#he cries so much because he has so many feelings and he's never been able to express them

[mikakuna]

to each their own but to see jason as anything other than someone who breaks down crying when someone is tender and loving with him is illegal

[sylusdarling]

I Do

Sylus x reader

✧ The day that he’s been waiting for has finally arrived

Content: Sylus x fem!reader, fluff, marriage, emotional sylus

A/N: Saw a post on twitter saying Sylus would be a misty eyed groom and I cried. So here we are. There will also be a part 2 with the honeymoon ofc! Also not proofread because I need to get ready for school !

The feeling in Sylus’ chest was unlike something he’s experienced before, it was indescribable.

Though his life has always been filled with chaos and riches, it felt bland whenever he would think back to the past before he met you. His world was unexpectedly dull before you had made an appearance. The dreary days bled into each other and the somber red of the N109 zone mocked him on the daily.

There was a gap in his life that only you could fill. Once you appeared it felt as if a brush with vibrant water colours has painted over his life. The days no longer bled into each other, instead he woke up every day with a purpose. To talk to you. The moon of the N109 zone became a saturated vermillion whenever you were around and he was able to find joy even the small things in life. He no longer cared about the material riches because to him, you were his proudest treasure.

Truly, he never thought a day like this would come. The powerful boss of Onychinus standing at an alter dressed in a white suit waiting for his beloved at the other end of the isle. At the end of the isle you stood in all of your glory. The way the white dress fabric was draped over your body made you look like the most beautiful greek sculpture that anyone could ever create.

The bouquet of roses that you held in your hands stood out against the backdrop of your white dress. You had stated how much you adored roses because they matched the ruby colour of his eyes. You were walking down the aisle with a part of him in your hands.

The organists fingers moved and the notes of ‘Here comes the bride’ began to fill the room. Step after step you approached your soon to be husband at the other side of the aisle way. He couldn’t stop starring, it was as if you were the only other person in the world at this very moment. The room full of people being completely drowned out by your shining beauty.

Sylus was not an emotional person by any means, many people believed he simply didn’t possess any emotions at all and sometimes he believed that was true. But that thought was put to an end the moment his eyes became misty as you approached him.

There you both stood across from eachother at the alter. Your smile was radiant as you stood across from him. He’s never seen something like it. If only he could capture this moment in his eyes forever.

The officiant began to speak as you both stood at the front hand in hand. The rings were presented to you both.

“Do you take this woman to be your wedded wife?” Asked the officiant.

“I do.” Responded Sylus.

“And do you take the man to be your wedded husband?”

“I do.” You stated with the most glorious smile on your face.

At the same time you both slipped the rings on each others fingers. Each ring consisted of half a red jewel. Together you both completed the jewel. You were both two half’s of a whole, two souls being bound togehter.

And finally, finally, the words were said.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

Cupping your face, Sylus leaned in for the kiss. Your lips connected and it felt as if a new spark was being born. You both could feel each other smile into the kiss. It was passionate and full of love. Pure, undying love.

“It is with great honor and delight that I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Qin.”

Sylus never knew that he could feel happier than when you said yes to his proposal. But here he was now hand in hand with his wife. Mrs Qin.

Forever you were his and he was yours.

His wife. His beloved.

[sunfairiess]

𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝, 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 | 𝐣𝐣 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader

tropes: 3rd person narration | soft boy jj | best friends to lovers | comfort | fluff

synopsis: reader’s battling against anxiety, and during one of her anxiety attacks jj’s there to help her.

warnings: heavy depiction of anxiety, anxiety attack.

wc: 2.1k

writing this as someone who suffers from anxiety and deals with it on her own, was really emotional; if you find yourself in this position too, please don’t be afraid to ask for help. mental health matters <3

song rec: breathin - ariana grande ♡

everyone fights their own monsters, some are physically visible, others are perceived. some people have to fight against their families, some against their friends. but one of the biggest and worst challenges, was to fight against your own head.

everyone is tormented by their own monsters. hers is called anxiety, the beast who had ruined her life.

at school, her grades started to drop because she was just so tired all the time she couldn’t even bring herself to open the textbook; half of the foods she used to love were cut out of her daily routine because she would get constant heartburn and stomach problems to the point where she wasn’t able to consume a full meal for days.

when it came to sleeping, she couldn’t fall asleep because her mind was always racing with awful thoughts. what if i don’t wake up tomorrow? do my friends hate me because i didn’t go out with them today? is my heart supposed to beat so fast? my back is hurting, is this a health condition? am i going to be alone forever? usually she would go on for hours, reaching three or four in the morning, until she either cried herself to sleep or she almost passed out because of how tired she was.

going out of the house became hard. she became afraid of taking public transportation because what if someone tried to rob her or kidnap her. she couldn’t take long walks anymore because what if something happens and i’m alone. she even had to stop going to parties because she couldn’t stand big and loud crowds of people anymore.

her mental pain became physical: constantly having back problems, her chest and throat always felt too tight to breathe, her body tingling out of nowhere all the time.

it would’ve been a lie to say all of this didn’t reflected onto her relationship with others; she never told anyone about her own problems, not that they could help anyway. so when she started to hang out less with her friends, she always had to lie. i’m grounded, i can’t go out. sorry, i have too much homework to do. i have the flu, i can’t come. my dad needs my help, i’ll come next time. eventually though, she would run out of excuses, and that’s how she ended up for the first time in a month at the château, surrounded by her best friends.

“girl, we haven’t see you in forever, i almost forgot your face.” kiara joked, nudging her a bit with her elbow.

“i know, i’m so sorry guys. past month has been crazy.” which wasn’t a lie per se, she had spent the last weeks having constant anxiety and panic attacks. in the morning, in the afternoon, at night. and every single time she felt like she was about to die, the impending fear of doom creeping inside her. it really started to become unbearable, to the point where she didn’t even notice how many days would go by.

“well you’re here now, that’s what matters.” pope chimed in, giving her a smile. somehow that made her feel a little bit more lighter, knowing that her friends didn’t actually hated her. anxiety made her overthink every little detail of her life.

even though she tried to appear relaxed the whole night, she still felt like she was being chocked by an imaginary hand, pressing harder every time she breathed. she was grateful that none of her friends noticed the stiffness in her body, it would’ve been to hard to explain everything.

at least she thought no one noticed. jj noticed, he always did. he would observe every little detail about her. and from the moment she stepped into the château he hadn’t been able to keep his gaze off of her, not even for a second. he missed her. he hadn’t seen her in weeks and he had become restless. day and night he would think about her, what she was doing, if she missed him, if she too dreamed about him like he did about her. that’s how it felt being in love with your best friend.

jj knew something was up with her. she was always full of joy and energy, but bow it seemed like she had lost her spark. he knew there was something wrong, especially when he saw her fidgeting with her rings, gazing anxiously around her. he knew something was wrong when she got up, excusing herself from the conversation, and almost running to the bathroom.

following her wasn’t probably too good of an idea, but jj was impulsive, so he did it anyway. amen to that, he would’ve dealt with the consequences later, like his confused friends asking him what the heck was going on.

as he entered the bathroom, she was sat on the toilet. her face so pale you would think she was about to pass out.

he sees her as she stares into the wall, her eyes fixed in front of her, full of fear. he notices as she bring her right hand to her throat, sliding slowly down her chest and pressing hard. he hears her breathing going faster and heavier, like she couldn’t catch a full breath. her hands shaking as she tries to ground herself and not slip into the arms of her anxiety.

jj had no idea of what an anxiety attack looked like, he had been fortunate enough to never had one, but he always thought they had to feel awful for whoever got them. but seeing her, his sweet little sunshine, shaking all over the place and being surrounded by a cloud of darkness around her, made his heart break into a thousand millions pieces. he wanted to help her, but he didn’t know how to do it in the right way. he just wanted to do something, and so he did.

“sunshine, hey. baby, look at me. c’mon lemme see your pretty eyes.” he kneeled in front of her, placing both of his hands on her knees and gently rubbing his thumbs against them.

everything was spinning around her, thoughts racing with all the emotions she bottled up and all the fears she always had. she couldn’t stop them, it felt like she was going to be swallowed up by a black vortex. but then she heard his voice, it was like hearing an angel talking. her gaze slowly shifted from the white wall to his eyes, his gorgeous blue eyes, usually shining like stars when they looked at her, but now they were the depiction of concern. she felt a sharp feeling of guiltiness running through her your veins, because the last thing she wanted was to make him sad.

“that’s it, baby. you are so pretty, my pretty girl.” he gave her a soft smile, slowly moving his hands from her knees to her thighs. he wanted to pull her close and hug her, but one time— and thank god for him and the one time jj actually listened to what he said— pope told him that when people had anxiety or panic attacks, most of the time they didn’t wanted to be touched. so, instead of being the usual impulsive jj he was with everyone, he took baby steps with her, not wanting to scare her or make her even more anxious.

her breath was slowly calming down, but the aching in your chest and the lump in her throat were still there, still feeling like she was going to suffocate any moment now, but jj pulled her out of her thoughts again.

“alright pretty girl, i need you to do something for me, ‘kay? i need you to take deep breaths with me, i know it’s hard but i’m here. you’re safe, i won’t let anything happen to you. breathe with me, baby.” his voice was so sweet and gentle, she actually thought she was going to cry because of how soft he was speaking to her and how he was trying to handle the situation. she nodded slightly, following his example as he took one deep breath and then exhaled. one deep breath and exhaled. inhale and exhale. and they went on, and on, until the tension she felt before started to leave her body, making her shoulders and back relax and her hands stop shaking.

jj didn’t say anything this time, he just looked as she regained consciousness of her surroundings. even though the attack was gone, it usually took hours before she could actually calm down completely. it was hard and she always handled them alone, but this time having him with her felt like a blessing from heaven.

feeling like she had just been pulled out of a dark hole, she launched herself into his arms, wrapping hers around his neck. he let out a sigh as soon as he felt her flesh touch his own, his arms reaching for her hips and his face buried deep into the crook of her neck. they stayed like this for a almost twenty minutes. he only pulled her in tighter, not wanting to let go of her because he knew as long as she was into his arms, she was safe.

30 minutes later they were laying next to each other in the hammock, her head resting on his chest, the sound of his heart beating calming her, like a lullaby. his hands were both placed on her back, rubbing small circles against the thin fabric of her shirt.

jj really didn’t want to break the peacefulness that surrounded them, but he had to ask her why she never told him anything. he felt like he was failing at being her best friend. “why did you never tell me?” his voice was low, sounding almost like a whisper.

“i- i don’t know. i didn’t want to bother anyone, didn’t want to be a burden.” jj stopped moving his hands on her back, instantly lifting his head to look at her.

“okay, know that i’m not mad, but, firstly, i’m not anyone. i’m your best friend, you would never be a burden to me.” his hands moved to her cheeks, lifting her face. “i’ve been through hell and back these past weeks. not seeing you, not talking to you for more than 5 minutes on the phone, not touching you. it nearly killed me, y/n. i was always on the edge of a breakdown, constantly snapping at everyone because i didn’t know how you were doing. were you safe? were you alright? not knowing made me go insane.”

he stopped for a moment to catch his breath. he was pouring his heart out, which he never do, but he just felt like he had to do it now. “and i’m not saying this to make you feel guilty, that’s the last thing i want. i just wish for you to know how much you mean to me. you’re the most important person in my life, you’re my best friend, my ride or die, my partner in crime. you- you’re my first love, and hopefully you’ll be my last one too.”

her eyes went wide at his words, and honestly she thought she heard him wrong. “jj, what- what are you saying?”

“i know the night wasn’t perfect, but please just lemme say this now because i don’t know when i’ll get the same courage again. i love you, y/n. i love everything about you. i love that weird sound you make when you laugh too much, i love how your eyes shine when you’re talking about things you like, i love how after surfing your hair become all curly. hell, i love even the things you do that should piss me off, like when you throw away my joint because i’ve been smoking too much or when you scream at me because i got in a fight with some kooks again. i love you so much it physically hurts.”

her eyes were watery now, tears threatening to coming out in flows. she didn’t know what to say. because seriously, what do you say to someone who sees you as the most incredible human being, when you can’t even love a quarter of yourself?

you say nothing. but you can do something.

that’s why, in the quietness of the night, under the stars and while she was feeling at peace for the first time in weeks, she closed her eyes and pressed her lips against it.

she wasn’t magically healed, she still had things to deal with. but now, she wasn’t on her own anymore.

[innerfare]

Smutty Shanks Headcanons

Summary: a collection of NSFW Shanks headcanons

Genre: pure smut

CW: oral sex, penetrative sex, slutty Shanks

———

Has a habit of asking people to join his crew when he wants to sleep with them. Beckman no longer wastes his breath trying to stop it, has simply resigned himself to the reality that his captain is a whore because… well, he is a whore. 

More than happy to share with others.

Has so much game, it’s unreal. Nobody had to teach this man how to pick people up at a bar, he was just born that way. And he has perhaps the most colorful body count of anyone in any of the seas, a list of past lovers that include pirates, marines, aristocrats, bureaucrats, and many a bar maid (there’s a green-haired one in the East Blue whom he is particularly sweet on and often finds himself reminiscing about). Gender, appearance, profession- none of this matters. If Red Hair Shanks has you in his sights, he’ll have you in his bed soon enough. 

Not the biggest dick, but above average and on the thicker side; definitely has a nice curve in it. Has never manscaped in his life, would be deeply offended if you suggested he should. He’d probably be offended if you shave, too. This man likes it natural and nasty. 

Kisses like he’s trying to swallow your tongue. Seriously, the messiest, sloppiest kisser, aims to swap as much saliva as possible with you; the type to share chewing gum with you. This holds true for when he goes down on you, too. 

Speaking of going down on you, he’s religious about it. He swears your pussy is a hangover cure and he’ll have a headache all day if he doesn’t get to taste you. You’ll end up with a rash on your inner thighs from his stubble, but if that’s the case, he’ll just bend you over and lick your cunt from behind to give your inner thighs a break. As much as the stubble bothers you at first, you quickly reach a point where you don’t think you’d be able to cum if a clean-shaven man put his face between your legs. 

Sometimes gets a case of whiskey dick (happens far more often than he’d ever admit), but he always makes it up to you come morning- to the point you’ve assured him repeatedly there’s no need (help, you’re so sore), but he feels he has something to prove. His whiskey dick isn’t even straight up dysfunction because he can still get hard, he just can’t cum, so even though he’ll fuck you good and make you cum, he feels like you haven’t been fucked properly until he’s finished inside you. 

Has a bit of a Jekyll and Hyde thing going on in that there are two versions of him in bed: 1) the easygoing drunk who is more than happy to lay back and let you do all the work while he watches your tits bounce (Shanks is a titties man, it’s practically canon), and 2) the pirate emperor who will pound mercilessly into you from behind, hands digging into your hips so hard they leave bruises. 

