#he told me that it was the most comfortable he had been in a long time

[autumnscribbles]

take care of you | rc

pairing: mommyissues!rafe x pogue!reader

summary: after a heated argument with ward, rafe seeks comfort from the only woman in his life who’s ever stayed

warnings: wee bit of theorizing about mama cameron (death)

wc: 1.8k

a/n: hey friends!! thank you to the anon that sent this request in!! i love me a soft rafe moment who just needs to be held🥹 enjoy!! feel free to send me more angsty/soft rafe i love it!!!

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Rafe slammed the truck door shut behind him, twisting his key into the ignition. Ward stood in the doorway ahead of him, his mouth moving but his words unheard. Rafe stopped listening to him even before he decided to leave. He couldn’t listen to it anymore. The rain pelted the windowsill, overpowering the pounding sound of his accelerated heartbeat. He pulled out of the driveway, no destination in mind. He just had to leave.

As he drove, his headlights broke through the rain ahead, illuminating the pitch black road. His breathing was still heavy, trying to ignore his fight with Ward. They weren’t exactly few and far between, but this one had escalated particularly badly. He replayed it over and over, on the verge of screaming just to make it stop.

He didn’t know why he tried to hard to impress Ward, or to get his validation. Everyone is his life left in one way or another. Whether it was on their own terms, or they were taken. He clung to Ward and the fact that just maybe, he would stick around. Be proud of him. In the end, everyone gave up on him. Everyone screwed him over.

Except maybe one person.

When Rafe first met you, he didn’t like you. He never thought he could be friends with a pogue, let alone be with one romantically. You had too much confidence for someone who didn’t have very much. He admit, he thought less of you. He judged you about things that didn’t truly matter. Eventually, he began to find you endearing. You didn’t need boats, a big house, designer clothes, or anything material to be happy. You knew who you were, and he admired that.

You understood him in ways no kook ever had, and probably more than any kook ever will. You knew hardship, and you saw through his bravado. You could tell deep down, he was in pain. No money could fix what was truly happening inside. All the other kooks were shallow. Never having any conversations with substance, just rambling about bullshit. Rafe never really fit in with any of them. He pretended to be friends with most of them, to keep up appearances and his reputation. At the end of the day, he knew none of them truly cared about him. Even worse, he knew they would mock him if they knew he was with you.

Without realizing, Rafe ended up pulling into your driveway. Through the still pouring rain, he could barely see your house. All the lights were off, including the porch light. Were you home? He didn’t even know. As his mind reeled, he automatically drove here. He wanted to see you. Wanted your comfort. Before you, he hadn’t had that in a long time. Since his mom…no one had ever been there for him. No one to tell him things would be okay, no one to comfort him, or hold him. He craved it.

He hopped out of the car, jogging through the rain to your front door. He rapped his knuckles, hoping you would appear on the other side. He saw a light turn on inside, and exhaled a sigh of relief.

You opened the door, met with a dripping wet and sad looking Rafe on the other side. You were surprised to see him. You had some distance from each other recently, since Rafe told you that his friends couldn’t know about your relationship. You pulled back as he continued to hang out with them, unsure how to move forward.

Seeing him here made your heart sink. He pouted as his blue eyes bore into yours, sadness overcoming his entire expression.

“Can I come in?” he asked. “Please.”

“Of course,” you muttered. You stepped aside, letting Rafe into your empty house.

He crossed the threshold, a shiver coming over his body at the sudden change of temperature. His wet clothes left him cold, making the warmth of your house even more shocking to his system. He wiped at his face in attempt to dry it.

“Are you cold?” you asked gently. “Here let me go get you some clothes and a blanket.”

You walked away for a moment, leaving Rafe standing in your doorway. You gathered a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie that belonged to your brother. He wasn’t here, he wouldn’t mind. You snatched your fuzzy blanket from your bed, scurrying back to where Rafe stood waiting. You passed him the clothes, offering him to go change.

As he took his time, you put a kettle of water on the stove. Opening your white cabinets, you rummaged through the various flavours of tea you had. You settled on chamomile. You knew Rafe liked it, even though he would never admit it to literally anyone else. You grabbed 2 mugs and placed the tea bags inside as the kettle began whistling.

You took the two steaming mugs out to the coffee table, where Rafe sat on the couch, waiting for you.

“Here,” you muttered, handing him the mug. You grabbed the blanket, placing it across his lap. “That should warm you up.”

“Thank you,” he said softly, gentle eyes looking up at you.

You sat down beside him, tucking your legs up on the couch. You both sat in silence for a moment, sipping your tea. He let out a small sigh after his first sip, a little smile tugging at his lips.

“My favorite,” he whispered. You responded with a nod.

“You take such good care of me,” he said, breaking the silence more. “I don’t deserve it.”

“Rafe,” you sighed.

He shook his head, not wanting you to deny the truth. He didn’t want you to tell him that he deserved it when he knew it wasn’t true. You were consistently there for him, exuding a kindness he’d never felt. Yet what did he do in return? Essentially tell you he’s embarrassed about your relationship. It was ridiculous, and you shouldn’t be nice to him.

“Come here,” you whispered, opening your arms to him.

His eyes welled up with tears, and he leaned over, resting his head on your lap. You tugged the blanket up slightly higher, covering his torso. You ran your hands through his hair and down his back, feeling the tension release from his body.

Unexpectedly, the tears continued to fall harder. Rafe’s breath caught in his throat as he heaved out a sob.

“You’re okay,” you cooed. “I’m here.”

He let out all the emotions he had been trained to hold back. Grown men didn’t cry. Strong men didn’t cry. This is what he was told over and over. No one ever let him express himself freely, or show vulnerability. For some reason, he felt safe to show it around you. Confident that you didn’t judge him, or view him as weak.

He didn’t realize how much he was craving to just be held. To have his hair played with, his back scratched. To be told it’s okay. He couldn’t remember a time when someone treated him so gently. He wondered if his mom was the last person who truly took care of him. Now, he felt responsible to take care of people around him most of the time.

“Talk to me,” you said. “What happened?”

“My dad,” he blurted out. He rubbed the tears from his eyes, taking a deep breath as he tried to compose himself. “We got into a fight, as always. I accused him of…of killing my mom.”

“What?” you asked, unable to hide the shock in your voice. “Do you really think…”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I was too young, but sometimes what he says just doesn’t add up. Doesn’t matter anyway, not like anything would happen to him.”

You nodded silently, knowing he was right. Even if Ward had killed her, no justice would be had. You knew Rafe grappled with the loss of his mom. Rose wasn’t exactly a replacement. She was cold, unkind. Rafe was in a constant battle with Ward. Trying to impress him, get his validation. Rafe grew up wanting his dad’s success, but most of all he just wanted his love. His acceptance. He didn’t think he would ever have a real family. That possibility only came into view when he met you.

“I’m so sorry, Rafe,” you consoled him. “I know how tense things can get with your dad. My arms are always open if you need a break, or need to talk.”

He sat up from your lap, facing you. His eyes were bloodshot from his previous tears. His usually hard features had softened, his eyes still carrying a deep sadness that you knew you couldn’t fix.

“I’m going to tell everyone we’re together,” he told you. “You’re…you’re perfect. You don’t deserve to be hidden. I don’t deserve you in general.”

“It’s okay,” you whispered. “When you’re ready.”

“I’m ready,” he nodded. “I think…I think you’re the only person who actually cares about me. Who listens and…sees me.”

Your eyes welled up slightly. You weren’t expecting Rafe to say something so vulnerable like this. His rough edges were beginning to soften around you.

“I see you, Rafe,” you told him. You reached out and cupped the side of his face, brushing your thumb along his cheekbone.

He leaned forward, his warm lips crashing onto yours. The kiss was desperate, yet gentle. You didn’t realize how much you had missed this. When you pulled away, Rafe’s eyes were glistening once more.

“Everyone in my life leaves, or screws me over,” he told you, repeating his previous thoughts. “Please don’t leave me.”

You pulled him towards you, wrapping your arms around him. He melted into your touch, safety and warmth encompassing his entire being.

“I’m here, Rafe,” you whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You heard his stomach gurgle, making you let out a quiet chuckle. “Hungry?”

He nodded into the crook of your shoulder. You laughed once more as he pulled back, a smirk on his face.

“Let me make you something,” you told him. You planted a kiss on his cheek before standing up, placing the blanket over his carefully. “You just sit here and relax, okay?”

“I love when you take care of me, baby,” he murmured as he rested his head on the arm of the couch.

You smiled down at him before going into the kitchen to make him some food. He felt safe with you. You had to admit that your heart soared at the thought that you were the first person he came to after a fight with his dad. The first person he opened up to about his mom, to try in front of.

You didn’t even realize it would always be you. You would always be the first person he would run to, even in a crowded room.

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[multipleoccupancy]

Theo wanted to move and sit beside her to wrap her into a hug in an attempt to comfort her about his cultist counter part. However he was still flinching at contact and was nervous about getting in trouble from absent orderlies if he was caught too close to someone else. It broke his heart though, that he wasn't able to offer it in the moment and worse that a version of himself had done so much damage to Violet. To the point he had scared her far worse than Sloane could have ever managed. It also worried him what might happen if he one day lost all control and sense. "I am sorry he got to you," Theo voiced cautiously instead. "It is awful what he did to you and you have every right and reason to be cautious now."

He let out another low and short chuckle at him being able to handle Ben and therefore most agents. "He has been a great test for sure," he said fondly, still of course very proud and protective of his family. "He's a very sweet boy," he smiled to himself again and toyed absently with the cuff of his shirt. "Not a lot of agents are all too sweet though, I am rarely good news for them." At least he was much better news that some of the alternatives, right?

Glad that the topic of the Apocalypse Club was dropped, Theo nodded his understanding of her promise around future letters from Delta Green. "I would appreciate that. And I am very glad to hear you have reconsidered." He told her in perhaps quite a corporate way but it was at least well meant.

"You had me very worried for a long time when you said you wanted to become an agent," he confessed as carefully as those words could be said, worried about her taking offense somehow. "While your inventions are brilliant, I don't trust them not to put you in harms way unnecessarily. You're well aware of how dangerous it is out there and there's a war on two fronts with monsters and cultists around the rest of humanity." He let his eyes settle on her for a moment as he considered all the danger that actually surrounded them. "I just want you all to be safe." It was all he ever wanted.

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎 & 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 @multipleoccupancy

"I just... don't like that he had such an impact on me," she admitted, "I don't like that he hurt me, that because of him I can't sit next to the big windows." No one else had managed that. Not even Sloane. She wasn't scared of being alone in the workshop because he had tried to kidnap her there. But she was scared of heights because of Evil Theo. It made her feel like he had gotten in her head, somehow, and now was festering.

Her dad's joke dragged a happy chuckle out of her. It was a relief, to hear him joke again. Surely it meant he was getting better. Surely it meant he was going to get back to normal. Violet had to cling to that, so the guilt wouldn't suffocate her completely. "I bet the agents are shakin' in their boots when you go to lecture them," she laughed, "if you can stop Ben from painting on the walls, you can stop any agent from doing something stupid."

The matter of the Apocalypse Club seemed to be closed, and Violet knew when to pick her battles. She wouldn't learn anything else about them, not today. But at least she knew they were a sort of cultist mafia, and that they were in New York. And if her dad was hunting them, then she'd have to be careful. Avoid that address. She wondered who they worshipped, but knew it was best to keep that question for later.

"I guess we couldn't," she confirmed with a little smile, "but now we can." She nodded. "I promise I'll be wary. And I promise that if I ever get another letter, I'll show it to you first. I'm not interested in what they have to say to me, anyway." Besides, she was still upset that Davidson had stolen her trap and pretended it was his own design.

[simp-ly-writes]

Hope in a Bottle

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Pairing: AU!Silco x Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: You had died many years ago, or at least that was true in Silco's world. He had learned to live without you but when graced with the opportunity to see you once again- he can't help but indulge.

─ · · TAGS: gender-neutral pronouns, ANGST (but no seriously there are no happily ever afters), some fluff/comforting moments, suggestive themes.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 2,668

─ · · A/N: I cried like at least four times when writing this, this show HAS ME IN A CHOKEHOLD.

─────── · ·

Silco often thought about you in passing moments. These moments he remembered sharing with you amongst your friends and in the comfort of your arms used to be coated in blue that he would drown and surround himself in; but as your presence forever lingered in his mind blue turned to pink and rose-tinted glasses glossed over every moment- every memory with a certain degree of fondness that he would catch himself smiling even when no one was in the room.

You would always manage to light up the room, tell him a joke when he needed it most, told him off and raised him up. He put so much of himself into you into your presence that when you left... it was like he had to redefine who he was but forever remained unsuccessful.

Silco learned to live without you physically but that did not mean that your jacket was still not waiting for your return on the back of his couch or your glass still half-filled by the bedside. Your chair at the bar was always kept at the back, awaiting your return as you both shared kisses in the storage room. He would always remember how the stained glasses reflected in your eyes, the colour breaking across your skin in a forever radiant presence just like you.

Vander would catch Silco in these moments when wiping down the bar top or taking a walk down by the Zaun bay, overlooking the artificial lights and hints of sunlight being cast upon the black waters. Watching as the mans hand opened and tensed before falling back down to his side.

"You doing alright there. brother?" Vander asked in a soft tone as they both crossed over to topside for the day. Silco looked up, a strand of his hair falling from his salt and pepper hair- blowing with the wind. "We are always alright in the hope to be better, and when we get better we hope for it to stay only to be alright once again; stuck in the cycle of it all I find myself on the better side today."

Vander hums along to Silco's words as they stop at the various market stalls to see their offerings a few new bottles for the bar from another region across the sea and a bag of sweets for the kids in the area. The men are suddenly greeted with another body stepping in between the two and falling inline with their pace.

"And how are we doin'?" Powder asks with a wide smile, trying to squeeze her arms together to encompass both of their sides before turning around to walk backwards and hold conversation.

Silco winces as Power almost misses lamp post after lamp post by mere millimetres. "We are fine, just about to make our way back home actually. Anywhere your headed, young lady?" Silco teases, his voice sharing sincerity in every syllable.

Powder rolls her eyes before turning back around, head tilting over her shoulder before she disappears back amongst the crowd, "Going to see this new invention Echo has been telling me about!" Vander shakes his head with a loving stare where Powder had just stood.

"She's going to change the world one day, you know?" Vander says to the wind, hoping that it catches her ears but it only does Silcos.

"I'm afraid she already has for she is your own world," Silco comments, placing a hand on his friends shoulder before powering forwards. "I hate it when your always right," Vander teases before taking two long strides to catch back up.

"Well I perfected it only from the best." Both mens minds go directly back to you, smiling and twirling in the bar to a new record you had found on the topside. Somehow you had already known all the lyrics after this being your supposed first time listening to the piece.

"They always knew, huh," Vander says, looking down to catch Silco small smile. "Yes, but not everything I wanted them to..."

─────── · ·

When back in Zaun and at The Last Drop, bar-goers had already flooded the decorated space for tomorrow night it would be the inventions fair, a bar local already chosen to set the mood for the night and a few university members stationed with scholarships in mind.

Both Vander and Silco were excited to witness the extraordinary kids they knew have the opportunity to show their talents to others and hopefully the collective dream of them changing the world would come true but fate always had to make its presence known in the doorway.

Blue sparkled out of the corner of Silco's eye as he leaned against the bar top waiting to continue his conversation with Vander. A half eaten apple sat beside his notebook that he was picking away at while conducting the accounting for the month. His back burned with his age from being hunched over for so long as he stood up to stretch.

Laughs echoed throughout the bar, feet dancing against the wooden plank floors, drinks clashing and spilling against the tables as another gets thrown out the side door. Powder had left a few moments ago with Echo, a certain mischievous look in her eye that Silco did not find unusual at the time would only shock his system now when he caught from reflection in the glass of his amber filled cup.

Your name graced his lips, remembering the feel, imaging your warmth against his skin and to feel it, to see it. He thought to be surreal, to be going senile as he looked to Vander for support and only found him smiling with a wink before turning back around to serve another customer.

Your skin was a thousand colours coming to life in his eyes, his hand drifting from the back of your fingertips, up your arm to your shoulder, neck upon which you shiver and rest your forehead upon his own. "How I've missed you," words that he only hoped to hear, have only read to himself in comfort written by his own hand- a fantasy turned reality now spoken to truth between your very own lips that Silco had to claim.

You melted into his touch, decades without the familiarity- him haunting your body with memory of his touch now appearing as goosebumps in recognition. You smile against his lips, hand running up against the smooth fabric of his vest before lacing in the silver locks of his hair.

Out of breath, you both pant, hands still gripping one another tightly as if afraid the other would disappear once more. "I thought to have lost you, to be so alone for so long. Why is it now that you appear just when I was surviving once again off of scraps?" Silco asks into your ear, not wanting to break this moment between the two of you. Even when in a crowded bar, it is only the two of you present in this moment.

"I would ask myself the same questions when I came back alive thanks to the technology developed in my universe and by what force I have yet to know, I am forever thankful for returning me, my soul, back to you to rest finally," you speak through tears mixing with Silco's silent ones dripping down his cheekbones and falling against your clothes that stain the fabric dark.

"I should thank that force as well," Silco murmurs, lost in your eyes, brushing away your tears. "I think it best we have the rest of this conversation elsewhere," Silco grabs your hand before pulling you out of the bar. The cheers and claps becoming distant as he leads you back to his apartment.

