your shared apartment. You couldn’t wait until she was living with you all.

Two weeks later, she was ready to move in. All the papers were finally done after long days of waiting. For god knows what reason, the whole thing was a pain to do, and your landlord took an absurd amount of time to get everything done.

You just helped her put the last of her boxes into the room you had emptied and cleaned. Izuku also came and helped lift the heavier things she had brought with her.

”Your apartment looks so lovely, this is going to be amazing” she lifts her arms in the air in excitement.

You open your mouth to say something but are interrupted by the sound of your ringtone.

”Sorry let me take this” you smile leaving the girls to chat and making your way to your room.

You sit on your bed before answering.

”Hi Hanta” you grin.

”Hi hermosa” you can hear the smirk on his face as he speaks.

”Stop calling me that” you chuckle.

”Why would I if it’s true”

You roll your eyes and scoff.

”I can feel you rolling your eyes. Are you rolling your eyes?”

”No…”

”Liar.” he chuckles. “I was calling to ask if you were free today?”

”Today? Sorry Mina just moved in and we want to spend the evening together” you reply a bit sad about not getting to see him.

During these two weeks, you two grew closer, now eating lunch together every day, seeing him and the boys at practice when you were free and just hanging out around the campus or taking walks in the city.

You’ve now had your designed places when you hung out, sketching him out when he wasn’t looking.

It would be a lie to say that his little nicknames didn’t get to you and made you feel warm inside every time he spoke.

“Oh right! How about tomorrow?” He brought you out of your thoughts.

”Eager to see me huh” you tease.

”What can I say, I may like spending time with you” You can hear him slightly move on his bed.

”Tomorrow’s perfect. See you at?”

”Three. I’ll pick you up at three.”

”See you at three then Hanta” you smile while hanging up.

You let out a sight and continue smiling to yourself.

The rest of the evening was filled with laughter and music as all four of you sat on the couch. Watching movies and playing board games for hours before you all pass out from exhaustion.

You were convinced it was a good idea to offer Mina to move in and you were absolutely right.

The next morning you woke up before everyone else at around 11am. You get up slowly, careful as to not wake up the girls who were still sleeping. Ochaco had her head pressed on Himiko’s chest, one leg over her waist and Mina was using Ochaco’s back as a pillow.

You chuckled quietly at their weird position and made your way to the bathroom. Taking off your clothes you take a quick shower and make your way to your room to pick out an outfit for the day.

You scan through your closet and decide on a short white sweater, a black skirt and a large dark brown jacket. You put them on and add tights underneath with long white socks.

You went back to the bathroom and did a simple makeup, putting your hair in a hair clip.

Quietly, you go to the kitchen and make yourself some tea while waiting for Hanta.

After some time, you hear the doorbell and quickly put your boots on before grabbing your bag and opening the front door.

”Hi” you say slightly looking up at him.

”Hi” he smiles at you, looking you up and down, admiring your outfit.

“You look…very pretty.” he says as he tilts his head.

”So do you” I compliment him back.

Closing the door, you both make your way down to his car. You had no idea where he wanted to bring you. You kept asking him during the ride, but his mouth was sealed shut. You settled on turning on the radio and waiting until you arrived at his mysterious destination.

a/n a longer chapter for you guys this time ☝🏻

[starstruckbyacomet]

Goodbye for Now

Almost 2 months ago I posted a list of possible hurdles that Oliver had warned us about (link):

It's possibly because of something from Tommy's past (we might get a Tommy Begins of some sort).

It possibly would happen through episodes 8x05 and 8x06.

Buck will go to Bobby, Maddie, and Eddie for support during that period.

Buck might find out about Tommy's past (being a racist and mysoginist a-hole) and couldn't accept it, or

Tommy might meet Carla. Carla might tell Buck that Tommy had lied to Abby and used her as a beard in the past. Abby was hurt badly because of it, and Buck couldn't accept it.

Buck might break up with Tommy.

Buck might try to date another man or a woman (if they want to emphasize that Buck is bisexual, not gay).

When I made the above list, I half-jokingly wrote down the worst posssibilities I could think of. The purpose of my post back then is to prepare other Tevan shippers who at the time had doubt about the relationship. I told them that grown-up relationships had all sorts of challenges, including break-ups. I also told them to watch Disney Princess movies if they couldn't handle it.

