#i surprised even myself while writing this

[shan-yee]

𝗦𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝗺𝗲 𝘄𝗵𝗼 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗿𝗲

𝘑𝘶𝘯-𝘏𝘰 𝘹 𝘝𝘐𝘗!𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

๏𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜= 1393

๏𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜= oral, noncon, imagine that Jun-Ho wasn’t taken away by the old man, reader is a VIP and the wife of one of the guys, the reader wears a bathrobe and underwear, blackmail, the reader always keeps her promises.

๏𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢= Jun-Ho wants informations, she has them. But nothing is free in this word.

๏𝙰/𝙽= English is not my first language, please let me know if you see any mistakes ! Enjoy ✨

๏𝙰/𝙽 2 = When « fine, i’ll do it myself » hits a little to hard. And i think that i’m getting better at writing smut-

[̲̅t̲̅][̲̅a̲̅][̲̅g̲̅][̲̅l̲̅][̲̅i̲̅][̲̅s̲̅][̲̅t̲̅] : @zeizeisjy @fnl9zer @missroro

—I will tell you everything you want, but first, i want you.

Her words resonated in the young policeman's head, he glanced at the remote control she held in a firm grip in her right hand and considered his options.

He could refuse and try to run away but she would set off the alarm which will let everyone know of his presence, or he could accept and she would give him everything he wants.

—Think fast pretty boy.

Jun-Ho took a deep breath and raised his arms in submission before placing his weapon on the oak desk to his right. The young woman smiled at him with a satisfied air and crossed her arms under her chest, she slowly ran her thumb over the big red button on the remote control before slipping it into one of the pockets of her bathrobe.

—Good choice, but just to be sure I'll keep that there.

She sat at the end of her bed and, silently, beckoned him to come closer, her mischievous smile reaching her ears, taunting him. Jun-Ho approached with wary and slow steps, his dark shoes clattering on the floor, near her, he placed a single knee on the ground and stared straight into her eyes. It was a kind of rebellion, a way for him to show her that even if she had him on his knee, he was not her slave and sooner or later he would regain his freedom.

[Y/N] seemed to appreciate his defiance and with her right hand she caressed his face, almost affectionately. She ran her fingertips over his jaw, delicately tracing it down to his chin, then touched his dry, pink lips before finishing her little journey on his eyebrows.

—You’re so pretty. She whispered after a few moments of intense silence.

While she had fun tracing each feature of his face, the young man had wondered how he had found himself in this situation. He had managed to slip away from the room where some VIPs were watching the fifth game take place but had to quickly hide before being noticed by a guard, which led him to enter the young woman's room.

In other circumstances he would surely have turned around when passing her in the street, in a bar, he might even have offered her a drink, if he wasn't too busy hatching a plan to find his brother.

Finally, with the tip of her thumb, she pressed on his chin, making him part his lips and slipped her tongue between them. Jun-Ho seemed surprised but feeling the young woman's nails on his neck, urging him to react, he closed his eyes and reciprocated the kiss.

He felt her breath intertwined with his, just like their tongues, and in a seconds he got caught up in this game of sensuality and his left hand slowly went up the leg of the [H/C] haired woman, from the ankle to the thigh passing through the knee. Once he reached her thigh he planted his fingers in its fat, making his partner smirk in their kiss.

Meanwhile, her fingers gripping his neck slipped through his sweat-damp hair and she passed them through his black locks with a certain tenderness.

Jun-Ho was the first to pull away to catch his breath, a light stream of saliva connecting them before it broke. The young woman smiled at him, a spark of desire shining and flickering in her [E/C] eyes.

—You’re good at kissing, let’s see if you’re good at something else.

The young man watched the VIP's fingers undo the knot that held her [F/C] bathrobe, he stared, breathless, as the fabric slid down her shoulders then spread out on the satin sheets of the bed. His eyes slowly moved up to her stomach and little by little to her chest, he admired it rising then falling with each of her inhalations, her [S/C] skin covered with a very light trickle of sweat.

Jun-Ho slightly straightened up to be face to face with her, he gave her one last disdainful look, which secretly hid another emotion, before placing light kisses on her collarbones. Little by little they descended on her chest and his tongue left a light trail of saliva mixed with her perspiration up to her sternum.

He took a moment to get used to the salty taste that came to prick his tongue before he resumed his kisses on her breasts while his hands, placed on her thighs, slided to the edges of her panties.

He took the underwear, after she lifted her butt off the bed, down her legs and let it fall to the floor. The young woman spread her thighs and he ventured between them without a word.

Their breathing quickened in unison and he felt her burning gaze on the top of his head as well as the skin on the underside of her thighs, which he held apart to have more room, heat up under his palms.

He heard the slats creak as she leaned back, her weight supported by her arms, she looked at him intently, her lips parted and impatient. Suddenly, feeling his hot, ragged, breath against her sex, she squeezed the black satin sheets before closing her eyes, her respiration hitched with apprehension since she hadn't been satisfied by a man in months.

Jun-Ho let go of one of her thighs and came to spread her intimate lips using his thumb, he observed for a few seconds before attacking her clitoris. He kissed it first before taking it between his lips and sucking gently. His black orbs observed her, admiring her face tense with pleasure.

Her reactions gave him a certain pleasure and he felt his breathing speed up as well as his hands becoming sweaty. He wanted to make her pay for this humiliation but a part of him found her sensual and seductive, perhaps without realizing it, he was enjoying it much more than he would like to admit.

Using the tip of his tongue, he made small, quick and precise circles. It didn't take long for Jun-Ho to understand what she liked, the leg of the young woman he held in his left hand beginning to tremble under his movements.

[Y/N] fell back, which surprised the police officer between her legs who followed the movement of her body and brought her pelvis closer to the edge of the bed, while letting out a small chuckle which quickly turned into moans. The back of her head sank into the covers as she bit her lower lip, trying to suppress her noises of pleasure, and quickly the fingers of her hand stretched to get lost in her partner's black locks.

She pulled lightly on it as the muscles in her lower abdomen contracted as she felt her orgasm coming. Jun-Ho seemed to understand this and his long movements became faster while two of his fingers came to venture inside her.

It only took a few movements of scissors and tongue for the knot that had formed in her stomach to explode and a long moan to echo through the room. The woman felt her eyes roll back and her thighs suddenly lock and cramp from the pleasure.

She had had many partners in her life, without her husband knowing it of course, but rare were the times when she had felt such ecstasy, not only was he handsome but his tongue was one of the best.

Jun-Ho slowly stood up, wiping his lips with the back of his hand, and retrieved his gun without taking his eyes off her. The [H/C] haired woman, after regaining her senses, stood up and gave him a confused look.

—You said you wanted me, you had me, now give me what i want.

There was a slight pregnant pause where she could observe his beautiful glistening skin under the dimly light of the room as well as a slight bulge in the chic black pants that he had stolen, finally the young rich woman started to laugh, her breathing still irregular, numb legs and wet forehead—like her inner thighs—.

—Alright pretty boy, give me your number and I will send you every proof I have.

[adieutristana]

hi, i do! i’ve just yet to receive any requests for vi by herself, but i’d be happy to write this :) thank you for the request!

summary; quiet mornings with vi and her girlfriend.

characters included; vi

tags/warnings; fluff, casual dom vi, butch wife material or whatever they say, domesticity, maaaaybe a bit suggestive?

men and minors dni.

you’re awoken to the smell of breakfast cooking.

the spot next to you is empty, an indent on the mattress from where vi once laid. the light shines through open blinds and you reflexively bring an arm up to cover your eyes. groaning, you turn away from the window to look at the bedside clock: 8:41 am.

you wished vi was still with you, it would’ve been nice to wake up in her arms like usual… oh, well. breakfast is nice too.

you swing your legs over the side of the bed and try to rub the sleep from your eyes, slowly making your way to the kitchen. you’re greeted by the sight of vi’s back turned to you, white sports bra and black sweats. she’s clearly too absorbed to have noticed you, intently working on whatever she’s making.

you approach her slowly, a bit cautiously as to not startle her while she’s over a hot stove, but slowly snake your arms around her waist, pressing your cheek into her shoulder. vi lets out a little ‘hmm’ in acknowledgment, but doesn’t turn around.

“up already, babe?”

she remarks, right hand busy with a frying pan.

“yeah. couldn’t sleep without you there.”

“sorry, sorry. wanted to do something nice for you.”

you hum in acknowledgment, pressing further into vi’s back and grazing one hand over toned abs.

“what are you making?”

“surprise.”

she remarks. vi knows just how much you hate surprises, not knowing things. although you know you could very easily look over vi’s shoulder and see for yourself, that could ruin half of the fun. you simply hold vi from behind her, relishing in the warmth that her body offered you. it was always so peaceful, getting to hold her, to be close to her like this. this morning, it seemed as if time stood still.

vi could be moving throughout the kitchen, you’d seen her do it several times while cooking, but she was also considerate. you knew that she’d never want to ruin your fun. dating vi meant that if she had to give little things up, she would. wether that meant her not moving an inch when you slept for hours on her lap, or staying still while cooking because your arms were around her, vi was sweet.

sweet in a way that not many people got to see.

and yet, you found yourself excited at the prospect of eating breakfast she had prepared because her cooking was always so damn good. not many people would think it, but with vi leading a group of ragtag teens and tweens- as well as being an older sister, she’d learned to cook quite young. she frequently cooked for herself, used whatever scraping the kitchen to throw together something edible.

she hadn’t put too much effort into making her meals nice since the incident on the bridge, until she met you. now she feels as if she has a point to prove. or maybe it’s just that she loves you.

“almost done, cupcake. you just sit down and be patient, okay?”

she says, voice laced with affection. you nod slowly, pouting the slightest bit behind her as you let go of her. but you sit down at her dining table, elbows propped as you observe her. it’s almost effortless the way that she moves. it’s admirable.

vi walks over to you, holding out a plate of simple blueberry pancakes. she knew you had a taste for sweet things. she sits down opposite you after you take the plate, a soft smile playing at her lips.

“are you gonna eat anything?”

you ask before you even pick up your fork. you don’t want to be selfish, not with vi especially.

“i already ate. woke up early today, fixed myself something, and figured you’d be up later.”

she says, pointing to your fork. cueing you to start eating. you do, picking up a knife as well to cut the stack into slices. after covering it in sweet syrup, you take a bite and immediately close your eyes in contentment. this is good.

“you didn’t have to do this, you know…”

“of course i did. i’m your girlfriend, remember?”

you sigh, continuing to eat. swallowing the last of what’s in your mouth before you speak to her again.

“but i’ve never done something like this before.”

you sigh, looking off to the side. you hear a low chuckle from your girlfriend.

“trust me, hun, you do plenty for me in other departments.”

this elicits a slight flush rising to your face, deciding to just focus on eating the rest of your pancakes. as you finish the last of the sliced bits, you look up to see vi wearing that same soft smile she wears whenever she’s genuinely admiring you. it’s adorable, one of your favorite looks your girlfriend gives you. one you’ve become accustomed to.

vi stands up to take your plate from you, but not before you tug on one of the straps of her sports bra to bring you to her level. moving your lips slowly against her own, free hand resting on the small of your back. she gives a light giggle as she presses back into you, toned arms slowly wrapping around your neck.

“i’ll do the laundry today, since you cooked.”

you say, face still mere millimeters from vi’s. she smiles softly before shaking her head.

“nope. you’re relaxing today.”

“but-”

“no.”

“you cooked for-”

vi shakes her head again, brushing your jawline with her lips.

“i cooked because i want you to take it easy, and i like doing things for you. now, you’re gonna take your pretty self to the couch, or bed, and relax. and i’ll do the work today. alright?”

you groan in slight annoyance, but sigh. you know there’s no winning when vi gets in these moods. she only wants to see you taken care of, and she’ll be damned if that isn’t what happens.

count on vi to always put the needs of others before her own. she’d gotten better at taking care of herself during your relationship, but the way she put your wants and needs before her own never wavered. if anything, it got stronger with time.

“alright. but i’ll still do things tomorrow.”

“you can do whatever you want tomorrow.”

she hums, sitting down on the chair you were previously using. her arms are still draped around your neck, pulling you to sit on her lap. the second you make contact with her thighs, her lips are on yours again.

it’s breathless, a bit more rushed than the delicate kiss you had shared a few moments prior. but it’s perfect, it’s vi. the way her scarred lips move against yours is always so skillful yet so sweet.

“i love you, okay? i just want you to unwind sometimes.”

you nod slowly, pressing your forehead to your girlfriend’s and closing your eyes.

“i love you too, babe. just feel a bit… bad, not doing anything in return.”

“i don’t want anything in return,” she whispers. “this-” she points between the two of you, “is more than enough.”

[maysileeewrites]

playing cupid | teaser

movie! Fiyero Tigelaar x gn!reader

Synopsis: When Fiyero suggests a group date activity with Galinda and Elphaba to try and quell the tension between the two, you agree, not knowing that these two might have a common goal in sight as well. (And maybe playing matchmaker wasn’t the only thing on Fiyero’s mind when he suggested the idea …) 

AN: based off of this concept post. I'm so sorry that it's taking me this long to write this, but this story is turning out to be a beast, I'm nearly 4k words in and the actual group date hasn't even happened yet. I might have to split the final shabang into two parts, we'll see. please be just a bit more patient with me <3

Your doubts didn’t seem to phase Fiyero in the slightest. Actually, it seemed that the more vocal you became in voicing your concerns, the more determined to see this through to the end - and see it through successfully - Fiyero became. 

Not even Elphaba’s irritated expression, when he cornered you and her after dinner the following evening, seemed to intimidate him, which, you had to admit grudgingly, was a feat in and of itself. Because while you liked Elphaba very much - when she wasn’t using her breath on venting about Galinda that was - and valued her friendship, she could be quite intimidating. 

If she’d looked at you the way she was currently looking at Fiyero, you were sure that you’d have already crumbled under her withering glare. 

As it was, Fiyero merely shrugged, smirking, when she said, her voice dripping with irritation: „And why in Oz’s name would you do that?“ (Fiyero had just announced that he wanted to invite you two for dinner in a fancy restaurant in town the next evening.) 