He locks the door behind you both, watching as you gently let go of his hand and walk around his space. Your hand feels the leather of your jacket still sat in the same place where you left it, against the couch in a forgotten moment of need. You continue towards the kitchen, seeing the various crayon pictures of Violet and Powder attached to the fridge who Silco explained to you before walking towards the bedroom. Your glass still waiting for you beside an unopened bottle you remember gifting Silco for his birthday.

"Why did you never open it?" You ask, fingers tracing around the neck of the bottle coated in a layer of dust you blow from your fingertips. "You said not to open it without you there to try it, I kept to my promise in hope for an impossible day like today. It was a reminder of not to drain my hope as many other's do."

All you can do is nod before holding the bottle in between your hands, a sickness suddenly washes over you as you take in Silco's form leaning against the doorframe. His arms crossed, leg tucked over the other and the scar of his yellow eye glowing warmly- lighting up the room amongst the candles.

He expects you to open the bottle, you understand that in doing so means you are to stay but that is something you cannot do. Not when Echo and the Professor are building a time-machine, not when your world is about to erupt in ruins.

You want nothing more to indulge more than you already had into this word of perfection and wrongs written right but that would be a cruelty brought upon this world. You knew you shouldn't have gone up to him, kissed him, felt his skin upon you skin only to take it away like the hopes of everyone else who had died during this war.

But you were only human, your heart already shattered and in need of repair, of warmth and kindness but you would only be selfish just as much as those you were out to strike down. "I-I can't open the bottle Silco. I-" you start to sob, hands shaking before placing the bottle back upon the nightstand.

You bring your knees back up to your chest, breaths heavy as your head spins, blood starting to drip down your nose, the reflection of blue out of the corner of your eyes as you gripping the sheets, knuckles turning white as Silco runs over, falling to his knees as he begs to see your face.

"Please, whatever is the matter, darling?" Silco asks, the sweetness of his tone doing nothing but to further indulge your nausea as you spiral. "I shouldn't have come to you, have done any of this!" You shout, trying to shove the man away but Silco only stands, wrapping his arms around your body as you do your best to kick and shove him away.

You look over his shoulder, watching as the sunsets through the window and sheer blinds. "Silco," you sob, fingers digging into the material of his vest once again in a panic rather than in reverence. "Silco, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry that this was not forever, that this will only be another memory and perhaps the once that hurts the most knowing that I left rather than was forced to..."

"Then let me hurt, allow me to bleed, allow me to weep for I have endless time for that but only a finite time to be truly happy. So please, indulge me, drink it all and leave me once more with the knowledge that you are out there somewhere in another place, alive. Please, please," Silco begs turn into whispers as you press your tears into his neck before leaving a lingering kiss.

"Until the sunrise we shall be happy in the night," you speak softly in between kisses, your vision still clouded in tears.

"Until the sunrise," Silco restates before capturing your lips once more and sighing heavily. The moons bask ignites you both, lighting the liquid in your bodies burn as you take pleasure in one another.

You feel him, your hearts and souls connecting, rekindling in what is only to be heartbreak that makes you both press harder into one another. Leave marks across each others skin and kiss them delicately afterwards. It is in you both taking a bath afterwards until the cold waters have you both frozen still in realization as the sun rises and fills the room. Its warmth lost as you pick up your clothes and leave your jacket leaning against the couch once more.

You stare at the empty bottle at the bedside and watch as Silco picks it up and looks at you through it was a wavering smile. "Goodbye, my love and know that it was always you my soul yearns for and you who I define myself as."

"I really wish this didn't have to be the end, Silco...." you try your best not to sob, chocking on your words yet standing firm in your positions knowing that comforting one another would only make the hurt worse than it already was burning. "...in another life, I can see how easily we could have had it all- could have been happy."

"I wouldn't want any other memories than the ones we share," you nod in agreement, your body shakes, skin burns in want as you reach for the cold handle that sends shivers down your spine.

"Goodbye, Silco, I love you, forevermore."

"And I you."

─────── · ·

The walk to Jinx's place is a long and cold one, a thousand pairs of eyes stare at you with their condolences. You refuse to meet any of their stares, knowing that by just one look you would be running back into his arms for comfort.

Echo and Heimerdinger are already there and waiting for you, Echo extends his hand and lifts you up onto the platform. A swirl of arcane magic mixed fits the seeds of that all-too-familiar blue have you floating with a scream as the Professor sacrifices himself with one last salute to you both. Echo holds you, the loss of today holding heavy yet his touch is not what you yearn for as you cry into his jacket, gripping the collar of it as colours swirl around your vision and you are brought back to the battlefield once more.

Bullets wiz past your had, another graces your cheek as your blood falls like tears against the broken pavement. The roar of a monster rumbles the ground as you sprint towards the closing barriers, throwing yourself over them and into a sea of dead blue enforcers.

Screams haunt your ears, echoing distantly through your memories and brought forth into reality as you step over cast aside limbs and guns. You watch as Vi ahed of you holds another as they take their final breaths, a machine gun makes you loose hearing in your left ear and next thing you knew, a burning sensation was coming from your right leg where a ghastly wound had planted itself.

Hoisting and forcing yourself to stand you carry forth with a limp and defend the entrance, holding cover and watching as the trojan horse gets rolled in through the barriers all you can feel is Silco's marks as you charge forwards with an unrelenting cry.

─────── · ·

Silco fell back into the bed and stayed in that exact same numb position until Vander came to find him, "You know, there was a part of me debating weather or not to distract you from 'em and theres a part of me now that regrets not doin' so."

"It wouldn't have mattered anyways, the hurt of not seeing them when I got the chance to would have hurt just as much if not more. But I appreciate the sentiment, brother," Silco responds, rolling the cork of the bottle in between his thumb and finger.

"Finally drank it, huh?" Vander comments, picking up the bottle from the stand as gently as possible between his large hands. All Silco can do is smile, a singular tear dripping down his cheek that gets cast away, "yeah, something like that."

─────── · ·

─ · · A/N: so... what did y'all think?

[halfwayhearted]

hopeless romantic pedri trying his best to approach y/n but is afraid thinking she’s into someone else

A Tu Vera — Pedri González.

Pairing: Pedri González x Fem!Reader

Summary: He’s unsure about your feelings and struggles to interpret your actions, but your birthday gesture gives him the chance to hope that he’s wrong. That you do, in fact, like him.

Word Count: 1.10K+

Disclaimer/s — Nothing, it’s really just comfort, slight fluff?

A/N: So basically… I used the term approach as in like, he felt nervous to approach reader about the… situation? FUCK IDK I struggled horribly yet couldn’t stop writing but whatever! ALSO. HIS BIRTHDAY HELLO. 22, bless the hell up! 🎉🐾🤍

The day you’ve been waiting for has finally come.

It was Pedri’s twenty-second birthday today. You had told him beforehand that you would stop by later on because he needed to stay and practice for his upcoming game tomorrow, and you didn’t want to interrupt his time spent with his family.

Some time had passed when your phone buzzed with a message from him saying that he was, well, alone, so you could be on your way to him.

And you were! Your gift for him sat delicately on your passenger seat. Did you have to stop yourself from spending a lot on him? Yes! But this was Pedri; why wouldn’t you go all out for him?

As you pull up, your eyebrows furrow in confusion when you see him standing on the porch, his gaze locking onto your car. You quickly get out and call out to him, “Hello, why the hell are you outside?”

Now he’s looking at you as if you’ve just asked the most stupidest question in the world. “You were on your way. Of course I’d be waiting outside.” He retorted, slowly making his way toward you.

“Right,” you smile and wrap your arms around him once you’re within reach. “Happy birthday!”

The man returns your hug almost immediately. He hums against you in appreciation, nestling his nose into the crook of your neck. The action easily causes your cheeks to flush ever-so-slightly.

“I’ve got your gift in my car. Want to open now?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, pulling away to his dismay.

Though his answer elicits a smile to spread across your lips… oh. He suddenly doesn’t feel upset about having to break the hug so early anymore.

Grabbing his arm, you gently tug him with you as you quickly reach the car door. “Okay, first things first: unfortunately, I can’t stay long. Secondly, feel free to let me know if you don’t like whatever’s in here; I kept the receipt just in case!”

“Doubtful, but I got it,” he shrugged with a grin.

Sliding your hand under the bag, you lean forward to get a better grip on it. Then, you turn to face him, holding it out for him to take, and he does.

With the gift now in his arms, you walk side by side to the chairs he has already set up outside, due to his family coming over earlier. Once the two of you are seated, you turn towards him and motion for him to open it, but he just keeps his gaze fixed on your face. You feel sick. “Go on.”

Adjusting the bag on his lap, Pedri pries it open, a breathy laugh escaping his lips when he sees how overly decorated it is. He takes out the card first, about to open it when you speak, “You can just read that later or something. Keep going, c’mon!”

He smiles, removing the blue and red wrapping paper to reveal the blue Nike hoodie inside. “You like hoodies, and you like the color blue, so…!”

It was the simplest thing, yet it had him fighting the urge to overthink the entire situation. You were observant, he knew that. He needed to stop.

“Thank you,” he says with a toothy-grin. “Really.”

“Of course. There’s one last thing at the bottom.”

The brunette lets out another laugh and removes more wrapping paper. His eyes widen slightly when he catches sight of the next gift, making you bite your bottom lip in nervous anticipation.

His gaze slowly trails up to lock with yours, and you tilt your head. “Do you like it? I noticed you were running low the other day, plus I know—”

Pedri interjects, “I do, and I was. It’s—this is a lot.”

“Don’t worry about that,” you assure. “Now you won’t have to worry about getting another one!”

The box suddenly feels heavy in his hands, the strip of the brand ‘Prada’ staring right at him. He nods slowly, “No, I won’t. Thank you. Wow.”

“Wow, huh? So, I take it you liked everything?”

Obviously, was he kidding? No, were you kidding?“Really? What gave you that idea? Yes, I loved it.”

With a chuckle, you nudge his foot with yours, eyes rolling in feigned annoyance, “Hey, I can easily take it back. Tell me how your day was?”

“It was good. I had a good practice, had a small dinner with my family, and now I’m with you.”

I’m with you? What? He could’ve cursed under his breath if you weren’t right here. He knew he shouldn’t have said that. If he thought it sounded weird, you probably thought it was even worse.

He’s quick to take it back, “I didn’t—I’m sorry.”

“What? It’s okay,” you tell him with a quirk of your brow. “Sorry, what are you even apologizing for?”

He looks confused. “You’re with him, aren’t you?”

“Him?” You repeated. “I’m not seeing anybody.”

Not seeing anybody? “What about the guy with the blonde hair? The one you hung out with a lot.”

That’s when the person he’s talking about flickers through your mind, and now you’re smiling from ear-to-ear, “Oh. I’m not with him. I don’t like him.”

“Then who?” He blurts out, instantly regretting his words. He didn’t even actually know if you liked anyone to begin with. What was he doing?

You blow out a breath and stand up from your seat, with him following suit. “You’re serious?”

Stick with it. “I’m serious. You don’t have to—”

You refrain from letting your grin widen, nudging your head toward your car. He understands that you’re silently asking for him to walk you to it.

“Well! If it’s need-to-know,” you trail off, rounding your car and spinning on your heel to look at him once you reach the door. Your gaze flickers down to his lips for just a second, but that second is all he really needs for his breath to hitch in his throat.

To his semi-surprise, you reached up and placed a kiss on his cheek, sparing him one last knowing glance while you opened the door and got inside.

“Let me know if that answers your question. And, Pedri?” You pause; he hums. “Happy birthday.”

He stands there in silence. He had been so wrong. You weren’t with the person he thought you were with, and he should have realized that when you showed up at his house this late, knowing full well you have to wake up early for your job tomorrow.

Pedri had been utterly mistaken, and he couldn’t have been happier to be as wrong as he was.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.

DT(s) — @planetpedri + @gadriezmannsgirl + @spidybaby + @iovepoem + @joaoflms ! ౨ৎ

[zigrethsnotebook]

How do you manage to make even the most mundane things sound exciting?

Ford x Reader

words: 3,154

tags: sfw, hurt and comfort

a/n: this was the only note i made for myself before writing this: hnghnghng this is about moths now so yeah... enjoy:)

It's been a whole year. The twins are back from their sea adventure and the kids are staying with them for the summer again. You were on your way over to the shack. Stan had written you a letter, inviting you over. He said it'd be nice to catch up, tell you and the kids all about their time at sea and that way they wouldn't have to tell the stories twice.

The stories weren't the only thing you were excited for. Before they had left Stan had encouraged you to confess to Ford, insisting that his brother felt the same for you as you did for him. But when you told him he just went silent for way too long.

"Ford?" A nervous chuckle escaped you. "Please say something?" He looked into your eyes, his gaze blank and unreadable. "I'm sorry." The words felt like a dagger to your heart. "F-for what?" You at least wanted him to have the balls to say that he doesn't care for you. "I don't see a romantic relationship between us having a future. Especially with Stan and I going out to sea tomorrow. I'm sorry."

You just nodded, taking the words in. "...This didn’t ruin what we have, did it? Will we still be friends when you get back?" Your voice was small, afraid of his answer. "I'll always be your friend." A sigh of relief. The idea of him not being a part of your life had been the reason you didn’t want to confess to him in the first place. You only did it because Stan was so convincing that he reciprocated your feelings. Turns out you were both wrong.

You shook your head, breaking yourself out of the bad memory. After almost an entire year, you had come to terms with it. Now, you were just excited to see your friend again. Excited to have a normal conversation with him again.

Back in the shack the Family was preparing everything. The kids and Soos got the snacks and drinks ready while the Twins were busy starting the campfire. Stan watched as Ford poked around in the fire. He shook his head.

"I'll never understand it." Ford looked up at his brother. "I'll never understand how someone as smart as you could let go of the person who would have been the best thing in his life." Ford sighed. They had had this talk before.

It was pretty much the only thing they talked about the first week at sea. Stan would also bring it up anytime a night on the boat was too long and too quiet.

"We have nothing in common... That and our lifes are way too dangerous, I can't bring another person with me." He saw the disapproving look on Stan's face. "It's not like I have anything to offer. I've spent my whole life buried in books and research. I don't know how to be in a relationship."

Stan scoffed at that. "What are you talking about, Sixer? You're a catch! Times change, Nerds are the new Jocks. There's a reason I was the second choice for most of the babes we met." A bittersweet chuckle escaped Stan.

Ford sighed, focusing on the fire again. "It doesn't matter anyway. Even if I wanted to try again, I highly doubt that they're still single." Now that was something Stan couldn't counter. Mainly because it's something he hadn't even considered. You were so head-over-heels for Ford the last time you and Stan talked, it just didn’t seem likely that you'd go looking for someone else.

The kids and Soos came outside, carrying marshmallows, crackers, chocolate and Soda. Dipper was the first to sit down on one of the logs. "I can't wait to hear of all the creatures you found! It must have been awesome!"

"You bet!" Stan grinned at the boy. "But we won't start with the stories yet, someone is still missing." Ford looked at his brother suspiciously. "What are you talking about, Stanley?" At the same time Mabel's eyes widened. "Are you saying we get to see-" She was cut off as Stan stood up and called out your name, announcing your arrival.

You smiled sheepishly and greeted everyone. The kids were super excited to see you again and Mabel ran over to hug you. You hadn't realized how much you missed them. When she let go of you she practically dragged you over to the campfire. Stan, who was still standing, hugged you as well.

"It's good to see ya again, toots." You chuckled. "I missed you, too, Stan." You broke the hug and turned to Ford who made no effort to get up or anything along those lines. Instead, you just waved at him, but gave him the same fond smile you had shown the others. "The same goes for you, Ford."

Behind you, Stan frowned at his brother, obviously disappointed at the lack of enthusiasm he showed you. He quickly put on a smile as he addressed you again. "Please, take a seat! We were just about to begin with our stories."

You sat down between Stan and Soos, who just greeted you with a simple "Hey dude". You two had become friends over the course of the last year.

Soon everyone had prepared a stick with a marshmallow and held it over the fire while Stan told the most extravagant stories of their travels. You were glued to his every word, his storytelling being how you two became friends in the first place.

You were so engrossed in the stories that you didn’t notice the way Ford looked at you. He adored you. The way the warm light of the fire illuminated your features perfectly. The way your eyes seemed to sparkle with pure joy as Stan talked about heroically fighting off some beasts. Hell, he loved you.

This wasn't news to him, of course. Ford had known this for over a year. In fact, when you confessed your feelings for him, he wanted to hug you, kiss you, propose to you on the spot. But he didn’t. Because he felt like he wasn't enough.

Ford felt like he didn’t deserve happiness after almost ending the world and he knew that he would achieve it if he let himself be with you.

Back then, after you had left, Ford had told Stan about the whole thing, who took him by the shoulders and shook him, asking him if he was insane. The next day, when they were about to leave, you had stopped by to say goodbye to Stan, but refused to speak to Ford, politely making up a reason why you had to leave again.

It had crushed him. Ford wanted to sprint after you, turn you around and kiss you all dramatically like in the movies. But he didn’t. Because he had hurt you already and didn’t dare to make it even worse.

Which, of course, had made it worse anyway. The way you had parted ways meant that you were left all alone with a broken heart. And you couldn't even talk to your best friend about it because he was on the same boat as Ford.

But now, as Ford looked at you again, he felt all the feelings he had been trying to bury beneath the ocean floor bubble back up again.