You always know when the pirate emperor is going to be the man waiting for you in bed that night based on how many jokes he cracks over dinner/drinks. If he’s in rare form, making even more jokes than usual, leaving the entire crew keeled over in laughter, he’ll be bending you over and snapping his hips against yours for a solid hour; basically, if Lucky Roux laughs until he cries, you are about to get fucked. Once you notice this pattern, you realize he makes eye contact with you while the crew is distracted by whatever joke he just told, and he always has a wicked gleam in his eye, as if his Conqueror’s Haki might just rear its powerful head. 

Pirate emperor Shanks is willing to risk it all, too. He’s not going to wait until his cabin door is shut to start tearing your clothes off. He’s not going to tell you to keep it down in case the crew overhears. He’s not going to double check you took your birth control that morning. He’s just going to fuck you, and you’re just going to take it. 

That being said, he’s never rough with you when you blow him. Blowjobs actually bring out the sweetest version of Shanks there is, the version who tells you to pace yourself and smiles brightly when he cums. He’ll hold your hair back for you, being very careful not to tangle it, and be sure not to thrust his hips forward; not into face fucking. 

Has the most ridiculous nicknames for you outside the bedroom, and these carry over into the bedroom, too. His favorite is to call you his red panda. Sometimes uses these silly nicknames to break some of the tension. 

Your most common position is with you on top, but his favorite position is prone bone. He likes your body flat against the mattress with his on top of you while he bottoms out inside. He’ll make you cross your ankles, too, so he can get even deeper. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[alchemistc]

You never let me in, Buck sends, two of three sheets fully winded, and when he kicks his leg over the coffee table he nearly knocks over three empties.

They do this thing, right? Buck gets upset and before the tears can fall, because he's cried too many fucking times already, he makes himself angry. Picks at something that has come up every time he's done a post-mortem on the last six months.

And then he sends that shit to Tommy. Because - because who the fuck else is he supposed to talk to about it? The guy who'd sucked him off in the hallway of a nightclub two weeks ago? The woman who'd spent an hour quietly helping Buck understand that yeah, he was very much bi, and yeah, some people did not like that shit? Maddie, or Chim, or Hen or Eddie, who still might interact with him on the job? Bobby? Fuck, not Bobby.

Bobby who'd blinked at Buck and offered platitudes and apologized to Buck like it was somehow his fault Tommy was good people but he was the kind of good people who just walked out on something that could have been something.

I should have pushed more. I know I should have. I just thought since I was trying to share everything, you were too.

My mistake.

Three months and Buck isn't over it. He's far enough into the mourning process that he thinks this one is always gonna sting, and not for the reasons Tommy thinks.

That's not fair. I'm sorry.

The texts get delivered. Tommy reads them. Buck's had read receipts on since the first time Tommy went quiet on a call and Buck freaked out a little - but back then they were still working towards something. Back then, sometimes Tommy would pull out his phone and open the thread just to give Buck sign of life.

He was always doing that. Heading shit off at the pass.

Buck had just never realized he'd be able to do it to hurt him, just as well as take care of him.

Every four weeks like clockwork Buck gets a response. He has no fucking idea why it's four weeks, what the third Thursday of the month has to do with Tommy feeling gracious enough to give Buck some clarity. He'd never known enough about Tommy, is the thing he's coming around to. He'd done everything he could to bring Tommy in, make him a part, and Tommy had let him. Tommy had distracted him with quippy words and a clever tongue and with being so fucking willing to be integrated into Buck's life that Buck just - hadn't noticed.

No one will say it, but he Bucked It Up in the worst kind of way.

He's waited until Third Thursday to send these texts. He actually hasn't sent anything at all, until this moment, and he wonders if Tommy noticed. If he cared. Tommy picks and chooses from Buck's random thoughts, parses out details like he's reading from a manual and Buck is off topic two thirds of the time. Buck doesn't actually know why he's been answering, all this time. He wonders if, in the last four weeks of silence, he thought he was finally done with Buck.

He wonders if it had hurt.

Buck sets his phone down to stand, skating across to the kitchen in his socks for the pizza rolls in the oven.

His diet is shit. His body feels like crap. He's one more drunken nights sleep on the couch away from emptying the rack in his fridge down the drain and giving sobriety a try. The last person he'd slept with had hinted that they'd prefer not to use condoms and Buck had almost let them.

Buck has worth. He knows he does. It's just sometimes when he remembers that every person he's ever loved has either walked out on him or let him walk away when he needed them, he struggles to find that worth.

His life has meaning, and all that jazz.

Buck sort of wonders if Tommy hasn't finally blocked his number, as he tosses a too-hot pizza roll in his mouth and huffs on the lava cheese burning his tongue. After the last message Buck had sent, three weeks ago, he wouldn't exactly be surprised.

(This is basically just an unhinged grief journal with an unreliable second narrator. Do you know what it's like to realize you're still in love with someone who never let you know them?)

There's been no response to that. Fair. Buck hadn't even actually said the words. No, he'd jumped right into the sharing a life part, cart before the horse as always when emotions were high.

The pizza rolls get tipped onto a plate and are immediately swimming in the heavy pour of ranch he'd prepared after he set the oven to preheat.

It cools them off a lot quicker than popping a hole in each seam and waiting.

It's been eight years since Buck has really even thought about that little trick.

When he opens his phone there's no response. No receipt. Just stark words waiting to be acknowledged.

I gave you my family, Tommy. You didn't even introduce me to your team at Harbor.

It's startling to realize after the fact. He doubts Tommy had meant it that way, but he'd basically spent six months being love bombed only to have the rug ripped right out from under his feet.

And yet. Months later and he still wants to know. Know why. Know how he could have done it, with tears in his eyes, with full awareness that it was already gonna hurt. Know Tommy - anything he'd part with, really, that wasn't something every random acquaintance also knew.

Cool, he'd been jealous of what Buck and the 118 had. (Buck had tried to give him that. Or at least he thought he had.)

Great, he didn't talk to his dad and Gerrard was a shitty captain. (Buck had spent an hour once explaining the first time he and his dad had spoken about Daniel without screaming at each other. Tommy had listened to the rants about Gerrard and offered physical comfort and a 'sounds like him' and Buck had just been so relieved to have an ally amongst the 'life is just like this sometimes' crowd that he'd never examined that.)

He was a Kinsey six who'd been engaged to the first woman Buck had ever really loved and they'd never dug deeper than that.

And Buck had apparently interpreted some of the shit he'd said that night wrong, but he still doesn't think it's fucking fair that Tommy can't trust him to know his own fucking mind well enough to know he hates sleeping around and he'd found the sort of connection he was looking for. He'd found it. Even with the lack of reciprocation. Even with the quiet behind Tommy's eyes that he'd never let Buck in on. Even with the -

His phone buzzes on the coffee table.

Can we talk?

Buck kinda hates those words in that order now. They'd been the start of something twice, but they'd always been leading to an end, if Tommy had his way.

Once every four weeks, apparently, Buck sends back and takes a vicious bite.

His phone chimes with an incoming call.

Buck stares at the name he hasn't had the stomach to remove the little heart from. Lets it ring through to voicemail and then shoves three more pizza rolls into his mouth and doesn't care if they burn off his taste buds.

His phone rings again.

"What?"

"I'm outside your building. Didn't want to make any assumptions that I'd be welcome without asking first."

Buck can feel his ribs cracking under the lurch of angry laughter. "What the hell?"

"Well the parking around here is miserable again, so I figure that's a sign."

"Are you driving right now?"

"Hands off. I'm on Bluetooth. So. Should I circle the building a fifth time or call it now and go home?"

Buck gets stuck on fifth time.

There's no way he hadn't been driving since at least before Buck sent that first text.

Buck sighs. There's absolutely no reason to be hopeful about that. For all he knows, Tommy has just decided dousing any residual flames is just another thing he has to do in person.

"My Jeep's in the shop. I'll buzz you into the garage."

Tommy's silent for a long, long moment. The quip comes anyway. "I keep telling you that thing is a money pit."

"I'm not really feeling the flirty banter, right now, Tommy, so maybe just let me know when you're at the gate."

He does. He hangs up the phone twenty seconds later with a plain "See you soon."

Buck doesn't have time to change. Fix his hair. Hide the sheet pan with half a dozen pizza rolls still laying on it, because he'd cooked way too many again.

(He could absolutely do one of these things but if Tommy's gonna throw this at him, he's getting every little slovenly habit Bucks's picked up since he walked out that door.)

The knock comes while Buck's shoving the last two rolls on his plate into his mouth.

He's still chewing with his mouth open to blow out the steam when he swings the door open, and Buck feels the first inklings of pleasure ripple through him at the sight of Tommy.

He looks like shit.

"You look like shit."

Tommy's brow ticks up. He stares pointedly at the glob of not-cheese that's going to absolutely ruin this sweatshirt.

"That tends to happen when you spend an hour in an armchair two sizes too small picking at trauma you've been hiding from your therapist for six years."

Buck opens the door wider. Holy crap. Tommy might legitimately be more fucked up than Buck.

Tommy's smile is strained. "Can I come in?"

Buck holds his gaze. His eyes are a little red. He's got a red spot along the side of his neck, like he's been rubbing at it. Buck only recognizes it as a comforting motion because he's replayed him doing it half a million times right before he ended things.

"Depends. Is this the last time you respond to my mean, rude, asshole texts for an hour after therapy rubs you raw?" Third Thursday Therapy, is apparently what does it. Buck is - god. He just wants -

"God, I hope not," Tommy says, and Buck takes a step to the side to let Tommy in.

[cllightning81]

Positive P2 [LN4]

Summary : Surprising Lando after a race with the results to your pregnancy test

Pairing/s: Lando Norris x Reader

Word Count:

Warning/s: Pregnancy, Talk of not being able to have kids

Watching Lando with kids has always been a beautiful sight. However, watching Lando with Mila and Athena was a totally different experience. There was a different connection watching the two of them. Normally, kids cried when they saw Lando because their hero was right in front of them, but with Mila and Athena, he was just ‘Lala’ and not Lando Norris. 

The video of Lando playing with Mila when she was just a little baby throwing his phone about the place had started to circulate your social media; it only made your baby fever start to grow.

You were due to meet Lando at the paddock as he had gone a little early for the media and you just wanted to lie in but it wasn’t until you felt ill that you messaged Lando asking if he had time to quickly come back to the hotel after stopping at the shop for something. To which he replied obviously still in that state of life where you could ask him to murder someone, and he would. 

There was very little chance you could actually be pregnant with not only you and Lando being extremely careful but with you being told that there was little chance of you ever getting pregnant throughout your life but with your baby fever and how you were feeling everything pointed towards that actually maybe coming true. 

Lando had wanted to wait and see the results but you knew that he couldn’t or he’d get fined so you forced him out of the hotel room telling him that he’d be the first person to know. Except he wouldn’t be. If the test came back positive, you had the perfect way to tell him. 

But when you saw that positive result that’s when you panicked, you never thought you’d actually see the day when that test actually came back positive after many years of being told it would never happen. 

Now, standing in the Mclaren motorhome, you still hadn't told Lando the results. You didn’t want to stress him out before a race. Never mind a race when he was starting on the front row with the chance of winning but you did tell Zak knowing the perfect way to tell him after a good or bad race and hopefully he’d be happy with the news. 

Lando finished P2 just as he started. No one was getting past Max Verstappen any time soon, so it was basically a win for him, and you knew he’d say that when asked about it. Zak waved you over, and you walked over to the pit wall standing behind him as he placed his headphones over your ears and pressed the radio button for Lando’s car. Nodding to you with a smile 

“Hey baby. That’s a positive P2” You hummed, hoping he’d catch on to what you were saying without Sky or F1TV or any other showings catching it. 

“Positive?” He asked with a frown. You could hear the frown on his face

“Wait? What are you doing on the radio?” Now very confused as to everything 

“Yep. Positive P2” You smiled

“Zak let me tell you your position for the day” You looked at Zak, who was smiling at you 

“Oh my god, Y/N. This is brilliant. I love you so much!” He exclaimed 

“I’ll see you at the podium baby” You gave Zak his headphones back 

“Got a podium to get to. Let’s go” He smiled, and you walked with him. Zak’s more than just the CEO to you and Lando. He was always a phone call away if anything went wrong or if you didn’t travel out to a race and couldn’t get a hold of Lando the next best person to call was Zak because he’d always answer. 

Zak would invite you, Lando, Oscar, and Lily out for food whenever he got the chance or would send you little gifts during Christmas or your birthday. He was kinda like a father figure to you both. Standing watching the podium next to Zak, you could see how big the smile on Lando’s face was compared to normal. 

Meeting Lando back in his driving room, you were instantly wrapped in a hug with his hands landing on your stomach as he kissed your neck from behind 

“I can’t believe it, baby. You’re serious, right? We’re going to have a baby? I got the message, right?” He asked, and you nodded 

“I’m very serious. We're going to have a baby. I’m so glad you got that message, though. I was a little worried you wouldn’t understand what I was saying” You smiled, turning in his arms as he kissed you properly this time. 

“Oh my god, a little baby. Oh love you’re parent’s. They’re gonna be so happy they’re getting a grandbaby” Lando was very excited as he basically jumped around the room like a little kid in a sweet shop. 

“If it’s okay with you, I don’t want to tell anyone for a few months” you whispered, sitting down on the couch in his driver's room. Lando looked over at you

“Whatever you want” He smiled, and you nodded 

“After being told I probably would never have kids, I don’t want to tell people. There’s a risk that everything might go wrong and I don’t want to tell everyone we’re having a kid to be reminded that actually we aren’t” You explained quietly and he wrapped you in a hug 

“Whatever you want to do we will do darling but I do know that I love you very much and whatever happens will never change my mind but we’ll do it together” He smiled kissing you around your face causing you to giggle from his stubble tickling your skin 

Tag List

@bearryyy

@thewannabewriter

@lozzamen3

@barcelonaloverf1life

@hiireadstuff

@mxdi0

@f1kenzzz

@evie-119

[rainylana]

“Somebody else.”

Modern!bully!Eddie Munson x fem!reader

summary: your bully realizes he’s in love with you.

warnings: god i love this so much and i’m so pleased with how it turned out. it’s short, but i’m in love with it! bully!eddie, mentions of drinking and getting high, drunk and high sex but it’s consensual, enemies to lovers, some brief smut and groping, heavy making out, this is based of my last relationship lol i basically lived this whole fic lmao. reader and eddie are over 18! based on my favorite song somebody else by the 1975!