„Because I want to spend some time with my best friend’s other friends - get to know them myself, you know“, he said, an easy smile on his face, as he walked closer to you and slid an arm around your waist, the gesture so casual, so natural, almost as if it was something he did all the time. 

It wasn’t. Because while Fiyero had always been extremely affectionate and not even your sister’s irritated glare when he’d casually grab your hand and lace your fingers together or gently touch your arm to get your attention could discern him, he usually didn’t do something like this. 

This felt new and dangerous and thrilling and - you liked it. 

You liked being this close to Fiyero, feeling his body right next to yours, heat radiating off him, even though it caused your heart to start beating frantically in your chest, your palms to sweat and your cheeks to flush. 

Sweet Oz, what was happening to you? 

Because this really wasn’t the moment for you to be this flustered and confused by Fiyero’s shenanigans, not when Elphaba’s irritated, hostile glare was still fixed on him. 

„I see“, Elphaba said dryly, her tone clearly indicating that she didn’t understand at all and that she wasn’t very interested in hearing more. 

„I mean - I already know you’re great, I’ve already heard so much about you, but I thought that we two should get to know each other as well, get to spend some time together, if you know what I mean.“ 

At this, he actually winked at Elphaba. 

Elphaba was having none of it though, raising her eyebrows pointedly. „And what if I happen to not share that sentiment?“ 

„Well, then I’d be very disappointed“, Fiyero said, shaking his head. „I mean, I was quite looking forward to discussing Dr. Clover’s lecture over dinner with you - I happen to admire his work as well -, but no can do, I guess …“ 

„You want to go to Dr. Clover’s lecture with us?“, Elphaba said, the surprise in her voice mirroring your own. You hadn’t heard of this particular aspect of Fiyero’s plan yet, and his satisfied smirk told you that he knew - or at least thought so - he’d won Elphaba over.

tagging: @angel-starbeam @matt-patt-engarde @hazbingirliexoxo @tn22220-blog @crisis-unaverted @graham-mackrackers @a-quick-request @tattooed-galaxies

[gothicxreylover]

I saw that you write Yandere and Demon Slayer and I was wondering if I could request how the yandere Hashira (if you don’t want to do them all then just Sanemi, Rengoku and Gyomei) would react to a darling who was abused in their past making them extremely skittish? The reader is very timid and is always on edge. How would the Hashira deal with such a delicate s/o?

‧.·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥

Hello thank you for your request!I couldn’t help myself and write every hashiras that I could remember. I was going to put pictures but tumblr takes forever to upload them and this is my second time trying to publish the story.

‧.·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥

Kyojuro Rengoku

Kyojuro Rengoku was a force of nature, his passionate energy filling every room he entered. But when he met you, he immediately recognized a fragility that made him pause. Your timid, skittish demeanor reminded him of a small bird, wings battered by life but still longing to fly. It broke his heart to see how on edge you were, how you flinched at the slightest noise or avoided eye contact when someone raised their voice.

Kyojuro’s instinct was to protect you with the same fire that burned in his heart. At first, he struggled to reign in his usual exuberance, afraid that his enthusiasm might frighten you. Instead of his usual booming greetings, he softened his tone, speaking to you with a gentleness that surprised even himself.

“You’re safe now,” he said one evening, his amber eyes glowing warmly as he knelt before you. “No matter what happened before, I swear on my life, I’ll never let anyone hurt you again.”

Kyojuro’s yandere tendencies emerged in the way he began to involve himself in every aspect of your life. He took it upon himself to ensure you were always comfortable and protected, but his protective nature soon became overbearing. He insisted on accompanying you everywhere, refusing to leave your side even for a moment.

“You don’t need to go alone,” he said one morning as you prepared to run a simple errand. “What if something happens? I’d never forgive myself. I’ll come with you!”

Despite his intensity, Kyojuro’s love for you was genuine. He constantly reassured you with his words and actions, doing everything he could to help you feel safe. When you were overwhelmed, he would sit beside you, his warmth radiating like a comforting fire.

“Breathe with me,” he’d say, taking slow, steady breaths. His large hands would gently cover yours, grounding you in his presence. “That’s it. You’re doing so well.”

On nights when your nightmares were too much to bear, he’d stay awake with you, his voice steady and soothing as he told stories of his childhood or recited encouraging words.

“You are strong,” he would say, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. “You’ve been through so much, but you’re still here. That’s what matters.”

And while his obsessive need to protect you might have been suffocating at times, Kyojuro’s warmth and unwavering devotion slowly began to replace the shadows of your past with the light of his love.

Muichiro Tokito

Muichiro Tokito was quiet and detached, often lost in his thoughts. But when he met you, something in him shifted. He couldn’t quite explain it, but the sight of your timid, skittish behavior stirred a protective instinct within him that he hadn’t known he possessed.

At first, he observed you from afar, his sharp eyes taking in every detail. He noticed how you avoided crowds, how your hands trembled when someone spoke too loudly, and how you kept your back to the wall as if bracing for an attack. The realization that someone had hurt you ignited a quiet fury in his heart.

Muichiro’s approach was subtle. He began inserting himself into your life, offering his help in small, unobtrusive ways. He’d appear out of nowhere when you needed assistance, his calm presence soothing your frayed nerves.

“Don’t worry,” he said one day when you hesitated to walk down a crowded street. “I’ll stay with you. No one will bother you while I’m here.”

His yandere tendencies revealed themselves in his possessiveness. Muichiro hated the idea of you being vulnerable to anyone else. He began following you, not out of mistrust but out of an overwhelming need to protect you. If anyone approached you, his soft voice would turn cold, his expression unreadable as he intervened.

“Leave them alone,” he’d say flatly, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. The threat was clear, even if unspoken.

In private, Muichiro was softer. He would sit with you in silence, his presence steady and grounding. When you struggled to sleep, he would stay by your side, his voice quiet as he reassured you.

“I’m here,” he’d whisper, his pale eyes fixed on you. “Nothing can hurt you anymore. I won’t let it.”

Though his possessiveness sometimes made you uneasy, Muichiro’s quiet devotion slowly began to ease your fears. His calm presence was a balm to your restless heart, and in his company, you started to believe that safety was possible.

Gyomei Himejima

Gyomei Himejima’s towering presence was both intimidating and comforting. Despite his immense strength, he carried himself with a quiet gentleness that set him apart. When he met you, he immediately sensed the weight of your past. Your hesitance, your downcast eyes, and the way you flinched at sudden noises all spoke volumes to him.

Gyomei didn’t ask about your past—he believed you would share it when you were ready. Instead, he focused on creating a safe and peaceful environment for you. He spoke in a soft, soothing tone, his words laced with a deep compassion that made it hard not to trust him.

“You’ve been hurt,” he said one day, his voice filled with quiet sorrow. “But you are not alone anymore. I will protect you, no matter what.”

Gyomei’s yandere tendencies emerged in the form of an all-encompassing protectiveness. He couldn’t bear the thought of you being in danger, and his solution was to keep you close. He rarely let you out of his sight, justifying it as ensuring your safety.

“You’re precious to me,” he explained one evening as you sat together under the stars. “I cannot allow anything to harm you—not even your memories.”

Gyomei’s actions were always gentle, but his determination was unshakable. He eliminated anything that caused you distress, sometimes without you even realizing it. A neighbor who spoke harshly to you would mysteriously stop visiting. A place that brought back bad memories would quietly become off-limits.

In moments of fear or doubt, Gyomei was your rock. He would sit beside you, his large hands enveloping yours as he prayed for your peace. His deep voice was a constant source of reassurance.

“You are stronger than you know,” he said one night when you confided in him about your fears. “And I will be your strength until you find your own. Together, we will overcome this.”

Though his protectiveness sometimes bordered on overbearing, Gyomei’s love was pure and unwavering. In his care, you began to feel the cracks in your heart mend, each moment with him a step closer to healing.

Mitsuri Kanroji

Mitsuri Kanroji had always been a warm and loving person, her affection a beacon of light for those around her. When she met you, however, her love took on an entirely new depth. You were quiet and timid, always on edge, and it broke her heart to see the fear in your eyes. She couldn’t bear the thought of someone hurting you in the past—and she vowed to never let anyone hurt you again.

At first, Mitsuri’s boundless energy overwhelmed you. Her bright, bubbly personality and tendency to throw herself into hugs made you flinch, though you tried to hide it. The moment she noticed, her heart shattered. She pulled back immediately, hands clasped to her chest, her eyes wide with concern.

“I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed, her voice trembling. “I didn’t mean to scare you! I just—oh, I just want to make you feel loved!”

From that day on, Mitsuri did her best to be gentle around you. She toned down her energy, approaching you slowly and speaking in soft, reassuring tones. She showered you with compliments, constantly reminding you of how wonderful you were.

“You’re so brave,” she said one evening, her eyes glistening with emotion. “I don’t know what you’ve been through, but I know you’re stronger than you think. And I’ll do everything I can to make you feel safe.”

Her yandere tendencies manifested in her clinginess. Mitsuri couldn’t stand being away from you, even for a moment. She followed you everywhere, her presence comforting but sometimes overwhelming. If you tried to leave without her, she’d tear up, her lower lip trembling.

“Please don’t go without me,” she’d plead, her voice quivering. “I’ll protect you, I promise. I can’t bear the thought of you getting hurt again.”

Though her possessiveness could be suffocating, Mitsuri’s love was genuine. She wanted nothing more than to see you smile without fear shadowing your expression. At night, when you had trouble sleeping, she would sit by your side, her voice soft and soothing as she hummed a lullaby.

“You’re safe now,” she whispered, her hand gently brushing yours. “I’ll protect you no matter what. I love you more than anything.”

And as her arms wrapped around you, holding you close, you couldn’t help but feel the warmth of her devotion melting away the lingering cold of your past.

Shinobu Kocho

Shinobu Kocho’s sharp intellect and gentle demeanor made her an enigma. To most, she appeared kind and composed, but there was an intensity in her gaze that often went unnoticed. When she met you, it didn’t take long for her to notice your skittishness. The way you flinched at sudden movements, the haunted look in your eyes—it all painted a picture she didn’t need you to explain.

Shinobu approached you carefully, her voice always soft and her movements deliberate. She never asked about your past directly; instead, she offered a safe space for you to exist without judgment.

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” she said one evening as the two of you sat together in the garden. “But if you ever feel ready, I’m here to listen.”

Her kindness made you feel at ease, but Shinobu’s yandere tendencies began to show in the way she subtly controlled your environment. She ensured you were always within her line of sight, often under the guise of concern. If someone upset you, she’d smile sweetly at them, but her eyes glinted with a cold promise.

“Do be careful,” she’d say with a honeyed tone, her smile never wavering. “It would be such a shame if something unfortunate happened.”

Though her possessiveness was subtle, it was unyielding. Shinobu began isolating you from anyone she deemed unworthy of your trust, all while making it seem like she was doing it for your benefit. She justified it as protecting you from harm, but deep down, she relished being the only one you relied on.

At night, when the memories of your past crept in and left you trembling, Shinobu was there. She’d sit beside you, her presence steady and calming as she gently stroked your hair.

“Breathe,” she whispered, her voice like a balm. “You’re safe now. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

Though her obsession sometimes showed through the cracks of her carefully maintained facade, Shinobu’s love for you was undeniable. She would do anything to keep you safe—even if it meant taking drastic measures.

And as the days turned into weeks, you found yourself leaning on her more and more, her soothing words and unwavering presence slowly teaching you what it meant to feel safe. Little did you know, Shinobu was already planning a future where you would never need anyone but her.

Giyu Tomioka

Giyu Tomioka had always been an enigma, his quiet demeanor keeping others at arm’s length. But with you, it was different. You were his solace, the person who reminded him that even someone like him could feel alive. He noticed your skittish nature the moment he met you. The way your eyes darted to every shadow, the way you flinched at sudden movements—it was painfully familiar to him.

It wasn’t until much later, after earning your hesitant trust, that he pieced together the story behind your fear. The bruises of the past lingered not on your skin, but in the way you carried yourself, the way you recoiled when someone raised their voice. It ignited a quiet storm within him—a need to protect you, to ensure no one ever hurt you again.

Giyu didn’t talk much about your past; he knew you weren’t ready to share. Instead, he let his actions speak for him. He ensured your home was secure, often checking the locks multiple times before leaving. He began accompanying you everywhere, his presence silent but steadfast. Whenever you startled, his calm voice would ground you.

“You’re safe,” he would murmur, his eyes soft yet intense. “No one will harm you while I’m here.”

But Giyu’s protectiveness slowly evolved into something darker. The thought of you being hurt or frightened because of someone else was unbearable. He began eliminating anyone who dared to disturb your peace. A rude merchant? Gone. A stranger who looked at you the wrong way? They vanished without a trace.

One evening, you noticed his knuckles were bruised, and his haori smelled faintly of blood. When you asked, his response was clipped. “It’s nothing. Just… doing what I must to keep you safe.”

Despite his intensity, Giyu was careful around you. He would never raise his voice or make sudden movements. At night, when you woke from nightmares, trembling and panicked, he would sit beside you, his hand hovering over yours as if afraid to frighten you further.

“Sleep,” he’d whisper. “I’m here. Nothing will hurt you ever again.”

And though his possessiveness grew stronger with each passing day, so did his gentleness. For Giyu, you were his world—a fragile treasure he’d guard with his life, even if it meant losing himself in the process.

Sanemi Shinazugawa

Sanemi Shinazugawa was a storm of anger and raw emotion, his demeanor sharp and abrasive. But when he met you, something in him shifted. He noticed the way you flinched at loud noises, the way you shrank into yourself when someone raised their voice. At first, it frustrated him—not because of you, but because he recognized the signs of someone who had been hurt.

It wasn’t in Sanemi’s nature to tread carefully, but for you, he tried. His voice, usually harsh and biting, softened around you. He kept his distance at first, knowing that his intensity might frighten you. But the more he saw of your skittish behavior, the more his protective instincts kicked in.

“Who did this to you?” he demanded one day, his voice trembling with barely suppressed rage. You didn’t answer, tears welling in your eyes instead. He backed off immediately, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—damn it.”