"And that is how Ford and I defeated the mighty Kraken!" Stan was standing, his hands raised to the sky in triumph. All of you cheered and clapped your hands. It was so good to hear his gruff voice and exaggerated stories again. Although, you were more inclined to believe him this time.

The evening went on with more stories, smores and lots of laughter. You were so relieved to have them back in your life again, all four of them. You had missed them more than you realized.

Eventually, it turned late and the kids began to get sleepy. The fire had also died down. In a joined effort you all cleaned the place back up, bringing the rest of the snacks and drink back inside the shack.

After putting more things on the kitchen table for Stan and the kids to put away you went outside again to see if there was anything else to get. Soos came your way and you held the door open for him as you stepped outside.

Ford was still there. "That's everything. Soos took the last of it." You nodded. "Neat." You were about to step back inside again when you felt Ford's energy shift to a more energetic one. He pointed to the porch light.

"Look at that! That's a Tyria jacobaeae! I haven't seen one of these in ages. A beautiful creature, just look at the markings on its wings, the bright red color..." Ford looked at the moth in awe and when you stepped closer you realized why.

The little black and red creature truly was stunning. But if Ford hadn't pointed it out then you never would have noticed it. "It is really pretty. But there is no way I'm gonna remember a latin name for anything." You chuckled lightly as you said it.

Ford hummed in acknowledgement. "Well, it is more commonly known as the Cinnabar Moth. Cinnabar, like the mineral, of course, because of its striking color. It wards off predators, letting them know that they're toxic."

You instinctively took a step back and Ford chuckled at your reaction. "There is nothing for you to worry about unless you plan to eat the little guy." You rubbed the back of your neck sheepishly. "Haha, no. Doesn't really fit my diet." Ford and you shared a laugh together.

Another, considerably larger, moth joined the other one at the lamp. This one was bright white and yellow with little black dots on its wings. Ford nodded knowingly as he spotted it. "Estigmene acrea. The Salt Marsh Moth. Very pretty, but did you know that these little guys aren't very well liked around here?"

Even though it was a rhetorical question you shook your head 'no' and sat down on the couch Stan kept on the porch, letting Ford lecture you. He quickly sat down next to you as he continued. "They feed on most crops which means that farmers have to be on the lookout for them around this time."

God, how you had missed this. Just hanging out with Ford, letting him tell you all about a subject he was passionate about was one of your favorite things in the world.

Your gaze shifted from the Moths in front of you to Ford's face as he kept on talking about the little creatures. You didn’t try to keep the look of adoration off your face as you watched him animatedly explain the differences in their wingspans.

Eventually, he noticed your staring and turned his eyes to you, stuttering his speech to a halt. You chuckled fondly. "How do you manage to make even the most mundane things sound exciting?" He laughed and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

"You just have to open your eyes and learn to find beauty in the mundane. That way you won't ever be bored again." As if on its own your body leaned towards him. You quickly stopped yourself. He rejected you once, you didn’t need to go through that again. Ford hadn't noticed.

You forced your eyes away from his and toward the moths again with a sigh. "The only times I haven't felt any boredom were the days I spent with you last year." A tight feeling settled in your chest as you spoke the words, but you couldn't stop yourself. "And today, of course."

You tried to keep your tone casual, your voice light. Ford felt an ache in his heart. He wanted you to never be bored again, show you the world through his eyes. Show you how he saw you.

"Surely you weren't bored every day of this past year, right? I bet you went on at least one interesting date?" He tried to keep his tone equally casual. Tried to keep the desperation out of his voice.

You snorted. "Yeah, right. Who'd wanna date me?" "I would." You froze. Surely you had misheard him? You turned to look at Ford again, his expression was... honest?

You frowned. "I'm not in the mood for jokes, Ford." You stood and turned, about to walk away. Ford grabbed your wrist, stopping you. "Who's laughing?" You pressed your eyes shut and stayed with your back to Ford, unable to look at him.

"I just got over you. Don't make me go through all of that again." Ford felt his heart shatter in his chest. "I am so sorry." He paused, trying to find the right words. "I was a selfish asshole. And you deserved so much better. You still deserve someone so much better than me."

Ford took a deep breath, still holding tightly onto your wrist. He couldn't let you go until you knew the truth. "I, on the other hand, don't deserve your forgiveness. Hell," A bitter laugh escaped him, "it took Stan a whole year to convince me that maybe I deserve to be happy sometimes at all, even though I almost caused the world to end."

He took a shaky breath, tears pricking at his eyes. But he wasn't done yet. "I spent the whole year regretting every word I said to you that day. Because... what I didn’t have the guts to tell you then is... I love you."

Ford stared at the back of your head, looking for any movement at all that could give away how you felt about his words. But you didn’t move for a moment, didn’t spare him a glance. Without a word, you flexed your arm and pulled hard, tearing your wrist from his grip.

You walked away from him and the shack without turning back. Ford was in shambles, his legs trembling and tears flowing freely. He wouldn't have been able to follow you.

Stan and the kids had watched the whole thing unfold from one of the windows, being attracted to the sudden noise like moths to the light. Now they stood shocked, with their jaws on the floor.

Back at home you threw your shoes and jacket in a corner before collapsing onto your bed. You were angry at Ford for treating you like that, playing with your emotions for over a year. Slowly, it settled in that Ford had just confessed his love to you.

After a year of thinking he didn’t want you that way, it left your emotions all over the place. Angry, sad and with a weird feeling of relief you cried yourself to sleep.

A soft knock to your window woke you up again. It was still dark outside. It was a big window that led to a balcony. You stepped in front of it and pulled the curtains back, revealing Ford. He looked like a kicked puppy, making it impossible for you to ignore him.

You opened the window and stepped outside to him. "What do you want, Ford?" He cringed at your harsh tone of voice. "I came to apologize... again. I know I hurt you. I know I behaved all wrong. And I'm sorry." He looked up into your eyes.

"I don't expect you to fall into my arms or anything like that. You're over me and that's fine. I won't try to win you back. I-I just wanted to be honest... but, maybe that made it worse again..." Ford shook his head, starting to pace around in front of you.

You took a deep breath. It was time to just let go of your anger and instead seize the moment while you had the chance. "Ford." He turned to look at you with big, hopeful eyes. "I'm not over you."

He took a step closer as you continued. "I thought I was. But everything that happened tonight... everything you said... I still love you." You locked eyes with him and you could see the relief flooding through him as he let out the breath he was holding.

Silence washed over the both of you, neither sure how to proceed. But the silence wasn't uncomfortable either.

The dull moonlight cast a blue hue over the both of you. You looked up at Ford's hair, admiring the way the light made it glow, when a little winged creature landed on his perfect hair. A smile crept on your face and you raised your eyebrow along with your hand to his hair.

Carefully, you held your hand out to the creature, offering your finger to sit on. Ford stayed quiet and you urged him not to move too much with one hand on his chest. The animal took your offer and when you felt every one of its six legs on your finger you brought your hand back down.

You held the little moth between you two. Its wings were light-blue with dark tips. Ford smiled at the creature. "Lomographa semiclarata or Bluish Spring Moth." He put one of his hands under yours, making you both hold it together.

"Did you know that in a more spiritual sense, moths often symbolize transformation and are generally considered as a good omen?" You looked up from the moth and smiled softly at him. "Is that so?" You let the hand you still held on his chest wander upwards to his neck.

Ford nodded lightly. "They represent positive conclusions." You let out a content breath, accidentally startling the moth into flight. Both of you followed the creature with your eyes. "...And sometimes death."

You laughed and lightly swatted him on the chest with your now free hand. "You better not die on me, Ford." He placed one of his hands on top of yours that was now on his chest and the other one on your waist, pulling you closer. "I wouldn't dare."

Ford slowly moved his face closer to yours, giving you plenty of time to back away in case you didn’t want what was about to happen. But why wouldn't you, this is the moment you spent an entire year dreaming about!

You let your eyes flutter shut and soon enough felt Ford's lips on yours. They were softer than you imagined, making you smile slightly into the kiss. You moved your lips against his in a way that felt just right. Like this was how it was always supposed to be.

Ford sighed into the kiss, finally relaxing and letting himself enjoy the moment. This was the kiss you would remember forever. Especially because he would immortalize it in his journal first thing tomorrow morning.

When you both parted you felt like you were floating. You rested your head on Ford's shoulder, just enjoying finally being able to hold him like this.

"Positive conclusion, indeed."

[denial-permanente]

Was there a learning curve for Tom when he first started using the vixskin?

We started using "foxing" dildos so long ago that I really don't remember. I might have been a little awkward at first but by the time we had bought the Vixskin Tex, my husband had it feeling so natural that I don't remember any transition.

The change that I do remember is when we got the bigger Vixskin Ranger. It's not porn star big, but he had to relearn how to move and how to angle himself a bit different. Fortunately my husband is a quick learner and within a couple of weeks he had that feeling so natural that I told him we were never going back! 😈

🔏 Tom here. My wife makes it sound like it was a seamless transition, but I remember feeling a little awkward at first while I figured out where to position the straps, and how to position myself for the most comfortable feeling for her.

On the Terra Firma harness, I removed the leather backing pad to allow me to shift the ring lower on my hips for a more natural angle.

The most important thing though, is that you have to learn how to "use the force" because you don't have any direct tactile feel of where you are inside. It's easy to push a little too hard or too deep; I had to learn how to focus on my wife's feedback, plus learn the miniscule physical sensations transmitted through the base of the Vixskin to my groin.

So, "foxing" is not a steep learning curve, but it does take a little time to learn to do it well.

[joffyworld]

Šamaš -

The Shunned Sun's Son

Nobody remembers...

One...

I remember the sun;

How it burned my retina and touched my skin.

I remember the sand and the desert's strewn hues,

How it stretched so far I could never imagine it's end.

I remember the clacking of the horses hooves;

How they whinnie'd and neigh'd as they trotted afar.

I remember well the hot, harsh sun;

How it sunk it's rays, seeped deep into purple flesh.

I remember the tears;

How the years of servitude and solemn silences had been repaid in kind.

I remember the fall;

How I trod for miles and days, in any which way I could conceive to heave my wounded soul.

I remember the offer;

How they extended their hand and told me of their plans to redeem that which we had both just had stolen.

I remember the son...

Two...

There was nothing to lose by the time I had met him.

No course of action set but to survive without question.

Those were the dark days:

Before we had found our ways, struck down the clouds and figured it all out; How we would arise from these trials and tribulations.

That is to say;

We weren't yet homeward bound into those higher graces. We hadn't yet found our way out of the cave system that we resided in;

Depression.

Yet that is also to say we hadn't yet lost hope. Hadn't found ourselves falling from the ends of our rope. We clung tightly to the middle, ever so tightly to that middle that had the rope ever frayed we might've let ourselves choke.

Depression's a bitch but so were we.

We made our days carefree and aimless. Because who is more dangerous than the nameless and faceless? We moved through the shadows, yes we clung to those shadows, they embraced us when the world didn't. It was all we could know.

I remember the cub...

Three...

He'd never had to run.

There was a fire in his eyes, I remember it well. You could immediately tell there was a chance to excel. You could immediately see, no matter who he'd want to be, he would achieve it without question, time wasn't needed to tell.

He'd never want to run.

The fire in his eyes belied the fire in his heart. The fire was in there it just needed a spark. The spark that was needed was the guidance of our teaching, could we do what was necessary? Was it even enough?

He'd never be able to run.

Fire burns hot, this we know well. Those that burn the brightest burn the fastest, this we could all tell. The fire needed to be tempered, it had to be made embers and if we left it too long it might have burned us as well.

In a way he did run.

He retreated into those books we had banned, but he was fast as a gun. Every book we confiscated was another library raided, had we taken from him the chance to learn and have fun?

Of course we had. That was the plan wasn't it? To take from him the powers of our collective knowledges? To shake and stutter his incorrigible courage? To destroy the foundations of the most powerful puppet? To take from the child, to break this poor child. We thought we were helping, it was all proven wrong.

I remember the spawn...

Four...

They say there is strength in nobility:

A chance to make right your wrongs and face your true enemies, a choice to be made about who you really ought to be. Yet that choice is no choice if it's formed by your destiny. We rail against it as if destiny can be history, then fail to mention that we follow it anyway blissfully -

Unaware.

That's what we were, maybe still are. We thought we had our work cut out for us, that naught was FUBAR. That we could recover and find our place amongst these stars; that form our galaxy, though tragically we forgot to search far.

Then destiny blessed us again.

I remember looking down at the small child that stood there. Dirtied clothes, big eyes and no traces of hair. Built wide, like her smile, nary a sound in the air. Not tall, but built short without a singular flair.

Destiny was a strange patron.

It had given us a family we could never have dreamed of. It gave us small hopes and small comforts that we could never conceive of. It took and then gave and then took again without recourse. But when all seemed hopeless again, it came back with kind re-gards.

Years passed and none changed. Months flew by and yet we all stayed the same. Number four grew stronger, number three grew bolder, number two grew shoulders for them to cry on and complain.

I remember the hatchling...

Five...

He was perhaps the most interesting.

Certainly the most challenging.

We kept things simple,

We tried to keep it all slow.

But there was no stopping him.

Every day was another spent running at the gym.

Every activity a festivity, never a solemn slow hymn.

There was no sort of pace,

That we could ever control.

He completed us as a family,

He reformed our lost souls,

Gave us back what was taken,

So many decades ago -

Humanity.

But fate is a cruel mistress still,

And you reap what you sow;

Tragedy....

"I have received a prophecy...

...I am sorry little ones,"

"We Have No Choice"

[coffin-ramblings]

In your opinion, what makes Andrew's interest in Ashley romantic rather than just sexual? Love your analyses and wanted your expert opinion, bc personally I'm kinda on the fence about it

I am very flattered that you like my analysts and consider me an expert! It is a great honor to be told that.

The first evidence Andrew is romantically in love with Ashley is this dialogue back in Episode 1. This was actually one of the big reasons why I did not check out Episode 2 for a long while because of how fucking weird Andrew is. I already knew he was weird and actually down bad for Ashley, but that moment really shows how deeply fucked up this guy is. What do you mean you think it's too romantic to commit suicide by jumping off the balcony with your sister? Even Ashley thinks he's weird there.

And then he explains that he thinks it's romantic because that'd mean their bodies would be be entangled together and have to be buried in the same coffin. Despite this, he likes that Ashley wants to join him, which wow, okay dude.

We now fast forward to chapter 2, where we get a lot more of incestuous hints from Andrew.

The first obvious one that you will always see is Andrew checking on Ashley because she's obviously in a bad mood having their burglary thwarted and having to talk with, cook for, and eat with their mother who abandoned them, likely sold them out, and wanted them dead. Ashley doesn't want to talk about it because this confirms her desire to sacrifice them and was hoping she didn't have to say it to Andrew, so she is also frustrated he's not picking that up either and being snappy. Andrew then thinks, "I want to hug her until she smiles", which okay, that's innocuous enough, but is then followed by, "I'm not going to do it, it's another thought that I wish I never had." What kind of thoughts do you have that makes you not want to hug your sister and comfort her Andrew? Isn't it a good thing you want to make her happy especially in this really shit day? And why are you blushing at that thought???

After that, you can have Andrew go talk with their mother and have this gem:

While it's easy to think Andrew thinking, "I don't want to grow fonder of Ashley because she's a bitch" if you see this the first time, notice that he starts blushing there. He very much does not want his romantic desires for Ashley intensified, nor does he ever want to be separated from her as we find out later on at the fireplace if you are on Burial route.

And before that, Andrew eats Ashley's mom-and-dad soup despite his obvious reluctance to and his outright refusal in Decay. He is only doing this to make Ashley happy, when the day before, he was holding back from just hugging her to cheer her up because of the fear that intimacy with Ashley will expose his feelings, which is why Ashley is surprised. That is, quite weirdly, a romantic gesture of Andrew.

And finally, no matter how you get Burial Sane, Andrew is still on better terms with her than before their parents died. Sure he's grumpy and aloof, but he still is happy to be with her and he doesn't start blaming her for their situation. This unnerves Ashley because she now realizes that he doesn't "need" her, but he's still hanging around for who knows how long and she can't guarantee he will stay.

It's easy to think that Andrew's feelings for Ashley is just sexual when the main focus has been Burial Questionable and the confirmation that they can have sex in Decay. Sane often gets neglected for being boring, "pointless", and Ashley being "out of character" for not teasing Andrew about the incest vision, but it is still a major route of the game and is worth analyzing. People often miss the main point of the game is that Andrew's and Ashley's (mostly) platonic relationship is already under a lot of strain due to their mutual distrust that the other will betray and/or leave them, Ashley being too stuck in the past in the most obvious form of being attached to Andy, and Andrew being cold to Ashley because he can't be honest with his affection for her. They have to rebuild their relationship as family and friends first before they can have a relatively healthy romantic relationship. Even after that obstacle, the fear of being rejected for their incestuous feelings is very real and valid when they're also family, and if the other leaves them for that or stops being on good terms with them, they are completely alone and/or heartbroken because they have no one left to love them and for them to love back.

This is why Andrew represses his romantic desire for Ashley, and Ashley can choose to stay platonic with him or tell Andrew that they will not have sex. They are both aware this really is not normal, they are most likely going to be rejected because it's abnormal, and they are afraid of what will happen after rejection. They value each other so much that they will be happy to give up their own desires if it means that they can still have each other around. That is also quite romantic, and needless to say, a very common experience for people who have trouble with confessing or never confessed their feelings to the people they love.