He hates you. At lease he thought he did. It had been that way since he could remember. So why, all of a sudden, was he looking at you like that? 

Eddie never looked at you like another human being. He treated you like a toy, something to play with and keep him busy, but when he got bored, he tossed you to the side like you meant nothing.

He got off on being mean to you, that should have been his first clue. Pulling your hair in class, tripping you in the hallway, copying your homework, taking most of your food at lunch.

He seemed to thrive off making you miserable, gaining pleasure on those days where he could see his antics were getting to you more than they usually did.

The only one who saw through this was Steve, who dared not to say anything, because he knew how Eddie would react, and you’d pay for it in the end. He kept his mouth shut, but he knew the truth.

And apparently, so did Eddie tonight.

You looked so carefree. So..peaceful and without a single care in the world. You looked beautiful, he came to realize, staring at you from across the room, back to the wall and cigarette hanging from his lips.

It was the annual end of the year party at Steve’s house, one where almost everyone in town would show up at. Even Eddie. He only did because he knew you’d be there. His second clue.

The dance floor was crowded, yet Eddie could only seem to focus on you. Your face glowed in shades of flashing colors, purple, red’s and blue’s as you danced, hands in the air as you twirled and spun in circles, legs kicking out and hips swinging side to side.

“I don’t want your body but I hate to think about you with somebody else”

The speakers screamed the lyrics of Somebody Else by The 1975, a song you had requested. Eddie had never heard of it before, but after tonight, he’d never be able to get it out of his head, not with the scene you displayed for him.

“Our love has gone cold, you’re intertwining your soul with somebody else”

He was high, that’s what it was. He was stoned out of his mind and drunk. He wasn’t looking at you anymore, blinking as quickly as he could around the room, clearing his throat. He was hidden in the corner of the room, his face glowing red from the disco ball at his side, red solo cup in hand with some sort of mysterious liquid that burned on the way down.

But his eyes found you again. He couldn’t help it.

“I’m looking through you while you’re looking through your phone and then leaving with somebody else”

Steve was watching Eddie. He was watching both of you, but especially Eddie. The way his eyes wouldn’t leave you, the way his fingers clenched around the plastic cup when you moved your hips a certain way. He smirked, making his way across the room. Eddie barely noticed his presence.

“Make your move, Munson.” Steve clapped his hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze of encouragement before returning to the spiked punch bowl.

Eddie didn’t have words to speak, giving Harrington a glance before his eyes were back on your body.

“No, I don’t want your body but I’m picturing your body with somebody else”

Images flashed in his eyes, recalling the days he spent bullying you in school, the days you cried and broke down when he’d said one too many things. He gulped, suddenly feeling very foolish of himself. Make your move, Munson. He had no move to make, did he?

The chorus repeated and you let your head lull back, eyes closed as if the lyrics were speaking to you like they were to him. He wasn’t the only one who thought you looked beautiful. His attention flickered to the strange man, a man he did not recognize, making his way through the crowd to dance with you.

He swallowed hard, shaking his head. You were his and his alone. You always had been. It seemed tonight was the night he needed to tell you that.

The song turned to the instrumental beat as he shoved everyone out of the way, heavy boots tapping against the hardwood floor. “Excuse me.” He very much rudely shoved your fellow dance partner to the side, ignoring his exclamation, including yours.

“I Don’t want your body but I hate to think about you with somebody else”

“Eddie!” Your eyes widened, voice barely audible over the loud music.

“Our love has gone cold, you’re intertwining your soul with somebody else”

His thick, large hands grabbed at your face, pulling you into his mouth with a hot, desperate kiss that screamed I love you, I always have. The song continued to play and he continued to kiss you, the beat dropped and you kissed back, the initial shock wearing off and realizing just exactly who it was that was kissing you.

You pushed him back, but only briefly, the look of fear across his face before you jumped back into his arms.

“I’m looking through you while you’re looking through your phone and then leaving with somebody else”

Your lips molded together like a piece of sculpted clay, tongues dancing like everyone else in the room, noses fitting together lockets.

His hand was dropping from your face to grab your hand, dragging you through the crowd and upstairs. Neither of you said a word, heart in your throat as you practically ran to keep up with him. He slammed the door to a spare room, a room he’d drunkenly slept in many nights, and pushed you against the wall.

The music vibrated underneath you, and you could hear the lyrics continue your favorite song. His mouth was on you again, lifting up your thighs to wrap around his torso.

“You dance with me,” He husked between deep, sloppy kisses. “and only me. Got it?”

You whimpered into the kiss, pressing your hips where your clothed heat met his groin. “Yes.” You nodded furiously. “Only you.”

“Only me.” He barely whispered, repeating you quickly as his hands slipped down to your ass, carrying you to the bed behind him. He dropped you, roughly yanking down your panties with a quick movement that had your head feeling fuzzy.

His full hand cupped your pussy, feeling you briefly before he was pulling out his cock. He couldn’t wait. The song was still playing, and he could see the way your lips twitched the lyrics as he thrusted into you sharply, dragging a long moan from you as you pushed up the bed.

“Somebody else.” You barely choked out the words, drunk yourself, as you both fucked each other.

[joemama-2]

men who get nearly, if not as emotional as you during sex.

okay so think about it, they wouldn’t usually label themselves as emotional or sensitive. they’re supposed to be strong with sometimes a mask of indifference. they’ve only ever shed tears a handful of times in their life. not many things can make them break down so easily. but you know what does?

your warm, slippery cunt.

if there was one drug they would be addicted to, it would be your soft walls that eagerly suck him right back in. the first time it happened, he actually thought he died and came back to life. but no, the hot tears that land in your cheek as your sprawled out beneath him bring him back to reality.

maybe it’s just because it’s the first time, he thinks.

again, no.

it happens every time. it’s almost annoying and maddening. it’s like a switch flips in his brain, his mind, and soul once he’s deep in you, pounding you like he needs to. over time, you caught onto the tears and wrecked expression on his face and god, it somehow gets you even more wet.

“shh, shh. please, please be more quiet.” he whispers pathetically against your lips, his own trembling ones having to kiss your moans down. his tears coat your skin as he works simultaneously at keeping your mouth shut, but also being the reason as to why you need it shut in the first place.

“please baby, god…y-you feel so good.”

his sobs and cries make you pull him closer by either his face, shoulders, or neck, whispering soft and sweet praises into his ear. you think you’re helping, but you’re really not. if anything, you’re making him cry more.

but he’s not the only one shedding tears. you’ve always been a crybaby and he used every chance he gets to tease you about it. that consists of him scaring you too much even when he wasn’t even trying to in the first place, stubbing your toe into a stubborn corner, watching a scene you know will make you cry, or when he raises his voice at you.

you always cry.

you think it’s karma for him chastising you for not being able to go five seconds without the waterworks when he can’t even go one pump without sobbing like a desperate man.

your guys’ tears mix together into a slobby mess and sex with him is never clean. it always ends with rags being used to clean whatever liquid was emitted or squirted during the entirety of it.

however at the same time, sex with him is different. it’s magical, as stupid as it sounds. it’s completely pure and it’s love in its most precious form.

his tears showcase the ever loving amount of affection he has for you.

“ ‘m gonna cum….” he breathlessly mutters. “cum with me, please baby. i need it.”

he begs like a man in heat.

but like the sweet girl you are, you always give in, always finishing with him.

————————————————

jjk: gojo, nanami, ijichi, choso, ino, getou, higuruma, maybe toji?

[charlottesbookclub]

i'm here (ser gwayne hightower x reader) 💚💚

Summary: you have a nightmare, but gwayne is there to comfort you 💚

Warnings/Tags: spouse!reader; gn!reader; established relationship (marriage); nightmares; angst/anxiety brought on by the nightmares; absolutely catastrophic levels of tooth-rotting fluff; let me know if I've missed anything! ☺️

Words: 2870

Author’s Note: as I mentioned in this post, gwayne hightower has absolutely consumed my life and I am down sooooooo bad for him rn, so voilá, this fic has emerged as a result of that! 💕 as I also say in that linked post, I'm not super familiar with hotd, so I'm sorry if any of the terms I use aren't canon-accurate (I watched game of thrones a few years ago and I tried my best to make it feel authentic to the world of canon, but something may have slipped through 😅). and I hope this feels in-character to gwayne! I've rewatched the scenes of his that I have access to many times for...... uhh ~Research Purposes~ but I haven't seen all his scenes yet, so I apologize if it feels ooc at all – I did my best to make it feel like him! 🥰

oh and this is key: we've all seen the necklace, right?? we know about the necklace, right????? that fucking necklace makes me absolutely feral so I've given it a backstory, because it truly has me foaming at the fucking mouth 😌 (also, if you haven't seen the necklace, may I please direct you to this incredible gifset so we can descend into madness over it together?)

as always, I hope you enjoy!! 🥰🥰 (also please feel free to share any gwayne thoughts you have – I'd love to scream about the precious man with y'all! ☺️💕)

            The memory was not yours, but in this moment, it felt like it was. Gwayne had only told you the story once, with hushed words and averted eyes. You had asked, and he could never find it in himself to keep anything from you, even if it made his chest seize with shame. He told you that the whole ordeal had been a result of foolishness on his part, something he would admit only to you. He said that he recalled the memory with great embarrassment now. But you felt nothing but terror.

            You stood on a large, grassy plain ringed with trees, a few wispy clouds scuddling across the blue sky above you. This was a place you had never seen, never been – but one thing was familiar. As you struggled to gain your bearings in the strange location, you saw a group of men on horseback just a short distance ahead. You recognized your lord husband instantly: the delicate silver interlace of his steed’s armor and the auburn glow of his hair in the sunlight were as familiar to you as your own heartbeat.

            You called out to him, but he didn’t respond; he seemed to be in conversation with one of the other men. You ran toward the small group and cried his name again, but even at close range he appeared not to hear you. Panic grew in your chest by the moment as you hurried closer still, coming near enough that you could almost reach out and touch Gwayne’s mount. You stretched out your hand to do just that when your arm was stopped by some invisible force. There was nothing in front of you, just empty air that you should have been able to move through with no difficulty. But you were trapped mere feet from your beloved, unable to reach him.

            Something was terribly wrong. You screamed his name this time, desperation compressing your lungs with the force of your yell. But it was clear that he could not hear you, since neither he nor any of the gathered men so much as turned toward the sound of your cries. Real fear gripped you now, shooting ice through your veins as you cast about you for something – anything – that you could do. And that was when a new kind of fear crept over you, one so old and visceral you could feel it down to your very bones. Shudders wracked your body as you turned your eyes toward the sky, suddenly certain that you were being watched. But not just watched – no, you were being hunted.

            At a loss for what else you could do, you renewed your efforts to alert Gwayne to the danger that you could feel but not yet see. You screamed until your voice was hoarse, but you were forced to watch in horror as Gwayne continued his conversation as though nothing was wrong, even flashing that charming smile that you knew and loved so well. It was just then that the other man finally noticed that something was wrong. He cast his eyes toward the sky as you had mere moments before, saying something to the gathered men. A wave of fear seemed to run through the horses, as there was a flurry of shifting hooves and nervous snorts. You could only watch in terror as realization washed over Gwayne’s face, twisting his handsome features into a terrifying expression of horror.

            You screamed at him to run just as everything burst into motion, the horses tearing off across the plain toward the cover of the trees. You found yourself moving along with them, though you had no mount of your own. Instead, it was the same terrible invisible force, dragging you along, forcing you to watch as the scene unfolded before you.

            And then you saw it: the dragon. It swooped down from the sky as though it had erupted into existence from nothing, filling the empty air with huge grey wings that seemed to blot out the sun. You screamed again, but this time without the intention of forming any coherent words – the noise that escaped your throat was an expression of the fear that was buried deep in your bones upon the sight of the creature. Its lean body shot across the plain toward the fleeing men with a kind of focus and intention that proved what you had thought from the beginning: the dragon was hunting. And worse than that, it was hunting Gwayne.

            Voice rubbed raw from screaming, and realizing your cries to him did nothing anyway, you watched in terrible silence as his steed thundered across the ground, its legs eating up the distance as fast as it could. And yet the dragon gained. If this was some cruel trick played by the gods, you couldn’t think what you could possibly have done to deserve this kind of torment. You could do nothing but watch, utterly powerless, as Gwayne – your Gwayne – fled for his life, his beautiful face contorted into an expression of fear that cut you to the core like a knife to the stomach. You held your breath, fearing each moment would be the one when you were forced to watch your love be consumed by dragonfire, ending both his life and yours in one swift blow of unimaginable anguish and heartbreak from which you knew you would never recover. Just as you had resolved to try calling to him one last time – if nothing else, to assure him of your love – the treeline broke around you and the horses cantered to a stop beneath the cover of the forest.

            The world was still again, but the fear lingered. You could sense the dragon above you, even hear its thin, unearthly cries as it searched for its hidden quarry. Your eyes instantly found Gwayne, needing to make sure he had survived the ordeal. Indeed, he still sat upon his steed, and you watched his chest heave as he attempted to steady his breathing. The fear that still permeated the forest remained etched on his face as well, changing his features from those of the man you had courted and married to those of a young boy, trembling and horror-struck and so helpless and small.

            You longed with every fiber of your being to run up to him and pull him into your arms, to feel his warm breath on your neck as he folded into your embrace. You ached to hold his face in your hands and wipe away the single lingering tear he likely didn’t even know was still glistening on his cheek. You yearned to kiss the terror away from his brow and his nose and his lips, to tell him he was safe – to tell him that you were here. 

            But you were trapped just feet from him, all these longings locked into your body as you pressed toward him as far as the strange invisible barrier would allow. You watched as the fear slowly faded from his face, his features once again becoming warm and familiar. You couldn’t help but smile as he seemed to return to himself somewhat. Turning to one of his companions, he opened his mouth to say something when both of their eyes snapped up to the sky, reacting to some sound you must not have heard. You followed their gaze, and didn’t even have a chance to scream as a column of fire descended from above, ready to devour you all.

            You woke with a gasp. Your heart was pounding loudly enough that you could hear it in your ears, and you pushed yourself up into a sitting position as you struggled to calm your ragged breathing. The darkness in the room was soft, and your eyes adjusted slowly to your surroundings, only to find them all comforting and familiar – this was your room, your home. Instantly, you turned to your side, and let out a small sigh of relief when you saw Gwayne sleeping peacefully next to you. He was here, he was home, he was safe – you both were.

            When your breathing had calmed back to a normal rate, you eased yourself back down under the covers, burrowing into his arms as he sleepily adjusted his position to accommodate you.

            “Hmmm—is everything… alright?” he muttered, blinking his eyes open.

            “Everything’s fine,” you assured him, “I just had a nightmare.”