Sanemi’s way of helping was blunt and straightforward. He wouldn’t coddle you, but he would never let you feel unsafe again. He made sure to be the first to step in if anyone so much as looked at you the wrong way. His yandere tendencies began to show when he started following you—at first from a distance, then more overtly.

“You don’t need to go out alone,” he said gruffly. “It’s not safe.”

He didn’t care if you protested. Your safety was more important than your independence, as far as he was concerned. And if anyone dared to mention your past or even hint at hurting you again, Sanemi’s wrath was swift and merciless.

One night, you overheard him talking to someone outside—a low, threatening growl in his voice. “If I ever see you near them again, you won’t live to regret it.” The next day, that person was gone, and Sanemi acted as if nothing had happened.

Despite his rough edges, Sanemi showed you his softer side in private moments. When you were too afraid to sleep, he’d sit beside you, his hand hovering protectively near yours.

“You’re safe,” he’d say, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Not while I’m around.”

Though his possessiveness sometimes frightened you, it was clear that Sanemi’s love for you ran deep. He would destroy the world for you if it meant you’d never have to feel afraid again. And in his own clumsy, fierce way, he began to teach you what safety and love could feel like.

Obanai Iguro

Obanai had always been quiet in his obsession with you. His sharp eyes followed your every move, not because he mistrusted you, but because he couldn’t bear the idea of you slipping through his fingers. When he learned of your past, it wasn’t from your lips—you were far too guarded for that. Instead, it was through subtle clues: your flinch when someone raised their hand too quickly, the way you hesitated to speak, and the haunted look in your eyes when you thought no one was watching.

Obanai didn’t confront you outright. He knew that his intensity might scare you. Instead, he created a cocoon of safety around you. At first, it was small things: warning others to keep their distance, subtly nudging you into situations where you had control, and keeping Kaburamaru curled around your wrist, his comforting weight a silent reminder that you weren’t alone.

But his yandere tendencies began to creep in. Obanai grew increasingly possessive, unwilling to let you out of his sight. When you flinched at the approach of an unfamiliar man in the market, Obanai acted swiftly, his hand tightening on your arm as his mismatched eyes glared daggers at the man.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered, his voice soft but tinged with malice. “I’ll never let anyone hurt you again. Not even the memory of them.”

Over time, he began to isolate you, justifying it as protecting you from a cruel world. Yet, there were moments when his tenderness shone through—quiet nights where he held your trembling hand, his voice barely above a whisper as he promised that you were safe with him.

Tengen Uzui and His Wives

Tengen’s home was a whirlwind of noise, laughter, and affection. But when you arrived—a timid, skittish presence in the midst of their vibrancy—everything changed. The flamboyant Sound Hashira and his wives were not blind to your pain, and the cracks in your demeanor didn’t go unnoticed.

Makio was the first to grow protective. Her sharp eyes and sharper tongue were quick to cut down anyone who made you uncomfortable. “Don’t look at them like that,” she snapped at a vendor one day, stepping in front of you. “You’re lucky I don’t smash your stall for that glare.” Her fiery nature sometimes frightened you, but she always softened her tone when speaking to you.

Suma was more emotional, often crying on your behalf. “Why didn’t anyone protect you?” she’d wail, clinging to your hand. Though her clinginess could be overwhelming, she was also the first to notice when you needed comfort, holding you close in her arms and whispering reassurances.

Hina, ever the calm and nurturing presence, took charge of creating a safe space for you. She ensured you had quiet moments away from the chaos, always bringing you tea or sitting beside you in silence when words felt like too much.

And then there was Tengen. His flamboyant nature made you nervous at first, his booming laughter and confident stride overwhelming. But he adapted quickly, learning to temper his energy around you. His protectiveness, however, was unmatched. When he learned of your past, his usual playful grin vanished, replaced with an icy determination.

“They’ll never touch you again,” he said, his voice low but seething with anger. “I’ll make sure of it. You’re part of our family now, and no one messes with what’s mine.”

His yandere tendencies revealed themselves in his need to control every aspect of your life. He forbade you from venturing out alone and assigned his wives to accompany you wherever you went. Though the intensity of their protection could be suffocating, it was impossible to doubt their love for you.

One night, as the five of you sat around the hearth, Tengen spoke softly, a rare moment of vulnerability in his voice. “You’re more precious to us than you know. Whatever you’ve been through, we’ll erase it with a lifetime of love. That’s a promise.”

And in that moment, surrounded by their unwavering devotion, you felt a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, you could heal.

[anenbylittlepotato]

Tears of Love (Genshin 2)

Includes: Diluc, Wriothesley, Navia, Kokomi, Shenhe, Thoma

Warnings: none that I can think of

Part 1

Heyyy, it’s time for my annual trying to revive this and get back into writing,,, I’ll really try to get back to it this time, but no promises

How Genshin character would react if you started crying and then saying "I just love you so muuuucch..."

Diluc

The two of you are alone together in his room and he’s holding you gently telling you how much he loves you.

And then??? While he’s talking you just??? Start crying???

”S/O? What’s the matter, love, did I say something wrong? I’m so sorry-”

”I just- I love you so muuuuccchhh…”

He blinks in surprise, processing that for a moment.

”I… S/O, do you mean to tell me that you’re crying because… of how much you love me?”

When you nod, he visibly relaxes and just pulls you against him, gently cupping you cheek and wiping the tears away from your face.

”I love you too, my dearest. More than anything. And I can assure than even though I’m not as… emotional about it as you, that I certainly mean that from the depths of my soul.”

Then he hugs you tightly, burying his face into your hair

Wriothesley

The two of you are sitting and talking together of cups of tea.

You aren’t sure what it is, but something about a small little term of endearment he says just makes you really emotional

When he sees you start crying, he immediately puts his tea down and jumps up and moves closer to you.

”Hey, sweetheart, what’s wrong, baby, what happened?”

He carefully takes your tea from you and sets it down as well before pulling you into his arms.

”I just- I love you so muchhhhhh…”

He blinks in surprise for a moment before he starts laughing a bit.

”Oh, Archons, babe, you scared the hell outta me…”

He gently cups your cheeks and lifts your face to look at him

“I love you too, but you can’t just start crying outta nowhere with no warning or explanation. I thought something happened to you and I’d have to kick some ass, y’know?”

He then gives you a little kiss on the forehead before hugging you again, this time holding you until you’re done crying.

Navia

One day, you’re just hanging out, not doing much when Navia happily walks in the door.

”S/O! Are you hungry? I brought you some sweets! I made them myself!”

She pulls out two boxes of sweets and places them on the table.

“Here! You can pick whichever one you want! I’ll take whichever one is left!”

She does this a lot but for some reason the sweetness of it really hits you this time and you find yourself crying.

She gasps in distress.

”Oh no, sweetheart, what’s the matter?”

She rushes over and cups your cheeks, gently kissing your forehead.

”I just- I just love you so muuuuch…”

”Oh-!”

She was not expecting that-

She giggles a little, sitting down with you and hugging you against her.

”Aww, that’s so sweet! You are just the cutest thing! I love you too darling.”

She then takes your face in her hands again and starts peppering it with kisses.

Sangonomiya Kokomi

When Kokomi gets home from performing her duties as Divine Priestess, all she’s always exhausted and all she wants to do is curl up with you and take a nap.

And you know this.

But lately, you’ve been sick, so today when you get home she decides that she’s going to make some soup for you, despite how exhausted she is.

So she does exactly that and goes to take it to you.

”S/O, I know you’ve been sick, so I decided to make you some soup to help you feel better.”

She walks over and carefully places the bowl on the bedside table next to you.

You find yourself thinking just how sweet it is that she took the time and energy to make you this despite how exhausted you know she is.

And now you’re crying-

“Oh no, what’s the matter, dear? I didn’t do anything wrong, did I?”

”I just- I love you so muuuccchhh…”

She blinks, and then she giggles softly.

”Awwww, you’re so sweet. I love you, too, dear.”

She reaches over and gently pets your head.

Shenhe

One day the two of you are walking through Liyue Harbor when suddenly you twist your ankle. Now you’re having a hard time walking.

Shenhe notices this and promptly decides to sweep you up into her arms, bridal style.

She then proceeds to carry you the rest of the way home and carefully tends to your injured foot.

You can’t help but think about how she’s so strong, she could probably snap you in half like a twig. And yet, here she is, being ever so gentle with you

You aren’t able to stop the tears thay come flowing out.

Her gaze immediately snaps toward you.

”Are you okay? Did I make it too tight? I can loosen it-”

”No, it’s just- I love you so muuuucch…”

She’s so surprised by that that she has no idea what to say for several moments, just staring at you with wide eyes.

”Oh. I um… I love you too. I didn’t expect you to start crying about it though. Is that… normal?”

She moves closer, gently cupping your cheek

You’ll have to explain it to her lol, she doesn’t get it-

Thoma

One day, you come home from a particularly exhausting day at work, and like usual, Thoma greets you at the door with his bright and sunny smile.

”Hi, sweetheart! Are you hungry? I made your favorite today! Oh- you look pretty tired too. I can draw you a bath while you eat! How does that sound?”

After the long day you’ve had you’re just so overwhelmed by just how sweet he is that you can’t help by start crying, immediately hugging him.

”Oh, sweetheart… was it that bad today? Alright, c’mon, let’s go eat and I’ll draw you that bath and then after that I can give you a massage, okay?”

”I love you so muuuccchh…”

He chuckles a bit as he guides you to the dining area.

”I love you too, S/O.”

Then, he really does draw you a bath once you’re done eating and gives you a massage and even makes a cup of hot cocoa for you.

Really the ultimate malewife frfr

[in1-nutshell]

Can we have G1 Ophelia please? You can choose to write her with Ironhold or not(o^▽^o)

Ironhold is in this one!

Hop you enjoy!

G1 Ophelia (Ft. Ironhold)

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Hinted Romance, Cybertronian reader

G1

Ironhold was not the only child Megatron had.

The war lord had another child of his in the ranks.

Chief archivist of the Nemesis.

Soundwave’s right-hand Con on the Nemesis.

Megatron’s eldest daughter and potential heir to the Decepticon army.

Ophelia the minibot.

Many Cons often forgot that Ophelia was their leader’s daughter with how… different she was.

With Ironhold, things made sense.

They were tall, a great warrior, feared by the enemy, and loyal to the Decepticon cause.

Even their little soft spot for humans was overshadowed by their achievements.

Ophelia was the opposite of Lord Megatron.

She was small, a decent fighter, kind, soft spoken, and someone easily forgotten.

Her soft spot for humans as clear as day.

Spike and Mirage escaping from Decepticon base. They turn the corner and barrel into Ophelia who was carrying a stack of data pads. Ophelia rubs her helm in pain. Ophelia: “Do you mind watching where you’re going next time Mirage!” Mirage: “Umm… do I know you?” Ophelia: “You broke into the base last week. You heard my name.” Spike: “Umm…” Ophelia: “Spike, you were kidnapped yesterday. I introduced myself to you 7 times!” Spike: “… Rumble?” Ophelia blinks slowly before facepalming. Ophelia: “Next door to your right, you’ll find the exit.” Ophelia stands up with all the collected data pads. Mirage pulls out his blaster. Mirage: “Freeze! You’re not telling the Decepticons anything!” Ophelia sighs tiredly. Ophelia: “Its too early for this… they are not going to be happy about this…” Meanwhile outside the base with Ironhold. The ‘Sibling Sense’ starts tingling. Ironhold: “…Ophelia needs me!”

While Ophelia did not achieve battle victories for Megatron, her victories in the achieves and on deck medic made up for it.

Megatron was proud of both his children.

Both making so much progress for the Decepticon cause!

Is secretly happy that Ophelia stayed the same size.

He already had enough trouble with Ironhold being taller than him.

The War lord does not tolerate anyone disrespecting his children.

Last Con who tried to disrespect Ophelia got a beating of a lifetime from Megatron and Ironhold.

He did try to take Ophelia to train, but Ironhold never allowed them both to fight.

Megatron and Ironhold are in a room by themselves. Megatron: “Where are you hiding her this time?” Ironhold: “Not telling you.” Megatron: “Ironhold, she needs to understand how to fight. If you haven’t forgotten, we are at war! Would you rather have her depend on you to fight her battles?” Ironhold: “Yes! She shouldn’t even be near the fights! And I just know that your ‘training’ is aligned with bots of your stature.” Ironhold sighs a bit before crossing their arms. Ironhold: “Look me in the optics and tell me you weren’t planning on training her like you did with me?” Megatron: “Iron—” Ironhold: “Look at me and tell me you’ve taken her size into account!” There is a harsh silence. Ironhold: “… She isn’t like me or any of the bots you’ve trained before Father. One wrong move during training and it could be detrimental to her. Imagine the look of fear she’ll have when she sees you after hurting her?” They let out a tired vent and uncrosses their arms. Megatron is silent and places a servo on their shoulder. Megatron: “… All right, you win. I won’t teach her.” Ironhold blinks a bit in surprise. Megatron: “But only if she is to be accompanied by a trusted Decepticon at all times or—Ironhold! Are you even listening?!” Ironhold has a datapad out and is rapid messaging on it. Ironhold: “And done! Ophelia officially has a bodyguard!”

His name was Steve.

A Vechicon that had recently been transferred to Earth.

Ironhold trusted the Vehicon enough to leave him with Ophelia, not like she needed the protection.

They would be there to fight for her.

Ironhold loved their sister with all their spark, but they weren’t going to actually say it.

Instead opts to show ingthe love through acts and quality time.