If Andrew merely had sexual feelings for Ashley, he can just keep dating and having sex with other women that look like her and move on. Even though Ashley doesn't like it and resents him for that, at least they still have a relationship, which is better than none at all for Andrew. It is much more difficult for Andrew when he is romantically in love with her, and he actively has to hide it away from her in hopes she won't reject him. He tried to make the best of dating Julia to try to get rid of his romantic and sexual feelings for Ashley, but even that is not enough. As seen in the Voicemails video, he needs to imagine Julia's Ashley to say romantic declarations of love to her, but that makes him sad.

On a more meta level, and one a lot of fans forget, is that TCOAAL is a psychological horror game. It is so much more revolting and well, horrifying that Andrew has romantic feelings for Ashley. My revulsion at Andrew was so strong that I stayed away from the game for months, planning to wait until Episode 3 because I want Julia to show up so I can root for her because neither sibling was sympathetic enough for me. If it was just Andrew being very sexually touchy with Ashley, I and many others would have thought he is sexually abusive or he only sees Ashley as a sex doll, and thus find it easier to root for Ashley and hope she leaves him or retaliates against him. But it is way more fascinating and accurate to a codependency that there is no clear abuser-and-victim or good guy and bad guy dynamic, that the siblings are mutually horrible to each other, but also mutually in love and lust for each other. Nemlei makes their romance an integral part of the game's horror, which is a masterful display of her skill as a creator to blend two seemingly opposite feelings into one work of art.

[elspethdekarios]

Atonement

Hello fellow Solavellan sufferers!!! I've written a little fic about what I imagine goes down between Solas and Lavellan once the game is over. I'll have you know I listened to the Lost Elf Theme on repeat while writing it, if that tells you anything. Anyway, read below the cut or on AO3 here!

SFW, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Words: 2,821

! HUGE VEILGUARD SPOILERS !

When she stepped into the Fade, hand in hand with her love, Sulah had no preconceived notion of what to expect on the other side, nor did she spend a moment speculating about what it could possibly be. She was with Solas, after all, and there was no use in trying to predict his actions. It was funny, really—how she found him predictable and surprising all in the same. No, there was little use trying to guess where in the Fade he would lead them. Nonetheless, she wasn't sure she would have ever expected this.

The pocket of the Fade they walked into was dull and gray as stone. In fact, most of it was stone. Fragments of buildings and debris floated slowly through the foggy sky above. Tendrils of winding roots grew up through cracks in the stone. There were staircases that seemed to lead to nowhere, and twisted, barren trees clinging to broken columns and walls. The air was so still it felt stifling in Sulah’s lungs. And Solas, downtrodden and bruised, looked like he belonged there. Like he was part of the backdrop. As if he could hear her thoughts, he spoke.

“It is a reflection of what I am. What I don't want to be.” He paused, dropping his head. “What I don't want to face.”

“This is how you atone?”

“I told you it would be terrible.”

“And I told you forever.” Sulah turned to him, heart aching for the bloodied mess of his face. “I meant it.”

Solas lifted his head enough to look at her through glassy, violet eyes. “I don’t deserve you, vhenan.”

“I think that’s up to me,” she said, wiping away a stray tear on his cheek. “Let’s talk, my love. Before you start making your amends.”

They sat with their backs against a nearby stone wall. Solas’s eyes alternated between being heavy with sleep and haunting despair. He looked so much older than she remembered him—not physically, really, but in the way he seemed to be held down with millennia of burden. On the other hand, he had the heartbreaking demeanor of a child unable to emotionally grasp the multitude of his feelings.

“I don’t know… where to start,” he breathed. With one look at her, a hint of hope glimmered amongst the sadness in his eyes. “I have missed you. Desperately so.”

“I’ve missed you, too.” Sulah’s voice cracked as she spoke, a stream of tears steadily falling down her cheeks. She brushed them away and smiled sadly. “So let’s start there, shall we?”

His kiss tasted of salt and metal. She didn’t care about the wounds on his face or the small gash on his lip still swelling with blood. It had been a decade since she tasted him, touched him, spoke to him. Even though she knew he visited in her dreams, he never made contact—only watched, a dark figure in the distance. How she longed to reach out for him every time, to pull him close and find solace in his arms like she used to. Sulah crawled in front of him, her knees aching as they pressed into the cold stone, and wrapped her arms around his neck. After a brief hesitation, Solas rested his hands on her waist, his touch timid at first, like he was afraid of doing something wrong. But his touch grew more confident by the second, and soon his arms were wrapped around her so tight she could barely breathe. It felt as if a missing piece of her heart had been restored, held in place by molten gold.

“I don’t know that I can possibly tell you all of it. Perhaps I could… show you, instead.” With a single thought, Solas willed into the Fade a blue crystal statuette of a wolf, not unlike the one Sulah found when his ritual failed. He held it, concentrated on it, and its core radiated bright blue magic. He held the figure out to her. As Sulah took it from him, their destitute surroundings swirled and dissolved, leaving her in front of a young Solas. His face was not quite so worn with pain and exhaustion like the one she knew. Long, auburn hair cascaded down the center of his head, falling over his shoulder as he turned to face the other elf in front of him.

“Solas, how could you?” the other elf asked. His skin was tan, his hair was dark, and his face was marked with Mythal’s branching vallaslin. The same branches that Sulah had tattooed underneath her eyes.

“I do not expect you to understand, Felassan,” Solas said, standing tall and proud as ever. “It was necessary for the enemy to believe we were committed. A heavy sacrifice, but one that gave us a real chance to end the war.”

“You knowingly sent those spirits to their deaths!” Felassan shouted. “We’re supposed to be better than this.”

Felassan spoke to Solas with the intimacy and confidence of a close friend, unafraid to confront his wrongdoings. Sulah could make out a hint of remorse in Solas’s eyes before his face hardened into a scowl.

“I did what had to be done.”

The scene dissipated. Ruins were replaced with the glorious landscape of ancient Arlathan, sprawling greenery among grand, floating palaces. Solas argued with an elven woman who Sulah now recognized as Mythal. She was identical to the spirit fragment she had seen before stepping into the Fade with Solas, only solid and real. The words they spoke were jumbled, as if Solas couldn’t remember the exact things said when he transferred the memory to the statue, but Sulah knew what they were discussing all the same: the Blight. Solas protested, pleaded with Mythal, before finally giving in to her demands.

“I will follow you always,” he said. Sulah had never heard him sound so defeated. A distinct and overwhelming sense of shame settled over her as the scene faded.

The memories continued like this, one after the other, each one brief but enough to show her the actions that haunted him. And enough to leave her with thousands of questions. She saw his regrets from centuries ago—memories of Mythal, Elgern’an, Ghilan’nain, the other Evanuris. She saw him destroy the legacy of the titans, and the corruption that introduced the Blight to the world. She saw his sorrow at the creation of the Veil, the loss of the world he knew, the unbreakable tether he had to Mythal, similar to a commandeering mother and a child eager to please her, desperate for her approval. She saw his plans to give Corypheus the orb go awry, the conflict raging inside of him as he fell in love with Sulah, the way he almost told her the truth that night in Crestwood. She felt the guilt he carried afterwards—that he still carried. She saw him devise his devious plan to mold Rook into someone the prison would take in his place. His betrayal and desperation.

She saw the despair in his eyes when he killed Varric.

Sulah stood on the raised platform where Solas orchestrated his ritual, watching as Varric climbed the stairs in an attempt to stop his friend. Even in a memory, the air was charged with powerful magic, culminating in a swirling wind that blew her hair into her face, obscuring her view. She could only make out fragments of the argument.

“You need to listen—”

“You have come a long way and made a valiant effort, Varric—”

“—able to give me a straight answer—”

“—rather than admit this is mine to solve—”

“—who are you trying to convince here? Me or yourself?”

Varric’s last statement stung like a knife. His words echoed as time slowed. Sulah felt the heavy burden of self doubt imbued in Solas’s memory as the two men locked eyes, their argument hanging in the air between them. In a chaotic flash, several things happened: Solas turned to continue the ritual, Varric attempted to pry the lyrium dagger from Solas’s hands, and the monuments of the Evanuris surrounding the ritual site began to fall. Somewhere in the chaos, while wrenching the dagger back from Varric’s grasp, the blade pierced through his chest. The sound of ripping flesh. The gasp from Varric’s mouth.

“NO!” Sulah shouted. Time had slowed, and she rushed to catch him as he stumbled, forgetting that it was no use. Her arms moved through him like a ghost.

Solas watched his friend fall to the bottom of the stairs, regret bubbling up inside of him at what he’d done. And still, the sense of doubt from Varric’s words lingered, sullying Solas’s certainty as innocent blood seeped through the fabric of his gloves.

He steeled himself with cold resolve and turned away.

The gray of the Fade prison came back into view. Sulah felt like she had been in Solas’s memories for hours, but neither her body nor his had moved from the ground against the wall. He watched her with bated breath, his jaw clenched, eyes glossy with fresh tears. Moments ago, she watched him command a rebellion, steadfast and resolute and proud. A powerful god among mortals. But the Solas in front of her now held little of the immense ancient spirit she’d seen. He was only a man, broken from the weight of his regrets.

“I cannot ask for your forgiveness, vhenan. Not even your understanding.” His voice broke, his next words spoken through a sob. “I am so sorry that I let you fall in love with a monster.”

Solas hugged his knees to his chest. His hands shook and his body trembled as he cried. It was pure, raw, searing emotion—and it was the first time she had ever seen him lose control of himself. Sulah had been lonely for years, yearning for the man who felt like home while sleeping cold in an empty bed, but she’d never felt as alone as she felt now, sitting in the vast emptiness of the Fade with a god shedding centuries’ worth of repressed agony that she could never possibly comprehend. He was the one who always seemed to know what to do, who had a plan for everything. He was the one more familiar with the Fade than the waking world. But he was also the one who had to face his regrets. His pain. And he had already proven that he couldn’t do that on his own.

“Solas,” she said, quiet and sad. “You killed Varric.”

“I’m sorry,” he choked through tears.

“I… I knew he was gone, but no one…” she trailed off, thinking back to the letter she received from Morrigan shortly after she met Rook and the others. Varric was gravely injured in an altercation. He did not make it. I am sorry you have to find out this way. “No one told me it was by your hand.”

“They were protecting you,” he said. “From the truth of what I am. Perhaps they shouldn’t have done so.”

Sulah sat in silence, trying to piece it all together in her mind.

“I never meant to hurt Varric,” Solas whispered. “I have harmed so many people, innocent people, and Varric… Varric….”

He stopped speaking and rested his forehead on his knees, letting the tears fall on his armor.

“My love—”

“How can you possibly still love me, Sulah?” he snapped, a wolf showing his fangs. “I deserve whatever cruel fate awaits me here. You do not.”

“Solas—”

“Would you truly—”

“Let me speak,” she said, stern and commanding. Her Inquisitor voice, the other members liked to call it. It worked. Solas nodded for her to continue. “To heal from your past, you have to confront it. It will be painful, but you must. Tell me about Varric.”

Solas sighed and let his head fall back to the wall, the apex of his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

“Varric was a good man. He was my friend.” He closed his eyes and Sulah watched as a single tear ran down his bloodied face. She tried to hold back her own tears, but they streamed warm down her cheeks nonetheless.

“What would you say to him if he were here?”

“That it is one of my greatest regrets, one that I desperately wish I could take back. That I enjoyed his company on our journey years ago, and that I have missed him in the years since. And that I am terribly, terribly sorry.”

Like a prayer, the final words escaped Solas’s mouth in a despondent whisper. In the distance, a structure resembling the skyline of Kirkwall crumbled. Sulah recognized it from her visit several years ago. She had only made it to Kirkwall once in the time that Varric was viscount, a position he reluctantly accepted, but one that she always suspected he secretly enjoyed. He took her to the cliffs of Sundermount, where Dalish sometimes set up camp. It looked remarkably like the area of the Free Marches her clan frequented before she left.

“I thought it might remind you of home”, he had said.

“I came here to see* your *home, Varric.”

“We’re doing that too.” he pointed across the water to the silhouetted, square buildings.

She smiled at the memory and let herself cry as the Kirkwall replica became an avalanche of stone plummeting into the abyss. When its final, broken pieces fell, Solas turned back to her and took a long breath. She looked at him, attempting to reconcile the Solas she knew and loved, the Solas in front of her now, with the Solas she saw in his memories. There was a cruel pride deep inside of him, one he tried to keep from her for so long. She could see it now, and it was fractured.

How could she possibly come to terms with all he had done? He had taken Varric away from this world, a man who, despite his faults, brought hope and friendship and humor into the world around him. She could feel the empty, aching shells of all the hearts who missed him—including her own. There were more adventures to be had, more books to be written, and Solas took it away. Away from Varric, away from the world. Sulah couldn’t bring herself to consider the even larger things he had done. The man she loved was responsible for the Blight. He tranquilized the Titans. He murdered his friends—sometimes on accident, sometimes for what he considered betrayal.

Sulah steadied her breathing and closed her eyes, focusing on the rhythm of the air flowing in and out of her lungs. She let the world fall away until she could feel nothing but the essence of her soul spreading into her limbs, making her weightless. If Solas was a spirit of wisdom, what was she, deep down? A word stirred somewhere in the depths of her heart: patience.

“This is going to take a long time, vhenan.” Solas’s words roused her from contemplation.

“Yes,” she said. “For both of us, I think.”

For the first time since reuniting, he touched her of his own accord, studying her prosthetic arm with gentle fingers before resting his hand on her thigh beside it.

“It’s a good thing time doesn’t exist in the Fade, then.” Sulah placed her remaining hand on top of his. “To answer your earlier question, I choose to still love you despite your mistakes, Solas. I love you because I tried to move on, to meet other people, but none of them could touch whatever piece of my soul that you do. Every person I tried to give my heart to was a flimsy bandage over a gaping wound. And I had to reconcile with myself that I love someone who would tear the world apart for his own stubborn pride. I know your heart, Solas. You are more than your mistakes.”

Sulah felt as if a small part of the rift between them had stitched itself back together; a fragile scar translucent and deep, but healing nonetheless. For a moment, the insurmountable hurdles she would have to help him overcome fell away. It was just the two of them, together in the Fade like all those years ago. She knew how the world would see them: the lovestruck Inquisitor and the Dread Wolf. The cautionary tale of a Dalish girl who fell right into the jaws of Fen’Harel himself.

“Sulah,” Solas reached for her face with both hands, holding her like he had to be sure she wasn’t a mere reflection of his desire. “As long as you will have me, I swear to you: I will never abandon you again. You will have me, always.”

His kiss was soft, but charged with intention. Devotion. As they broke apart, he pulled Sulah into his arms, resting his cheek on the top of her head.

“Ar lath ma vhenan. Bellanaris.”

[melmedardasworld]

So I edited this post a few times since what I wanted to convey just couldn't come out, and then I stumbled across this explanation.

And all of this!

To continue with my own thoughts.

I'm not sure where the takes of Mel is more than Jayce's girlfriend or being reduced to just being at a man's side is coming from that is being spouted.... Meljay shippers know this?

People are annoyed and confused to see what was set up from S1 until S2 Act 1 and the sudden a disconnect of how we got to know the relationship was handled and their final conversation. Most of us would've been fine (I know I would) with the breakup if it wasn't so off and lackluster.

It didn't feel like Mel and Jayce, granted they went through the trenches both physically and mentally, but that understanding is only being applied to Jayce in how he behaves. Mel is just a bystander and has to take it, and she was never like that. Or did her time trapped by the BR just make her numb to everything because she feels so much and hasawakenied as a Mage and empath? If so, the writers did shit to make it clear, and we have to fill in gaps and explanations with headcanons.

Most importantly, Mel only gave and gave to others (professionally, non proffesional, platonical, familial, etc) but got nothing of the sort in return.... not even a hug, a hand squeeze, a how are you nada. That apology she got was, again, so offstandish. I didn't expect Jayce to cry out or be a lovey dovey anything, but he was more heated to scold her a beat. Mel barely got a word out there, too, to explain her side. She doesn't even fully understand her powers...

Also, in regards to interactions, why didn't we see a moment between her and Caitlin? When her mother died, Mel told Jayce to go to her, and had she seen how Ambessa did what she did, Mel would've shut things down, too. But we couldn't see the two of them bond over having lost their mothers?

No one in Piltover was concerned with their influential councilor who went missing for weeks/months? It would've been nice had we seen her and Shoola as the last ones standing or talk about the future of Piltover and the convo moving to Mel returning to Noxus and leaving it in the people's/their hands, but not a lick.

We just see her board a ship because she now has the weight of the Medarda line (who she needs to build from the ground up while the Black Rose is still out there and likely has to deal with more politics in Noxus that is more on the violent side) on her shoulders to a country she's been exiled for who knows how long.

Mel is getting to terms with her powers, her legacy, but even with her mother, Kino, Elora and now going back to a country she was exiled from, AND having to lead a faceless army. WHERE IS HER COMFORT!?!?! Who does she have to share all of this with above one minute.

It also doesn't help that people (yes, shippers mostly cause one scroll on your page they barely talk about Mel outside of ship. Not even about the popular 'she has a larger storyline' takes. Just invalidate why Meljay doesn't and never would work or was always doomed takes in response to OG shippers sharing their grievances.

There is weird and fake trolling in the meljay/mel tag when the same people never had something to say about her/ any of her relationship up until the finale and the last few Meljay scenes.