Who knew that almost 2 months later I have to swallow my own pills?

As contradictive as it sounds, I'm not happy that my predictions come true, including the possibility of Buck dating men & women again (prediction #7) which could happen based on interview with Oliver Stark (link)

Will Buck and Tommy make up?

Negative sign:

There are two interviews with Lou which I still refused to read, because the writers used to be Buddie baiters. But according to fans who have read it, the break up seems final.

Positive signs:

A)) 9-1-1 official Instagram account wouldn't follow Lou in the first place if he wouldn't stay for long term. Last time I check, 9-1-1 account still following Lou.

B)) Things that I wrote in my previous post still stand (link).

Tim and Oliver has said they wanted Buck to get out of the relationship hamster wheel and have a steady meaningful one instead.

Unlike Abby, whom they broke up with Buck because Tim had difficulties in writing her interaction with other 118 family members, Tommy has known most of the 118 family even before Buck does. There is no difficulty in making scripts where Tommy interacts with other 118 members without Buck's presence.

And the most important reason is: THE RATING IS HIGH when Tevan relationship is going strong.

My conclusion: There are 2 options:

The break-up is only temporary, to spice things up. Unfortunately, the timing is really bad because it is aired after the fuck-up US election result 🤦.

Tommy is moving to the new 9-1-1 spin-off, which probably located in Hawaii (link). If this happens, the break-up might be permanent, but it will be good for Lou's career.

What's next?

Although I think Tommy will come back in the 9-1-1 universe, I'm still upset. The 2nd term of Trump and Tevan's break-up happened within the same week! WTF??? I refuse to deal with both at the same time.

This is a list of what I will and will not do, and what I've done:

I will not harrass Tim Minear, Oliver Stark, or even the show on social media. I will not post my disappointment on unrelated social media contents. We have experienced how annoying it was when toxic Buddie fans did it. I refuse to do the same. I suggest other Tevan fans too. We are better than that.

I have unfollowed all 9-1-1 related social media accounts, both official and not. Yes, it is included 911bts and 911cast Tumblr accounts. I think this is a healthy way to voice my disappointment and to maintain my mental health.

I will stop watching the show until Tommy is (or, is officially announced to be) back on screen. The only exception will be when they show Bathena's new house for the first time, because I've been waiting to see it. Other than that, just no. Not even when Eddie reunites with Chris, if that happens before Tommy is back on screen. This step might even save me a few bucks, actually 😅.

I will stop engaging with 9-1-1 related contents on the internet. I will not read any articles about the show. I will not comment, post, reblog or do anything with contents about 9-1-1 on the internet.

I will stop reading 9-1-1 fics because I never comfortable following ships which are against canon. That's why I don't ship Buddie. And now that Tevan broke-up, I cannot engage with AUs where they are still together.

If you think Tevan will make up, why do you quit the show? Because:

I consume entertainment contents to be entertained, not to be depressed. I used to skip sad chapters on novels, and only read them when I'm ready. Buck without Tommy is a sad chapter for me, so I skip it.

This is my way to voice my disappointment in a healthy way. Things that matter the most for the show are rating and rating-related metrics. My actions may not have significant impacts to the show, but I am satisfied, nonetheless.

Tim Minear and Oliver Stark have the right to make the story as they see fit. This show is not customed to my preference. I'm very much aware of that. This is a "love it or leave it" product. So, I choose to leave it. For now.

To my followers: As I mentioned in my account, you can unfollow me. I use Tumblr as a scrapbook, not to gain followers. I was actually surprised and felt a bit guilty when people start following me, because I don't create arts, gifs, or fics. So, feel free to unfollow me. No hard feeling.

To other Tevan shippers: I know this is beyond disappointing, but please keep your online behavior in check. Please keep in mind that if you post your disapointment in social media, toxic Buddie shippers will eat you alive. Even if you don't, Buddie shippers will be gloating all over the internet. If you can't handle it, I suggest to forgo any interactions in 9-1-1 social media, at least temporarily.