Ophelia is walking with Megatron and Ironhold. More Ophelia speed walking trying to keep up with the others. Ironhold stops for a second before snatching Ophelia up from the back. Ophelia: “ACK! Ironhold! What have I told you about doing that out of no where!” Ironhold places her on their shoulders. Ironhold: “Not to.” Ophelia: “And what did you do?” Ironhold: “Did it and I’d do it again.” Ophelia playfully whacks their helm. Megatron smiles a bit at them. Later… Ophelia is in her habsuite when Ironhold barges in. Ophelia: “Iron—WOAH!” Ironhold flops down on her berth, narrowly missing the minibot. Ophelia: “Umm… ‘Hold? Are you okay?” Ironhold groans before scooting closer to Ophelia’s side and burying their face in her lap. Ophelia’s optics furrow in concern and gently starts subbing small circles on her younger siblings helm. Ophelia: “… You want to talk about it?” The shake in her lap gave her the answer. Ophelia sighs and does her best to hug Ironhold’s helm. Ophelia: “Stay as long as you want ‘Hold. I gottcha… I gottcha…”

Ophelia was often forgotten in her sibling’s shadow, but she is just happy that they are happy.

They deserve some happiness in this war.

The minibot is the first to know about Ironhold’s crush Rumble.

Does she tease them?

Yes, but it’s all lighthearted.

Does she play as Ironhold’s wingbot?

Also, yes!

Has she given Rumble the shovel talk because Megatron is too dense to know that his youngest has feelings?

Yes!

Rumble left that talk seeing a part of Megatron installed in the minibot.

Ironhold still doesn’t know that Ophelia did this and will stay that way.

Places bets with the other minibots and Soundwave on who was going to confess first.

Ophelia is happy Ironhold found someone to call their own.

Not that she would find someone someday…

Steve walks over to Ophelia. Steve: “Did you win the bet?” Ophelia: “Not exactly, everyone was off by a bit on the date.” Steve: “That sucks.” Ophelia sighs. Ophelia: “Welp, its over now. C’mon, I need some help in getting these crates to the Main room.” Steve: “Sure!” Both walk and chat as they head to get the crates. Soundwave and the cassettes in the distance. Soundwave: “Frenzy: Contact Rumble and Ironhold.” Frenzy: “For what Boss?” Soundwave: “Operation: Not Hamlet. Bets must be placed.”

[beersangel]

The silver lining ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

pairing: quiteguy!matt x overachiever reader.

content warnings: angst !

summary: Aven Brooks, a driven overachiever, and Matt Sturniolo, a quiet, reserved guy with a reputation for being rude, are paired for a school project. While Aven is open to working together, Matt is reluctant, but their forced partnership begins to reveal there's more to each of them than meets the eye.

click here for the previous part.

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————

The night before, Aven had been buried in her usual routine: debate practice with Dakota and Courtney, a project session with Matt, and a late-night cram for her math quiz. It was close to midnight when Dakota came over, flopping onto Aven’s bed with all the energy of someone who hadn’t spent the day juggling back-to-back responsibilities.

“So, there’s a party tomorrow night,” Dakota said, scrolling through her phone.

“Cool. Have fun,” Aven replied without looking up from her notes.

“No, no,” Dakota said, sitting up. “You’re coming too.”

Aven sighed, not pausing her writing. “Dakota, I’m swamped. I’ve got a quiz to prepare for, a debate to rehearse, and—”

“Aven,” Dakota interrupted, her tone firm. “You need a break. When’s the last time you did something fun?”

Aven finally glanced up, giving her friend a flat look. “I don’t think standing in a crowded room full of sweaty strangers counts as ‘fun.’”

Dakota wasn’t deterred. “Courtney and I already decided. You’re coming with us, even if I have to drag you there myself. You’ll survive one night.”

After a few more rounds of Dakota’s relentless persuasion, Aven gave in, more out of exhaustion than agreement.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

The bass thumped through the walls, vibrating the floor beneath Aven’s feet. She stood in the crowded living room, her shoulders brushing against strangers as voices rose and fell around her. Dakota and Courtney were somewhere in the chaos, probably on the makeshift dance floor near the speakers.

Aven sighed. She hated parties. The heat, the noise, the sheer overwhelming crush of people—it wasn’t her scene. She scanned the room for an exit, her eyes landing on a sliding glass door that led to the backyard. Without thinking twice, she made her way towards it, weaving through the crowd.

The cool night air greeted her as she stepped outside, instantly calming her nerves. She exhaled deeply, relishing the quiet compared to the noise inside. It was then she noticed someone sitting on the grass, their back turned to her.

Matt.

He sat cross-legged, his elbows resting on his knees, looking down at something in his hands. Aven hesitated for a moment before stepping closer.

“Can I sit here?” she asked softly.

Matt’s head jerked up, his eyes briefly meeting hers before he nodded. “Sure,” he said, his voice low, before looking back down.

Aven lowered herself onto the grass next to him, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her arms on top. The silence between them was neither awkward nor comfortable—it was just… there.

“Why are you out here?” she asked after a few beats, her voice breaking the stillness.

“It’s loud in there,” he replied simply, still not looking at her. He paused, then added, “You?”

“Same reason, I guess. I didn’t even want to come,” she admitted, shrugging. “My friends dragged me here.”

Matt let out a small, almost imperceptible chuckle. “You’d rather be at home studying, huh?”

Aven blinked, surprised. She turned her head to look at him, only to find him already watching her. His gaze was steady, unreadable. She wasn’t sure what to say.

Matt tilted his head, pausing for a moment before asking, “Why do you do it?”

“Do what?” Aven asked, frowning slightly.

“Overwork yourself,” he said, his voice calm but cutting in its directness.

Her defenses went up instantly. “I don’t overwork myself,” she replied, her tone sharper than she intended.

“Yes, you do,” he said, his voice quieter this time, almost as if he wasn’t sure if he should be saying it at all. “Why?”

Aven’s jaw tightened. “Why do you never talk to anyone?” She shot back, her words defensive and pointed.

Matt didn’t respond. He just sat there, his eyes dropping back to the ground.

The silence stretched between them, heavy and thick. After a moment, Aven exhaled, the fight leaving her body. “Because I have to,” she said softly, her voice almost lost in the night air.

Matt looked up, his gaze curious but not pressing.

“I want to get into my dream school,” she continued, her voice steady now, like she was reciting a fact.

Matt stayed quiet for a few seconds, then asked, “And what if you don’t get in?”

The question hit her like a slap. Aven frowned, the thought piercing her like a needle. “Why would you say that?” she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.

“It’s a possibility,” Matt said with a shrug, his tone casual.

Aven’s stomach tightened, the weight of his words sinking in. She had never considered it—not really. Her dream school wasn’t just a goal; it was the only option, the plan she had clung to for years.

Matt watched her reaction, his sharp eyes analyzing the way her expression shifted. After a beat, he spoke again. “You know, for someone who thinks they’re so smart, it’s kind of pathetic how you’ve pinned your entire future on one thing.”

Aven froze, her breath hitching as his words sank in. She turned to him slowly, her eyes narrowing, a mix of disbelief and hurt flashing across her face. After a tense pause, she spoke, her voice quiet but cutting “You know, I didn’t want to believe the rumors,” she said, her voice trembling slightly but firm. “I thought, maybe—maybe he’s not as bad as everyone says. But you know what? They’re right. You are rude.”

She pushed herself off the ground, dusting her jeans off before walking towards the house without another glance at him.

Matt stayed frozen in place for a moment, his thoughts swirling. Then, with a sharp inhale, he pushed himself off the grass. He caught sight of Aven slipping through the sliding door and into the crowded living room. His jaw tightened as he followed after her, weaving through the party.

The noise inside hit him like a wave, but he didn’t slow down. His eyes stayed locked on her as she moved through the crowd, her shoulders stiff, her head down. She didn’t stop, didn’t look back, just kept walking like she couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Matt muttered a quick “sorry” as he bumped into someone holding a red cup, but he barely broke stride.

By the time he reached the door, Aven was already stepping outside. He hesitated for half a second, then pushed it open, the cool night air hitting him as he spotted her heading down the street.

“Brooks,” he called out, but she didn’t stop, her pace quickening as she walked down the dimly lit street. “Brooks, wait up,” he said again, louder this time as he walked after her, but she kept moving, her shoulders stiff and head down.

“Aven,” he said finally, his voice softer but firm as he closed the distance between them.

She stopped abruptly, spinning around to face him. “What?” she snapped, her voice trembling with emotion. Her expression was a mix of anger and pain, but it was the hurt in her eyes that made Matt’s throat tighten.

“I—” He started but faltered, the words catching in his throat. He didn’t know what to say, and for a moment, all he could do was stare at her.

“What, Matt?” she repeated, her voice cracking now. “What do you want to say? That I’m stupid for wanting something? That it’s pathetic to care about my future?”

She could feel the tightness in her chest, the weight of his words pressing down on her, and suddenly, all the doubts she’d buried deep inside began to surface. What if she didn’t get in? What if all her hard work wasn’t enough? The thought of not walking in her father’s footsteps—of falling short—was a fear she had never fully allowed herself to confront. But now, hearing Matt’s words, it felt too real, too possible.

Her words cut deep, sharper than he expected. “Aven, I didn’t mean it like that,” he said quickly, his tone softening, almost pleading.

“Then what did you mean?” she shot back, her eyes narrowing, though the hurt still shone through. “Do you think before you speak? Or do you just say things without caring how they’ll affect people?”

Matt opened his mouth, but no words came. He didn’t have an answer��not one that would fix this, at least.

Aven sighed, her shoulders sagging as she looked away, her jaw clenching. “Forget it,” she muttered, shaking her head. “I should’ve known better.”

She turned away from him and started walking again, her pace brisk. Matt stood there, rooted to the spot, watching her retreating figure until she disappeared into the night. The weight of his own words hung heavy in the air around him, and for the first time in a long while, Matt felt something he rarely allowed himself to feel.

Regret.

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐

author’s note: their first fight lol 💗 I love writing angst! also I’m thinking of making tag list so if you want to be added reply to this post <3!

- 💌

[yanderecrazysie]

Just the Way You Are (Yandere! Hinata)

Requested on Quotev.

I love writing chubby reader because I’m chubby myself and there isn’t enough content out there for us lol

Title: Just the Way You Are

Pairings: Yandere! Hinata Shoyo x Reader

WARNINGS: yandere themes, chubby reader, lots of insecurities

“When I see your face

There's not a thing that I would change

'Cause you're amazing

Just the way you are

And when you smile

The whole world stops and stares for a while

'Cause, girl, you're amazing”

-from “Just the Way You Are” by Bruno Mars

The gymnasium was not your favorite place to be. 

You fidgeted with the hem of your uniform shirt, feeling uncomfortable in the presence of so many tall, athletic boys. You had already pulled your skirt waistband up so that it would push your stomach in a little, but there was no way to hide your chubby cheeks and the flab you had on your arms.

You leaned back on the stands so that your back lay against the higher benches. Not very comfortable, but looking at the ceiling made you less insecure than looking at guys with clear six-packs or thin frames.

The whistle blew, signaling the end of practice, and footsteps rapidly approached you. You sat up and smiled shyly when you recognized your childhood best friend.

“You waited for me!” Hinata sounded surprised, his orange hair drenched with sweat. He sounded a little out of breath, but not too exhausted. If anything, he looked as bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as ever.

“I always do,” you laughed, “Now, let’s go.” You didn’t want to stay here any longer than you had to.

Hinata nodded, his face lighting up in a smile as bright and beautiful as the sun, “I’ll grab my bag!”

You walked to the entrance and waited there. You stared at the ground when the other volleyball players walked by. 

What did Hinata see in you? Why didn’t he want to hang out with the rest of his team? They shared his love of volleyball and were athletic, after all.

“Ready?” Hinata asked, jolting you from your thoughts. You nodded and the two of you began the long walk home. The two of you both lived in the same neighborhood, which is how the two of you met. He had convinced you of Karasuno High’s awesomeness and you figured the bike rides would help you lose a few pounds. But no matter what you did, the weight stubbornly stayed.

Hinata always walked with a spring in his step, but he was so close this time that your shoulders brushed occasionally. He looked at you sideways and said, “Thanks again for waiting for me. I know you don’t really like volleyball all that much.”

It wasn’t so much the sport that bothered you, but you were too embarrassed to say that to him. “It’s okay, I like waiting for you, even if it’s a sweaty gym.”

The two of you walked in silence. You could tell by the way Hinata side-glanced at you frequently that he had something to say. There was no need to rush him, you decided, waiting for him to decide the right time to speak.

“You know, I’m really glad you waited there for me,” Hinata said softly, avoiding your gaze, “Like, really glad.”

Your cheeks grew warm, “All I do is sit there.”

“Exactly!” he said, spinning around to walk backwards in front of you, “You don’t have to do anything! Just you being there makes it easier for me to play!”

“I don’t see how,” you said, feeling like your face was on fire from how embarrassed you were.

“You are-” Hinata started, but he cut off as he ran into something, the consequences of walking backwards.

“Watch where you’re going, idiot,” Kageyama scoffed as Hinata jumped about a mile after realizing he had backed into his new teammate.

Kageyama’s steely eyes turned to you and softened, “I saw you waiting at our practice. What’s your name?”

You gave him your name, squirming a little under the gaze of someone so intense. You knew the two of them didn’t currently get along very well, but that Kageyama had “gotten better since junior high”. Whether that was about his volleyball skills or his attitude or both, you weren’t sure.

“You into volleyball?” Kageyama asked and, before you could answer, he suggested, “Maybe you could come to one of my weekend practices. You could play the spiker.”

You were surprised by the invitation and were about to accept, when you saw Hinata out of the corner of your eye. His sunny disposition had disappeared, like clouds blotting out the sun. His eyes were narrowed to slits, glaring a hole into Kageyama’s head.

“Yea- No.”

Kageyama was confused, “Yes or no?”

“No. Sorry.”

Kageyama shrugged, “Let me know if you change your mind.”

As he continued on his way, Hinata glared after him until the ravenette was out of sight. 

“You just let him flirt with you!” he hissed.

“Flirt?” you were genuinely surprised, “That was flirting?”

Hinata pouted for a moment, his cheeks puffed full of air, before he let out the breath he’d been holding and calmed down, “Of course he was flirting!”

“No one would flirt with me,” you laughed hollowly, “I’m too f-”

Hinata grabbed you by the shoulders, his pupils blowing wide as he pulled you closer, “Don’t. Even. Say. It.”

You looked at him, stunned by his change in demeanor, but let him finish.