            He seemed to waken a little more at your words, propping himself up slightly on one arm as he reached the other hand out to stroke your cheek.

            “Are you alright? Do you want to talk about it?” his voice was still thick with sleep, but you knew the questions were genuine.

            “It was about you,” you reached up to cup his hand that still rested on your cheek, intertwining his fingers with yours. “And the dragon,” you added, your words barely above a whisper. Hearing his sharp intake of breath, you were certain he was reliving the memory himself, and instantly regretted your words.

            “But it was nothing,” you hurried to assure him, “I just—I just wish I had been there. Or that I could have helped or—” you were distinctly aware that your jumbled words made very little sense, even to you. “I just felt so helpless,” you ended with a sigh. Gwayne watched you with soft eyes, his fingers squeezing yours in reassurance.

            “You were there, though,” he responded, smiling gently, “and you did help.” You just stared at him incredulously, wondering if he was the one who was dreaming now. He read the question in your eyes with a small chuckle and disentangled his hand from yours, pushing himself up to sit. 

            Pressing a hand to his chest, his fingers found the chain of the necklace that he always wore. The charm was a delicate circle of beaten metal hanging from a simple coppery chain. You had bought it in the market one day when the two of you were still courting. The rich auburn sheen of the metal had reminded you of Gwayne’s hair, and you were determined to have it. The seller assured you that the little ring symbolized unending love and devotion – a never-ending cycle, an unbroken vow. You were doubtful that had been the original intention of the maker, but rather a ploy on the seller’s part to drive up the price after he realized you intended it as a gift for your beloved. Had it been that obvious how love-struck you were? 

            Regardless of whether it was intended or not, you liked the idea of the simple circle as a token of promise and loyalty, as well as a celebration of one of Gwayne’s most striking features. You had given it to him wrapped in a carefully-embroidered handkerchief when he had gallantly asked for your favor before a tourney. You cherished the memory of him asking you to help him put it on, and the fleeting touch of his skin and flaming hair you were able to steal as you clasped it around his neck. He won the tourney, and insisted that his victory was due at least in part to the precious charm you had given him, imbued with your affection and devotion. To your knowledge, he had never taken it off since.

            Now, in the dim light of your shared chambers, he held the little ring out for you to see. It was slightly more battered now than it had been, and though its original shine was gone, it still seemed to glow with a warm coppery light. Reaching out, you took the small circle in your fingers, feeling all the tiny knicks and ridges it had acquired over time, each one of them proof of Gwayne’s promise to always return to you – an unbroken vow.

            “See, you’re always with me, right here,” he gestured to the charm in your fingers. The feeling of the metal against your skin and the sweet memories that swirled through your mind caused tears to prick at the corners of your eyes, chasing away the lingering cobwebs of fear that the nightmare had spun. Gently, you released the ring and Gwayne’s fingers replaced yours on the circle, guiding it back to where it always sat on his chest, just above his heart. He pressed it there, emphasizing his words: “right here, right where you always have been – and always will be.”

            Ducking your head away, you tried to hide the tears that were now threatening to slide down your cheeks as his words. But before you could wipe them on the sheets, Gwayne’s hand caught your chin, gently pulling him back to you, the rough pad of his thumb banishing the tears from your face. His eyes sparkled with affection and mirth, and you found yourself unable to stop yourself from echoing his smile.

            “Hmmm… it’s more serious than I thought,” he said with mock-concern, tilting your face as though he was examining it, “you appear to be desperately and madly in love with me – a very serious condition indeed.”

            You couldn’t help the laugh that spilled out of your mouth as you nudged him playfully, causing him to break into bright chuckles of his own. Your chest, which just moments ago had been compressed with terror, was now so full of love and happiness you were certain it might burst.

            “And tell me, Ser Gwayne, what is the cure for this most dire of conditions?” you matched his tone of feigned worry as your laughter subsided.

            “Hmmm,” he rubbed his chin thoughtfully, unable to hide the dimples forming on his cheeks, proof of his barely-suppressed smile, “perhaps marriage? I have heard many esteemed lords claim that the institution of matrimony is bound to cure an ailment such as yours.”

            “Oh, but I fear I’ve tried that,” you exclaimed, “and it has only made my condition worse.”

            “Then this is indeed one of the most serious cases I’ve ever seen.” He pondered for a moment, then his eyes lit up: “There is one more cure, but it’s risky. You could try true love’s kiss. One does read about those sorts of things working miracles after all.”

            “What’s the risk?”

            “The risk is that the kiss renders your condition utterly uncurable by any other means.” Gwayne’s lips tilted up into your favorite lopsided smile as he grinned at you, dimples glowing like twin suns, sending the delicate freckles on his face colliding into each other like falling stars.

            “That’s a risk I’m more than willing to take,” you breathed as he reached out to cup your face and bring it close to his. You closed your eyes as your lips met in a burst of warm sunlight that seemed to fill your whole body with its radiance. You weren’t sure how long you remained pressed against him, feeling his heartbeat against your skin, his auburn locks twisted in your fingers, his necklace hanging between your entwined forms. 

            “Did it work?” he whispered when he finally pulled away, his forehead still resting against yours.

            “No,” you responded happily, your fingers once again finding the thin metal of the little circular charm, “I fear I’m even more madly and desperately in love with you than before.” You met his eyes, finding them bright and soft and just as madly and desperately in love as you were certain yours were.

            “Well, I like to think of myself as chivalrous, but I don’t think I can find it in myself to regret your condition,” he whispered, a teasing smile on his face as he reached a hand up to run his fingers through your hair.

            “Nor can I,” you whispered back, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

            He pulled you fully into his grasp then, maneuvering you both back under the covers without relinquishing his hold on you. You rested on his chest, head tucked under his chin as he wrapped both arms around you. Your fingers found his necklace, and you clasped it in your hand. He echoed your motion until both of your hands were intertwined around the metal circle, resting just above his heart. You could feel it beating against your skin, and you snuggled yourself even closer to him.

            “This is what I imagine,” Gwayne said softly to the darkness, “when I’m on the road without you, and all I have is this small charm to remind me of what it feels like to rest in your embrace. This is what I dream of.” He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead and squeezed your hand where it entwined with his on the necklace. “You’re always right here.”

            “I’m always right here,” you echo, your words a promise, a vow.

            “But thank the gods I don’t have to imagine right now,” you felt his words as his lips moved against your forehead, “because I am right here.” Gwayne wrapped his arms even more tightly around you, and you gladly tucked yourself further into his warm embrace. You felt yourself drifting back into a pleasant sleep in the comfort and safety of his arms. You heard his words echo softly in the gentle quiet of the room:

            “I’m right here.”

[aurorasgate]

homecoming tears caleb x reader

my little take on calebs return because i'm too much of a baby to not have cried a lot more over it. hurt/comfort, mentions of grief, no pronouns used for reader

there’s a ringing in your ears, loud and as unsteady as the heart beating inside your chest like a drum. both of which are somewhere between too uncomfortable to be a dream and the start of a nightmare in the making. if you could think straight, calm down only a little bit, you’d have the thought to pinch yourself to wake you or tell you how real this all is. that it isn’t just your mind playing tricks on you and caleb really is right in front of you, alive and well and not going to disappear when - if - you wake up.

it continues as you go through the motions of gathering your things from the fleets barracks and follow him to his car where he helps you inside with a kind and familiar smile, one you know is meant to help calm you, until the sound makes your head ache and you reach out for calebs hand on the center console that separates you, hoping that feeling him will help ground you. it does and doesn’t. because yes, you know the warmth seeping into your palm from his soft skin, it’s your caleb who looks back at you with violet eyes that were engraved into your very soul many years ago, but for so long you’ve known you would never seen them again, never feel him again, and find it hard to quell the mix of shock that those things aren’t true any longer and the grief of losing him that has held you tightly in it’s claws since the explosion. 

his mouth moves but you can’t quite make out what he’s saying. it’s not until you feel his hand envelop yours and at the sound of your name from his lips that the ringing finally starts to lessen and his voice breaks through. “just hold on a little longer okay? we’re almost home.”

home. you haven’t had a home you two shared together in so long. no place to return to where there would be reminders he had been there too, that he would be coming back. you’d thought you never would again.

your tongue feels too heavy in your mouth and makes it hard to reply so you don’t say a word and instead take the sliver of reprieve he had given you from your head and heart ache to try to make sense of any of this, to tell yourself this isn’t a dream or a mirage and that from now on, each day you wake up, he’ll still be here with you. 

caleb survived. this whole time he’s been alive while you mourned at his grave to a point where you thought the pain of it might swallow you whole and that regret had become a permanent part of you knowing you would never get the chance to tell him how you really feel for him, to do all the things you hadn’t let yourself before. there’s so many questions sitting at the back of your throat and the bottom of your heart, so many things you don’t know how to begin to process; a clash of undeniable happiness, the healing of wounds and the way they start to bleed again until the point of pain and confusion.

your motions are little more than robotic as you get out of the car and walk behind him into the place he had called home but couldn’t be more unfamiliar to you. when you see how dark it is, barren of things you’d have thought he’d still own, you wonder how unfamiliar it might be to him too. 

standing only a few feet from the door that had closed automatically behind you, you hold your bag of things close to your chest while caleb turns on the lights. like they are the only things grounding you and keeping you from crumbling into a million tiny pieces but you don’t know how long they’ll be able to keep you together.

“go ahead and pick a room pipsqueak,” he says, setting his keys down on the kitchen counter that looks like maybe it’s never been used before but when he notices you haven’t moved from the front entryway, his tone quickly changes. “hey,” soft and comforting but it does nothing to help you right now. “what's wrong?”

clutching your bag tighter till the lumps and straps of it could imprint themselves on your skin through your clothes, you meet his worried gaze and swallow the heaviness weighing down your words. “caleb.. i..” your voice is shaky at best, a perfect symbol for the feelings swirling inside you like a tempest. “i just can’t believe you're here.. alive.”

he closes the distance between you in a few long strides and reaches out for you, cupping your cheek in his palm. he’s warm, so warm, his hand calloused and large like you had remembered it. like you worried you might forget one day when so much time had passed without him. “i’m here,” a promise said with so much certainty. “and i’m not going anywhere ever again.”

tears prick at the corners of your eyes, a start of the release of the tremendous storm from within you finally manifesting into something tangible, something that you would have even less control over now that it’s pouring out of you in unruly waves and a downpour that first looks like a like drizzle. a few tears quickly turn into dozens more that caleb wouldn’t be able to catch or stop. not now. it’s consuming you, helping you to speak but with no chance to think or process your words before they’re tumbling out of your mouth and your body quickly follows suit.

“why caleb - why didn’t you come find me sooner?” dropping your bag, it lands on the tips of your toes the same moment your balled up fist meets calebs chest. you’re a sobbing mess in the matter of moments, looking at him through teary vision and speaking with so much pain behind your words you feel the ache of them reverberate back into your chest, ready to take you under and drown you in them. “would i have ever known if i haven’t snuck into the fleet? or would you have just left me to mourn over you forever while you got to play colonel?!”

he looks as afflicted as you feel but still in control of his emotions, more than you could possibly try to muster right now. “it’s more complicated than that. i had to join the fleet and i couldn’t contact you - couldn’t bear to put you through that pain again.”

“you don’t know anything about my pain caleb!” you spit the words like venom and you can see in his expression, in the way his hand on your face twitches, how much they affect him. “you have no idea how many times i wished for this all to be a bad dream.. to wake up and have you still be with me but instead woke up to the agony of you very much being dead. you have no idea how many times i went to your grave and could barely stand to leave because it’s as close to you as i thought i was ever going to be!” you try to push away from him, using your hand on his chest to shove him away and your other to remove his touch from your face. he doesn’t budge so easily, instead wrapping an arm around your waist to bring you closer and continuing to wipe your tears. “let me go!”

“no,” he replies, so full of understanding and care and you don’t know if it’s making it better or worse. he couldn’t possibly let you go, doesn’t think it’s within his strength to do so. it never has been before. his chest has always hurt when you’d cry and being the one to bring you to tears is what he loathes the most but it would never stop him from trying to comfort you or wiping away your tears. “not right now. not when you need me.”

“ha!” it's a pitiful and angry sound, a perfect mirror to how you feel about yourself right now. “where were you all these months i needed you then?! when i was crying just like this because i thought i’d never get to see you again?” you try again to get away from him, you can’t breathe or think straight, can’t do anything but crumble in the face of this storm but caleb doesn’t let you go far. doesn’t let you drown. “how can you so easily come back and act like i haven’t spent every moment in pain over the fact i thought you were gone forever?!” both of your hands are on his chest now. he doesn’t flinch at the force of them or try to remove them and before you know it, through your sobbing and weakening body, they’re clinging to him like a lifeline. you bury your face into his chest, his shirt quickly becoming soaked in your tears and snot, wrinkling under your tight hold.

caleb says your name softly, his hand cradling the back of your skull and keeping you pressed against him. “it was painful for me to be away from you too.” more than he could handle, worse than what he’d experienced before in any physical sense. 

“it’s not the same..” you hide behind the pillar of strength he’s offering you, let the storm rage and crash against him while tucked into the safe place of his arms as exhaustion starts to replace every other thing you had been feeling up until this point with the help of his embrace around you and the familiar scent of him invading your senses. this is real. he’s really here and he promised he wouldn’t leave you again.. “at least you knew i was alive - knew you could see me again if you really wanted..”

he holds you tighter then, his lips pressing in the crown of your head. he knows it's not the same but he also thought he was sparring you more pain by staying away, no matter how difficult that was for him. “you have no idea how badly i wanted to see you.” his hold is almost too tight now but you welcome it, want more of it. “it was agony to be away from you and hide this from you.”

“caleb..” you bury yourself further into him. everything hurts; your body, your heart, your head and somehow he is the soothing balm that makes it all better and the very source of it to begin with. you want to press him more, want to know everything that has happened to him while you’ve been apart but as you weep like a child in his arms, the words are lost and all you can do is hold on to him like your life depends on it. like he might disappear again if you were to let go.

you don’t know how much time passes before you’re being swept up off your feet, cradled against his chest and safely in his arms with your own so quickly and tightly wrapping around his neck to keep him as close to you as possible. he doesn’t tease or complain about the mess you’ve made of his outfit or your tears that soak into the skin of his neck. caleb doesn’t say anything as he walks to the couch and settles down onto it, removing his arm from under your legs to reach for a blanket that he drapes over you before adjusting you on his lap and holding you within his complete embrace again.

your sobbing slowly turns to small hiccups and scattered tears rather than a downfall of them but you don’t let him go. you can’t let him go and wonder if perhaps he is feeling the same when his hold on you doesn’t waver for a moment and he doesn’t try to move from underneath you.

