#if there is so much and then more to discover and think about and it's tragic and beautiful and makes sense

[peachesofteal]

Raspberry Girl Previous + masterlist + AO3 Simon Riley/female reader CW: 18+ daddy kink

It’s too soon. 

The weight of this certainty is nearly too heavy to carry, his footsteps echoing with dread. 

You’re not ready. 

He’s not ready. 

It’s his fault. Selfishly, he’s encouraged your co-dependence, pulled you closer and closer into deeper water where he knew you’d have trouble swimming without him. He thought he’d have more time to help you develop coping strategies, to get you settled, moved out of your apartment and into his house. Now, he’s leaving you alone as you try to navigate an entirely different life while straddling two living situations, without him at your side.  

You’re at his house tonight. It’s becoming more common, three nights turning to four, then five and sometimes even six, letting yourself in before when he gets caught up on base. His brave fawn on stronger legs, taking self assured steps, and following his lead, his guidance. Your comfort in his home, this world he’s created for you, feeds the beast inside his chest, the dark one, the monster curled around your body in the night, possessive and obsessed. It’s a perfectly balanced scale, never tipping too far in one direction, all his parts and pieces perfectly arranged for you, expertly developed so he can love you in every way you need. 

He’s pleased you’re home and already in bed an hour before you’re supposed to be, curled in the middle with your kindle, your blankets and pillows arranged in the usual bird’s nest, lips parted, glasses halfway down the bridge of your nose. 

They became a new rule after he realized you were getting headaches from not using them. 

“What do you think is appropriate?” 

“For my recipe cards?” 

“For screens and your recipe cards, precious girl. Squinting and strainin’ your eyes is what’s causing these headaches.” 

“Oh right.” You nodded, and then lifted your chin. When you have rules, boundaries, you have security, confidence, support. You don’t have to think, agonize, try to step into a skin that doesn’t fit. All the things that worry you, frighten you, overwhelm you, they now belong to him, they’re his to deal with. You just have to focus on the rules. “Wear my glasses when I’m looking at screens or my recipe cards. Got it.” 

“Good girl.” 

He pauses in the doorway. 

You’re kneading. 

It started a week ago in your sleep. You’d find your way to his chest, rocking and rolling overtop his heart, working a rhythm into to his sternum as you slept, a physical manifestation of your peace, your trust, a subconscious recognition of feeling safe, and cared for, and loved. It’s become present in the quiet of the morning or an evening lull too, when you’re relaxed and content, kneading away on a pillow or his thigh. Such a simple, silent thing that says so much.

Knuckles thunk on wood, and you kick beneath the blankets, kindle falling into the pillows, your startle turning to surprise, and then the sweet spread of happiness colors your face. His drug. The way you beam and light up when you see him is the same way you bloom when you’re baking, or talking about baking, or feeding someone. Your bliss gets him high. A gift he could never repay, and something he’ll never give up. You’ve been able to venture outside of your comfort zone more and into his hold, no longer hiding yourself within his walls, cautious steps becoming more self assured. He knows you’ll always struggle, but he’ll always be here, ready to catch you when you fall. 

“Hi daddy.” 

“Hi sweet girl.” He leans over the edge of the bed to brush a kiss across your lips, little whimper falling into his mouth as he takes it farther, tastes you, nips you. You give him more and more, truly limitless in his arms, your home, exploring and testing, discovering both him and yourself. This willingness, this trust, is a precious thing like your heart. And it all belongs to him.

Your throat bobs when he pulls back and tugs his shirt over his head, sneaking a sly glance as he tugs his pants down next. “I need t’get in the shower. Stay put, keep reading your book, I’ll be a few minutes.” 

“Okay.” He’d have you get in with him, but you look so happy, so cozy, fuzzy socks on your feet, cuddled up in a sweatshirt, and he wants to leave you to your peace. 

Since he’s about to ruin it. 

Your hand is small in his, and too cold. The ice he finds there matches your frozen posture, your nervous expression buried beneath snow as you try to put on a brave face. His precious girl. 

“I don’t understand… I’m- a-are you…” you lose your words, hitch of panic in your breath as you scramble to find what’s needed, something, anything to convey the influx of emotions, the quick build of questions, and he squeezes reassuringly. 

“Take your time.” Normally, he’d just stay silent, give you the space and time, but right now, he knows you need more, recognizing the way you’re tearing yourself apart inside your head. You blow out a shaky breath. 

“How long… how long will you be gone?” 

“It’s hard to say, but I think it’ll only be a few weeks.” The flash of fear strikes through your irises like lightning.

“Okay.” You nod, but it doesn’t stop. You just keep nodding, trying to steady yourself, and he doesn’t think you know you’re trembling a bit, lower lip start to peel away.  “What if something bad happens?” It’s a question for the ages, one he’s wagered his entire existence. A longstanding bet with the reaper, one he never made a fuss about.

Now, he’d barter his soul for one more moment.

“Nothing bad is gonna happen, I’m very good at my job.” He tries to soothe you, but you’re already lost, tangled up in a web, one he should have cleaned up before.