“You are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, with or without makeup. It’s not just me that thinks so either- you don’t understand the stares that follow you down the hall- but I do! And I can’t stand it! Of everyone in the entire world, I’ve only ever wanted you!”

You stared at him in silent shock. Hinata… thought you were beautiful? 

“Don’t talk to Kageyama ever again,” he warned, “Or I might do something we’ll both regret.”

From the expression on his face, you were pretty sure he wasn’t bluffing. 

Still, he liked you. Thought you were beautiful.

And in the end, that was all that mattered to you.

[resurrectionist3]

Timex

Daniel Cleaver x fem!Reader (18+)

✒️ - 12/25/2024 🔏 - 01/08/2025

⏳ - 5,563 words

⚠️CW - 18+ NSFW, oral stimulation (p in mouth), no p in v (yet), general smut, Daniel Cleaver and his sliminess (his presence deserves a warning)

✧─── ⋆⋅ ✧⋅⋆ ───✧

📜 - A fairly new hire is getting ready for a very important meeting at her job as the co editor in chief at Pemberley Press. To her surprise, she seems to have lost her favorite wristwatch.

At work, she manages to find it ... on the desk of her most insufferable colleague.

Author's Note - First fan fiction posted to Tumblr, I cannot believe it's for this man. It is actually inspired by the fact that I lost my favorite watch just before Christmas - don't ask how my brain decided to write a fan fiction because of it. I did manage to find it while I wrote this so, that's a win for me. Yes, Frankie is inspired by Francis Abernathy from The Secret History. And yes, the presence of an author named Miles Finch does indeed imply that this fan fiction and this version of Daniel Cleaver do exist in the same universe as the 2003 Christmas comedy film, Elf, starring Will Ferrel. Our beloved Mr. Reed will be here soon, I promise. But I fear I must get this freak out of my system before I can focus on the other one.

✧─── ⋆⋅ ✧⋅⋆ ───✧

“Chilly morning in London today, with a high of 4 degrees and a low of -1° tonight! Expect light flurries this evening with-” The cheerful English news reporter said in his routine chatter about the weather forecast. I poured out a decent serving of cat food for my sweet Argo and sat down to my own breakfast. Turning down the television volume and opening my work notebook, I reviewed the notes from the previous day regarding today’s very important meeting, with a very important author. 

I furrowed my brows as I read the author’s scribbled name, Miles Finch, trying to remember where else I had heard of him outside of work. 

My eyes drifted lower on the page to a different name that I had written down - one that made my heart race and my cheeks blush. Daniel Cleaver, my insufferably attractive colleague and co-editor in chief at Pemberley Press. Our boss, Mr. Fitzherbert, thought it would be some wonderful idea for us to work together preparing for this meeting; the loyal employee of several years teaching the new hire ‘all the way from Boston, Massachusetts’. Weeks spent working a little too closely with Daniel, all leading up to today. To be completely honest, it took its toll on me. One can only take so much of him and his arrogance. 

And his smile … his eyes … his voice … his-

“Ugh,” I caught my mind wandering and stopped, nearly choking on my morning coffee. “Enough of that, (y/n).” I said to myself as I stood from the table. 

I carefully chose a CD to play while I got dressed, settling on one burned by my friend back home. The first song, some obscure 80s pop tune, filled my room as I made my way to the closet. 

“Miniskirt and blouse,” I pondered out loud, pulling the outfit from the rack. “Or, black suit dress?”

Eyeing both choices, I tried to decide which outfit would warrant the best response during the meeting. I looked again at the miniskirt momentarily, blushing as I recalled the … effect it seemed to have on my intolerable associate when I last wore it. 

The way Daniel eyed me that entire day was undeniable. I had been rather used to his stares after 6 months of working with him, but that was different. The way he bit his lip as those icy blue eyes wandered to places they definitely shouldn’t…

“No,” I said quickly, dropping the skirt onto my bed. “Absolutely no distractions today. Suit dress it is.”

After finishing my outfit and makeup, I only had a few minutes before I had to leave. I gathered my things, listing off everything important: ‘notebook, car keys, bag, coat, scarf…’

I prattled off  my belongings in my head as I stopped at my vanity one last time. ‘Necklace, rings, wristwatch-’ I named each item as I put it on, but-

‘Wristwatch…?’  I froze mid-list as I realized my favorite watch was nowhere in sight. I opened every drawer, brows furrowed as I searched all over the apartment. I thought of anywhere it could possibly be, and yet, still nothing. 

I stopped and sighed at the new mess I had made in my hunt. Clothes and jewelry strewn over my unmade bed after my unceremonious rummage around. 

‘I wore it yesterday.. I remember that,’  I thought to myself, stood amongst the disarray. ‘Then.. where did it go afterwards?' 

Figuring it would be easily found on my desk at work,  I relented. I took all my things and left the apartment, throwing on my scarf and coat once inside the elevator. 

In the car, my mind drifted back to the watch. After earning this perfect job at Pemberley, I bought anything I wanted. Expensive jewelry, designer clothes, a new car - even my fancy apartment in London after relocating. I could probably buy 7 of the same basic black and gold Timex watch, but this one was special to me. 

“I’m being quite honest, Frankie, I can't find it anywhere,” I sigh over the phone to my best friend. “I looked all over my apartment, all over my work desk, even asked our security guard if he’d seen it. I fear it’s gone.” I slouched a little in my desk chair as I came to my upsetting realization. 

“Please, (y/n), it’s not that serious. It’s a small thing, I’ll buy you a new one if you like.” Frankie said, his voice as cool and unconcerned as always. Franklin Arkwright; assistant to the CEO of our partner publishing company back home in Boston. He was my oldest friend, and the one who managed to get me the job at Pemberley in the first place. 

I stood from my chair and paced about my office, the phone cord pulling as I walked around my desk. “It’s not just a small thing, Frankie. You know how much I love that watch, and I don't enjoy losing my belongings.” My hand went to my (y/hc) hair as I sighed again. I turned around, going to the opposite side of the room when I accidentally locked eyes with him. 

Daniel Cleaver’s office sat inconveniently right beside mine, both spaces walled completely with floor to ceiling glass (I preferred more privacy myself, but the sleek and modern look was just so in these days).

My heart quickened for a moment, sending a strange pulse through my chest as his blue eyes met mine, a smirk appearing on his face. I managed a smile back as he waved, still talking to whoever was on his own phone. He eyed me up and down as he always did, his gaze lingering on my choice of dress; the dress that I suddenly realized had such a low neckline. 

I scoffed and looked away from his irritating stares, my eyes moving to his desk instead. Frankie continued on in my ear about something his mother had said as I scanned the organized mess of Daniel’s workspace. Stacked papers and folders, pens and pencils, a paper coffee cup, my watch, a stapler-

My watch?

My eyes widened at the undeniable sight of my wristwatch sitting on the desk of none other than Daniel fucking Cleaver. The black leather wristband and gold rimmed clock face was recognizable even from where I stood. I looked back up to him as he paced about his own office, talking away on his phone. He seemed either unaware that it was there, or he at least didn't care. 

'How on earth did it get there?’ I thought to myself as I wracked my brain, finally remembering yesterday’s encounter. 

✧─── ⋆⋅ ✧⋅⋆ ───✧

In the meeting room, Daniel leaned against the long table as I went over my checklist for a final time. “Right, the presentation is finished, I wrote up my little spiel. Do you have yours ready, Cleaver?” I asked and instantly rolled my eyes as I caught him staring where he shouldn’t. Again. 

“Yes, yes, (y/ln), I’ll get on that straight away,” He said briskly, reluctantly meeting my eyes. I could tell he was very distracted, and likely hadn’t heard a word that I said. 

“Daniel, please just know that if you fuck up this meeting and make a fool of me, I will have your head for it.” I said in a casual voice, returning to my written list.

“Noted. Thank you, (y/ln)” Daniel responded coolly. I caught his eyes wandering again and shot him a glare. Perhaps he felt bad for not listening to me, or more than likely, he was trying to play off his stares as he leaned off the table and walked closer. 

“You know, (y/n), I never noticed how nice your watch is,” He said, tilting his head as he looked at the clock on my wrist. “I think I like it.”

 I furrowed my brows at his out-of-place comment and looked at him skeptically. “Well, I do wear it everyday, Daniel. How have you not mentioned it before?” Daniel just shrugged in response, eyes still on my wrist. 

“The gold suits you quite nicely,” He said pensively, almost as if he didn’t mean to say it out loud. Daniel gently reached out for my hand, and asked for a closer look. Confused, I set down my notebook and pen, taking the watch from my wrist. Our hands brushed momentarily as I set the watch in his palm, making my heart skip annoyingly. As he examined it, I went back to my list and finished going over everything for tomorrow. 

Before I could say another word to Daniel, Mr. Fitzherbert had entered and asked for me. The last thing I remembered was taking my notebook and pen, and hurrying out - leaving my favorite watch with Daniel. Fucking. Cleaver. 

✧─── ⋆⋅ ✧⋅⋆ ───✧

“(y/n)...? (Y/N)??” Frankie repeated over the phone, taking me out of my memory. “Are you still there, babe?” 

I let out a laugh and took a breath as I realized I was still on the phone with him. “Y-yea, I’m still here, Frankie.. But I think I should go. I, uhm, I found my watch.”

Without another word, I said goodbye and hung up the phone. Daniel had also finished his own phone call and was standing by the window, reading some documents. I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose as I contemplated actually going over there. After all, it IS just a watch. But, it was still my favorite one. 

I readjusted my dress and made my way to Daniel’s office, entering politely. “Afternoon, Mr. Cleaver,” I said with the nicest smile I could manage. “Today’s the day! Big meeting with Miles Finch. I hope you’re ready!” 

Daniel flashed me a smile - that terribly charming smile of his. “Good afternoon to you, Miss (y/ln). To what do I owe this lovely intrusion?” 

From the look he gave me I could tell, he knew what I was there for.  My eyes went from him to my watch, sat right on his desk beside his computer, almost displayed like some kind of trophy. I lost my fake smile and relaxed, crossing my arms. “I’m here to see if you're prepared. And to take my watch back; I’ve been looking for it all morning.” 

Daniel looked confused and taken aback by my statement. “Your watch..? (y/ln), you must be barking, I don’t have your watch.” 

I narrowed my eyes at him and walked towards his desk. I wasn’t in any mood for his games today. “Yes, Daniel. This watch, it’s mine.” I reached out to take it, just as he bent over the desk and picked it up himself. 

“Oh, this watch? Odd, what is it doing here? Are you sure it’s yours?” Daniel said while he examined it just like he did the day prior. I rolled my eyes at him and his antics. 

“Yesterday.. The meeting room? You asked to see it and then I had to go.” I recalled briefly, still irritated with his little act. “I really have been looking for it all morning, I’ve been worried half to death.” 

Daniel’s eyes widened in fake shock. “Half to death? God, (y/ln), it’s just a watch,” He said, turning it over in his hands. “Why do you wear it everyday? It's a bit worse for wear, isn't it? Scratches in the glass here, creasing in the wristband. And, oh dear, is that a crack? Surely, they pay you enough to buy a nicer one.” 

I glared at him from the other side of his desk and huffed in anger. “It’s very special to me, Daniel. My dear friend, Frankie, gave it to me before I left home to move here. It used to belong to him; he knew I loved it so much,” I stopped myself and sighed. Something told me that it was futile to try and explain the emotional value of a wristwatch to someone like Daniel Cleaver. “It’s .. sentimental. Perhaps you’d understand if you had friends of your own, now I’d like to have it back please.” 

The emphasis on my statement didn't seem to matter as Daniel just smiled to himself and looked back at my watch. “How dare you presume to know the status of my personal friendships,” He said after taking a gasp of fake offence. 

I held my hand out for him to give the watch back, a silent plea for him to end this ridiculous nonsense. But to my confusion and irritation, instead of offering it back, he pulled back his sleeve and put it on. “You know, I think I'll hold onto it for you. Just for today, what do you think, (y/ln)?” 

It was my turn to be taken aback now. “What, no- Cleaver, just give it to me,” I said, my already thin patience running thinner. “This isn’t grade school, what are we, confiscating each other’s belongings now..?” 

Daniel said nothing as he walked around his desk and stopped in front of me - a little too close for a colleague. “You can come back and collect it at the end of the day. Stay later tonight.. If you want it back, then you’ll know where to find me, hmm?” He said, his voice patronizing. Yet, quiet and … suggestive. He was so close, I could smell his cologne - a familiar fragrance from Jo Malone. He lifted his hand and I held my breath, ready for him to do something deranged, like brush back my hair or caress my cheek. Hell, he was close enough to lean in for a kiss.

 Instead, he looked over my shoulder at my watch on his wrist to check the time. “Well look at that.. It’s time to meet Miles Finch,” Daniel said with a quick smile as he stepped back to his desk to pick up some documents. According to the clock on his wall, he was right - ten minutes until 3pm. A few people from different departments even walked by Daniel’s office and into the elevator, clearly on their way to the meeting room. 

Daniel walked past me quickly and I followed behind to retrieve my own things from my office, just as he stopped and turned back.

“Hot dress, by the way, (y/ln),” He started, making my cheeks blush red. “With a neckline that low, I’m sure you won’t even need your notes in order to convince them.”

I gasped and tried to interject as he made his way out to the elevator. 

The meeting came and went, ending on a high note with Miles Finch agreeing to our proposed contract for his upcoming book series. It was truly a triumph; after weeks of hard work and preparation, it actually paid off. The entire meeting room filed out, talking happily and shaking hands with one another with a few minutes to spare before the end of the work day. I was approached numerous times by colleagues and representatives visiting from our New York location, congratulating me and Daniel on a job well done. As the building slowly emptied, I retreated back to my office and opened my computer to start on some extra work. I hadn’t forgotten about what Daniel said. And I certainly hadn't forgotten about my damned wristwatch. 

There were five separate invitations to go out for drinks with everyone from the meeting. And I really did wish to attend. Perhaps for a chance to earn a spot within Miles Finch’s good graces (he was said to be a difficult man to please), but I declined every single one. “Such hard workers, you and Mr. Cleaver are. You make an excellent team, I’m quite glad to have hired you.” Mr. Fitzherbert said when he heard that Daniel and I wished to stay late to ‘get ahead’ on the next big project. 