“what if..” your voice is so weak, quiet enough you wonder if he’ll hear you at all and not knowing if you ever want him to. “what if tomorrow comes and you’re not here? what if i’m just dreaming.. what if you die again..” how will i survive losing you twice..

his arms around you tighten, as if he’s trying to make you one with him, bury you in the safety and truth of his very chest, where his heart beats for you and could never leave you again. not before he’d bring down the whole planet and whisk you away to a new one where it could only be the two of you. “i’m not going anywhere ever again. nothing will keep me from you or tear us apart,” caleb answers quietly, as if not anything or anyone else in this world was meant to hear his words but you. “i will be here tomorrow and everyday after. i promise.”

“c-can we stay like this for now? please..”

a soothing hand smooths over your hair and like it was even possible, presses you closer to him. “we can stay here, like this, for as long as you need and when tomorrow comes, i’ll make you breakfast and hold you again. until you know it’s not a dream and can believe that i’m not going to leave you ever again.”

[thebearme]

…petey headcanons? *holds plate out like a starving Victorian child*

Don't worry victorian child, you will be fed.

Petey is ace, particularly greysexual.

Petey has that scary cute cat yawn where they just unhinge their jaw then belp :P

He has shrimp posture sitting and standing, his back is wack.

Not so fun fact, his back is messed up because of his tail being chopped. The tail is connected to the spinal cord after all.

He was a BIG gifted child when he was little, he always wanted praise for his accomplishments. Which made alot of the kids around him hate him, and lead to the whole critter scouts thing.

And after awhile he became the exact opposite, he acted up in school for justified reasons but because his teachers wouldn't care to understand and just punished him. They saw him as a trouble child and the kids thought he was a bad kid, so with the change in perspective Petey started to believe it.

Luckily he had Big Jim growing up, he may have been mean to him at the time but nowadays Petey truly appreciates him and wants to apologize for behavior towards him.

Petey HATES getting sick for many reasons but the main one is that it makes him feel weak. So if Dogman or Lil Petey got sick he'll probably be in a hazmat suit before giving them a box of tissues.

Petey believe it or not, has a fixation on robots. AND I MEAN ALL ROBOTS, he would watch robot movies, have robot pjs, robot posters, robots toys on his shelf, robots anything and everything. I was able to show abit of it in my human Petey design with two of his tattoos (one of them being the robot from the day the earth stood still) and him in a transformer shirt. Why else would he make the most mundane things into robots? Cuz they're COOL!

Speaking of which, Petey fucking cried when he heard Opportunity's last words.

Petey gave up on getting an outside job and went freelance, It's not like the job market was that great anyway.

I imagine Petey, to the surprise to everyone but Dogman, is pretty strong. He may look twiggy, but he is an engineer! You NEED upper body strength to do work. Heres a post I made about it

Petey has a depression shaped pit in is bed. He didn't buy that pit, it's something he earned with hard work and so can you. Lil Petey likes loafing in it.

Petey can easily keep working in his workshop for the whole day without eating or using the bathroom if you don't make him take a break. When he's in the zone he forgets he got a body that has needs and can drop dead if he doesn't fulfill those needs.

Petey knew how to cook from his mom but didn't really start cooking till he got Lil Petey. He just ate takeout EVERYDAY cause he was too busy and depressed to cook, and his butler didn't give af to cook for him if he's just gonna to complain. But of course after getting Lil Petey he wasn't going to fed him takeout! So it went from frozen chicken nuggets and apple sauce to homemade pork stirfry and curry rice.

That care in cooking for others also goes to Dogman as well, neither of them had healthy eating habits so they made a deal to help each other in their journey. Dogman would eventually get told by the doctor that he needs to cut the dogfood cause his human body can digest all of that, so Petey is now cook pack lunches for him as well. And personally meals that taste good for his dog tongue, and Dogman gives him the biggest kisses for that.

I'm currently working on a comic for this next one but Petey feels like has no friends. He never just hanged out with any of the gang just to hangout by themselves. He feels like everyone is close friends with each other but not him, they all hang out around him because they're friends with Dogman. And the only reason they knows so much about him is because he trauma dumps on them. But he'll later learn that they do care about him outside of being close to Dogman and they'll hangout and get to know each other more.

Petey has sensitive beans, particularly to the cold. He's gonna be wearing socks and mittens if there's no heating which is funny cause cats usually hate them.

Petey is actually fluffy but just licks his fur down.

He's tail always is bent and not in a normal way but if you crushed paper and tried to lay it back, it still is bent and slowly goes back to that bent form. The only way to make Petey's tail go completely straight is if you surprise him or made him relax to the ninth degree.

Petey still has cat behavior just like how Dogman has dog behavior but unlike him, Petey controls his behavior. He basically masks everyday because of a whole social class stuff I can't explain rn. Cuz he wants to be taken seriously and not just seen as some house pet.

He once made a throne out of boxes and sat in it till Lil Petey or Dogman came back home. No reason for it, he just wanted to feel like a king.

Petey loves midday naps but the sun cuz he's a cat and old. It's true that you'll need more midday naps when you're older.

If I had to give a inuniverse reason for how he understands sign language it's because Petey learned from his mom. When Petey was younger and had a moment where he mad and overwhelmed he would have a hard time explaining his thoughts. Grace taught him sign language so he can explain his thoughts even if all he can verbally do is scream.

When Grace died, Petey was put into adoption and stayed there for a while because of his age and his behavioral problems. But he eventually got adopted by Dr Dilbert Dinkles, he was perfect for his needs, not a child so he won't cry, a cat can take care of themselves and behaving poorly is exactly what villains in training need to be bad. So Petey got adopted by the worst person possible and we know how the rest of the story goes.

Despite that fact that Dilbert is a doctor, Petey had the upper hand on him. He has street smarts, and when you know to build robots and know to use the robots to their full evil potential then you become a true villain to fear.

Petey and Flippy could very well be friends but Petey is literally just holding a grudge against him for some reason? Seriously idk why they're not friends, I think Flippy wants to be friends with him too but it just Petey that's in the way of that in canon. Like- please stop being an ahole for a second and just talk!

Petey also try his hand at gardening... Dogman keeps rolling on his flowers.

And that pretty much all the headcanons I can think of, I still do have my visual hc but yall always know it

heres a lil collage I made from my petey moodboard

And you already know the playlist

[beeing1alive]

Tokyo Revengers boys are in love with you, but you're his best friend's girlfriend

Mikey

he hates himself so much for it

doesn't want to destroy the relationship between you and Kenny, he knows that you're both very happy with it

but the thought of Kenny and not him having the privilege of touching you, hearing your sweet laughter and kissing your soft lips makes him boil with rage

looks away every time you kiss Kenny because it hurts him too much

wipes himself again and again thinking about holding you in his arms and feeling your warmth

Draken

trusts Mikey, but still keeps an eye on you, just in case Mikey treats you unfairly

his gaze wanders every time he thinks of you and his eyes glaze over a little

tries to keep his distance from you as much as possible to avoid embarrassing and painful incidents

his heart bleeds every time he sees you and Mikey being affectionate with each other, not because he doesn't begrudge either of you, but because he can't bear to see you with anyone else

apparently treats you the same as anyone else, but if you look closely, you can see how he's a little kinder and softer around you

Mitsuya

is very cold towards you, but if only you knew how he really feels

pure jealousy, but doesn't begrudge Hakkai and you 100%

he really tried to get together with you and it hit him extremely hard when he found out that you and Hakkai were dating

he doesn't want to admit it, but he hasn't been able to sleep many nights because he was so tormented by the thought that Hakkai might be holding you in his arms and hearing you say that you love him

that's why he prefers to stay in the background when you're there and admire you from afar

Chifuyu

liked you even before you and Baji got together and now he's so angry with himself because he never told you

has cried himself to sleep for nights on end

wonders why you don't want to be with him and whether he's not good enough for you

tries not to let on and above all doesn't want anything to change in the good friendship between him and Baji, but he was very wrong because everything has changed

imagines connecting his lips with yours much more often than he wants to or gently clasping your hand with his, but drives the thought away as quickly as he can because he feels so guilty otherwise

Baji

is happy for Chifuyu, of course, but at the same time is infinitely jealous of him

his facial features harden every time your name is mentioned, because from then on he has to be extremely careful about what he says

blushes every time he accidentally touches you, for example when you give him something or when you say goodbye to him

thinks about what it's like to be with you, especially when Chifuyu tells him a lot about you and your cute behaviour again

loves to see you happy, but it's always like a stab in the heart when you smile at Chifuyn and not him

Hakkai

he probably told Mitsuya because he didn't know what to do and because he felt guilty

loves the way your eyes light up, but his heart breaks into a thousand little pieces when he realises that you've looked past him and into Mitsuya's face

cries about it more often than he wants to admit

has never dared to say a word to you, especially not after he found out about you and Mitsuya

still looks up to Mitsuya the same way and hopes he doesn't hate him now

[dawn-moths]

thinking about tomura being tenko’s older brother where they’re perhaps ten years apart. you and tomura first meet when you’re both eighteen, start hanging out as friends, but you’re only vaguely aware he has a sibling when sometimes he says he can’t hang out that particular weekend because he has to “babysit the brat”.

after a while, you’re able to convince him to show you a picture of his little brother. you’re curious if they look alike, and other than a few features like their eye and hair color, you can easily imagine how tomura looked at that age, too. him and tenko look startling similar to each other even with that many years between them.

“sorry…” tomura grumbles through the other side of your phone call one afternoon. “tenko’s soccer practice got canceled and now my mom’s making me watch him while she’s at work.”

he sounds annoyed, almost embarrassed by the fact that, even at eighteen, he has to obey his mother’s requests, but is ultimately contrite about his last minute change of plans having to effect you so often as well.

“it’s ok,” you assure him with your usual chipper tone, fully understanding the responsibility he has. “but, y’know…” you remind him, “if it’s ok, i could always come over and we could hang out while you’re watching your brother?”

you try and hide your eagerness the best you can. the truth is, you’ve been wanting to meet the mini-tomura for quite some time now. tomura always describes him as annoying, as a needy little brat that whines until he gets his way, but the words are never spit with scorn and there’s something soft in his eyes that always gives away the fact that he actually does care.

tomura usually just brushes off your offer, promises to reschedule with you, so you’re prepared to be let down, but that time, after a short pause of contemplation, tomura clears his throat and says, “i mean, yeah, ok. that’s fine i guess, if you want…”

“ok!” you beam, already grabbing your keys. “i’ll be over soon then!” you hang up, grab your bag, and jump in your car.

any time you’ve been over to tomura’s house (which has been few and far between, since your place tends to be the designated hangout given you usually have the house to yourself most of the time) tenko hasn’t been there. he’s been at his aforementioned soccer practice or a friend’s house or some other activity that’s kept you from meeting him.

you’re so curious it’s overwhelming, and as you pull up to tomura’s house he’s already perched on the front step, gazing at his phone until he hears your car approaching. you park by the curb and scamper up to greet him, giving him a hug as per usual, and though he’d sounded sort of defeated on the phone earlier, seeing your smiling face now makes him feel a little lighter.

“hey,” you grin, momentarily holding both his hands in your own down between your close bodies. sometimes you're reminded how adverse to any kind of physical touch tomura used to be when the two of you had first met. even something as simple as a light, playful nudge would make him flinch, cause him to keep a bit more of a distance for the rest of the day.

but over time, you're not sure exactly why but, something changed.

and it was actually him who came to comfort you that time. you'd been upset, had planned on staying in your room alone until the ache decided to pass. but then you and tomura had started texting. he'd sensed something was wrong so he'd called. he'd heard the heartbreak in your voice, told you he was on his way, and not ten minutes later he was sitting beside you on your bed with his arm around you as you'd talked to him about what had happened while you'd cried.

ever since then, he'd gotten more comfortable with your casual, familiar touches, though he still found it easier to touch you than to be touched by you.

“hey,” he returns, then adds with that hint of that sarcastic humor you’ve come to love so much, “you ready to meet the little demon?”

you laugh, unable to not be amused by his melodrama. “oh, c’mon,” you say, lightly batting at his arm. “he’s only eight, he can’t be that bad!”

all tomura offers in response is a muttered, “yeah, well…” before inviting you inside.

as soon as you walk through the door, a little dog comes bounding towards you, running in energetic circles and barking as his tail wags with both curiosity and excitement. you proceed with caution around the corgi, wanting to reach down to pet him but hesitating around the unfamiliar animal.

the few times you'd been over before, tomura had let his dog out into the yard so he wouldn't end up jumping all over you, so this is the first time you're meeting him up close instead of catching glances of him through a window.

"ugh, sorry..." tomura mutters as he reaches down and scoops his dog up, the canine's tail continuing to wag even more once he's secure in tomura's arms. "i forgot to let him out back..." he then seems to realize something, his eyes widening a bit as he does a double take back at you and asks with a little more guilt in his tone, "you're not afraid of dogs, are you...?"

you wave off his concern with a swish of your hand and a crooked smile. you tell him you're not, you were just a little surprised is all.

"it's mon-chan, right?" you ask, slowly reaching your hand out for the dog to sniff.

"yeah. mon-chan," tomura confirms, readjusting his grip on the wriggling animal. "he's super friendly. just, well..." he gives a half shrug as a small grin cracks at one corner of his mouth. "he can be a lot."

"hey, mon-chan..." you coo, your tone turned sugary sweet, and the dog gives the back of your hand a few friendly licks. "awwww, you're cute, aren't you? what a good boy..."

but before you can dote over the dog too much, something catches your attention from the corner of your eye, causing you to shift your view towards the living room that sits off to the side of the main entrance.

and, lo and behold, there he is.

little tenko and his sweet little face that reminds you so much of the older brother you’ve become so fond of.

“hiiiii,” you greet the little boy with a soft voice and a smile. you know kids can often be wary when meeting new people, so when tenko just stares at you with those big, dark eyes you’re not surprised.

“hey,” tomura grumbles to his sibling. “don’t be rude. say hello.”

tenko then seems to snap out of his cautious trance, looking at his brother then back to you before saying, “is this the girl you’re always talking about, nii-san?”

tomura feels his cheeks heat and his ears burn as he sputters out something that sounds like half an excuse, half a scolding before telling tenko to go watch tv and behave. tenko obeys without any trouble and as you pass by through the living room you can see a popular superhero movie playing on the screen.

you travel down the short hall to where tomura’s bedroom lays at the very end, and once the door is shut he seems to become a little less tense.