But now everyone can supposedly yap as some fake intellectual and shade others' people being annoyed, sad, and disappointed in the WAY it was written to THEM for their ship.

Meljay shippers literally had to create a niche tag because the main ones are being spammed with bad take after take and where Mel/Meljay is undermined while claiming it is all in balance in the end. Is that not insane?

Please, miss me with that. It is irritating and condescending.

Shippers in fandom love love and just a relationship in general. This is nothing new so why all these bad fate takes? They are allowed to vent their frustration on how the story for their ship is handled. Most of the same shippers also have an analysis of the characters' they ship and larger storyline that was set. Act 3 plot lines were squeezed in such a way with so many minutes left. I am still of the opinion that we should've gotten either 3 or 6 more episodes to tie all the stuff together properly since the writers themselves decided to introduce all these storylines. There was just a disconnect and OOC behavior in Meljay that wasn't expanded upon in a better way imo.

[httpsdana]

Hello I have a request!

I hope it’s not too confusing and not too plain

Sorry my first time requesting

I like your fics a lot

So…

It is where reader is friends with Cubarsi and one of her friends likes him. reader likes Pau but doesn’t tell anyone that she likes him. the other friend that likes Pau tells people and thinks Pau likes her and is going to ask her out.

reader gets rlly upset and is already tackling with depression and knowing abt this makes her rlly sad. also if you can add how the girl asks you ask Cubarsi if he likes her. this makes reader so upset. but then Pau sees her upset so he tries to comfort her and confesses he likes reader.

(btw Cubarsi and reader like msg everyday and stuff)

also if you can’t do this or it’s a bit confusing im so sorry. im having this issue irl and wna cry

I am reading over this and it is very confusing very soory

In the Quiet Spaces Between Us~Pau Cubarsi

・❥・prompt list

・❥・masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who I write for

・❥・a/n: I really hope this is what you asked for 🙏🏻

She wasn't sure when her friendship with Pau had shifted into something more—when the late-night texts and easy conversations began carrying a weight that made her heart ache.

Maybe it was the way he smiled at her, soft and unguarded, or the way his texts always seemed to brighten her darkest days. Whatever it was, y/n had fallen for him, and the realization had been as terrifying as it was exhilarating.

But she never told anyone. Not Pau, and certainly not her friend María, who recently announced her crush on him with unbridled enthusiasm.

“I think Pau likes me,” María said one evening as you both sat in a café. Her tone was light, but the certainty in her voice cut through y/n like a blade.

She forced a weak smile. “Why do you think that?”

María shrugged, swirling her straw in her iced coffee. “He’s always looking at me during group hangouts. And the other day, he laughed at one of my jokes even though it wasn’t that funny. That has to mean something, right?”

y/n laughed nervously, clutching her own drink like it was a lifeline. “Maybe he just thought it was funny.”

María grinned, oblivious to the storm brewing inside y/n. “No way. I’ve got a feeling about this. I think he’s going to ask me out soon.”

The words made her stomach twist painfully, but she swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. “Maybe.” she murmured

That night, Pau texted y/n, just like he always did.

Pau: “How was your day?”

y/n: “It was okay. You?”

Pau: “Long, but better now that I’m talking to you.”

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, her chest tightening at his words.

Did he mean it the way she wanted him to? Or was this just his way of being a good friend?

y/n: “That’s sweet of you to say.”

Pau: “It’s true. I’d go crazy without our chats.”

She stared at the screen, her heart aching.

If only he knew how much she wished those words carried more meaning.

A few days later, María cornered y/n after a group hangout, her face glowing with excitement. “Hey,” she said, her voice practically buzzing. “I need a favor.”

“What’s up?” she asked, already wary of the look in her eyes.

“Can you ask Pau if he likes me?”

Her words hit her like a punch to the gut. “What?”

María laughed, as though it were the most natural request in the world. “You’re closer to him than I am. He won’t suspect anything if you ask casually.”

y/n felt her mouth go dry. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

“Oh, come on,” María pressed, her grin faltering. “Please? I really think he likes me, but I just want to be sure before I make a move.”

y/n felt like the ground was crumbling beneath her. How could she not see how much this was hurting her?

Her words were the final straw. y/n mumbled an excuse and left the conversation, retreating to the bathroom where she locked the door behind her. Tears burned her eyes as she leaned against the sink, her chest heaving with silent sobs. It felt like everything was crumbling. Her feelings for Pau and her friendship with María were all colliding, leaving her gasping for air.

When she finally emerged, her eyes red and puffy, she avoided everyone and went straight home. She didn’t even check her phone, ignoring the notifications piling up from Pau.

The next morning, a knock at her door startled y/n. Groggily, she pulled herseld out of bed and shuffled to the door, opening it to find Pau standing there.

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft but laced with concern. “Are you okay? You didn’t reply to my texts last night.”

She blinked at him, her heart aching at the sight of his worried expression. “I’m fine,” she lied.

“No, you’re not,” Pau said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “What’s going on? Did I do something?”

y/n shook her head, avoiding his gaze. “you did nothing wrong. I’m just tired.”

He didn’t speak for a moment, and the silence stretched uncomfortably. Then he said, “Is this about María?”

Her head snapped up, her heart pounding. “What do you mean?”

“She’s been dropping hints lately,” Pau said, his voice careful. “About… us.”

y/n swallowed hard, her throat dry as she expected him to tell her he likes María. “And?”

“And I don’t feel that way about her,” he said simply, his gaze steady on hers.

Relief flooded through her, but it was quickly followed by a wave of guilt. “She really likes you,” she said quietly.

“I know,” Pau said, his voice softening. “But I can’t pretend to feel something I don’t.”

Her hands trembled in her lap, and she clenched them into fists to stop the shaking. “do you like someone else?”

Pau hesitated, his eyes searching hers. “Do you really want to know?”

She nodded, her heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst.

He reached out, his hand brushing against hers. “I like you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

The words didn’t register at first. She stared at him, stunned. “What?”

“I like you,” he repeated, his tone firmer this time. “I have for a while now. I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

Tears filled her eyes, and she shook her head. “But why? I’m… I’m a mess, Pau. I’m not like María. I’m not—”

“Stop,” he said, cutting her off. He reached for her hand, holding it tightly. “You don’t have to be anyone else. You’re enough, just the way you are. And I don’t care what you think about yourself—I see someone strong, kind, and beautiful.”

His words broke through the walls she'd built around her heart, and a sob escaped her lips. “I thought I was going to lose you,” she whispered.

“You’re not losing me,” Pau said, his voice steady. “Not now, not ever.”

He pulled her into his arms, holding her as she cried. His embrace was warm and safe, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the darkness in her mind began to lift.

[webanglikethat]

things ram and devi have done and said without even saying they’re in love / being in a relationship because they drive me insane:

Ram defied orders from the LITERAL goddess because he didn’t want Devi to die, thus ignoring his duties

-> like …. he willingly let another woman DIE in Devi’s place and !!!! this act had been committed five years ago, when the affection between the two had BARELY begun blossoming

-> “Why bother when the goddess herself allows you to decide people’s fate?” had been Devi’s question to him, but little did she know, he already defied every rule for her, going against literal fate

he saved Devi during the arson, putting her before his own BROTHER

he went after Devi when she took off on an horse during the attack, and carried her in his arms back to safety (which he realllyy didn’t have to do 🤭)

it’s revealed he would purposefully change his route to catch a glimpse of Devi

-> Ram’s wishful desire was to see her at every service; just hoping to catch her smile along the hallowed halls where once they met

he “noticed an unfamiliar feeling rising inside him” when he met her again

Ram always found an excuse to touch Deviya — holding her hand to lead her somewhere, brushing his fingers over her cheek to calm her, cupping her face, putting a hand on her waist, trapping her against the wall, his finger on her lips, holding her hands tighter as if it could heal her holding her waist as she straddled him

he said he “missed her smiling at him”

he kissed her neck (quite literally marking her) while thinking of how De Clare would react, not realizing the jealousy that was growing in his heart at the thought of losing her to him

-> which he then said (in season 2) he’d do it on her wedding day too !!

-> in the same episode he tried to pretend he doesn’t care about their engagement 💀, mission failed my dude 🤭

“That. The way he felt when she was near him. The reason he always looked for her in the crowd and couldn’t stop teasing her”

ram always thought of marriage as a transaction, a duty to be fulfilled, something he simply had to do. and love? love wasn’t a necessary equation. that’s what his family line looked like — alliances, partnership, all devoid of tenderness. but Deviya awakened something in Ram — and for the first time, he was confused and lost

“It’s ironic that even with all the knowledge and wisdom of the world at my disposal, I still can’t figure this out on my own. I’m almost thirty, and for all of my life I have denied myself what I wanted because the greater good was more important. And in all this time… no one has ever been able to enchant me as much as…”

Ram talked Devi through her anger at the reception so she wouldn’t make a mistake in front of her guests and lose the position she had so long worked for (he helps her see the bigger picture)

Ram told her their connection wasn’t for nothing. they were fated for a reason

the less often he saw her, the more he wanted to see her

-> and if she didn’t came, he would wait for her

he noticed everything she did — be it the way she shifted from foot to foot when she was nervous or how she looked at him in fear (from the subtlest of things to the most obvious, he noticed it always)

he teased her about how much she liked him but then said:

“such a rakhasi cannot possibly die. I need her”

admitting, even if it was meant as a tease, that he could no longer exist in a world in which her presence didn’t fill his heart’s pages

he comforted her on the day of her death, quickly realizing that:

“/ wish this had happened to me instead... hasn't she been dealt enough pain already, in her life?”

“when Ram realized how sincere his desire to take all Deviya's troubles for himself was, it quickly became clear that their secret relationship had taken on a new meaning … growing into something profound”.

what started as a perhaps meaningless, fleeting, teasing affair quickly turned into something more — something he couldn’t put a name to, but he could feel encompassing his body every single second

he could no longer pretend it was just for fun or a distraction

so he finally mustered up the courage to ask Devi to be with him (but not officially 😔) even if it was in secret — for he would rather have her in secret, than lose her be it to death or another man. 

noticing how distressed she was, he closed his eyes and then slowly began kissing her fingers. Devi noticed that his eyelashes were trembling. “he’s nervous as well, but once again he tries to reassure me first, even though he could use some support himself."

he always put her before himself, over and over again. this isn’t something he was taught, like I mentioned before. for him, marriage or love was based on children, mutual respect and the husband’s views. yet he interminably put himself in the background, just to help Devi shine

“they kissed each other gently and yet desperately at the same time, as only doomed lovers can kiss.”

“he was with her right at that moment. sharing her pain and fear... would that have been possible if what they had was fleeting? he always chose her, no matter what.”

Ram: “I'll be with you. no matter what.” Devi: “I know”

he fought for her, allowing her to escape

and her thoughts led to him, even as she bled out

“the very thought of losing him was unbearable. and just as things were beginning to blossom between them.” “dying would be a little easier if you were holding my hand right now”

"I'm with him in my thoughts, heart, and soul." // "even if it doesn't make any real sense, it does for me. l feel calmer this way."

being away from her, when she was in a coma, made Ram feel like he was dying too // the thought of losing him (as she actively died) felt even worse than death

-> his biggest dream was being able to touch her again, to gaze into her eyes, to see his affection being mirrored in hers. to hear her laughter again was all he could hope for

they risked MULTIPLE times to be caught just to bask in each other’s presence — even if it was only for a few moments because the risk was worth it — they are worth it to each other

his face “instantly lost colour” when she mentioned her wedding

he tried pretending it didn’t hurt him — that he could accept it, that he could have a part of her and let it be enough, but they both knew the truth

so she laid out her future: her married to De Clare, visiting India from time to time, meeting Ram’s wife — but not him because he would still remain a coward who couldn’t voice what he wanted

so he finally let his feelings free and kissed her, marking her neck (in the middle of the hall where everyone could’ve caught them)

he touched her under the table — at dinner, where again, anyone could’ve seen them !!!

the moment Devi’s smile faded, Ram noticed immediately and shifted his tone, asking softly, “is something wrong?” -> he is SO attuned to her emotions, so skilled at noticing even the slightest change — which is especially important since Ram isn’t portrayed as someone who does this for just anyone

they know each other well enough to play off each other’s words without malice — their banter is so much fun (especially on passion route)

he fingers her in the library 🤭 he’s SO careful with her even though it’s obvious they’re both overwhelmed by the connection — he’s letting her set the pace and the fact that Ram doesn't push, but instead allows her to slowly move at her own pace, amplifies her vulnerability and makes her every move feel more significant. she’s still confused on what she wants and he lets her explore it on her own, and she knows he will wait for her

he wanted to dance with her despite not knowing how to — and in front of everyone too !! he was ready to embarrass himself for her

-> he is so caught up in her that he’s willing to push past his own comfort zone, even if it means embarrassing himself a little; as long as he can witness her smile

now she is the one who takes the power and kisses him, marking HIS neck — and so they imagine each other naked, finally taking the next step and ….

he finally admits it to himself.

He wanted to finally understand what it meant to connect with the woman he loved with all his heart.

Ram Doobay is in love with Deviya Sharma.

[pastelwitchling]

Continuation to chapter 146.

***

              Alex stretched along the length of his bed, moaning into the pillow. The heat of his blankets provided the most comfortable cocoon, especially with the storm continuing to rage outside. Alex cuddled deeper into the warmth, heaving a deep sigh as the rain pelted the windows and the wind howled. He loved storms. He loved the smell of rain still seeping into his space, stronger than ever.

              When he opened his eyes, he realized why.

              Alex narrowed his eyes, lifting his head inches off his pillow to look around the room before he looked back to Michael leaning against his doorway with his arms crossed. He was still wearing the sweats Alex had given him, and Alex thought he’d never looked more comfortable himself.

              “Why didn’t I hear you?”

              “You’re exhausted,” he said, and shrugged a shoulder. “And I’ve been here a while.”

              He frowned. “Doing what?”

              “Watching you sleep,” he said easily.

              Alex’s head fell back onto the pillow with a sigh. “Some might call that creepy, Guerin.”

              “With your damn military training,” he said, and the bed bounced as Michael plopped down by Alex’s foot, “I never get the chance.” He put a hand on Alex’s blanketed calf. “You’re always up before I am.”

              Alex clenched his jaw and moved his leg out from under Michael’s touch. “What time is it?”

              “Seven,” he said. “I would’ve let you keep sleeping, but you need to eat. C’mon, I made dinner.”

              He turned his face into his pillow. “You made dinner.”

              “Yeah, I’m a pretty good cook.”

              “I know,” Alex grumbled bitterly, “Maria told me all about it.”

              Silence fell heavily over their heads, and suddenly, the heat of Alex’s blankets and the smell of rain turned a little bit suffocating.

              “Come eat,” Michael said quietly. “I made your favorite.”

              He paused at Alex’s head, reached out to touch his hair, and paused with his fingers hovering just over the strands, as though waiting for permission. Alex turned away from his hand and sat up, reaching for his crutches as Michael stared at the empty space where Alex’s head had been before his hand fell limp to his side, and he plastered on the easy smile that fooled neither of them.

              “Roasted chicken and mashed potatoes,” he said. “Do I know you or what?”

              He followed Alex into the kitchen, the smell of spices and butter making Alex’s mouth water. He sat down in the same chair he’d been in since that morning when he’d given up on his work for the day and said he was going to take a nap, with the secret hope that Michael would leave while he was gone and that Alex wouldn’t have to watch him go.

              “This looks amazing,” he admitted, sliding onto a stool. Laid out before him were platters filled with roasted chicken drumsticks, mashed potatoes, homemade gravy, freshly-baked bread rolls with huge slabs of salted butter, and sautéed vegetables. In no time at all, Michael filled a plate for him. “How long have you been doing this?”

              “Not long,” he said, sliding into his chair across from him. Alex tried not to think of that being his seat. “Things move a lot faster when you can move things with your mind.”

              “You shouldn’t have gone through the trouble,” he murmured. “I have frozen pizzas.”

              He felt Michael’s eyes on him. “I wanted to cook for you.” He smirked. “It’s not like I get the chance to do this a lot either. Why? Want to kick me out into the cold already?”

              Alex fought the smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I didn’t say that. I just don’t want you to bother yourself.”

              Michael’s smile dimmed, and something in his eyes sharpened. “You’re not a bother, Alex. You never have been.”

              This time, it was Alex who’d pretended he hadn’t heard. He instead busied himself with piling a piece of chicken and some mashed potato onto his fork, coated in gravy, and moaned around the mouthful.

              “Marry me,” he said, without thinking.

              “Yes,” Michael said, looking like he’d done nothing but think about it, but his eyes were twinkling and his smile looked so pleased and genuine that Alex could only blush as he piled more food onto his fork. When he went for seconds, Michael looked like his lifelong dream had been fulfilled.

              By the time dinner was over, the storm had raged even harder and Alex had insisted on doing the dishes while Michael went about lighting candles all over the house. “Safer than electricity right now.”

              When he was finished, Alex’s room was cast in candlelight and shadows, and Michael leaned a hip against the sink as Alex finished drying the plates and putting everything away. He tilted his head and smiled. “Now what?”

              Alex hummed, looking around. “I don’t really know.” He checked the time and found it was near eleven. “I usually go to sleep around now, but I just woke up.”

              “Wanna watch a movie?” he offered, and Alex sighed, taking another look out the window. The storm was stronger than ever, there was no way he was letting Michael go back in this. It wasn’t like he was encouraging bad behavior or anything, Michael wasn’t safe heading back in this mess. Alex was being responsible, subtly protecting the man he loved.