‘Oh yes,’ I thought to myself. ‘I'm sure we’ll be working very hard tonight.’ It was the only thought I had in my mind as the boss praised us. Checking my email for a final time before I got to work, I noticed a new message. The sender’s name made me sigh and curse as I clicked it open. 

 ‘45 minutes, floor will be empty. 

50 minutes, after George does his rounds, you know what to do.

-DC’

The wall clock ticked away at an agonizingly slow pace. A few times, I even caught myself instinctually turning my wrist to check the time, and cursing under my breath when I found nothing there. When the time finally arrived, George, the security guard walked casually past my glass-walled office. We exchanged polite waves and I watched him walk through the room and out, heading for the stairwell. I recognized my moment, and turned off my computer. I took my things as if I were ready to leave: packed my notebook and pen into my bag, gathered up my coat and scarf, and made the dreadful walk of shame to Daniel’s office door. I felt his eyes on me as I hesitated outside, wondering again if this was all really worth it. I knew I wasn’t just going to walk in, collect my trinket, and go. It would never be that easy with Daniel. 

“About time, (y/ln), took you long enough to finally open the door. Having second thoughts?” Daniel said, without looking up from his computer screen. 

“Actually, yes,” I confessed, putting my belongings down on the chair by the door. “Am I going to regret coming in here, Cleaver..?” I gave him a sincere look of worry. His expression visibly softened as he stood from his desk and walked over. He stopped in front of me, just like he had done earlier. Except this time, there was no one around to see us. No one to watch him do something deranged… like brushing back my hair, or caressing my cheek. Or..

“Daniel,” I whispered, pulling away when he leaned in. My hand went to his chest, ghosting against the bare skin where his dress shirt was left unbuttoned. “Please - don’t risk our positions, or our jobs, for this silliness.” Daniel responded with a soft smile as his hand went to my cheek, caressing it gently. 

“It’s only a problem if we’re caught, (y/n).” Daniel began, his other hand trailing slowly up my side and to my waist. He pulled me against him and I stumbled a little, falling against Daniel’s chest and fully into his arms - right where he wanted me. “And if we are, which we won’t be, I’ll take the blame. It’s my idea after all. I’ll risk my position and my job… not yours.”

Somehow, Daniel’s own version of a sacrifice was endearing enough to make me blush furiously. I opened my mouth to protest, just to be met with his thumb gliding gently over my bottom lip. “It’s alright, (y/n),” He whispered with an amused smile on his face. He winked and I couldn't help but return the smile. Daniel backed away briefly, pulling me by the arm to his desk where I settled against it. He resumed his place in front of me, pulling me back into his embrace. “I’ve got it all figured out… and I've got you.”

I felt myself physically relax at Daniel’s words - more relaxed than I’ve ever felt while being with him. I raised my eyebrows at his statement, sighing against his lips. “You always have everything figured out, don't you Daniel?” Before he could give me one of his clever responses, I closed the gap between us and pressed my lips to his. Just to shut him up. 

His hand settled on my hip, keeping me pinned against his desk. I let my own hands move up his chest, and over his shoulders. One hand rest on the back of his neck, while the other went up into his hair, getting tangled in his dark locks. He let out a moan against my lips, and I couldn't help my mischievous smile.

“Excuse my enthusiasm, (y/n),” Daniel began, pulling away only enough to form words. “But I have been fucking dying to get you like this since the day I met you.” It was my turn to be amused now. I smiled and bit my bottom lip, delighted to see him this flustered. “Oh, I can tell, Daniel,” The feeling of his growing erection against me was enough to know that he was serious. I let my hands fall from their work in his hair, dropping one to his shoulder and the other to the desk behind me. It rested beside Daniel’s left hand, my fingers ghosting over his. “To make a confession of my own, I’ve always found you rather attractive - hot as fuck, even. But your insufferable arrogance was often far to much for me to bear.” 

Daniel laughed against my neck as he dipped down to kiss the sensitive skin there, earning a breathy moan from me. I moved my hand from the desktop, gliding over his hand and to his wrist, where I felt the undeniable outline of my watch. I quickly moved my hand up, tightening around his forearm as he nipped at my neck, hoping he wouldn’t get suspicious. “Daniel…” I moaned to him, making him hold my waist tighter in response. My other hand slid off his shoulder and down his back to distract him while I began to remove my watch from his wrist. 

‘Almost…’ I thought and let out a sigh when I felt the leather strap slide from the small buckle. Daniel bit into my neck harder than he had before, and I gasped sharply. He paused, bringing his quest to cover me in love bites to a close. “Don’t stop, please,” I pleaded, nearly whining for him. Not only was I close to finally getting my watch back, but the physical contact actually felt too good to lose. I felt Daniel smirk against my lips as he pulled away from me completely, my hand drifting off his shoulder and lingering outstretched for him. 

“You almost had me, (y/n),” Daniel said while he fastened my watch back onto his wrist. “Don’t make me restrain you, (y/ln). Play fairly and you’ll get what you came here for.” 

I roll my eyes and groan, crossing my arms in front of me. “Fine, Daniel. What must I do to get my precious watch back?” Daniel put a hand to his heart and gasped. 

“You wound me, (y/n), honestly,” He paced to the side of the desk, leaning on it bringing our faces inches apart once again. “I had hoped that what you wanted from me wasn't just your watch.” 

“Daniel-” I scolded, as if he were a child. He was surely acting like one. He just laughed and held up his hands in surrender after taking a step away. “Alright, (y/ln), alright. I need you to do something for me. A favor, I suppose.” His voice dropped in volume as he finished. I chewed the inside of my lip, eyeing him cautiously. 

“Like what? Take over a project for you? Cover for you while you run off to some broom closet or storage room with one of the interns?” Daniel approached me with that damned smile on his face again. The one that first made my heart race. The one that could convince me to do anything. 

“Bold of you to assume I’d be running off with anyone other than you, (y/ln). But no, nothing like that,” He paused, seemingly thinking. His tongue traced his bottom lip as his eyes scanned over my face while his hand absentmindedly rubbed my thigh beneath my skirt. “Well, you are quite good with this mouth of yours.” 

My eyes widened and my lips parted in my shock. ‘Oh, surely not.’ 

“I don’t suppose you mean I have a chance of talking my way out of this?” I asked, trying desperately to avoid what I knew he was implying. Daniel shook his head, still enamored by me as he resumed his kissing along my jaw and down my neck. “Come now, (y/n), don’t play innocent. It’s a poor act, and it doesn't look good on you.” 

He kisses and roughly nips at a spot just below my jaw, making me crane my head back and sigh. He pulled away again and looked at me. I had never seen his blue eyes look so dark. 

‘No. No. No way. Tell him no, say-’

“Fine,” I nodded to Daniel’s desk chair, telling him to sit as I pulled my hair back. I bit my lip to hide a smile as he scrambled to take his seat. I stole a pen off his desk and stuck it into my makeshift updo, securing it in place. 

I left my spot on the front of the desk, rounding it to stand between Daniel’s legs. The outline of his cock was apparent even through his dark trousers as I lowered myself down between his legs. The only sounds for a moment were heavy breaths and Daniel’s zipper sliding down. He shifted in his seat, pushing his trousers down slightly. I took a breath and paused when I slid my fingers around the waistband of his underwear. I hesitated for a moment, making Daniel hum in amusement from above me. I looked up at him, eyes locked with his. 

“You’re really doing this, (y/n)?” He said, surely meaning to challenge me. His arm was propped by his elbow on the armrest of the desk chair. My Timex watch sat, still fastened to Daniel’s wrist, looking almost like it was meant to be there. The gold hardware glinted in the low lights in the office and I felt my chest tighten at the thought of Daniel Fucking Cleaver keeping one of my most treasured possessions forever. “Of course I am,” I say, settling onto my knees and slowly letting my hands slide under Daniel’s dress shirt, up and down the sides of his torso. “I want my fucking watch back.”

Daniel nodded and readjusted himself in his seat, leaning back like a king on his throne. “Go on then Miss (y/ln). Use that pretty mouth of yours… take what you came here for.” I smiled back and rolled my eyes, letting my gaze settle on Daniel and his endearing grin. “Yes, right away, Mr. Cleaver.”

I slid my fingers into his waistband again and pulled them, no hesitation this time. My eyes widened a bit when his cock sprang free from its constraints. He was admittedly very large. Daniel let out a groan as I took him in hand and licked his tip playfully. I continued my teasing, enjoying the sounds of Daniel nearly whimpering. 

“O-ohhh, (y/n).. enough of that, please.” He begged, dropping his left hand to my face. Daniel held my chin up with one, and with the other began to stroke his cock, positioning it in front of my mouth. “No more teasing if you want your watch back.” I nodded obediently, which pleased him. 

“Now, (y/n), if you’d be so kind, just- ohhh, fuck,” Happy to quiet him, I took him into my mouth, going as deep as I comfortably could. I breathed slowly and deliberately, ensuring that I didn’t choke too severely. 

I felt Daniel’s hand snake around to the back my neck and hold me, tangling into the hair at the base. I moaned as he began to guide my head back and forth; slowly and gently. I shut my eyes for a moment, focusing on my breathing again. He was so much … more than what I had experienced in the past, and I was not accustomed to it. 

I felt Daniel move his hand from my chin and I opened my eyes slowly. His head was thrown back in ecstasy, his groans and whispers filling his office space. I pulled off his cock and trailed my tongue along the length of it, earning a hiss and a long moan of my name. I looked up again, hoping to catch his gaze and instead was met with the clockface of my watch on his wrist as his hand held the base of his cock. I stared at it before me, as I closed my lips around him again. 

‘He’s doing it on purpose, surely,’ I thought as his moans became a bit louder. 

“(y/n), fuck. I’m close, darling, so close-” Daniel groaned, his hold tightening on the back of my neck. I hummed and hollowed my cheeks as I took him, enjoying the sounds of his cries. 

I glanced up through my eyelashes and watched as he reached his climax, finishing into my mouth. I shut my eyes, swallowing what I could as Daniel’s hold on my neck loosened completely and his hand fell while he relaxed. 

“God, you are good Miss (y/ln). Fuck,” He groaned, fixing his clothes and redressing. I paused and patted his thigh gently, while I turned and spit the rest of his cum into the wastebin beneath his desk. Daniel watched as I casually stood and wiped at my mouth, rubbing off what remained of my lipstick. “Too much for you, darling?” He said, making me roll my eyes. I leaned forward, resting my hands on the chair’s armrests. My lips grazed Daniel’s tauntingly as I let my tongue glide over his bottom lip. “Is there anything else you require of me, Mr. Cleaver?” I asked with the best demure voice I could manage. 

Daniel groaned again, seemingly close to giving into me. “(y/n), darling…” He whispered, holding my face gently. “I thought I told you the innocent act isn’t your thing. Besides, as badly as I need to bend you over and fuck you on this desk, George’s next round is going to start soon and I’m confident that you don’t want him to find us like that.”

I stood and let him stand from his chair. “How do you know the security guard’s patrolling routine so well?” 

Daniel grinned. “My sweet, (y/n), why do you think?”

I didn’t give him an answer. Instead I scoffed at him and fixed the collar of my dress, crossing the room to pick up my belongings. “Oh, now I’ve earned the silent treatment have I?” Daniel leaned against his desk, watching me put on my scarf and coat. I failed to hide a smile when I watched him attempt to seem as though he wasn’t crying my name a moment ago. I crossed the room again, back over to Daniel and extended my hand wordlessly. He rolled his eyes and sighed, carefully removing the watch on his wrist. 

He lowered it into my palm and I nodded. “Thank y-,”

“On second thought,” Daniel began, cutting me off and pulling my watch away again. “I think I’ll hold onto it a little bit longer. Just until tomorrow evening, that alright, (y/ln)?”

My cheeks went warm while I watched him put the watch into his pocket and put on his own coat. I huffed, admittedly like a child, and crossed my arms. “Oh, was I not good enough?” I asked, a little too loudly. He shook his head. 

“Oh no, darling, you were wonderful. Too good for me to let this little game end right now. What do you say to … The Ritz? Tomorrow evening?” Daniel took his own things and walked to the door of his office. “I do owe you after all. I fear I’ve robbed you of a lovely night of drinks with our colleagues.”

I followed him out of the room and over to the elevator, waiting for the doors to open. “I'd say I've never been,” I confessed. “You do know you can ask me out to dinner without holding my wristwatch hostage, right?”

Daniel shrugged, sliding his arm around my waist as we watched the numbers of the floors descend. “Sure, but this is just more fun,” He leaned down, his lips grazing against my ear as he whispered, making my chest tighten. “It’s like getting back at you for those revealing outfits you’ve been wearing here - especially that little miniskirt you have.” I shivered as his fingers made gentle circles on my waist. 

He lifted his head, and stood up straight just in time for the doors to open again. George was indeed on his second round of the empty building, having left the other security guard at the front desk. We waved goodbye and were met with a cold wind beyond the front doors of Pemberley Press, the flurries mentioned on the news this morning already making their appearance. I paused to button up my coat, as Daniel examined my Timex watch yet again. 

“You know, (y/ln), I really do think this watch suits me nearly as well as it suits you.” He said, putting it back into the pocket of his trousers. I rolled my eyes and faced him. “Oh sure. Perhaps once we’re all done here you can get one of your OWN.” I heard Daniel’s laugh echoing behind me as I walked away from him. As I reached my car, I got inside and started it up wondering how on earth I was going to explain this situation to Frankie when I called him on the phone at my apartment.

✧─── ⋆⋅ ✧⋅⋆ ───✧

I hope you all enjoyed!! Potentially scheming a Part II at some point, but please let me know what you think!

[invasive]

Under a read more since this is kind of a story lol

Forcefully took up sewing since I urgently had to mend a DEAR treasure (2 of them) after an accident. It happened so soon after New Years I was thinking "what a terrible way to start this year!... uuuuuuu....uuuu...." and I tossed and turned all night. Cried. I furrowed my brow and thought about rolling over and just taking the loss. But impulsively I steeled myself and thought Hell No! I was experiencing despair and waded my way through it but I wouldn't let it become loss.