“i’ll need to make him lunch in about an hour,” he tells you. “but until then…” he flashes you a suggestive smirk and you know exactly what’s coming.

it's one of your favorite things about hanging out together, the way it relieves the tension, lets you two unleash parts of yourself that you rarely let other people see. and tomura's been surprisingly good at it from the start. you wouldn't have guessed at a glance how skilled those hands could be, how coordinated given his usually lax, nonchalant nature...

he tosses you a game controller and you catch it with ease. “wha’dya say we pick up where we left off?” he asks, a hint of darkness to his voice that you now recognize as cold, hard competition.

you feel a look of confidence spreading across your face at the challenge and you reply in a tone befitting of a worthy opponent, “you’re on.”

the next hour passes quickly as you play your guys' favorite co-op game together, leaving you just two points from tying with tomura, and amidst your laughter and playful taunting, there’s a slight squeak as the door creaks on its hinges, little tenko peeking through the thin crack and observing, letting out a quiet gasp when he realizes he's been spotted.

“i’ll be out in a sec,” tomura tells his brother, already knowing what that expectant look means. tenko seems to linger, casting you another glance, and you convince tomura to pause the game.

“c’mon,” you murmur, giving him that guilt-tripping stare that he hates you for being so good at. “let’s go make him lunch and then we can finish this after.”

and it’s that suggestion of we, that suggestion of together, that has him pausing the game and setting his controller aside, standing from his bed to open the door to his little brother and following him down the hall to the kitchen, you close behind.

tomura takes out a tupperware from the fridge and has just popped it in the microwave when his phone buzzes from his pocket. "it's my mom," he states. "gimme one sec." he steps out of the kitchen and begins to wander towards the living room, his voice growing more distant as you hear him pick up the call. you hope everything is ok. but, for now, it's just you and tenko standing in the kitchen, the eight-year-old gazing up at you with that big, curious stare while the microwave counts down the seconds behind him.

"can i have lemonade?" he asks once you meet his eyes and give him a friendly grin.

the microwave beeps and you go to take his lunch out of it. "sure," you answer. but then, a little bit more suspiciously, you ask, "does tomura usually let you have lemonade?"

tenko nods, not giving anything away as you finish plating the other items of his lunch while tomura remains on the phone in the living room. from where you stand, if you glance just slightly around the entryway, you can see him sitting on the couch, leaning forward a bit while he continues to speak with his voice low. you just hope his mom won't be mad that he invited you over while she wasn't home.

it's not like you hadn't been over before when his house was empty, but given this is the first time you've met his little brother, you just hope you're not overstepping somehow. not to mention that, unbeknownst to you, tomura's mom had begun badgering him about meeting you before the end of summer. as soon as she'd caught onto the fact that her eldest son had been hanging out regularly with a girl, she couldn't help but become curious as to what kind of girl she might be.

a bit distracted by your thoughts, you just nod and say to tenko, "ok, sure, you can have some lemonade then."

once his chicken tenders and apple slices and animal crackers are promptly arranged on his plate and a glass of lemonade is poured, you carry tenko's lunch to the table and take a seat across from him while you wait for tomura to conclude his conversation, trying to keep your growing anxiety at bay at any possible problems that may be arising due to that phone call.

you try to listen in, though mostly hear the standard, vague, "yeah. uh-huh. alright," responses from tomura until—

"are you my brother's girlfriend?"

you blink at tenko, taken aback as you sputter over a response to that, wondering for a moment if you merely imagined it. then, once your nervous giggling and bashfulness begins to dissipate, you clear your throat and say, "did tomura tell you that?"

tenko takes another bite from one of his apple slices and says, "no. but he talks about you all the time. he says you're his friend, but i hear him talking to his friends at night when he thinks no one is listening."

you stare at tenko with an intensity you don't realize you're wearing on your face at first, the suspense eating you alive. eventually, when tenko doesn't seem like he's going to offer more, you lower your voice to something closer to a whisper, your gaze darting back to where you can barely see tomura sitting in the other room, still on the phone, and ask tenko, "what do you hear him say?"

tenko, his big eyes moving up and to the right, contemplates that for a moment as he finishes chewing and swallowing his next bite, then tells you, "i don't know exactly. i can't hear what his other friends are saying, but one time i heard nii-san say that you were special." you feel your cheeks heat and again glance over at the back of the boy you've become so fond of so quickly. "he said something about not wanting to ruin anything," tenko continues, reciting the words as if he doesn't quite grasp their meaning. but then, tenko's mouth splits into a mischievous little grin that reminds you so much of tomura, it's honestly a little scary. he says, seeming to find amusement in his next words, "one time, i heard him say you were like his guardian angel or something..."

a childish little giggle bubbles up from tenko's lips, almost as if he finds a cruel kind of pleasure in knowing his older brother's biggest secret, but this information just makes your heart all the more warmer towards tomura.

you'd spent the last couple of months suffering inside your own head about it all— about whether you really meant something to tomura, about if he cared for you as much as you did for him or if you were simply just convenient and would be discarded come any significant distance put between the two of you—

suddenly tenko seems to retract, perhaps sensing your discomfort, so you take the opportunity to clear the nerves and giddiness from your throat and change the subject.

"so, tenko," you begin, trying to straighten out your crooked smile. "tomura tells me you play soccer. do you like it?"

tenko gives a shrug at first, taking another bite of an apple slice that's had the skin peeled and cut to resemble rabbit ears. then he says, "i guess so. but i like watching movies more."

you ask him what kinds of movies he likes, recalling the superhero blockbuster that had been playing on the tv when you'd first arrived, and feel a spark of endearment as tenko's face lights up as he delves into telling you all about his favorite characters and their cool powers.

"wow! you sure know a lot!" you commend him with a beaming smile, and at the compliment tenko's face begins to turn a little red. "do you and tomura ever watch movies together?"

"not really..." the younger sibling sulks, pouting as he peels the remainder of the skin from his apple slice. "nii-san is usually playing video games in his room and my mom says i'm not allowed to play them because they're too violent..." then, before you can tell him that's too bad but one day he'll be old enough to play the same games as his brother, tenko perks back up and tells you, "but sometimes... sometimes nii-san lets me into his room on nights our mom works late and we play mario kart together."

you have to force yourself to stifle a laugh at that. i mean, it's just completely adorable, isn't it? the thought of tomura, who tries so hard to play it off like he couldn't care less about his little brother, like he's nothing more than a nuisance to him, a pest, an inconvenience, does actually take the time to bond with him anyway. at least, when no one's looking.

you tell tenko you also like mario kart, then lean in and add in a playful whisper, "but i bet he doesn't tell you about all the times i've beaten him, does he?"

tenko regards you with blatant skepticism. "no way," he says, as if he's never been more sure about anything in his life. "there's no way you can beat nii-san. he's too good! no one can beat him!"

now you laugh openly, causing tomura to glance over his shoulder just to make sure there isn't too much chaos ensuing in his brief absence, but tenko just looks confused.

"well," you reply, amusement trailing off the end of your words, "he is pretty good. i'll give him that. but unbeatable..." you quirk up one brow and wear a slight smirk for a moment before allowing your features to fall back to normal. then you tell tenko, "just give it time. one day i bet you'll be able to beat him. i believe in you!"

"you behavin' in here?" tomura suddenly appears in the entryway, slipping his phone back into his pocket as he casts his little brother a warning look.

"your girlfriend says she beat you in mario kart, is that true?" tenko blurts out, and you have to force yourself not to tease tomura when his cheeks visibly darken at the mention of you being his girlfriend.

"everything ok?" you ask to defuse the situation a little and put tomura back at ease, but then his look of bashfulness morphs into a look of slight surprise at the sight you and his little brother getting along so well.

quickly, he snaps out of it, and replies, "yeah. she was just checking in," before seeming to notice something awry about the picture here, specifically on tenko's side of the table.

"hey," tomura lightly scolds his brother. "you know mom only lets you have lemonade on the weekends." you immediately begin to apologize, saying that when he asked you thought it would be ok, and feel embarrassed that you let yourself be manipulated by a child, but tomura assures you it's fine before returning to interrogate his little brother who, admittedly, looks very guilty now.

"did you lie to her?" he presses, and for a moment you're afraid he'll make tenko cry. tenko denies it at first and you observe with growing anxiety as the argument between them ramps up a bit.

it isn't until you reach over to place a hand over tomura's, which has been firmly planted on the tabletop as he leans in over his brother, that he seems to simmer down a little.

"one time will be ok, won't it?" you ask him, not wanting to ruin the moment you'd just shared with tenko, feeling like you'd gained a little more of his trust. you use your secret weapon, the one thing tomura can never say no to whenever he sees it— that sweet, pleading stare you give as you gaze up at him, the look that makes his stomach flutter and his head haze over with thoughts he'll be revisiting later once he's alone.

"fine," he concedes, some of the rigidity that had captured his limbs leaving him as he steps away from the table. he looks directly at his brother and concludes with a warning, "but just this once."

you're relieved, and tenko appears to have returned to his prior state of unfazed contentment, but tomura still seems impatient about something.

"c'mon," he says, beckoning you up from the table to follow him back to his room. "we still have a game to finish."

you give tenko a parting smile before humming out an amused, lilting little note, trailing after tomura as you chirp out a mischievous remark of, "are you gonna actually help us win this time? or am I gonna have to carry the entire round again?"

he lets out an incredulous, albeit amused, chuckle, surprising you by throwing his arm around your shoulders and tugging you in closer to his side so you almost stumble down the hallway. "oh, just you wait..." brazen, he murmurs in your ear, his voice low and dark, now allowing the butterflies in your tummy to unfurl their delicate wings and take flight, "by the time we're done with this round, the other team isn't even gonna know what hit 'em..."

and, with that, you once again return to the confined space of his only slightly disheveled bedroom, the tv screen still bearing the scores from your last game. although, admittedly, as you continue to sit side by side, knees nudging one another here and there when things start to get a little too desperate or rowdy, you can't help but find yourself a little more distracted and self-conscious than usual.

because you swear you catch tomura glancing at you in between rounds from the corner of your eye, something softer, something warmer than you're quite used to possessing his crimson gaze.

it's a side to him you've rarely gotten to see, but you hope he'll learn to wear it a little more openly around you as time goes on.

besides, when his little brother had asked if you were his girlfriend, he hadn't quite said no, now had he?

[forwards-beckon-rebound]

kiss and cry

summary | you’ve learnt to build your walls sky high in the wake of dick grayson’s abrupt departure from the world of skating. but one decade later, he’s back like nothing ever happened, and you’re back to square one. prompt | language of flowers event: a bouquet of purple hyacinths in blue wrapping paper with a pink ribbon ♡ pairing | dick grayson x gn!reader wc | 3.2k warnings/tags | pairs figure skating, childhood friends to strangers to ???, mutual pining, repressed feelings, angst, swearing, insecurity, no use of y/n, very liberal interpretation of how you’d qualify for the olympics ty @strangergraphics for the divider!

Brian Orser is a liar. 

“Oh c'mon kid, I had no idea. I thought this was a good kind of surprise! You might have a chance at the Olympics this time around!”

You should’ve known something was up when he asked you to stay after practice. The old man is annoyingly close to catching up with you, and if you weren’t wearing skate guards right now, you’d speed walk to the lockers faster. 

“Isn’t this good? You need a new partner, Dick finally decided to call me back, and anyways, I thought you l-”

You don’t need to hear the rest of his sentence to know what he’s about to say. “I didn’t. And I don’t anymore.” Neither of you seem convinced, but at least it gets him to shut up. 

What pains you the most is you can’t even be mad at the older man. You can’t cry, or scream, or throw a tantrum like you were 9 again, because at the end of the day, this is the coach you had begged to take you on. The one who has been behind so many legends and basically built your career up from the ground. Had this been any other situation, any other person, besides the Boy Wonder himself, you would probably be on the verge of much happier tears. But you know, just like last time, he won’t be here to stay. And you don’t know how much more heartbreak you can take.

Before you get the chance to talk him out of it, a pair of footsteps joins you. Speak of the fucking devil.

It’s like they had planned some flanked attack, with Brian herding you towards the front of the building and Dick stepping in to cut you off as you’re about to make your grand escape. No idea, your ass. Brian knew you wouldn’t be able to say no if they had you cornered like this.

“Dick!” he exclaims, pushing past you to wrap the black-haired man in bear hug. Normally, you think you’d be hurt by how his face is practically illuminating (he had never greeted you like that before). But you have your own worries to deal with: namely, a heart that is currently trying to claw its way out of your throat and lungs that have forgotten how to inhale air. You think Brian might still be speaking, but if he is, you’ve tossed that all to the side in lieu of studying the man in front of you.

You make it a point not to meet his gaze, even as you feel him trying to meet yours. Perhaps it’s pride, perhaps it’s fear, but either way, you know as soon as you look at him, properly look at him, any objectivity will fly out the door.

So you settle for the obvious things. He’s taller, and his face is sharper, no longer rounded by baby fat. Even the spiky haircut you used to tease him for is grown out now. He looks good—but nothing like the boy you have enshrined in your memories. This isn’t the boy who would stay behind to help you practice your jumps. This isn’t the boy who would pack an extra lunch for you in case you forgot yours. This isn’t the boy you cried yourself to sleep over for months, the boy who almost made you quit the one thing you loved most in the world because the thought of skating alone made you want to hurl.

This? Him? It’s just a bitter reminder that figure skating wasn’t the only thing he left behind all those years ago. 

You think you hear the two of them discuss the technical details. Practice schedules, song choices, choreography—it all goes in one ear and out the other. It’s a conversation you have with the older man at the start of every season. An annual promise that that year would be the year you finally earn the recognition you had worked so hard for. 

Technically, everything had been perfect. Technically, you were good. Enough to consistently land a spot at the Grand Prix Final.

But not good enough for a medal. It was never enough. No matter how much training you did, how many extra jumps you crammed into your programs, how many partners you had cycled through. There was no use in denying it: after Dick had left, you hadn’t been the same skater.

It’s pathetic. Your crush had not only abandoned you at 14, but any hopes of even making it to the podium had been crushed then as well. And you hate that 10 years later, you still haven’t moved on. Not enough to say no to his offer. Because like it or not, chemistry is everything in pairs, and there’s nobody like him. There is nobody like Dick Grayson.

It’s silent now. They’re waiting for you. 

You finally look up to meet his gaze. “Okay, I’ll do it.” 

—

It’s too easy to fall back into step with Dick. He always greets you with a smile, brings you snacks before practice (homemade ones at that), and carries your bag to your car for you, even though you insist that you’re more than capable of doing it yourself. He’s certainly trying, but the more effort he puts in, the more you can’t help but resent him. 