              He might as well enjoy the few hours they had together.

              “Sure. What are you in the mood for?”

              Michael smirked and took a step closer. “How about a romance?”

              “How about an action film?” Alex deadpanned, and Michael’s smile widened.

              “Nervous about watching romances with me, Private?”

              Alex pursed his lips in an effort not to smile, and this time he was sure he failed. “Get the damn TV on.”

              An hour and a half later found Alex and Michael seated on opposites sides of Alex’s couch, Alex’s head on the throw pillow between them. At some point, Michael’s hand fell onto his head, idly playing with his hair.

              “I thought you weren’t sleepy?”

              Alex mumbled incoherently, his eyes fluttering to the soothing feeling of Michael’s fingers between his strands. Michael chuckled low under his breath, brushing Alex’s hair back from his forehead. He felt a blanket levitate itself up his body and settle under his chin as the Avengers’ theme music played in the background.

              He was drifting off, he knew he was drifting off and something told him that this time, Michael really would be gone when he woke up. Michael’s hand fell to his waist, fixing the blanket where it had started to slip off, and—caught somewhere between reality and dreams, between a place where he woke up alone and had nothing but rain as company, and a place where the smirking, snarky, beautiful, wonderful cowboy he loved with every fiber of his being and soul sat across from him and they ate together and watched movies every night—Alex caught his hand.

              He said something near-silent to his own ears, but which he felt with every part of his being. He had no idea if Michael heard it or not, because before Michael could react, Alex was drifting off, dreaming of the same thing that he’d asked Michael for.

              Dreaming of Michael staying.

              Alex woke in the middle of the night, too comfortable to ever move again. It took him seconds to realize that he wasn’t lying on the couch anymore, but curled up on Michael’s chest, between his legs. Michael’s arms were loosely wrapped around Alex’s shoulders, the rest of Alex covered in the thick duvet from his bed. His face felt warm, every inch of him heated so perfectly that he had trouble believing this wasn’t their usual life.

              Here, together.

              Feeling truly restful for the first time in forever, Alex snuggled deeper into Michael’s body, the tip of his nose pressed to the hollow of his collarbone, and breathed him in his as he fell asleep.

              He woke again to the feeling of Michael’s hands in his hair, brushing the strands from his brow, rubbing up and down his spine. His eyes fluttered, even as his body melted deeper into Michael’s, and it took him a second to remember where he was. He groaned, dropping his head onto Michael’s chest, eyes shut and face heated for reasons that had nothing to do with the blankets.

              “Don’t say anything.”

              “I didn’t,” Michael whispered against Alex’s crown, but Alex could feel his smile.

              He squirmed. “Stop smelling me.”

              Michae chuckled. “Okay.”

              A pause. “Seriously, stop it.”

              He burst into laughter and thoughtlessly ran a hand down Alex’s back and up again, leaving goosebumps in his wake and making Alex shiver. “I’m not the one that squeezed you in the middle of the night, am I?”

              “Please,” he groaned, pushing his face into Michael’s chest to rub it, trying to properly wake himself up. “I don’t for a second believe you didn’t move me.”

              “I may have strategically slid underneath you,” Michael said shamelessly, digging his fingers into Alex’s shoulder blades and massaging him in a way Alex refused to admit felt good. “You clung on all by yourself.”

              “Oh gee, when you put it like that,” Alex mumbled, trying not to moan at the feeling of Michael’s hands on him, “it puts everything in perspective.”

              Michael hummed, and again, Alex could hear his smile. The kind that unfurled slowly and lazily, the kind that looked easy and like it was coming from Michael’s very core, the kind that made Alex’s toes curl and his heart hammer in his throat.

              “Does this feel good?” he asked, his hot breath against the shell of Alex’s ear as he continued to massage lower, his voice like gravel and sending electricity down Alex’s spine. “You like the way my hands feel on you?”

              Alex opened his eyes, inhaling sharply, and the world—which had started to sound muffled compared to Michael’s deep timbre—came back into clear and sudden focus, and he pushed himself up with a clear of his throat. He avoided Michael’s gaze, yet he could see Michael’s smile dim out of the corner of his eye. And still, he wouldn’t let Alex go. The tips of his fingers hung onto Alex’s shoulders, his arms stretched out, and instead of falling away, he followed Alex up so that he was still touching him.

              Alex swallowed, casually leaning further back until Michael’s hands slid off, and pushed himself off the couch. “What time is it?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.

              For a moment, Michael didn’t answer. Then, “Almost eight.”

              Alex stumbled as he whipped around, wide-eyed. He caught himself on the coffee table, but Michael was already on his feet, catching him with a hand on his waist. Alex ignored the warmth of his touch and how close he was in favor of checking his phone screen for the time. Michael was right; it was almost eight.

              “The hell . . .?”  He rubbed the back of his head. “Did I take a hit or something?”

              “Weirded me out, too,” Michael murmured, his voice unusually quiet, and when Alex looked up, he realized why. They were mere inches apart, and any semblance of humor on Michael’s face was gone as he searched Alex’s face as though trying to reacquaint himself with constellations he’d always known.

              “Waking up before you did for once,” he said, his eyes darkening the longer he traced the small moles on Alex’s neck, his stubble, the tips of his hair now too long and falling over Alex’s eyes. He used the hand not on Alex’s waist to brush the strands back. “Made me realize I’ve never seen you sleep. You looked . . .” he exhaled shakily, eyes shutting tight with the force of his feelings as he pressed their foreheads together hard enough to bruise. “Like even while you were dreaming, you trusted me to keep you safe. Like you couldn’t have wanted anything when you woke up but having me there.”

              “Guerin—”

              “I know,” Michael breathed, arm tightening around Alex’s waist and pressing their bodies together. “I know, Alex, I know I know I know.” He hissed through gritted teeth. “I know it hurts, I know I scare you, I know it’s hard, I just . . . let me hold you a little longer. For now, I’ll settle for that much, Alex. Please.”

              Alex didn’t move for a long time, resisting the urge to shudder as Michael cuddled deeper into the crook of his neck, like he was trying to absorb him. Then, slowly, he raised his arms and carefully caught his wrist with his other hand at Michael’s back, gently hugging his waist. Michael inhaled deeply, and buried himself deeper into Alex, and Alex dared to tightened his hold a little, hugging Michael back. They stayed there in the middle of Alex’s living room for what felt like hours or days or years, just holding each other, Michael keeping a firm and steady arm on Alex’s waist, taking on most of his weight so that Alex wouldn’t get tired standing on one leg.

              Michael seemed to have no intention of letting Alex go, his breaths deepening as though he would’ve been perfectly content to just fall asleep, standing right there. His hands on Alex were like furnaces, and Alex tried not to let his eyes flutter at the warmth, but it happened. His focus lapsed for just a second, but it was a second too long. He got too comfortable, his head too drowsy, his body too lax that his knee buckled for the briefest moment. Michael held him tighter to steady him, and started to move away.

              Alex swallowed the objection in his throat, but it only lasted the length it took Michael to bend down and hook an arm under Alex’s knees.

              “Whoa—Guerin!”

              “I got you, hang on,” Michael chuckled under his breath as he carried Alex into—Alex blushed at the realization—his bedroom. He set him down gently on the bed, the mattress dipping under his knee as he hovered over Alex, massaging his thigh and making Alex gasp.

              “S-Stop, I’m—I’m fine,” Alex tried. What was wrong with him? Why was he stammering?

              Michael’s lips quirked into the barest smirk, amused, as he continued to rub into Alex’s thigh with such attention, and it did not help with his blushing. “I know,” he said, “but you kept moving your leg even while you slept. I wanted to rub you down all night, but I didn’t want to wake you. You just reminded me.”

              Rub me down? Alex’s heart thrashed at the thought . . . until his mind caught the other part of Michael’s sentence.

              “All night? What do you mean, weren’t you asleep?”

              Michael’s fingers slowed for just a moment, his smirk dimming to something soft and guilty and embarrassed and shy. Quietly, he confessed, “I couldn’t sleep at all. I kept worrying that . . . if I slept, I’d find out all of this had been a dream. Couldn’t stand it.”

              He said the last part with half a shrug, as though he wasn’t affected, but Alex could feel the slight tremble of Michael’s fingers on his thigh, the way he dug in a little harder, held on with every press of his hands as though making sure Alex couldn’t push him away.

              Alex stared, but Michael seemed unwilling to look at him this time, focusing intently on massaging Alex’s thigh. Alex knew that kind of focused determination, knew what it looked like when Michael was panicking on the inside that he’d said or done something wrong, knew what it looked like when he was afraid of meeting Alex’s eyes because he’d just hit him with a remark he knew was cutting.

              In the past, Michael had always been trying to push Alex away, unwilling to look at him afterwards because he’d been unwilling to see the betrayal and hurt Alex never managed to hide. Not from him. This time, it seemed Michael had frightened himself by accident.

              Alex caught his wrist, halting him from any more rubbing. He saw Michael swallow, hard. Bracing himself.

              “Sit down next to me,” Alex found himself saying, unable to regret the words. Not as Michael’s eyes widened ever so slightly, the hope unmistakable in his sharp, soft inhale.

              Alex half-expected him to say, “Really?” or ask if Alex was sure, but thankfully, he seemed just as aware of the fragile trust as Alex was, and without a moment’s pause, slid onto the bed without taking his eyes off Alex, sitting against the pillows, their thighs pressed together.

              They sat there like that for a long time; the rain still pouring outside; thunder rumbling softly and echoing around the bedroom; nothing but the soft sound of Michael’s hand on Alex’s thigh, thoughtlessly (or maybe very intentionally) now feeling the muscle as though unable to pull away.

              “I like this,” Michael said quietly into the small space between their mouths.

              Alex’s eyes fell to Michael’s lips briefly before he finally settled his head on Michael’s shoulder, settling in for a long, quiet morning.

              “Me, too.”

              They both drifted off, which meant that eventually, they both woke up to find themselves facing each other. At some point, Alex had been laid down. As it was Michael’s arms tight around him, his own hands on Michael’s chest, he had a feeling he knew what had happened.

              “You really like me sleeping on you,” he said into Michael’s shoulder. Michael’s eyes, half-lidded, darkened, and his smile stretched, lazy and alluring.

              “I really do,” he said shamelessly, his voice deep and amused.

              “You’re not even going to try to deny it?”

              “I like touching you,” Michael said, his hand slowly going up and down Alex’s back, lowering further down with every stroke. “Is that shocking?”

              Alex licked his lips. “No,” he said, “it’s not.”

              Michael’s eyes had followed Alex’s tongue, and they stuck there now. The amusement on his face vanished, turning hungrier. “I like touching you more than anyone. I’ve never wanted to touch anyone the way I’ve wanted to touch you.”

              “Michael,” Alex warned, or tried to, but it came out sounding more like a whine. He couldn’t help it. Michael was too damn close. He’d been too damn close for longer than either of them have ever been, and it was messing with Alex’s head. Still, he only wanted to get closer.

              Michael’s hand slid lower, his pupils expanding to swallow the green that Alex loved as he leaned in closer, closer. The tips of his fingers inched beneath Alex’s waistband, feeling the dip just above Alex’s ass cheek. Michael’s eyes shut like he’d found the treasure he’d spent his whole life searching for, breathing out a curse against Alex’s mouth. Alex swallowed thickly, the heat climbing his neck and rapidly turning his face red. Michael’s grin returned, eager and happier than Alex had seen him in too long.

              “I love how easily you blush,” he breathed. “Hottest thing ever. I’ve jacked off so many nights to just the thought of how sensitive your body is.”

              “Michael—”

              Michael’s breathing was turning rapid and shallow, pressing their foreheads together, one foot reaching out to Alex’s left, rubbing their toes together. Meanwhile his hand was reaching lower, down to the back of Alex’s thigh and up again, clutching his ass cheek and pulling at it.

              “Imagined how easy it is to get you hard,” he laughed, breathless, lost in the memories of their heated nights together. “A few touches . . . a few dirty words,” his eyes opened only halfway, completely swallowed by his pupils as he watched Alex with heat and sheer adoration. “That’s all it over took.” His eyes drifted down to the bulge between Alex’s legs. “That’s all it ever takes.”

              “Because it’s you,” Alex whispered before he could help himself, and couldn’t regret it. “Because it’s your hands and your mouth and your dirty words, Michael. It’s you, jackass, of course I’m easy.”

              Michael looked momentarily stunned, his expression one of wonder and hope and fear—fear that what he was seeing, what he was hearing, was all a dream. It was that look that made Alex reach out, had him hooking his fingers into the front of Michael’s borrowed sweats, moaning at the feeling of the sweaty, wiry hair there.

              That sound seemed to reverberate through Michael’s body, and he shuddered, moving closer. “Baby,” he groaned, slinging his leg over Alex’s thighs, keeping just enough distance between their hips for Alex to keep his hand between his legs. Michael’s own hand came around Alex’s front, his open mouth brushed Alex’s own, the two breathing each other’s air. When they took each other in hand, they groaned loudly, but Alex was already stroking him from tip to root, the hard, wet heat of him.

              “This isn’t happening,” Michael cursed, eyes closed, heart hammering. “This isn’t happening . . . this is too good . . .”

              Alex pushed his free hand into Michael’s curls, gripping at the root and pulling hard, anchoring him, keeping him there with him.

              “Touch me,” he begged, trying to show Michael that it was real, they were here, together. “I need you, Michael. Please, touch me harder.”

              “Yes,” Michael’s jaw hung open, “yes, yes . . .”

              There was nothing but the sound of wet skin slapping together in the otherwise quiet room, Alex and Michael’s muffled grunting and moaning into each other’s mouths. In no time at all, their clothes were discarded, Alex’s legs around Michael’s hips as he drove into him over and over, their bodies covered in a thin sheen of sweat, Michael’s hands on Alex’s ass, lifting his hips higher as he rolled his hips, thrusting his hard length into him. Alex’s hands roamed Michael’s hairy chest, rubbing his palms over Michael’s nipples.

              The day wore on and, with it, Michael and Alex’s hunger for each other. Michael took Alex from behind, keeping his hips up as he drove into him, leaving him to come untouched. Then Michael had Alex bent over the edge of the bed, groaning into the nape of his neck as he thrust into him like a beast. If Alex had suspected that Michael had been satisfying himself with someone else during their time apart, it was dispelled with the way Michael held him; like he couldn’t physically let go. He felt like a starving man who hadn’t had a bite to eat in centuries and was finally having his fill.

              He had one hand on Alex’s ass cheek, the other at his hip, his powers keeping Alex steady on his hips as he rode him. Michael’s head hung back, his strong neck on full display.

              “C’mere,” he urged, his hands on the trail of hair leading down Michael’s naval, rolling his hips and taking Michael to the hilt before rising again. “I want to kiss you.”

              Michael complied, pushing up at once as though he’d been waiting for permission, and caught Alex’s mouth in an openmouthed kiss, tilting his head and deepening it with every press of their mouths. He thrust up with every kiss, leaving Alex whimpering, the bed creaking. It seemed unreal that it ever ended, that they both came with enough force that their bodies simply refused to work afterwards.

              “I’m dreaming,” Michael said afterwards, when Alex’s head was on his chest and he was wrapped tightly in Michael’s arms. “M’dreaming, I’ve gotta be dreaming.” A pause, then Michael cursed, “I hope I don’t wake up, I never wanna wake up.”

              Alex couldn’t help it. He smiled against Michael’s nipple, pressing an openmouthed kiss there. Michael’s gasp was almost inaudible, and he shuddered, pulling Alex closer. It was impossible. Alex was already almost halfway on top of him, but it never seemed close enough for Michael.

              “Closer,” Michael squirmed, still panting hard. “I need you closer.”

              “I’m as close as I can get,” Alex chuckled, and Michael groaned in complaint, still trying to pull Alex on top of him, his legs bracketing Alex’s. “Guerin, you won’t be able to breathe!”

              “I don’t need to breathe,” he said, wrapping an arm around Alex’s shoulders, the other around his hips, grasping an ass cheek and keeping their hips pressed together. “I just need you closer.”

              Alex’s smile softened as he rested his chin on Michael’s chest and looked up at him. Michael was watching him right back, memorizing every inch of Alex’s naked skin, his face, his eyes. Alex couldn’t help but memorize him, too, so in love with every part of him. His stubble, his strong nose, his plump lips, and his eyes that turned the color of honey when the sun hits them just right . . .

              The sun. That’s when it hit him; it had stopped raining.

              Michael seemed to realize the same thing, the unspoken agreement between them that whatever this was—whatever they were allowing themselves—would end the moment the storm did. Alex felt Michael’s panic in the way his heart raced against him before he saw Michael’s breathing turn even faster.

              “N-Not yet,” Michael said, begged, his hands scrambling over Alex, trying to hold on. “Not yet, not yet . . . please, Alex.”

              Alex swallowed. He hated this fear Michael had, he hated it more than anything. He hated it in himself, but he hated it worse in the way it swallowed any peace and joy in his love’s eyes. He’d wanted, more than anything, for Michael to want him the way Alex wanted him, for Michael to love him in the same way. It only now occurred to Alex that Michael’s eyes never carried that happiness unless they were together. He wracked his memory for a moment of genuine joy he’d seen in Michael since Maria, and he couldn’t find it.

              They’d both suffered enough from their mistakes. How much longer was Alex going to punish them both?