I resolved to go to the only fabric store I knew of to find replacement fabric and matching thread the next day. The train ride was nice. I felt so purposeful lol. A very rare occurrence in my life. I watched maybe 30 seconds of a video telling me how to sew and went WHATEVER! and went at it on some tests for 2 hours. Don't advise that but I was stressed haha. The tests weren't that good but they were good enough. I got the hang of things.

Took me about 2 nights to finish mending the first item. The fabric matched really well in color and texture so the fact my sewing was shoddy didn't show as much as I thought it would. I was satisfied. The next item.... took 4..... all nighters... it doesn't sound like much writing it down but I experienced so much frustration. Probably more frustration than I've felt in 3 years since I haven't picked up any new skills or hobbies in that time. I was just an observer before. It was so grueling.

But I surprised myself! The reason it was grueling was because I kept aiming for something better. I redid sections so many times and approached it from 4-5 different angles even if it undid hours on hours of work. The patching fabric for the second item didn't match as well (totally different material, texture, and thickness) and ended up being more decorative. I encountered new problems I didn't previously account for. I had to worm my way around a lot! And it was not fun. But my will was something that strangely surprised me. I would finish a section, look at it, and go "I won't settle for that" then restart. Id go up halfway, realize I was doing something wrong, then restart. I'd realize there was a better way of doing something, restart. I think there were 3 times last night I decided I was done but realized I wanted to redo something and I worked for an additional hour every attempt.

Again It wasn't fun in the moment! But something in the back of my head was so very happy. I knew I would come out of this being proud of what I did. That Will I experienced was honestly something I thought had atrophied outside of art! And with digital art, problems are easy to solve. Undo, copy, paste, save states, etc. I'm not holding a needle with long nails and thread that I can barely see to solve I problem I don't know anything about.

Even if the actual display of skill is fledgling, the mental hurdles I overcame made the end product feel more rewarding. I did everything I could with my level of skill and prep. While doing something middling is better than not doing it at all, I got too used to that and just started aiming for mediocrity. So overcoming that has been so very rewarding. I can't say that enough.

I wondered if this was because I've been watching jojo... nearly all the characters carry themselves with so much purpose and determination, regardless of their role in the story. I can't lie, on the train ride there I was thinking about how certain characters would persevere in situations that devastate them..! I was like.. I should too...!!

It's so funny how an objectively small project became so important to me. I've built a little more respect for myself this year! I think that's a good way to start it off.

I feel really good about myself lately

[xxplastic-cubexx]

cant stop thinkin bout charles and erik readin together on the couch but instead of reading with him charles is listening to eriks thoughts while he reads. Live mind commentary ……..

[recycledraccoon]

I have evolved into Scuttlespring anon, just say anything about them. I love them so much

THE ANON PANTHEON GROWS

Ok so. Gorgug likes Mary Ann because she absolutely infuriates him but also, and perhaps more importantly, because she has a type of confidence I think a younger Gorgug would have deeply envied. She's so weird, but entirely sure of herself. She likes what she likes and anyone who would have a problem with that is absolutely beneath her notice. She has friends not despite her oddities, but because she refuses to bend about them and that confidence is incredibly attractive in a person. Mary Ann Skuttle see's something she wants and she just...goes and gets it, easy peasy. Tiny little kobald strides, but when she puts her foot down with force, Gorgug thinks she could crush a mountain under with nothing so much as a blink or falter of her stride. She's certainly physically strong enough for it, and while Gorgug is undisputedly the better fighter, Mary Ann has a physical strength hidden under soft pastel pink hoodies and can, has, and will knock Gorgug on his ass. Gorgug got THRASHED at those Bloodrush field tryouts, and I'm certain he probably got his ass handed to him more than once during the year while at practice but before he quit the team. She made him so damn mad, everything that year was, and endlessly kind Gorgug got real mean to her over it. She was better than him, more casually confident, and didn't blink ONCE at his outburst. And later? When she was resurrected and freed from possession? He talks to her, acknowledges that it was just a game but he had been actually mad to be so easily knocked aside. He never really had to work at Bloodrush to be good at it, he just was, until suddenly she proved herself better.

And yet, without flinching, Mary Ann, famous for not giving a shit but listening to Gorgug say how much he had, just....asks if he has a girlfriend. Unparalleled confidence, shooting a shot he was unprepared for. Planets aligned even as his own orbit was knocked off course. And then, when he admits he doesn't even know where to get a quokki pet, something its been explicitly known to be something she really cares about? She writes down her number, letting him see that folded paper. She initiated this, and he got swept up in it, but instead of just handing over the number and allowing him to be swept up- Mary Ann Skuttle puts the number away and tells him shes gonna put it where you get quokki pets, and if he wants her number he's going to have to go get it. He's not allowed to just be swept up in the force of her, she wants him to put in effort, prove to her and himself that this isn't just a moment but a starting point. He cant be swept up by the tide, he's gotta swim. Gorgug liked Zelda, but their relationship started because they thought she was in danger and Gorgug had the best in. He stumbled into that relationship unsure and off balance, he never would have had the confidence to pursue Zelda without his friends hands on his back and their advice in his ears. Later on he gets more serious, he did love her and he put in the work to maintain that relationship, but it didn't work out and that's ok. Ever confident Mary Ann tho? She doesn't want unsure stumbling steps into this relationship. If Gorgug doesn't make the active decision to chase her, to WANT to be with her and putting deliberate effort to get there, then she doesn't want him at all. Gorgug, confused, asking where you even GET a quokki pet? And she smirks, calls him a loser, and walks away leaving him reeling and dumbfounded. Mary Ann Skuttle wants Gorgug to work for this. And who is Gorgug Thistlespring, but someone who puts in the work for things he wants? He did the seemingly impossible by creating his own subclass of Barbaficer, even if he had to take four years of schooling all at once. He puts in the work and makes the impossible possible, the greatest wizard of this age. So yeah. Yeah. Gorgug Thistlespring likes Mary Ann Skuttle because she makes him work for it.

[snipersfucker]

request from @infintyfandoms: Thought! Mirage is always so reckless, well what if one time he went too far and hurt his friend or s/o (either)?? I feel like he’d blame himself so bad - even if he was blind sighted by a distracted driver. Never drive crazy again or not drive around again or what??

angsty mirage x fem!reader times. thought of making it a headcanon thingy but nah. this one might need a warning that there are descriptions of serious injuries. and im also writing this on 0 hours of sleep thank you very much

A silver Porsche parked in front of the vinyl store you just walked out of was catching the attention of every passerby. Both men and women's eyes were stopping on the vehicle for a bit longer than they would on any regular car, their heads turning slightly to allow them to do that.

Mirage loved that. He loved transforming in different models everyday, the next one even more prestigious than the one before. Just to get that attention every single time.

You noticed a couple of teenage girls staring at your boyfriend, and even though you were fully aware they were doing so only because he was a good-looking car, you still rolled your eyes at it.

Your feet led you to the Porsche and you hopped in. Before getting the chance to point out the shameless staring of the group of teens, Mirage spoke up, "Whatcha got there?"

Your gaze had shifted to the vinyl case before you placed it down on the passenger's seat without much thought.

"Music," you responded casually in a light tone, putting your hands on the steering wheel, even though you knew Mirage would be doing the driving. "You got fans," you murmured under your breath but Mirage could obviously hear it. Your eyes landed on the girls again, and although you weren't particularly jealous, you still didn't appreciate it too much.

"Hell yeah, I do, baby," he said proudly, the grin in his voice palpable, even though you couldn't see it at the moment. And then, he added, a little bit more quietly as if he was saying this to the man who literally stopped in front of the car to admire him, "You wish you looked like that, huh?"

You let out an amused snort, and patted the gear stick with your palm to give him a sign to drive out of the parking lot. "C'mon."

"Let me honk at him," he'd asked for your permission seconds before doing it anyway without you allowing him to, causing the man to jump in his spot and then walk away. You just smacked the passenger's seat in disapproval, not even going on a rant about his behaviour because it was a daily occurrence for Mirage to do whatever he wanted.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, offended by your sudden reaction, as if he wasn't used to it, "I'm all for violence unless it's directed towards me," he muttered, sounding like an annoyed child. Then, without any warning, he revved the engine and drove out of the parking lot onto the main road. You only rolled your eyes without a word but then, you noticed how fast he was passing all the other cars in his lane, which he would usually cuss out for being slow, as if their owners weren't driving under the speed limit for safety reasons.

"Mirage…" you warned him, using his full name instead of a nickname, which he did not appreciate but decided not to speak on it and just change the topic.

"Jus' tell me it's not George Michael," he said with a short sigh, as if it was very important to him that it, in fact, was not George Michael.

"Mirage..." you warned him once again, ignoring his words, gripping the steering wheel with much more force now to hopefully get him to slow down.

"Nope," he said simply, understanding what you meant without you even having to say it. If he was in his humanoid form, he'd probably cross his arms on his chest and shake his head with that signature smirk indicating that he knew he was in control of the situation. "That's what you get for hitting your poor boy," he added, sounding very content with himself, revving the engine once more just to show you that he, in fact, was not planning on slowing down.

You scoffed. "You deserved it."

"For what?" he began talking in that specific, overly innocent tone, and you just knew he was going to say something sarcastic that would only annoy you even more, "For being so cute and funny?" He asked rhetorically, as if he wasn't aware that he really needn't have honked at that man, and then drive as recklessly as he normally would when you weren't inside him.

But he was very much aware. It was just that his pride didn't allow him to apologise.

"For being a little shit." You decided not to banter with him as per usual, but just to get straight to the point. Even though you were possibly risking starting an argument between you two, you just needed to reprimend him at the moment, especially now that you noticed how nonchalant he was about it.

"Ouch," he pretended to be hurt by what you just said. And although he wasn't actually offended, he still wasn't really in the mood to let you win.

So he sped up even more.

Noticing the opportunity presented right in front of him, the almost empty road ahead of you two, he floored the gas pedal, making you let out a short, quiet noise at the impact in which you got pushed back into the seat.

"What the fuck are you doing?" you asked him with anger in your voice, not raising it just yet, and not actually expecting a response. But you got one anyway:

"Takin' you on a ride date, baby," he answered sarcastically, his overly sweet tone making him sound even more annoying than before.

"Mirage, I—"

If he wasn't as sure in his abilities as he was, he'd never drive over three times faster than the speed limit allowed, never wanting to actually risk you getting hurt in any way.

And it wasn't even his fault, when a sport's car drove right into his left side, before you could even finish your sentence.

It wasn't his fault that the car ran a red light, that it was supposed to stop and wait for him to just drive away without getting thrown to the right by the impact.

It wasn't his fault that he was now rolling over for the fifth time, his roof and sides hitting the hard asphalt every single time.

You weren't even making any noises anymore so that he would know that you were with him, conscious, alive. He ignored the sound of his glass shattering, his metal body getting scratched, bent and painfully ruined, just to be able to hear your breath.

The other car was in a much worse condition, but he didn't care. The only thing occupying his mind was you, your heartbeat he would do anything to hear again. He needed to make sure you were still there.

He felt it all. He felt the pain that came with getting drove into by another car, with flipping over with unimaginable speed and force. But he needed to make sure you were alright.

And he couldn't even do anything to stop his worst nightmare from beginning to play right in front of his very optics.

Then, after a few moments that felt like hours to him, everything finally came to an end. The hiss coming out of him was still hearable, the hot steam, the liquid pouring out of his fual lines threatened to mix with the flames growing with every passing second. But it was finally quiet; no noise of metal hitting the asphalt distracted him from listening to your body.

His spark nearly exploded with relief when he heard the faint sound of your heartbeat. He wanted to transform, to be able to hold you, to get you out of him so that his bent roof wouldn't be pressing against your wounded head.

When people began to gather up around him, he realised he had a decision to make: to transform and risk getting hunted down just like it happened to Bumblebee, or to stay there and pray to Primus, pray to the people now surrounding him that they'd help you and make sure you were okay.

He wanted to scream at them to hurry up, to get you out, to make that heartbeat of yours sound more promising. To let him know that you weren't going to—

The idea of losing you forever crossed his mind for a split second before he could even stop it.

And it was his fault that he was going a lot over the speed limit, too distracted by the need to tease you, to win the argument, and show you that you had nothing to say in the way he was behaving.

It was his fault that there was crimson running down your forehead, the drops rolling past the hairs of your eyebrows, all the way down to your jaw, then staining your shirt with your own blood.

It was his fault that your body felt lifeless against his ruined upholstery, the only motion it was making was an almost undetectable rise of your chest every couple of seconds.

His train of thoughts got interrupted by the distant sound of sirens getting closer and closer to him. The people were talking, someone was yelling, it all making an irritating mixture of human noises he didn't need to hear at the moment.

Mirage felt his left door being opened or rather being torn out of him in a couple painful motions. He didn't care.

He just wanted them to take you away from him.

When he no longer felt your weight on his driver's seat, he almost let a sound of relief through his radio, but just now noticed that it's been ruined, making it impossible for him to do so. He hadn't paid attention to it earlier, too stunned to be able to say anything to you, even though your name and endless questions if you were okay wanted to escape him.

Cold liquid hit his hot metal body, the lower temperature of it somewhat helping him get in a clearer state of mind. Even though he felt deserving of being on fire, he appreciated the slight relief it gave him.

Somebody placed you on a stretcher, put you carefully in another vehicle, and then closed the door. He couldn't see you anymore but was sure the humans would take good care of you. Better care than he was able to offer.

The loud sirens hit his audio receptors before he registered the ambulance leaving the crash site.

And the sound was still bouncing against the interior walls of his helm every single day since the accident. The imagine of your limp body, his steering wheel covered in your blood, your head pressed uncomfortably against the remains of his left window...

Two whole weeks passed and he couldn't think of anything else but you. You in that horrible state he put you in himself.

The guilt was eating him alive, and even though he'd make Noah visit you everyday in the hospital to make sure your condiction was stable, he still couldn't help but beat himself up and be worried sick.