His kindness is all just a means to an end for him. He’s buttering you up so your movements are less goddamn stiff when you’re next to him, so you at least vaguely resemble an evenly matched pair. You know from Brian that he’s only coming back because of a stupid bet he made with his brother. He’s just here to prove he can make it to the Olympics. Your childhood dream, what you’ve decided would be the sign that you’ve made it—to him, it’s just another achievement he can use to inflate his ego. The worst part about it is he’s good enough that he could genuinely make it happen that effortlessly. And once he’s satisfied with that, he’ll waltz out of your life just as quickly as he came in. 

So when he offers you a hand as you step out of the rink, when he happens to have an extra energy drink, when he suggests a “team bonding” dinner, you don’t accept. You’ll let yourself entertain him on the ice for the sake of the skate. But nothing more. 

At the very least, you can admit that your performance aspect has definitely improved since skating alongside Dick. You breeze through Eastern Regionals, then Skate Canada, then Skate America, and in no time at all, you’re at the Grand Prix Final: the one barrier you’ve always hit. 

The short goes even better than you imagined it would. Too good. You’ve seen the posts that the fans have made about the two of you, digging up old skating clips to support their theories about the two of you. There’s a poorly worded interview by Brian that does nothing but fuel the flames, and even some of the commentators have been talking about how good the two of you look together. All signs seem to be telling you that you have nothing to worry about; the two of you are perfect. They don’t understand that that’s exactly what you’re worried about. 

You don’t catch yourself until it’s too late. You’re slowly getting consumed by him—by his soft smiles and whispers of encouragement and stupid, stupid puns. You’re back where you started, feeling weightless as the two of you skate your free program, actually losing yourself to the music. There’s nothing to prove anymore; this isn’t a performance—this is just how it’s always meant to be. It should feel right. But it doesn’t, because you’re terrified that if you let yourself get comfortable in his embrace, you won’t be able to skate like this ever again.

You pop the triple Lutz. Then you go into an Euler and a double toe loop that’s under-rotated too. You don’t understand, your jumps have always been pristine, especially your doubles. You haven’t made a sloppy mistake like this in a while. The last time was when–

Shit, you’re too early into the step sequence, the turn too sharp at the corner. You meet his gaze repentantly, like that will absolve you of your guilt. You don’t know what emotion you’re expecting to find in eyes. Maybe anger? Frustration? That’s certainly how you feel at the moment. Whatever it is, it’s certainly not adoration. 

You want to ask him what the hell is going on, but there’s no time. Last move. Death spiral. You have to hold hands, and the contact makes your skin burn. You don’t have the heart to look at him again. You’re afraid of what you’re going to find.

Suddenly everything feels too tight: the rink, your chest, the skates around your feet. You have to get out of there. One revolution, two, three, four. You can hold on, it’s almost over. Another four. He pulls you back towards him. It’s your final pose. The two of you are chest to chest. 

You just have to hold this for a second, and then you’re free. You can do it. You can do it. And then he’s leaning in even closer, until his forehead is pressed against yours and your lips hovering over each other. 

You can’t do it anymore and all you can think about is how to get out of there. You don’t even bother to wait for your score; you’ll deal with Brian’s scolding later. But you know if you stay out there any longer, you won’t be able to scrape together what little sanity you still have left. 

You’re leaving. You have to leave.

And as you run back to the lockers, you realize somebody’s been calling out your name.

“Hey, wait! Is everything okay?” Of course, the one person you don’t want to see would follow you. “Why did you leave like that? Did I do something wrong?” His hand hovers over your arm for a moment before he pulls it away and you don’t know whether you should laugh or cry. He used to do it with practiced ease back when you were kids, when you would joke that he had cooties but let him do so all the same. Now, you’re not sure if you can stand his touch, and from the look on his face, it seems to break his heart.

”Nothing, let’s just forget about this.” You feel like you’re being strangled and it takes all of your energy not to burst into tears at the moment. 

”No,” he says softly. “No, I know you, I know you’re not okay. Please, let’s talk about this.” 

And suddenly, everything’s just too much. He’s acting too nice to you, like he actually cares. Like maybe the fervent glances and lingering touches on the ice mean more to him than just pandering to the judges. But you know he doesn’t, because then he wouldn’t have left.

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “No, you don’t know a single thing about me. So don’t act like you care about me now.”

”I do though!” 

“Bullshit. We’re not anything to each other.” 

His face crumples immediately. He takes a step back. This is the closest he’s ever been to tears.

On a kinder day, you’d take it all back. You’d apologize and beg for his forgiveness and he would be disgustingly kind like he always is and you could both forget about this. But you’re tired of dancing around the issue and you think there’s a sick part of you that revels in his pained expression. 

You take a step forward. “You’re just a coworker. This? This act where we pretend like we can stand to be in the same room as each other? This isn’t real. So stop acting like it is. You didn’t care about me when you left. So why the change now? Do you know how fucking hard it was for me to move on? I couldn’t even skate afterwards. I thought my career was over. And I’ve had to fight every single day to prove that—that I’m still a capable skater, that I have a place in this sport.” 

Your voice trembles, and it takes all of your strength to swallow the lump in your throat. “I had to fight to be able to skate without you. To have the courage to stand on the ice alone. So I’m sorry that I’m not willing to welcome you back with open arms, because I know this is just some stupid game to you. You’ll get to the Olympics, because of course you will, and I’ll get to ride on the coattails of that. And that will be the greatest moment of my career, but to you, it’s just another thing on your checklist. Then you’ll go back to whatever you decided is more worthy than m–” You choke on your own words. “Than skating. And I’ll have to pick up the broken pieces again. But frankly speaking, I don’t know if I can do that a second time.”

It’s dead silent, save for your panting. You feel like you just ran a marathon. And Dick? You can’t read him, and that’s what scares you the most.

”Forget it.” The silence is driving you insane, and you just start running your mouth. “Fuck, forget it. I should just be grateful you’re even my partner this season. It’s the only way I’ll make it to the Olympics. I know you’re thinking it, you and Brian—”

“Don’t say that.”

“—that’s why you left, isn’t it? Didn’t want to be tied down to a pathetic fucking loser.”

“I never said th—”

”I can’t blame you. I’d leave me too—“

“I DIDN’T LEAVE YOU!” 

Now you’re both silent. You’ve never heard him raise before. You’ve never seen him this desperate either. He’s shaking as he stands in front of you. “You’re right, I didn’t care about skating. It was always just a hobby to me. But I stayed because of you. Because I was young and stupid and in love and the only way I knew how to show you that was to skate with you. And it killed me when I had to quit, but I just…I saw how much passion you had for skating. Like it was the air you needed to breathe, but I knew I couldn’t dedicate myself to the sport like you could.. And you deserved a partner who would love skating as much as you do.”

You think your brain short circuits after “in love,” and if he says anything else after that, you certainly aren’t processing it. “…You loved me?”

Dick laughs like you’ve just asked if water is a liquid. ”Of course I did. Everybody knew it too. Brian used to tease me about the way I would look at you. And I figured I would finally tell you after I quit, in case it would make things awkward, but then…”

“I blocked you.” You whisper in horror. 

“Yeah, so I figured you didn’t want anything to do with me after that. I didn’t realize quitting meant I would lose you too.” 

And suddenly you’re 14 again, watching the boy you’ve had a crush on for over half of your life tell you that he doesn’t want to skate anymore, and you feel so small and so stupid. “Oh god. So all of those years…”

He nods, “I lied about the Olympics thing. Or well, I really did have a bet with Jason, but when Brian told me that you needed a new partner…I came back hoping it would be a chance to make it up to you.”

You’re still having a hard time wrapping your head around the fact that maybe Dick had genuinely been trying to make amends with you. “So you being nice wasn’t just for show or team-building or whatever?”

“Team-building? God, I don’t think there’s a world where I can love you in any other way.”

The first realization that he had loved you in the past had been enough to nearly give you a heart attack. But to hear love? In the present tense? You think back to how he’s been acting for the past few months. All of the weird incidents that you can’t just explain away by saying that he’s making fun of you or being civil to you as a teammate or just being nice because that’s how he is. 

Because there’s no other explanation for why he looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky, why he lifts you with a reverence that could rival the likes of Keats and Byron, why he lingers on the ice after every practice, like he’s chasing the last vestiges of your warmth. 

And you have so many words dancing on the tip of your tongue, ways in which you can lay down your heart for him as he has done for you. But both of you know that even this stolen moment is just that: stolen time.

”Shall we go back?” He offers you his hand evenly, but there’s a tremble in his voice that gives him away. Like he’s worried that even after all of this, there was a universe in which you still don’t reciprocate his feelings. 

Your heart is screaming at you to assure him, promise that yes of course, you would accept him. But the words evaporate from your mind before you have a chance to grasp onto them. So you hope that at the very least, your actions can convey a fraction of your feelings. Hand in hand, you make your way back to the rink. No matter what the result is, you think it’ll be alright if you have Dick’s shoulder to cry on after this is all over. 

—

“And with a free score of 129.44 and a final score of 205.57, that puts America’s own duo from Gotham at third place in the Grand Prix Final!” 

Third, the word echoes in your head, taking you a few moments to process. Third, and there were no other American teams on the podium. Sure, it isn’t exactly the most fairytale ending, but it’s better this way—more real. You turn to look at Dick, who you’re sure has the exact same look of astonishment that you do. You remember Brian doing the math before you guys had even made it to the venue. Based on this event and the rest of your results this season, it was clear that the two of you were the uncontested pair in the whole country. 

“You’re going to the Olympics!” Brian whoops, hugging the both of you and jumping for joy in a way you think only he can get away with. You’re grinning so hard your muscles are starting to twitch but honestly you could care less about that. All of the training, all of the sleepless nights had finally paid off, and you felt like you had really, truly made it. And the fact that you did it with Dick makes it all the sweeter to you. 

You got a medal, a boyfriend, and that day, the kiss and cry finally lived up to its name.

more dick skating hcs | event m.list | main m.list | navi

[threepandas]

Bad End: No Good Turn

I rushed to catch up, as I saw the party leaving. Advisor Leukippos was a hopelessly busy man after all. Seeming to drift, with elegant unhurried steps, from appointment to appointment at a somehow impossible speed. It was near impossible to actually catch him NOT in the middle of something. And believe me, I'd been TRYING!

"Advisor! Respected One! Please wait!" I did not so much... shout (as that would be RUDE. One must NEVER be RUDE around the Yanderians. They take GREAT exception. I've looked them up. Have even started taking classes on the subject.) as sorta? Pitched my voice to carry? Kinda the verbal equivalent of that awkward half jog, not run, people do.

My Yanderian pronunciation is god awful. Probably butchering the words, since I can't, you know, actually HEAR any of the nuanced under or over tones. The slight inflections. Yanderian is a language of SONG. Poetry. Composing some of the most beautiful audible art in the known universe. Some of the pieces I've heard? Are like whale song made of starlight. Birdsong made of thunder.

And that's the RECORDINGS! Which are said to miss SO MUCH of the in person nuances, due to technological limitations!

I, being a human, literally don't have the philosophy to even speak the language properly. Never will.

Not the voice box, not the HEARING, and certainly not the lung capacity. But I wanted to at least try, you know? If nothing else, maybe learn the language. There WERE after all, auditory aids for Yanderians with ear injuries. And! I theoretically? Could contact the company? To see if they would be willing to design a set of nuance readers for a human sized head! Adjusted for human hearing and visual ranges!

To be honest? I just was waiting to be able to send my message in Yanderian first. To prove that it wouldn't be a waste of time. Nuance readers were a time consuming project after all! Had to be customized to the life form wearing them.

Leukippos and his entourage had stopped, turned. Some fully, some only half way, to glance in bemused and startled confusion at the (no doubt strange) little creature trying to hacksaw her way through a sentence in their language. None the less, they DID stop for me, for which I was grateful. Their people were fuckin TALL, man. Long legs. Holy SHIT long legs. G-gimme a second! Gotta...! Breathe...!

I could practically feel their amusement from behind the assorted fans. Eyes curving up to match hidden grins.

"No drink to spill upon me, little one? How shall I recognize you now?" Comes teasing song speech from the man I've been trying, for DAYS, to catch outside of any one of his many responsibilities. I think? That particular rumbling quality? Means "playfully said, not insulting you?"

His body language certainly suggests it.

The laugh that forces its way out of my body? Is the sort that you make, while contemplating throwing yourself into the fucking SEA or a bottomless pit, after dumping your breakfast on like... a world leader.

Because I Basically DID.

Which? Ha ha... oh god, kill me. They wear FUCKING WHITE. The higher the rank? The MORE WHITE! (It's the color of Divinity and Honor! Which DOESNT FUCKING HELP! Oh GOD, does this mean what I did was SACRILEGIOUS TOO?!) Nothing but pale, easily and irreversibly stain-able colors, as far as the eye can see! And I accidentally? Dumped my shitty break room "whatever has caffeine and is still in stock" on him!

FIVE TIMES.

I've literally GIVEN UP open air caffeinated drinks because of this! They are the devil! Evil! Trying to ruin both my sanity AND my life! I don't CARE if canned coffee is more expensive! At least I can't DUMP IT ON A DIGNITARY.

The worst part? The ABSOLUTE WORST? Was how understanding and calm Leukippos was, while I lost my shit. It wasn't even MY outfit. He was the one covered in probably still burning coffee! As I hyperventilated and blubbered apologies and cried at him. Hair a mess! Sleep deprived as FUCK because my boss is an asshole. Well... WAS an asshole.

He came over to yell at me.

Did not go well for him. What with that being Rude™ and me having already spilled the beans that the whole incident was CAUSED by me being overworked. Sleep deprivation slows reaction times, you know?

But then... but THEN! It? Kept?? HAPPENING!!!

Turn a corner? Bump! Right down his front. Leaving a lift? Bump! Splash! There goes my cup! Oh but what about a SAFETY cup? I, like FOOL, naively think! Ha ha...

I nearly concuss him! Somehow! Right over the edge of some railing! Slams into the ground at his feet. Nearly hitting him from THREE STORIES UP, right on the head! Pretty sure the sound I made? Was just as painful to HEAR as it was to rip out of my own throat in panic.

No More Cups! Cups are BAD. This? Anti-cup having household.

We'll drink from fucking SPOONS if we have too! Bowls!

NO CUPS!

And every? Single?? Time??? Leukippos not only stops, in the middle of his unspeakably busy schedule, to calm down and reassure this random ass low ranking alien, who's dumped potentially toxic or dangerous unknown alien foodstuffs, just ALL over his incredibly expensive clothes? He's KIND about it! Polite! Makes light hearted little jokes and says not to worry!

It would be one thing, if he was an asshole about it? But!? He's so politely understanding instead? You just end up standing there. Staring in HORROR. At the slowly spreading stains, on that beautiful, delicate, lovely embroidered white fabric. Clothes that are HAND CRAFTED. Take months if not YEARS to make!!! And you just? Feel your soul... die inside.