              “Michael,” Alex leaned up on his elbow. Michael misinterpreted the tone, and shook his head, catching Alex around the waist and sitting up with him.

              “Just to the end of the week,” he whispered, urgent and desperate and trying not to panic and failing miserably. “Th-the day, just let me stay till then, let me make sure you have a real dinner, and . . . and . . .”

              Alex moved to straddle him, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. Michael’s breathing didn’t calm, clearly not knowing how to interpret this, but he clung to Alex, keeping them pressed together.

              “We’ve got time,” Alex said into the crook of his neck, cuddling deeper into him. “We’ve got all the time in the world, baby.” Michael tensed, and Alex stiffened. “U-Unless you . . . don’t want to stay—”

              “I want to stay,” he said at once, before Alex could even finish. “I want to stay here with you. I want to stay here forever, I want you to be my husband and to spend the rest of my life taking care of you. I want you to love me back, I want you to love me so much, I want you to love me as much as I love you. I want to be yours, and I want to stay right here, next to you, and I never, ever want to stop touching you. I can’t breathe if I’m not touching you, Alex, I can’t breathe without you.”

              Alex said nothing, his eyes burning.

              Michael’s hold on him tightened, his voice uncertain. “Alex?”

              Alex sniffled, and Michael straightened, squeezing him unbearably tight. “I do love you so much. I’ve always loved you so much. You’ve always been mine, Michael. No one else’s.”

              Michael said and did nothing for a long time, then slowly shook his head. Alex realized he wasn’t even kind of worried that he would be rejected. Sometime during the storm, it hit him how much he trusted Michael to be there. To want to be there.

              “M’dreaming,” Michael whispered, sounding dazed. Worse, as his grip turned bruising on Alex, his voice cracked. “I’ve gotta be dreaming. God, I hope I never wake up.”

              “I’m real, Michael,” Alex said, his eyes burning. “I’m right here. We’re right here, we’re together.” He clenched his jaw and buried his face in the crook of Michael’s neck, his voice muffled. “We should never have been separated in the first place. This is all my fault.”

              That seemed to wake Michael up, and he leaned back just far enough to take Alex’s face in his hands. “Don’t you dare,” he said fiercely. “Don’t you dare blame yourself. I know what I did, Alex, I know I betrayed you, I know I almost killed you. Don’t pretend you’re the only one who ran, don’t you think for half a second that I didn’t shatter all of your trust in me because I swear, I am going to spend the rest of my life earning all of it back.”

              Alex’s lower lip trembled, stunned. “M-Michael . . .”

              Michael’s expression was pained as his thumb brushed Alex’s cheek, wiping away a tear he hadn’t even realized had fallen. His smirk was small and self-deprecating, and he whispered, “I really screwed up. I never thought I would, not with you. I always knew I’d mess everything up with everyone else, but never with you. You were supposed to stay safe.”

              Alex covered Michael’s hands with his own, holding his gaze steady. “Michael,” he said, “do you love me?”

              “More than anything,” Michael breathed without missing a beat.

              “Do you want to stay with me?”

              “I’d do anything,” he swore. There was no question in his voice, his eyes. Even as his brain tried to tell him he didn’t deserve Alex, Michael’s instincts pushed him to keeping Alex regardless.

              “Then just stay,” Alex whispered, rested their foreheads together. “Stay with me. Please, just . . . let it go, Michael. Let’s let the bad go, okay? I just want to be with you, I just want you to stay, so please—”

              “I’ll stay,” he said at once, letting his arms fall to Alex’s waist and wrapping tightly around him. “I’ll stay now, I’ll stay forever, I’ll stay however long you’ll let me—no, that’s a lie, I’ll stay even if you tell me to leave.”

              Alex burst into weary laughter, simultaneously sad and afraid and hopeful and overjoyed and so, so overwhelmed with feelings. He’d always been so good at managing those with everyone else. Not with Michael. Not with his exception.

              “I’ve never wanted you to leave,” he said. “I’ve never wanted you to let me go.”

              “I’ve never let you go,” he promised. “And I never will, Alex. You’re mine. I’m never giving that up.”

              Alex curled in deeper, breathing him in. Maybe it was because he knew that he’d never need to endure the cold of another storm again, not when his favorite scent in the world was right here in his arms, but a pain in Alex’s chest that he’d lived with since he’d enlisted after high school finally, finally, faded. For the first time in too long to remember, Alex finally felt at peace.

              “Good,” he exhaled, settling deeper into his love’s embrace. “That’s good.”

[donnatroyyyy]

Batman has/had some kind of miscommunication going on with every single one of his kids. The bat family is just one big miscommunication trope after the other.

[pzos-amiserableidiot]

was watching tiktok and a video had the song michael in the bathroom playing and I was vicerally reminded of being in middle and high school and mom always mentioning how much I looked like my dad (his name is michael) and how I slowly was able to start noticing it too and whenever I sang the song it reminded me of him and I felt like we were overlapping too often felt like id never be anyone but a shadow or his mirror and then i began learning i was trans and now the song makes me think of him even more (he’s not a bad dad he tells me he’s proud of me and stuff there’s just two really big moments he unknowingly failed and one long continuous one but he loves me and he’s proud and he supports me and he didn’t mean it and ive learned to make that enough) and the weird flashback I got when I heard that song and overlapping with his face and how if I transitioned I almost fear I’d be his clone and yeah Anywyas banger song

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Giving the nerd a chance

tags: nerd!nanami/fem!reader, college!au, stsg, nsfw, dirty talk, asphyxiation, size kink, mdni!!

a/n: this one’s a long one :) pace yourself and enjoy!

Kento Nanami is a social enigma. He is a total outlier but in the weirdest way possible.

This man is conventionally attractive. Some would even go as far to say Nanami’s handsome, almost in a filthy way. His looks are sneaky too. He’s not someone you’d immediately notice in a room, but once you did…

You would notice his sculpted jaw line first. Then, his naturally high cheekbones that gave way to his soft hazel eyes. He had a serious look on his face always, but his eyes told a different story. Maybe you’d notice his blonde hair that sat neatly on his head, styled with an undercut. Yeah, Nanami was fucking hot.

But that’s not the weird part. No, you haven’t heard him utter a single word except to answer the professor’s unanswered questions once the silence was unbearable.

That’s not exactly weird either. There are tons of people who go through college without the intention of making friends… but Nanami has friends. He doesn’t just have like one friend. No, he’s apart of a friend group.

The weirdest part was he seemed to be close with the most popular guy in your university, star quarterback Satoru Gojo. Gojo was seemingly every college girl’s wet dream. He’s the type to stand out in a room. His looks and personality demand attention.

He’s the complete opposite from Nanami.

Then, there was Suguru Geto… Geto was also a strange friend for Nanami to have. Geto was smart, funny, and well-mannered… when he was in class. But you’ve seen how Geto acts at parties. He smokes cigarettes, shotguns whiskey, and keeps up with all of Gojo’s antics. Shoko was the exact same way, except she didn’t care enough to keep up with Gojo’s buffoonery.

They were the complete opposite from Nanami as well.

Yu Haibara was a cutie patootie. He’s also a sweet social butterfly. Another one of Nanami’s friends that just didn’t seem to be his type.

You caught yourself staring at the friend group as you’re sitting on a couch at a frat house. Your college team just won the game, so Satoru had invited a whole slew of people over. You somehow made it on that list. Your friend, Utahime, is begging you to leave, but something is telling you to stay.

“Go on without me, Uta. I’ll be fine, promise.” You say over the music as you flash her a small smile to assure her.

“I really, really, really don’t want to leave you here alone, yn. I don’t want you to end up on the front page of the news.”

“Don’t wish that shit upon me.” You laugh as you gently nudge her arm, urging her towards the door.

“I’m serious, yn. Please text me. If you’re not back in the dorm by midnight, I’m calling the cops.” She says as she grabs your shoulders, forcing you to face her directly.

You admire your friend’s caring demeanor, but she was being a total cock block for you right now.

“I will text you. I promise.” You assure her once again. “Go back to the dorm. Love you.”

She sighs deeply as she lets you go. She’s still not comfortable with the idea of leaving you here, but she can’t force you to leave. “Love you too. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Oh, that’s all I’m gonna do.” You smirk as she flips you off and leaves the frat house.

You take a drink from your red solo cup to gather your nerves. Nanami has been sitting in the corner of the kitchen all night. He’s alone, but he doesn’t look lonely. Sometimes, Satoru will drunkenly slouch his weight onto the blonde and slur something inaudible to him. From what you can see, Nanami just rolls his eyes and shrugs his friend off his shoulders.

You want to approach him, but you’re still too afraid he won’t talk to you. As you sit down your cup, an intoxicated Satoru is standing over you.

“I’m sorry- I don’t remember your name.” He gives you a slanted smile as he crouches down a bit so you two are face-to-face.

“That’s okay. I don’t remember yours either.” You snip back with a small grin. Something sparkles in his eyes as you give him a little bit of a challenge. He finds it to be endearing.

“Cheeky. Give me your number.” He demands, keeping his smirk on his face.

“Why should I give it to you?”

“Because it’s not for me.” He slurs as he leans in close to you. He nods his head towards the kitchen. “I’m doing this for my pussy friend over there.”

Your eyes dart towards Nanami. His eyes are glaring holes into Satoru with more anger and emotion than you’ve ever seen from him. Your stomach swirls with butterflies.

“That is a really good reason.” You murmur as you quickly type your number into Satoru’s phone.

*** *** ***

It had been days since the frat party and not a single word from Nanami. Your excitement had honestly fizzled out into sulking. Were you not good enough for him? Did Satoru lie? Was it all a sick prank?

Not even Utahime could get you in a good mood.

“Yn. This is so ridiculous. If you like him that much, just go up and talk to him.” She chides

“Noooo.” You groan into your pillow as you turn onto your stomach in your bed. “He’s too cool. Out of my league.”

“Are you sure we’re talking about the same Kento Nanami? The nerd who barely ever talks? The know-it-all in class?”

“Utahimeee.”

“You’re embarrassing yourself.”

“Let me wallow in my self pity.” You gripe before you hear your phone buzz. The sound of your phone notifying you doesn’t even excite you anymore. It’s always some lame ass notification.

Unknown Number: Is this yn?

Your eyes widen as you stare at your phone in disbelief. Your body involuntarily sits up in bed, startling Utahime.

“Jesus Christ. What? What happened?”

“He texted me!” You beam proudly. You are embarrassing. Utahime scoffs and walks away from you, unable to take the second-hand embarrassment.

Yn: Yeah, that’s me :)

Unknown Number: This is Kento Nanami. I’m sorry Gojo felt the need to disturb you at the party. 

Yn: No need! He didn’t disturb me too much.

Nanami: That’s good to hear.

God. Now, what do you say? Of course Nanami is a dry texter. You stare at the text conversation for a while, trying to think of something.. anything to break the ice.

Yn: Did you ask him to get my number, or did he do that on his own volition?

Nanami: Gojo does things on his own volition.

Yn: Ah.. I see.

He left you on read.

Goddammit.

You had your chance, and now, you blew it. Sighing, you lock your phone and try to forget he even ever texted you in the first place.

*** *** ***

I mean, who even needs Nanami? He’s really not even that handsome or mysterious. You keep telling yourself as you get ready to go to another party Gojo invited you too.

Oh, also, Gojo kept your number for himself as well. He mostly asked to copy your notes when Nanami refused to let him copy his notes. He would also send the occasional invitation to one of his signature parties.

This one was apparently labeled as “exclusive”. You had no idea what that meant, but you weren’t allowed to bring a plus-one this time.

Luckily for you, Utahime was visiting back home for the weekend, so she couldn’t scold you for going out to another party this weekend.

Black eyeliner was smeared across your waterline, and you puckered your lips as you carefully applied some sheer gloss. You decided to be casual with your outfit, wearing a basic off-shoulder black top with some jeans.

As soon as you got to the frat house, you quickly understood what “exclusive” meant. It was only their closest friends in the house. Satoru and Haibara were on the couch, lounging. Suguru and Shoko were sitting by the window, sharing a cigarette. Nanami was sitting in a chair in the corner of the room, looking as stoic as ever. Immediately, you were grateful for going with a more casual look.

“Yn! So glad you made it!” Satoru grinned in a more sober voice than the last time you spoke with him.

“Am I imposing on something?” You ask as you close the door.

“Of course not, silly. I sent you an invite for a reason.” Satoru says casually as he pats the spot between him and Haibara on the couch. “Come have a seat. Get comfortable. We’re just hanging out tonight.”

You stare at the seat between Gojo and Haibara, and you decide to sit in the open chair next to them instead.

“Afraid that we might bite?” Gojo grins as he leans over the arm of the chair towards you.

“Stop it, Satoru. You’re going to scare her away.” Shoko scolds before taking a drag off her cigarette.

Your phone gently buzzes in your pocket as Satoru and Shoko begin to bicker about his social skills. You sneakily check your phone.

Nanami: You look pretty tonight.

OH. We are so back, baby.

Yn: Thank you :) You look as handsome as ever.

Nanami: Oh yeah?

It is so small and insignificant, but that little “oh yeah?” makes your stomach flutter with excitement.

“Yn?” You snap your attention up to Shoko and realize she has been trying to talk to you.

“Shit- sorry. What’s up?”

Your phone lightly buzzes again, and you quickly glance down to check.

Nanami: You’re blushing.

“I was asking what your major is.” Shoko smiles calmly as she’s sat upon the windowsill. She flicks her cigarette outside before blowing out a cloud of smoke. You try to ignore how your heart is skipping beats right now.

“Oh, I’m just in general studies right now. I’m kind of indecisive. What about you?”

“I’m pre-med right now.” Shoko answers.

“I thought you swapped to nursing.” Haibara asks as he shifts his body to face her. The two start conversing together, giving you a chance to check your phone.

Nanami: Are you ill, or do my words just affect you that much?

Yn: I’m actually ill.

Nanami: You’re also apparently a liar, sweetheart.

How the fuck was this man so bold over text, but wouldn’t speak to hardly anyone in person?

Yn: Sweetheart? I didn’t know we were on that sort of level yet.

Nanami: Does that make you uncomfortable?

Yn: No

Nanami: Good. Then don’t complain.

The throb your cunt just did should’ve been illegal. There was no reason for you to be so turned on by that, but you were.

Yn: What would you have done had I said that it did make me uncomfortable?

Nanami: I would’ve found you a nickname you were more comfortable with.

He was being sweet, and you were over there clenching around nothing like a whore.

You had been so caught up in your phone that you didn’t realize Yu had went and gotten everyone a beer out of the fridge. You decide to risk a glance at Nanami. He looked calm and composed. You wondered if he even knew the effect he had on you truly.

“Shoko, when are you finally going to get some bitches?” Satoru asks with a laugh. Your eyes widen as you notice Suguru is on his lap now. You had really been so distracted by your phone…

“At this rate, I think Nanami will beat me.” Shoko laughed as she took a drink of her beer. You shift slightly in your seat as Shoko cuts her eyes towards you with a small grin.

Nanami: I will

Yn: Will what?

Nanami: I will beat her.

Yn: Confident or competitive?

Nanami: Both.

Yn: You didn’t strike me as the type.

Nanami: You don’t think I can do it?

Yn: I never said that.

Nanami lays his phone on his lap, and you can feel his eyes trailing up and down your body. Feeling your heart skip a beat, you decide to look up at him. Your breath hitches in your throat as you glance over him. He looks relaxed. His head is propped up in his hand, and he’s almost giving you a lazy smile.

Knowing more about Nanami, you recognize it as a cocky smile now.

The rest of the “party” goes without a hitch. You decided it was time to leave once Suguru and Satoru were obnoxiously making out, Shoko was asleep on the floor, and Haibara wouldn’t shut the fuck up about the intricacies of anime.

“I’m gonna head back to my dorm now. Thanks for inviting me.” You say quickly as you stand from your seat.

“Hey yn-!” Satoru says as he tugs from Suguru’s lips. The dark-haired male made quick work of moving down to his neck. “Thanks for coming. You should come out here more often.”

“Oh um, I’ll think about it.” You smile politely as you head out the front door. The cold night air nips at your skin. The only light was from the moon high up in the sky. The dorms were a few blocks away.

You never like walking alone at night, but you try to remember that college campuses have security patrolling at all times. Taking a deep shaky breath, you step off the porch.

The sound of the door closing again immediately startles you. You quickly flinch and look towards the frat house. Nanami was calming walking up to you.

“Let me walk you back.” His voice was calm and steady, just like his presence. He really wasn’t phased at all by your subtle flirting earlier?

“Thanks.. I was actually kinda scared.” You mumble as you two walk side by side on the pavement. Your arms hug your body, trying to hide from the snippy air.

“Why didn’t you ask one of us to walk you home then?” Nanami asks as he slips his coat off from his shoulders. He then loosely drapes it over your shoulders. You feel your heart skip a beat as you mumble a quick thanks. Your body snuggled into his coat as it swallowed your frame whole. It was the first time you realized… Nanami is a big man. He’s not just some scrawny nerd. He’s actually pretty well built.

“I didn’t want to be a bother.” You answer quietly, noticing how Nanami shoves his hands into his pockets while you two walk.

“That’s foolish. We invited you. The least we could do is make sure you make it home safely.”

“We?”

Nanami goes silent, and he looks away from your shorter self. The wind blows harshly, making the leaves crinkle and hiss on the trees.

“Yes, we.” He finally answers your question. You smile softly as you look down towards the ground. It seems like Satoru wasn’t the only one who wanted you around.