Special thanks to my fellow Tevan fans and the lovely Buddietommy multishippers whom I've met during this journey. I hope we'll meet again. What a roller-coaster ride.

Now, back to Disney Princess movies... 😂

[batsplat]

greetings professor batsplat,

i recently heard somewhere about valentino having kicked someone else off the bike before the whole. sepang rosquez situation.

and i was wondering if you had any info on that / could shed light on the context? how it happened, what motivated him to do it perhaps etc.

thanks a lot <33

yeah I know why this gets brought up quite regularly, but tbh there's not much of a story behind it. valentino kicked someone, did not kick said someone 'off' the bike, didn't have complex motivations beyond venting some frustration. just the habitual problem of getting pissy about someone coasting on the racing line (x):

At the end of the 250 class qualifying, Italian Valentino Rossi, annoyed by a move by Yasu Hatakeyama, decided to practice kickboxing. Rossi "pressed" the Japanese rider against the edge of the track with his Aprilia and, bike to bike, threw a kick at the Japanese rider's thigh. The Italian, who had already hit his colleague's helmet at the Dutch GP, did not show the slightest remorse: "Every time I meet Hatakeyama, he closes me down. Today I was on the last lap and I could lower my time, and when I was going to pass him, he crossed the track and slowed down. I had to brake suddenly and I was very nervous. But I think that the next time I am about to pass him, he will not close me down." There were no penalties for Rossi, although both he and the Japanese rider received a verbal warning.

this was at argentina 1998 - here's the kick itself, courtesy of teenage valentino:

here's a HD clip of the kick as well as valentino's gesturing afterwards:

it's basically the exact same thing as casey kicking checa in 2007 or punching de puniet in 2011 (see here) for exactly the same reasons. or for a more recent example, take aleix slapping franky last year. riders are hotheads, they REALLY hate someone getting in their way when they're trying to do a lap, sometimes they lash out. this obviously does not mean it's a good idea and really should warrant some kind of penalty. neither valentino nor casey got penalties, but aleix got a six place grid drop. which, good! it's irresponsible and stupid, even if it's also admittedly kinda funny. still, it'd be pushing it to suggest there's much similarity between that and sepang 2015. although his description of the incident is fun (from oxley's vr files):

I got into a bit of trouble on Saturday for kicking the Japanese rider Yasu Hatakeyama at the end of the final qualifying session. I like to kick arse! I've had a lot of trouble with him all season - you go to pass him in practice and he shuts the door on you, even though he's going slow. I've spoken to him about it a few times and he always says "Sorry, sorry, sorry!" then goes and does it again at another race. It's very dangerous. On Saturday he took a short cut round the back of the circuit, and was going through this corner at about 20kph when I arrived on a very fast lap. It was really frightening, so I paid him back by kicking him as we returned to the pits.

how very casey of him

if you ARE looking for something a bit more relevant in terms of valentino using his body in the heat of battle, an even younger version of valentino might be able to help. this is all the way back in his rookie 1996 season - where he was known for his wild riding, especially in the early races that year, and on occasion did actually elbow AND knee his competitors in his determination to beat them. feral thing. in general, to my eyes valentino seems like he's quite good at using spatial awareness in w2w combat, of using the physical dimensions of his body to fight other riders... take for instance the finely judged knee retraction pass at catalunya 2009, how he immediately sticks his knee out again in front of jorge's line once he's past, that sort of thing

the most obvious example has to be the doctor's dangle - motogp urban legend ofc holds that it started in jerez 2005, where valentino wasn't actually using his leg to block sete, but since then? in popularising the habit of motogp riders of dangling their legs into corners, valentino also gave himself another nifty way of defending against opponents. sometimes it does look like he's using the dangled leg to quite literally block his rivals from passing... perhaps the most blatant examples of that come in motegi 2010, where he's willing to do whatever it takes to beat jorge. he does admittedly have plausible deniability in this race - the possibility that he was dangling his leg more excessively in order to help mitigate the shoulder injury. still, it's pretty comical at times

"When he does go through - if he does go through that corner, he's going to have to take Rossi's leg off!" "He is! Drag him along, I think."