Kill me. Fucking END me. I deserve it.

Oh my god.... What Have I Done?

But, hey! If he wants to turn my Horrifying Drink Based Trauma Crimes into a cute friendship meet cute? I'm so unbelievably down for that. Literally ANYTHING so I stop feeling like I'm constantly setting this man's ceremonial robes on fire in front of him, then having him ask if I'M okay or need anything.

Speaking of which? Excitedly I reach into my messages bag, asking if he remembers the over robe he lent me. Another victim to our coffee attacks, the over robe was of a style that traditionally hung open, so it only slightly got hit. His main robe suffering the worst of it. Most importantly, though? The over robe is the main decorative one! Heavy on the subtle off white on white embroidery.

It creates a kind of magical looking effect as the light hits it, it's hard to explain.

But! I got coffee'd too, right? Right down my front! So what does he do? Leukippos slides off his over robe and puts it on me. So I won't be walking around in state that would get me socially embarrassed. Cause a scandal. Still not sure if it's a Yanderian or a "their region of the galaxy" thing.

However, that? Left me with a beautiful, BEAUTIFUL and quickly staining white over robe. Not Today, Satan! So I looked up how to save it. Rushed it to a professional cleaners. They kept it from getting worse but couldn't help me, due to the unique fibers the robe was made off, but knew who COULD and sent me on my way.

I ended up in a breathing mask in little Kkbrixxtttishky. And I know, okay? It's mostly oxygen in that dome. Yeah, it IS, but there are enough fatally toxic trace elements in the atmosphere that unless you have a REALLY good filter mask? It's just safer to go full breathing mask. It's not fucking "paranoid" or "racist" or whatever garbage they'll tell you.

Half those fuckers saying that? Wouldn't even TRAVEL there if their LIVES depended on it! For ALL sorts of VERY reasonable excuses, I'm SURE. Bastards. One breathing mask and an uncomfortable decontamination shower between domes is all it takes! It's barely a few minutes delay between domes. Then you're in!

And? The whole area is beautiful. Everyone is super nice, deeply kind (especially when you get lost... like... A LOT). And oh my god? Do you know how badly I wish I could eat the food without, you know, dying? (God those little pie thingies looked so fucking GOOD...)

Anyway! Long and short of it? The Kkbrixxtttishky cleaner knew how to clean the robe! Even stored it in an air tight container so it could be decontaminated for my safe handling. They? Were so sympathetic? Shared my absolute horror at the situation. We're and ARE an absolute gem. Swear to God I plan to recommend them to anyone who can breathe that grade of atmosphere.

It was worth every unit.

Pulling out a clean, neatly folded robe to return? Feels like a triumph.

"The robe of which I gave you, clean once more." He says, recognizing it on sight. The smile behind his fan seems to grow, from what charmed expression I can see of his face, as he steps closer. "Such care, in trusted hands, this robe has found. Little one, you have gone to great lengths. No easy thing, the cleansing of such cloth. And to return it? None would think you less, should you have kept a gift..."

The songspeech has a distinctly warm tone to it, more then the already fond tone that had been there before. Heck yeah~ Knew it! I KNEW I did the right thing! And besides, it WAS the right thing. I tell him as much. He didn't really GIVE me his robe, he leant me it to help me save face.

The Galactic Senate is unspeakably vast. He was running the risk of never seeing it again but did it ANYWAY. Just so I wouldn't be seen walking around covered in a mess. I was just sorry I couldn't fix the OTHER robes my clumsiness had ruined.

"Virtuous little one~" Leukippos says sings, the nuanced tones, which I could only barely hear, suggesting his words were meant to be both teasing and praise. He driftes closer. His other hand elegantly raising to join the first. Both gripping his fan in an... almost coy sort of way? Ah, I'm probably reading that one wrong. Still learning, after all...

"Won't you join me? A walk with good company, is a pleasant one indeed. I have not had chance to speech casually with you before. We would have sent you correspondence; In accordance with tradition and regard, however..."

Leukippos trailed off. Politely not saying the obvious. Which was that it was fuckin impossible to find me in the G.S. directory, since I was effectively a Nobody, and you'd have to know Going IN which Embassy I worked for. Even then, it'd be rough as hell, dragging me name out of that thing. I was the afterthought of an afterthought, that the forgettable once might of had.

But hey, it pays the bills.

I grin. Of course, I'd love to join him. If I'm not getting in the way! The robe is handed off to one of the smiling members of the entourage. Tucked away somewhere. And I am swallowed into the center of the group. Holy SHIT, they are tall. Like? I knew that. On average? Yanderians were about a foot and a half taller then humans... but STILL? I think these guys might be tall for Yanderians? I feel dainty. Wild.

Leukippos helps with my pronunciation, as we walk. Recommends a few new up and coming artists who's works sound fascinating. Distracted by it all, I don't notice our path meandering away from what I know is his next appointment, and towards his office. At least, I don't until we're alone.

His fan lower gently from his face, revealing handsome features.

I startle, don't know where to look. Uuuuuuuh?! No, wait, what!? No. See, I REMEMBER my basics of Yanderian etiquette block, from the sociology lessons I'm taking. He's not allowed to DO that! He can't DO THAT! Illegal! Naked! Why is he FACE NAKED!? That's like taking your SHIRT OFF! Fine around close friends and family. But JUST around them! ONLY them.

Going 0 to 150 REAL FAST, my guy!

Sputtering, I spin around. I saw NOTHING. Sexy lil fangs WHOMS'T? Ha ha! Jawline whaaaat? No, no! I'm actually BLIND. As of just a bit ago! Terrible, really. Should probably see a doctor! Now actually! Yeah. Now sounds good. I'm just gonna-!!

Softly, elegantly, like a dancer's pose, an arm in billowing white reaches over my should to delicately press against the door. It's the old fashioned kind. Swinging, not slide, made of wood. Must of cost more then I make in a year. The hand presses one finger at a time, a precise little sequence of tap tap tap.

Each finger accompanied by the softest sound of sharp nail tips.

I am suddenly hyperaware. H..How did he move that-?

The friendly atmosphere, the comfort, seems to have been sucked out of the room as thoroughly as an open airlock straight to the void. I am alone with a man I do not... now that I think about it... actually know. I FELT like I knew him. We keep meeting. I've been learning about his people. But do I know HIM? Personally? The nature of HIS character?

I... I do not.

And he is a very, VERY powerful man.

My eyes are locked on the hand, gently holding the door shut. I haven't tried my strength against his. Yet. But the numbers are in my head. The odds. Cold sweat prickles and beads along my skin, my breathe shallow, as I stand utterly frozen. It's a beautifully manicured hand, I note. Strong wrist, there a hint of true muscle, under all those robes.

He smells of trees and musk, spices and flowers not native to earth. The sleeve flowing over my shoulder is dangerously soft. His existence a pillar of heat, right behind me, not touching... but close enough. He seems perfectly content to wait me out. My mind is static.

"We fall in love quite easily, did you know? Oh little one..." His words are sighed confession, sung like falling leaves. Another hand comes up, on the other side of me. "My people greatest folly. Our weakness, our despair. Oh little one, we love too much. It frightens people. How quickly and deeply we fall..."

Why was he telling me that? I... I know the most obvious reason why he MIGHT be. B-but surely not! Ha ha. No way. C-can't be! So Why Is He TELLING ME THAT?!

"Courtship requires planning of course. Research. 'Meet-Cutes' I believe they are titled? Did you enjoy them? Were they proper? I'm to take you on outings next, yes? Flowers and material goods. To prove I can provide and know you well, and ah~"

There was mouth pressed to the nape of my neck, breathing deep against my skin. I could feel the almost lazy hunter's grin, splitting those lips into a smirk. Sharp teeth and hot breathe, dangerously close and already lusting to leave behind marks.

"And I DO know you so well. I have made certain of that, my little one. Dearest little one. Jewel of my heart, soon to be keeper of my name. I will court you in your ways, then I will court you in mine. Our wedding will be beautiful."

My heart was racing. I had to get out of here. Go and never, EVER come back. Oh god, at this distance? There was no WAY he couldn't hear everything. I had to lie! Do something! Anything! Just get out of this room. Back to Earth's embassy!

I... I couldn't move. Afraid. I was afraid.

He's so big. So much stronger then me. I have to get out.

"You shall such peace and love on Yanderia, darling. The other partners will rejoice for a new friend and you will be welcomed. Isn't that lovely? There is so much we do not show outsiders. But you, little one?"

"You will have the rest of your life to learn it ALL~"

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

MISS ME ?

Pairing - Jackson Rippner x fem!reader

Summary - Jackson was assigned with assassinating you, but how could he kill such a sweet thing like yourself?

Warnings - 18+, noncon, dubcon, stockholm syndrome, smut.

Word count - 1.3k

Your apparent premature death was a tragedy to the world. A sudden shock to hear a promising young woman to have been deemed dead by a shipwreck with a handful of casualties. It was predicted that you would live a fulfilling life, by being the daughter of an established politician. You were goal driven, focused on your studies and wanted to help change the world for the better. That was all gone now, but you were never even on the fucking boat.

When Jackson Rippner was assigned with assassinating you for revenge against your father, the first thing he wondered was who would want to kill a sweet thing like yourself? The more he studied you, the more he desired you. It was only reasonable to have a taste of you before he killed you. It’d be like throwing away a freshly baked cake.

But he became infatuated by you when you fought, swore, cried and begged underneath him. The way you were able to make him come so fucking hard, not to mention the way he was able to make you come so fucking hard, sealed a new fate for you.

Jackson was never one to renegotiate, but he made an exception for you. For free of charge on Jackson’s sole behalf, and an unwritten waiver that if you were to ever be found alive, the client and Jackson’s company had no involvement, you could live. He thought he was doing you a favour, you were not dead because of him. But you weren’t exactly living either.

Your prison was a modern cabin in upstate New York. Jackson chose this home many years ago because he liked being secluded, he didn’t trust people and valued his privacy. It never really crossed his mind that he would share his humble home with anyone in the near future.

“Sweetheart?” Jackson called out, shutting the garage door behind him and dropping his suitcase.

He pouted his lips as he looked around the main living area for you. He climbed up the flight of stairs and headed straight for the bedroom, a smirk on his lips. You weren’t on the bed, but in the corner of the room all curled up.

“Oh baby” Jackson sighed as he slid off his jacket. You looked up to him with tear stained eyes. “Come here” he murmured, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Hesitantly, you got up and gradually went to him. You straddled his lap, because he would have it no other way and he caressed your flustered cheeks.

You couldn’t help but to be relieved when he did come home. Isolation can drive people insane. He liked not talking to you when he was gone, just to make you go that little bit more crazy that what if he never came back. He thought it would make you acknowledge him more, he was right.

“Oh, how I missed you baby. Sorry I was gone for so long, business just got a bit out of hand. I was able to manage though” he explained as he petted your hair, admiring how you were wearing his shirt like always.

“I-I missed you too” you stuttered out. Jackson smiled and you could feel his cock harden underneath you. You were hesitant to ask, “you’re not leaving again, are you?”

“No baby, I’ll be staying for a while. I deserve a break” he answered softly, his lips brushing over your ear.

You didn’t reply, but instead laid your head onto his shoulder. Jackson couldn’t help to have a smug look on his face by thinking of the progress your relationship has made. At first, you despised his touch. He had to take a bit of time off work just to break you down, train you. Christ, he didn’t expect you to have so much dignity and fight in you. Not that he thought that was a bad thing.

There was only one occasion where you almost managed to escape. You managed to slip out of your restraints and successfully unlocked the door just for the alarm to go off. You bolted for your life, but Jackson was quick to catch up. Typically, you tripped and rolled your ankle. Jackson made sure to drag you back to the house by your injured ankle. Where he tied you up tightly to the bed, stuck a vibrator in you and left you for over an hour. Afterwards, he fucked you and your overstimulated cunt a couple of times just to really remind you not to ever pull another stunt like that again.

When Jackson did have the trust in you to be left alone, he wasn't hesitant to threaten you by killing your whole family if you tried to hurt yourself whilst he was gone. Yeah, it was nice to think about how far you guys had come.

“Baby, show me how much you missed me” Jackson murmured as the sensation of you pressed against him.

You sluggishly lifted your head and leant in to kiss him. Jackson’s arms snaked around your back and he fell back onto the bed. Your hips humped his slowly and controlled. You were rolled over onto your back as Jackson began to unbutton his shirt.

“Tell me, did you miss me? Or my cock?” Jackson teased as he pulled off his shirt and threw it aside.

“Both” you sighed, gradually unbuttoning your own shirt.

“Oh, lucky us” he grinned as he pulled out his hard cock.

Jackson pulled off your shorts and panties with ease and aligned his cock to your entrance. He didn’t even have to consider spitting into his hand, he knew you were already dripping. With a stern push, he was inside of you. A harsh moan left your lips in the process.

“That’s a good girl” Jackson grunted as he went on to find his pacing, “taking my cock so well. God how I fucking missed you” he kissed your jaw.

You hated him. Every single thing about him, you despised. Mostly, you hated how you depended on him. Jackson Rippner was all that you had now, so you couldn’t even hate him anymore. Every breath you took was for him. Your life was his for the taking.

“Fuck” Jackson purred by your ear. “I can feel how much you missed me” he mumbled, your walls clenched against him in a rhythm.

Your legs wrapped around his snatched waist as he started pounding into you. Jackson was deeply groaning with his forehead pressed against yours, your hands pinned above your head by his. You started crying out when he hit your sensitive spot. So he kissed you to make you feel better.

“Can you finally see how I saved you?” Jackson smugly asked, his hands now on your hips. There will definitely be a bruise in the morning.

“Yes” you exhaled, your arms wrapped around his back, nails dug into his bare skin.

“Do you love me?” Jackson asked, slightly unsure if he even wanted to hear your answer.

“Yes” you breathed, he grabbed your chin to make you look at him. “I love you Jackson” you admitted, knowing it’s what he wanted to hear.

Jackson didn’t say it back, but it was clear he did, in his own little fucked up way. His smile was soft and hopeful. Unexpectedly, he came inside of you, a broken moan leaving his lips.

“Fuck, I’m sorry baby. I just missed you so much” he apologised, slowly pumping himself inside of you, you moaned softly.

Aiming for your sweet spot, Jackson started pumping rapidly against you. You bit your lip as you quickly came undone around him, your walls pulsing against his sticky member. Laying defeated in the bed, Jackson pulled himself out and smiled at your mixed fluids on himself.

Jackson fell onto the bed next to you and pulled you into his arms. “You’ll never understand how happy I am to have decided not to kill you” he murmured by your ear as you laid in an unfazed state.

You looked up to him, “so am I”.