Standing in front of your dorm door, you slowly slip the coat off from around your shoulders and try to hand it back to him. “I don’t want it.” He answers calmly, making no effort to take the jacket back from you.

“It’s yours, silly.”

“And?”

“Take it.” You gestured the coat to him once more

“No, I want you to have it.” He says as he towers over you. You subconsciously take a step back to create space, and your back hits the door. He leans over you, having to angle his back to see eye-to-eye with you. You can feel his warm breath ghosting over your cheek as he cocks his head towards your ear and neck. “Text me.” He murmurs lowly before pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

You were left against your door blushing madly as he casually sauntered away.

*** *** ***

You almost think you dreamt that kiss up come Monday morning. You hadn’t texted him all weekend, not even knowing what to say. You felt scared about messing things up and taking his advances the wrong way. He hadn’t reached out to you either.

You were sitting in Neurology, half-ass paying attention as the professor lectured about neuron pruning. Nanami sat a few rows over. He always appeared to he intently listening when you glance over at him. You perk up as you feel your phone buzz on your thigh.

Nanami: You’re not going to do well if you don’t pay attention.

Yn: I could say the same for you.

Nanami: Could you?

Yn: …. point taken

Nanami: You know, you could’ve at least texted me if you didn’t like the kiss.

Yn: Who said I didn’t?

Nanami: So, you disobey my request for fun?

Yn: Disobey is such a strong word. You told me to text you, and I just.. haven’t yet.

Nanami: We’ll come back to the disobedience topic. Why haven’t you texted me “yet”?

Yn: Nervous.

Nanami: You’re adorable. What’s there to be nervous about?

“Can anyone name an example of synaptic pruning?” The professor’s sudden loud voice catches you off guard. You hadn’t been paying attention at all, and you feel your heart start to race at the thought of being randomly called upon.

“Anyone?” The professor asks once again. “Yn-“ She almost says your first name before Nanami interrupts.

“Crown thinning.” He answers the question, saving you from total embarrassment.

“Very good. Thank you, Kento.” The professor praises as she turns back around to start lecturing from the powerpoint again.

Yn: You totally just saved me.

Nanami: Pay better attention.

Yn: Then stop texting me.

Nanami: No.

Nanami: Answer my question. Why were you nervous?

Yn: I just didn’t want to say the wrong things.

Nanami: You’re hopeless.

Yn: You’re starting to sound like Utahime :(

Nanami: Will you coo to me that you love me if I act like her?

You feel your heart start to race as you read his text over and over. He was way more observant than you gave him credit for. You couldn’t even think of a time where you told Uta that you loved her in front of him.

Yn: Is that what you want?

Nanami: That does sound nice. Though, I think I’d rather hear you breathlessly professing your love to me.

oh…

oh.

You sat your phone down. No way were you going to let some simple words over a screen let you get horny in class. You didn’t dare to glance in his direction as you suddenly decided to start paying attention and taking detailed notes on Neurology.

Nanami: You’re blushing again.

Damn him and his observant personality. Damn him and his filthy words that make you squeeze your thighs together to soothe the ache.

Yn: I’m well aware.

Nanami: It’s cute. Makes me want to say more things just to get a reaction out of you.

Yn: Please don’t

Nanami: Why? Scared you might like it?

Nanami: Scared you might like the thought of being beneath me, begging for more?

Jesus. There was no misinterpreting that. You tugged your bottom lip between your teeth as you stared down at your phone, rereading his message over and over. It painted a picture in your brain.

Yn: As if you could make me do that.

Nanami: I can, and I will. Come over tonight.

Yn: To the frat house?

Nanami: No, to my room. I’ll tell Haibara to not come back until late.

Yn: That seems rather rude.

Nanami: It’s far better than the treatment you’ll be receiving later.

Your head feels like it’s spinning as the professor dismisses class. The rest of the day drags by painfully slow as you feel every little heartbeat and flutter in your chest. Nanami talked big game for someone who seemed too shy to really speak to you. It made you feel intrigued. How could he be so confident in his ability to make you beg?

You took your time once you were back at your dorm: going through your everything-shower routine. You wanted to make sure that every inch of you was soft and smooth just in case! It’s not like he’s actually going to make you do anything.

Knocking on his door, you feel your stomach churn with anxiety. You two seemed to be doing better at keeping up a conversation, but you were still deathly afraid of that awkward silence sinking in.

The click of the lock gains your attention, and Nanami opens the door for you. “Come in.” He says flatly, moving out of the way of the door so you can squeeze past him. He’s wearing his usual button-up shirt with black slacks on. How does this man even relax?

Of course his room is completely clean. His bed was even made military style for crying out loud. What the fuck does this man know about making women beg?

“Your room is nice.” You compliment, trying not to sound too awkward.

“It’s a room.” He shrugs nonchalantly before his eyes travel your body.

“How did you tell Haibara not to come home?” You ask, and he gives you a slightly puzzled look.

“I told him the truth.” He says as he loosens his tie from around his neck.

You swallow harshly as you watch his slender fingers pull at the fabric. His jaw is perfectly sculpted along with his neck, and his adams apple bobs as he steps towards you.

“Which is?” You reluctantly ask.

“I told him not to come home unless he planned on watching me fuck a pretty girl to tears.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, and you stare up at him with almost a frightened gaze. His movement feels much more predatory now as if he’s been watching you for a while, sizing you up. He had observed and stood by, waiting for the prime opportunity to pounce.

“What is it? Cat got your tongue?” Nanami asks as he steps forward again. The back of your knees hits his bed, and his smile shifts to a lopsided grin.

“No. I just…” You had no idea what to even say to that! You weren’t use to a man so confidently bolstering about his skills without sounding like a total idiot. Nanami was a rarity. He could talk the talk and walk the walk.

“No. I just..” He mocks you. “You’re awfully nervous for someone I haven’t even touched yet.” His fingers gently caress over your collarbone, before he carefully nudged you back. You tipped over and found yourself sitting on his bed, looking up at him with big round eyes.

“Christ. Have you ever even done this before?” He asks as he leans over you. His hand press down on the mattress at both of your sides, effectively trapping you beneath him.

“Yes!” You exclaim with a huffy attitude that makes him chuckle. “Have you?” You ask, trying to even the score.

“No.” He responds before closing the distance between you two. His lips press against yours and move delicately. Your eyes widen before you realize what was going on, and you slowly melt into the kiss.

Lips smack together as he takes the lead on the kiss. His hands gently cup and caress their way down your body before resting upon your hips. His knee finds it’s way between your thighs, and he applies pressure to your core.

Stifling a small whine, you entangle your fingers through his blonde hair. It’s softer than you imagined it to be. His kisses are growing more and more demanding as he’s pushing you back onto the bed more and more.

He gently bites at your lip, and he applies more pressure with his knee. As soon as you let another another small whimper, he slips his tongue into your mouth.

He’s taking complete and utter advantage over your body while you’re still trying to wrap your head around the fact he said “no”. He’s claiming to have never done this before.

His thumbs dig into your hipbones before he makes you grind against his knee.

“That’s right. Use me.” He purrs lowly, encouraging for you to keep rolling your hips. Once you found a steady rhythm, rubbing yourself against his knee like a desperate slut, he releases your hips and grabs your wrists, pinning you down to the bed.

“Ken..” You gasp out lowly, and he immediately eats up your words, forcing his lips right back upon yours.

The grinding was slowly making you feel all dizzy in the head as you slowly start to mess up your rhythm. He immediately notices your messy state. His hands leave your wrists to grab back ahold of your thighs to make sure you don’t stop. If his slacks weren’t black, he was sure there would be a small damp spot on his leg from your delicious juices.

“Hah~” You gasp as you lean your head back.

“Does that feel good?” He questions lowly before carefully nipping at your neck.

“Yes… Yes, Kento.. more..”

“Oh, what was that, darling? I didn’t hear you.” He taunts as he bites his way down your neck.

“M-more!” You whimper out as you grow impatient.

“So greedy…” He murmurs before his sucks a small hickey on your neck all while he’s still making you grind your pitiful pussy against his thigh. “Beg.”

You feel that defiant nature wanting to kick in. You were needy for him, but you weren’t to the point of begging yet.

“Did you hear me? I said beg.” He demands as he forces you down on his leg harder. Your legs tremble around him as he’s making you rock hack and forth.

“Please-“ You finally choke out against your defiant nature. “I-I.. want more, please… I need you to.. to ruin me.”

“Ruin you, hm?” He asks as his hand carefully trails upwards to your neck. He applies just a bit of pressure. “A pretty girl like you asking for me to ruin her… How could I say no?”

He removes his leg from between your leg, and he quickly replaces it with his hand. His fingers rub firm circles around your clit through the cloth of your leggings. You immediately shudder from the new stimulation. You hold his gaze as he lightly chokes you.

“I think I want to see you come on my fingers first.” He says as he’s quick to shove your leggings and panties down. You gasp quietly as you look down at him. He shuffles himself down between your legs, and he has a determined look on his face. He was set on making you come with his hand.

You push your thighs together with a small whine as he gives your glistening cunt an amorous gaze. Nanami places his hands on both of your knees as he forces your legs back apart. “Now, you know why you came here. What are you running from?”

“I- … You’re looking at me like…” the words ‘like you want to eat me’ die upon your tongue. His aura is just so.. almost intimidating. Not in a scary way, just in a he’s-not-here-to-play way.

“You’re so pretty, but gods, you’re so confusing.” He shakes his head as he carefully drags his tongue up your slippery folds. “Just sit still and let me take care of you, darling.” He mumbles before he laps at your cunt again. He purses his lips and gently sucks on your clit. It almost feels like he’s making out with your pussy.

“Oh.. f-fuck..” You gasp as you lean your head back into his mattress. Your hands fist at the blanket beneath you, ruining his perfectly made bed.

Nanami continues to lick and suck. The sounds in the room were nothing short of erotic. The wet sounds of his lips and tongue smack and almost slurp at you. His hands hold your thighs up, practically wearing them as earmuffs as he eats you like a starved man.

His fingertip gently traced over your opening before he carefully slipped a finger in. He continued to lap at your cunt as his finger pumped in and out and prodded around.

“Oh my-! .. N-Nanami.. ah~” You pant out. In his eyes, your entire body was flushed. You were so subtly grinding yourself against his tongue. In his eyes, you were a goddess in touch with her sexuality and femininity. You just needed a small nudge to get there.

He adds a second finger, and he so carefully curls them upwards to gently press right on the spot that made you see stars.

Your hands abandoned the bed, and you grabbed onto his hair. His hazel eyes flutter up at you, and his glasses were pushed up onto his head.

Your orgasm was building quicker than it ever had before. “Nanami-! fuck, I’m gonna..” You try to warn, but he’s already a step ahead of you. His fingers start pumping a big more aggressively, and he’s pointed with his tongue, focusing all his attention on your clit. His tongue swirls in tight circles around the small bundle of nerves.

Your orgasm washes over you as you clench around his fingers, spasming on his face. He continues to thrust his fingers, letting you ride out your orgasm on his face and hand. Pressing a few more small kisses to your overly sensitive cunt, he slowly pulls away. “Good girl.” He praises lowly.

Your heart is pounding in your chest as you recover from the best orgasm you’ve ever received. Your eyes flutter open weakly to see Nanami ditch his glasses. He uses the back of his hand to wipe his mouth and chin dry.

He then places the fingers he so deliciously used to fuck you into his mouth, and he sucks them clean with a satisfied groan.

“You taste so sweet.” He mumbles as he slowly unbuttons his shirt. It falls to the floor as he starts to unbuckle his belt. You can already feel your arousal building up again as you see the absolute tent in his slacks. Of course the nerd was absolutely hung.

Without another word, his pants and boxers are on the ground. His dick stood hard at attention. It was too heavy to press all the way up towards his stomach. Speaking of stomach, he was absolutely fucking built. He had well-defined solid abs and a broad chest.

You watch carefully as he fists his length a few times. You admire the way the veins bulge from his hands and arms. He wastes no more time: climbing up on top of you. He guides your legs up onto his shoulders, and he leans forward, putting you in a mating press.

His hand suddenly covers your mouth. “Spit.” He orders bluntly.

“W-what-?”

“I didn’t stutter. Spit. Unless you want me to go in dry.”

The thought of that sounded like a nightmare, so you gathered as much saliva into your mouth as you could, and you spat into his hand.

He doesn’t look phased in the slightest as he lubes himself up with your spit. He lets out a soft breath as the wet sounds of him gliding his hand up and down his cock fill the room. He then wipes his hand off on the bed, and he covers your mouth tightly with his hand. “Try not to be too loud, darling. I don’t want anyone to come and bother us.”

He was so fucking confident that he was going to make you noisy. It almost pissed you off, but Nanami was a man of his word.

He aligned himself up with your entrance, and with one deep motion, he buried himself all the way to the hilt. You let out a silent scream into his hand, and your back arches up off the bed. His eyes darken as he lets out a guttural growl.

Your cunt was just too precious to him, squeezing him so perfectly. You were absolutely sopping wet and so goddamn warm. He actually had to bite his tongue to not come prematurely. Once he tasted the hint of metal in his mouth, the urge to finish subsided.

“Shhh, shh. Be a good girl. The pain will subside soon.” He assures you quietly as his hips gently rock back and forth shallowly.

“Mmmnnf~ K-kento!” You moan into his hand. He hates having to muffle your pretty noises, but he really can’t risk getting a noise complaint right now.

“That’s right, darling.. Take it..” His hips start to roll with a bit more conviction. His thrusts are slow but powerful. Each time he buried himself deep in you, you went all dizzy in the head.

“Oh fuck, you’re so pretty like this.” He praises as his other hand holds one of your thighs up for you. Your body is almost slack from how harsh his hips are snapping into you. His leaking tip was bruising your cervix with each brutal thrust.

Nanami wishes he could take a picture right now. Your eyes are all glossed over. Your face is flushed the prettiest shade of pink, and your lips are all puffy and slightly parted. Your babbling utter nonsense as your greedy pussy takes him in with each thrust.

“F-fuck..! So big.. can feel you right here~” You moan as you point towards your lower stomach.

Nanami looks to where you’re pointing, and as if this man needed anymore courage, he begins to fuck you harder.

Plap! Plap! Plap! Plap!

“Yeah? Y’feel me in your womb, darling?” He groans. Noise complaint can be damned. He lets your mouth go and grabs your hips as he continues to pound your pretty pussy.

Tears involuntarily spring into your eyes from the sheer intensity. When Nanami said he was going to fuck you to tears, you thought it was just a figure of speech. Nah, you were lying in his bed, crying because the dick was so good.

“Look at me.” He demands as he grabs your blushed cheek and forces you to look up at him. “This pussy’s mine from now on, understand me?”

“Y-yes!” You cry out to him. Your stomach starts to coil with white hot pleasure as your orgasm builds up again.

“Tell me you love me when you cum on my cock.” He demands lowly. You’re too fucked stupid to argue.

The bed squeaks and wails in agony as he his thrusts are growing more erratic and sloppy. You could feel him getting closer and closer to his release as he gets more vocal and noisier too.

Your eyes cross as you feel your body gyrate on him. Your second orgasm crashes over you so suddenly you didn’t even have time to warn him. Your soul nearly floats away from you as you feel warm juices flood out from you. “Fuck~.. I-.. I love you, Nanami!” You whimper out. In the heat of the moment, it does feel like love.

Such pure pretty words being uttered during such a lewd time. Nanami is instantly emptying himself into you. His dick throbs as he shoots ribbon after ribbon of cum inside of you. His hands are shaking as they hold onto your hips. “Ngh.. I love you, darling. Take it.. All of it. Don’t waste a drop.” He lowly growls.

The room is quiet as both of you pant softly. After a few moments, you realize you had professed a love to him that you weren’t even sure about. Yes, Nanami was attractive physically and mentally. Sure, he was apparently a god in bed, but love???

What if he wasn’t even being serious when he told you to say that? He probably didn’t even mean it when he said it back. What if you made things weird? Is that why he’s being so silent?

Nanami leans down and presses a small kiss to your forehead. “That was intense. Are you alright, darling?” He asks affectionately.

You nod weakly, not wanting to frustrate him with your insecure thinking style.

“Are you sure? I’m not only talking about physically.” He murmurs softly as he slowly allows for your thighs to slip down to around his hips. His hand carefully strokes your cheek.

“I told you I love you..” You murmur out quietly, avoiding his gaze.

He exhales softly in amusement. “You did do that. It was very sexy. Do you regret saying it?”

“I.. I don’t know.” You confess quietly. “You said it back too…”

“I did. Seeing your body in such a vulnerable state as you were trusting me with your very essence made me feel full with love.”

You look up at him as he just said the most romantic thing you’ve ever heard.

“I don’t think I regret it.”

“I’m glad. I don’t regret it either.” He smiles and presses another small kiss to your temple.

*** *** ***

“Was that really your first time?” You giggle as the hot water coats your body. Nanami’s fingers are attentively massaging shampoo into your scalp.

“It really was.” He laughs quietly. “Why is it so hard to believe.”

“You were too good for a virgin.”

“I’m glad my darling thinks so.” He smiles and carefully leans your head back, so the water can rinse the shampoo from your hair.

“Where did you even learn that stuff from?” You ask curiously, wondering if Nanami just had a secret raging porn addiction.

“I have the horniest friend group. They don’t understand the concept of too much information.”

Ah. That makes sense.

tags: @lemonlimecrystal-blog