I mean. come on. what is this. you cannot tell me this is ergonomically efficient. valentino did do this to some extent when he was behind jorge too, so I don't think the shoulder explanation is complete bullshit - but it does also feel like a bit of an opportunistic method of making his bike as broad as possible. jorge repeatedly almost rides into valentino's leg, including when he's finally had enough and makes the overtake that sets off the late battle between them. so yeah, valentino's definitely not a stranger in using his physicality to his advantage in conducting his wheel to wheel battles. one of the things that makes him so fun to watch

[writingtraumaforever]

Uncontrolled Chaos: Chapter 7

Notes: Shadow is a butthole… but he’s also going through a lot.

Summary: Sonic tries to get to know this new Shadow. Little does he know that his work is cut out for him.

Chapter Select!

Support my Ao3!

Start:

Tails leaves not too long after their initial conversation, wanting to get started on his research as soon as possible. He’ll likely need Shadow over to help eventually, but for now? Shadow needs to rest and regain his strength. It’s possible his Chaos Energy will be needed for any of this to work, so he needs to replenish as much as possible.

So Shadow stays in his home to rest, Sonic agreeing to stay as well and keep an eye on him. Shadow is certainly tired and understands that they want to keep a him under close surveillance, so he doesn’t pitch a fit over it. What does annoy him, however, is the constant feeling of emerald eyes latched onto him.

He’s constantly being observed, stared at by that blue faker’s fake. It’s getting old. And even as he lays on his couch with his eyes shut trying to rest, he knows if he opens his eyes, he’ll find emerald still watching. Still waiting..

So he doesn’t open his eyes.

Instead, he just gives a huff and gruffs out, “If you’re going to stare, at least get whatever it is you have in your system out.”

This Sonic has been so affected by all of this. So stressed and worried. It’s obvious there’s more to him than he’s telling. And Shadow is getting tired of pretending he hasn’t noticed.

He hears Sonic move after a moment, the blue hedgehog shuffling closer now, Shadow peeking his eyes open to watch him.

Sonic looks at the couch Shadow lays on, thinking better of sitting on it with him after a pause and moving to the loveseat To the left of him instead. He sighs heavy when he sits, forcing his moving body to finally sit still. He leans forward, his elbows rested on his knees with his hands dangling between them and his eyes settling right back on Shadow.

Shadow just looks back at him, eventually quirking a brow as if to prod him to speak.

“Right..,” Sonic says after a moment, a little nervous but friendly smile on his muzzle, “Okay, so—.. I guess what’s buggin’ me is I… don’t know anything about you.”

“Mm..,” Shadow hums, closing his eyes once more and facing his head towards the ceiling again from where he lays, “What’s so wrong with that??”

“Well, multiple things really,” Sonic answers, a breathy chuckle coming from him, “For one, I’d like to know what sort of life this universe’s Shadow just dropped himself into the middle of..”

“He’s safe,” Shadow assures, opening his eyes again to look back to Sonic and show he means it, “He’s with friends.. or the closest things he has to them.”

“See— I like when you say he’s safe, but then you follow it up with stuff like that, and it worries me,” Sonic’s smile becomes a bit uneasy, rubbing his gloved hands together as a nervous tick.

Shadow groans a bit at this, his own hands resting on his stomach, the bandage still in place even though Shadow is fairly certain it’s no longer needed.

“It’s-… complicated,” Shadow tries, motioning a hand in the air above him before resting it on his head over his eyes, “But he’s being taken care of. The people who will find him will make sure he’s alright, and they most likely will figure out pretty quickly that he doesn’t belong with them.”

Sonic nods a bit at this, looking down at the ground in a pondering sort of way before lifting his eyes again to Shadow.

“What-… what is your life like..? Over there??”

Shadow huffs at that, a small, mirthful smirk growing on his lips as he grumbles, “Tragic.”

Sonic instantly frowns at this, brows knitting up as he scoots a bit closer to the edge of his seat, “What do you—“

“I don’t mean he’s gonna be miserable,” Shadow clarifies with an annoyed huff, “He’ll be fine. I have simply lived through quite a lot in my time..”

“My Shadow has too..,” Sonic points out quietly— not sure if it’s the same as this Shadow’s trauma, but it’s certainly nothing to scoff at or dismiss.