"Concussion, five broken ribs, broken arm and nose, and she was fucking bleeding from her liver, man," your mutual friend told him after leaving the hospital for the first time, after the doctors allowed anybody to visit you, even though you weren't conscious yet.

It affected Noah nearly as much as it did the robot. The only difference was that the human had no reason to blame himself for it, because it wasn't his recklessness that nearly killed you.

Mirage fell silent.

He got quiet, very quiet, unusually for him. Every Autobot he used to hang out with knew what happened, how much you meant to him, and how affected he was by the accident. They noticed the sudden shift in his behaviour, the once bubbly personality disappearing just so he could dwell in guilt in peace.

The thing that bothered him a lot among others was that he couldn't see you. He couldn't walk into the hospital you were being taken care of in. He couldn't sit next to you and tell you how painfully sorry he was for doing it to you, for putting you in danger, for hurting you so much your pain radiated off you body and made him feel it, too.

Noah insisted on repairing him, and he agreed purely because then he'd be able to park in front of the hospital to be as near you as possible.

But he was a wreck, both physically and emotionally.

And it still didn't change when you finally got discharged. He was not the one to pick you up from the hospital, it was Noah and Bee. He couldn't face you.

You asked about him when you woke up from the coma, your friend sitting next to you on the uncomfortable hospital chair only shrugging in response, telling you he didn't know anything about Mirage, where he was or how he was.

It was a lie. The robot was spending his time either in the garage, getting fixed by his only human friend, or out on the road, hoping that maybe, just maybe someone would crash into him again, making him feel that pain again. That pain he thought he deserved for harming you.

And when you insisted on Noah taking you to the garage to see him, after getting the information about his location out of the poor human, Mirage couldn't help but feel even worse than before.

You were alive, of course you were alive, but he also did notice the way you winced with every step, how dull the colour of your skin was compared to the times before the accident, how fragile you looked, standing there in front of him with Noah not leaving your side in case you'd collapse onto the floor.

You were alive, but also in so much pain he couldn't even look at you without feeling a strong sting in his spark.

His optics shifted to Noah in an instant, as if he was trying to bash him for taking you here, which he responded to out loud with his hands raised in a defensive gesture, "She threatened me."

You didn't even know what you were feeling at that moment. A mixture of sadness, annoyance, impatience, and hurt made you unable to say anything, forcing you to just stand there in silence. Suddenly, a short wave of pain washed over your right side, making you grimace and put your only free palm on the area surrounding your liver.

As soon as Mirage noticed your movement, he made an involuntary step towards you, his servos extended in your direction, as if he was trying to both comfort you and catch you if you were to fall.

Noah immediately asked, "You okay?" His eyes shifting between your hand on your side and your pained face. You just nodded.

Uncomfortable silence fell between the three of you, and the other human was close to replacing it with whistling just so that he wouldn't have to stand there awkwardly without a word.

"Imma just leave you two, yeah?" He scratched the back of his neck, his feet already leading him in the direction of the exit. "Jus'... scream if you die or somethin'..." he added, the awkwardness making him joke about things he normally wouldn't joke about.

And then, he left. He left poor Mirage with even poorer you. Alone.

You let out a grunt, making your way to the nearest chair to sit down. He was ready to help you with everything, but he didn't know if you even wanted him to, so he just stayed in his spot.

"You look bad," you commented, lazily motioning to his beaten-up body with your hand. The raspiness, the weakness in your voice almost made him drop to his knees.

He responded unsurely after a pause, a forced, unamused smirk on his face plate, "...You should see the other guy."

It was awkward. Awkward as never before, you two having always found it pretty easy to communicate with each other. But now... Now he couldn't help but feel that unpleasant feeling in his tank when you spoke up and made him say something back to you.

And it was his fault.

Your reaction to his little joke wasn't something you could control. A short, quiet chuckle left your mouth, causing you to grab your right side even more tightly and a wince of pain on your face to deepen.

She can't even laugh.

He felt so excruciatingly bad he had to fight himself not to transform into a car and just drive away.

You wanted to tell him that you've been told the other driver didn't make it. But you knew the war it would start in his mind if you shared that information with him, so you stayed silent.

"You look terrible," he muttered after a few moments of observing your body, as if to himself to comment on the damage he'd done.

You snorted, shaking your head in amusement. "That's exactly what every woman likes to hear," you responded, deciding that a little banter would be better than sitting without any words being exchanged.

Mirage's eyes widened slightly as he took a step towards you, his servos up in the air again in a specific gesture that indicated that he didn't actually mean it like that.

He had this tendency to make things worse with his words, and normally it wouldn't bother him at all, but this time it was you. He didn't want to make thing worse with you.

"No, no, you're pretty. Gorgeous, in my humble opinion. Walking perfection even," he wanted to correct himself, spurting word after word just to show you that he didn't want you to be mad at him. "Geez, I'm sorry," he added, bringing his servos to his face plate to cover it in... embarrassment.

Something new for him.

You shook your head, looking up at him with a small smile. "I do look kinda ter—"

Before you could finish your sentence, he said with much more confidence now, "...For everything."

He rarely apologised.

But you deserved to hear it. Even if you weren't ready to forgive him just yet, even if you were to never forgive him, he just needed you to know that he regretted it.

You frowned, opening your mouth to say something, but he interrupted you again, "Maybe I shouldn't have be the fastest car in Brooklyn that day. Maybe I should've listened to you and not be a little shit," he recalled the way you called him these few weeks ago, just minutes before the accident. With determination in his tone, he continued, "You can hate me, I can take it." But then, he changed his mind as soon as he realised he would prefer if you didn't hate him, "Actually. Hate me for the next three days at max. Please. If you don't want me to rip my vents out."

You snorted weakly once more, the movement of your body making you wince in pain again.

He finally found enough courage within himself to get closer to you. With a couple of steps, he kneeled down in front of you and extended one of his servos in your direction, as if non-verbally telling you to stop laughing and not cause yourself even more pain.

"'m sorry," he whispered his apology again, the sincere look in his optics showing you just how much he cared for you.

"It wasn't y—"

"It was," he interrupted you in a much more serious tone, but it was still filled with softness, "I was stupid..."

"Nothing new," you managed to blurt out before closing your eyes shut and grunting, a grimace on your face as you felt another sting of pain, which you were kind of used to now.

You opened your eyes and looked up at his worried optics observing your every move, his servos desperately wanting to touch and help you but he knew it'd only make things worse due to his size.

You let out a short chuckle at your own joke as soon as your body allowed you to.

"Not funny," he reprimanded you with a serious face, not finding your apparent discomfort amusing at all, even though he agreed with your words.

"You were just making jokes ab—"

"So?"

You rolled your eyes at him. "Child," you insulted him, fully aware how much he hated being called out on his childishness.

"I'm older than your cute little Earth, please," he scoffed.

"No, you're not," you deadpanned.

"...So?"

"I hate you," you said, although a small smile on your lips betrayed you.

"That's the spirit," he sighed but the corners of his lips curled up as well. A beat of silence passed and his gaze went back to your face, "I meant that."

You frowned slightly.

"I am sorry. For being the..." he was about to say something that would hurt his pride and ego, but decided it was worth it, "...the dumbest machine there is. Even a hairdryer is smarter than me," he insulted himself, hoping the sacrifice would make you like him again.

"You're right." You nodded, fighting back a chuckle.

He raised his arms in a playfully offended, confused gesture. "You could at least disagree, damn."

You shook your head in amusement.

After another beat of silence, he said seriously, "You're never coming inside me again."

"Wow."

"Should've worded it better, yeah..." he trailed off, "Primus, woman, give me a break." He let out a small laugh when he noticed your amused reaction to his sentence. "No, seriously... I... You're my girl, yeah? Don't want you to... You know, be in pain."

Why did he have to be so awkward about his feelings? Now that he finally had the chance to show you how much he loved you and never wanted to see you hurt again.

"I still have your..." he wanted to say that he still had your blood on some of his parts that didn't want to come off, but then decided it wasn't the best time to tell you that, "I almost lost my mind when I couldn't hear you," he confessed, his tone regaining its sincerity, the look in his optics describing his guilt to you without words.

He was referring to the moment he was so desperately trying to silence everything around him just to be able to find your heartbeat.

"I'm okay..." Your tone was soft, quiet, as if you were trying not to scare a lost, disoriented puppy.

"You're not okay," he disagreed with a slightly clenched jaw, angry at himself, not even for a second at you, "You..." He lowered himself so that he'd be able to whisper to you, as if saying these words more loudly would make them come true someday, "You almost died... I almost killed you..."

His face panel was close enough to your body for you to put your hand against his warm, metal cheek. Mirage immediately melted at the touch, his optics closing slowly just to allow him to savour the softness of your palm as much as he could.

"It wasn't your fault..." you started your monologue, this time the robot allowing you to continue, "I didn't die. I might have a broken bone or two..." He opened his eyes at this sentence, giving you a sad look. "...But I'll be alright. I didn't die," you repeated, which gained you an unsure nod from your boyfriend, who was now avoiding making eye contact with you.

You didn't force him to look up at you.

"I promise..." he trailed off, not wanting to show you how weak he felt, "I promise I'll never do that again..." His gaze went back to meet yours as you smiled softly, your eyes filled with love you had for him. "I'll never be dumber than a hairdryer, you have my unreliable word. And I'll never argue with you. I'll just say that I'm sorry, and that my woman is always right, and I'll shut up for as long as you want me to. And I... I'll never drive over twenty-five. Yeah, it hurts. But guess what hurts more. Seeing you with a broken bone or two."

Joking might've been the only way he would be able to overcome the sorrow he felt within himself. But it worked both for you and him. You really wouldn't have it any other way.

"Tell me," you whispered with a slight head tilt, slowly closing the gap between your faces.

He frowned, not understanding what you meant by that, but then the small smirk on your lips explained it to him.

He rolled his optics, the remains of guilt still evident in them, although with every passing second and every joke, they seemed to disappear bit by bit.

"'m sorry. My woman is always right," he repeated himself, pretending to find it very boring, as if he didn't really want to admit that. But he did. He did want you to know that he meant every single thing that rolled off his glossa.

Your smile widened immediately, your eyes closing as you minimized the gap between your and Mirage's lips completely.

And then, after long weeks of not being able to forgive himself for hurting the only woman he loved, he was finally able to feel relief.

[a-shadowedvales]

when jane's powers return in season four (and because they were regained by her confronting and accepting her past, rather than being retraumatised with it!) they're stronger than they ever were. when she starts getting a handle back on them, she very quickly comes to realise not only have they affected her, but her mother, too. one of the biggest losses that came about with her losing them was the fact that she could no longer visit terry in the void; while there was no real communication there, it did allow jane to sit with her, and gain a little more connection than she could in the real world. when she first visits the void after their return, it takes her three hours to find terry, something that is both unexpected and incredibly worrying. but when she does, it's something of a miracle. jane's increased strength and control over the void actually wakes terry up from her catatonic state, but only in the void. there's no way to help her mother physically, but she does do so (unbeknownst to her) mentally. terry is reborn in jane's newfound control over the vale of shadows; she becomes the woman she once was, and while her body remains frozen in a "good dream", her mind connected to jane's own allows her some freedom. jane is able to speak to her mother in the void, is able to be held by her, and while it's still unfair and jane cannot stay in there forever, it's something. this only lasts for about eight months, as each visit slowly begins deteriorating terry's physical and mental state, and jane's health begins declining after spending hours upon hours in the void each and every day.

when jane finds out these visits are actually killing her mother on the outside, she deems to stop, but terry expresses the importance of them being able to speak, that she'd prefer to die on the outside, if it meant she could have just a few months with her daughter like this. terry and jane's connection was always so strong, which ultimately led to terry "waking up" in the void, but even jane's newfound strength cannot save her from the harsh realities. each visit nearing the end of those eight months, terry fades more and more, becomes weaker in the void, and her real body eventually gives up. jane's in the void when her mother eventually passes on, and physically feels their connection weaken, like some part of her suddenly becomes lost in the shadows, a part she'll never find again. jane falls into a depressive state for weeks after her mother's death, given she's technically lost her a second time, but soon comes to realise she was lucky to have even shared those eight months together. it was better than nothing at all. there is a proper burial and funeral, (and when jane dies, she's buried next to her mother) which allows jane some sense of closure. she never fully recovers from losing terry, nor from the fact that she never had a proper relationship with her, but she does eventually find some peace with it all.

[yourlocaldisneyvillain]

i'm overwhelmed by the amount of positive comments i got on my latest fic! my heart goes out to all the survivors of sexual abuse, and i'm glad my fic has helped many of you process your own trauma. <3

[orcelito]

Wild that anytime I post an update a lot of people read it and are even excited about it and have their own thoughts and reactions to it that I'll never know.

Comments are only the very tip of the iceberg with it. And I am Very grateful to commenters for letting me in on it. But in the same way that I'll be excited with my friends when a fic we love updates, it's likely that Other people enthuse with Their friends when my fic updates. And it's just so strange. An experience I'll never have access to.

Everyone's relationship with my fic is unique. So many different people with so many different circumstances and preferences... and the number of people that have told me that my fic is one of their favorites, some even saying it's their Favorite favorite... every single one of them have their own relationship with my writing.

It's just interesting to me. I think and think and think on my writing. I have my plans for basically the entire fic, the way I want it to end already thought out, all the major plot beats and the relationship progressions, All of that thought out. I love my writing so very much, but I'm on the inside looking out. This is my mechanical horse, and I'm in here laying out the groundwork and pulling levers and constructing limbs, puttering away making the horse move. Forever and always, my relationship with it will be more intimate than anyone's, and yet more clinical. Because I know it better than the back of my own hand, but I'll never have the experience of reading it fresh. Of reading it without knowing everything that's going to happen from now to the end and beyond. I won't have the thrill of the plot twists I have planned, the delight at seeing things progress, the horror at seeing things go wrong...

This is my mechanical horse, and I'm making it move.

I just always wonder what it must be like to see it from the outside. I hope to others that it's a pretty horse.