“Seems that’s my lot in every universe,” Shadow grumbles, lifting his hand from his eyes and looking at the ceiling again.

“You’re not very optimistic, huh??” Sonic says with a sideways smirk, tilting his head at the ebony hedgehog.

“I’m realistic,” Shadow clarifies with insult in his tone, “And realistically? I’m forced to bear the burden of many troubles and large responsibilities.. and be haunted by them for eternity.”

“Sheesh,” Sonic’s eyes roll with a chuckle, “Melodramatic much??”

Shadow turns his head to Sonic at this, glaring at him now in offense, “I am not melodramatic. You don’t know the shit I’ve been through—“

“Woah, woah- easy, Tiger..,” Sonic giggles out awkwardly, holding his hands up to try and chill Shadow out some, “Wasn’t trying to get you worked up… it’s just.. weird seeing you like this.”

Shadow’s brows furrow at that, “Like what??”

Sonic motions a hand to all of Shadow before shrugging and, “That. All grumpy and doom and gloom and just… angry.“

“I’m not angry,” Shadow growls, the only response he gets in return being Sonic quirking a brow at him in a silent ‘oh really??’

Shadow huffs. Looks back to the ceiling with his arms crossed a bit tighter over his chest, “I’m frustrated. It’s different.”

“Why are you frustrated??”

“Oh gee, let’s recap, shall we?? I have been thrown into a familiar yet unfamiliar environment, woke up to my personal space being invaded and feeling severe exhaustion all over. Then I find out I’m stuck in some damn universe where I’m apparently some sort of soft, pathetic excuse of the Ultimate Lifeform—“

“Hey! Shadow is not—“

“The fate of myself and multiple worlds is potentially now in the hands of a child. And instead of doing anything productive to help, I’m having to lay here and rest— which I can’t even do because a certain insolent, annoying hedgehog won’t leave me be.”

Shadow’s eyes find Sonic’s again, glaring with a grit in his teeth at the blue hedgehog—

But instead of finding his rival smirking back with an equal glare as he usually would.. he finds Sonic frowning.

Knitted brows and parted lips with the most upset expression Shadow thinks he’s ever put on Sonic’s face. It makes Shadow stumble a bit in his annoyance for this hedgehog, but he stands his ground. His arms stay crossed and his glare remains.

Sonic stares a moment, his ears flattened to his quills before he eventually looks away with a small frown.

Shadow doesn’t feel guilty. He doesn’t.

“Look..,” Sonic says quietly after a pause, “I’m-.. real sorry all this is happening.”

It’s not Sonic’s fault.

“I’ll just.. I’ll let you be. If you need anything, I’ll be around.”

Sonic stands then, Shadow watching him in silence. He doesn’t stop him. His voice feels like it’s suddenly caught in his throat. He wants to say something. Apologize for his childish behavior. Tell him he doesn’t blame him for this.

But he doesn’t.

Sonic exits the room and Shadow releases a long, heavy sigh as his hand lifts once again to rest over his closed eyes.

He doesn’t know why he’s being extra moody.. and even worse, he doesn’t know why Sonic isn’t bantering him like he typically would. It’s throwing off their whole.. whatever you would call it—rivalry??? Dynamic?? Either way, Shadow doesn’t like how it makes him feel..

He’s already feeling shitty as is. It’s his fault any of this is even happening, and all because he was reckless with Chaos Energy. He should’ve known better. He should’ve thought before he acted.

He’s making that mistake a lot lately, it seems..

He’s already been the cause of mass destruction more times than he’d like to admit.. he can’t handle being the cause of it again..

He has to fix this.

“…Fuck.”

[neverendingford]

.

[eikichi-supremacy]

If nothing else Koenma is a Kuwabara stan and I'm right there with him o7 (I need to write the kuwameshi fic that goes with this fr)

[himbohimhoe]

Holding out hope that the writing in veilguard will get more bearable but rook saying to lucanis that it's "not nice that Spite hurt him" and he "shouldn't accept that it’s fine bc it wouldn't be ok if a person did that" like. That is a demon. Built off a single emotion called SPITE. Rook I am finding it really hard to believe that u have lived in thedas for more than 30 seconds.