“B-but you can’t promise that, right? I mean, you can’t be sure. Right?” 

“I’m going to be just fine, baby. I want you to focus on yourself instead of worrying about me, alright? You’ll follow all your rules and take care of yourself. Do you understand?” You have a faraway look in your eye, responding like he didn’t speak. 

“I’m sorry, I’m not handling this… I feel… I’m overwhelmed, I don’t…” He pulls you close, and you don’t waste a second, placing your cheek to his chest, ear just over his heart. 

“My good girl, following her rules,” you look up at him, so tortured, conflicted and scared, and his heart aches. “There’s no reason to be sorry. I should have prepared you for this, and I didn’t. That’s daddy’s fault, not yours.” You’re drowning. You’re too far underwater, trying to reconcile what you know with what you fear, kicking and swimming against a current that keeps sweeping you out to sea, desperately clinging to him, searching for your lighthouse in the storm. It’s too much, he knew it would be, and if he could put it off he would, but this is one mission he can’t delay. It’s a rescue, in the bloody jungle, one squad already failing to reach the other. He has no choice.

He curves around you, pulls you down into the blankets and pillows, kissing your salt soaked cheeks. “I know you’re scared baby, I know. I’m sorry.” The guilt stings and bites, a serrated blade between his ribs. He did this, it’s the consequences of his failure that you’re facing now, your uncertainty and fear all created by him. 

Your face presses into his neck as he applies pressure to your nape, murmuring against the shell of your ear, surrounding you with himself, blocking out the rest of the world. 

That’s where the two of you stay, long past the conversation, your tears turning to quiet whimpers before you fall asleep, snuffling against his skin, still holding him tight. 

“I’ll be good daddy, I promise.” He’s got a duffel slung over his shoulder and a backpack at his feet, truck running in the driveway, waiting. He should have left ten minutes ago. Fifteen even, but he can’t let go, still standing in the foyer cupping your face, memorizing every detail. There’s not much he can do now to fix his mistake. It will have to wait until he comes back, a razed city left waiting to be rebuilt.

“I know you will sweetheart,” he brushes his knuckles over the apple of your cheek, “everything is going to be fine.”

“And you’ll call when you can?” He kisses your forehead. 

“I’ll call when I can.” He’ll need to release all of this before he steps on the plane, but for now he allows himself to feel it, ruminate and own it. He’s worried. This is his fault, he’s pulled the rug out from beneath you without any semblance of a warning, he’s changing your routine, your life, again, uprooting you just when you’ve started to feel comfortable. You’re vulnerable, and he’s abandoning you. Ripping a freshly healed wound wide and pouring salt in it.

You lean in, turning your cheek to press your ear over his heart. “I’m going to miss you.” 

“I’m going to miss you too sweet girl, so much. But I’ll be home soon, I promise.” His younger self would scoff at him, chastise him for making such a promise, but it’s different now. 

He’d dig himself out of grave all over again just to crawl home to you. 

[hoonjayke]

[TEASER] - Lee Heeseung — REASONS TO (HATE) LOVE YOU

Your makeup is always intact, your hair is perfectly brushed, your clothes are always well-ironed and tidy, and your admirable grades are always on top. Many in the law course envy how you seem so perfect, unlike Lee Heeseung, who thinks everything about you is completely irritating. On the other hand, you can't stand Heeseung's arrogance. The way he always acts so pretentiously gets on your nerves, however, when you are forced to do a project together, you'll discover that this tension between you is much more than just hatred.

PAIRING: — Law Students - Heeseung x Reader (f)

GENRE: Academic rivals to lovers - (lower middle class) heeseung x (upper middle class) reader, fluffy, smut, a bit of angst, super suggestive.

WARNINGS: - lots of heavy making out, skinship, a few mentions of difficult family dynamics, miscommunication, bickering, jealousy, heeseung is kinda mean in the beginning, mentions of alcohol, [...] more will be added!!!

WC: esp 15k+ ... (still to be counted) - masterlist - perm taglist (open)

[IF YOU WANNA BE TAGGED, PLEASE COMMENT BELOW]

TEASER — COMING SOON —

Even though he didn't say much, Heeseung saw how irritated you were: you seemed out of breath, your eyebrows were furrowed, and your gaze was fixed on him. And it was at that exact moment - when your eyes locked for a few seconds as he smirked - that he knew that irritating you would be his new entertainment.

[...]

"Yes, I want you." He whispered over your mouth as he grabbed the corner of your neck with his long fingers "Isn't it obvious?"

[...]

Heeseung's jaw clenched, and you smirked, seeing how he was also clearly irritated. "Heeseung, I'm gonna be honest with you. I think you're just an arrogant prick, and I have no interest in working with you." You gave him a false smile while he frowned.

"Well, I feel the same." He said through gritted teeth and walked away. "We'll sort this out tomorrow."

"Great." You took the paper and put it inside your book and closed it. Your desire to study had completely disappeared, and now you needed to think about how to talk to Mrs. Jung, because no way in hell you are going to pair up with Heeseung.

No way.

[...]

"You irritate me, but seeing you sad irritates me much more."

[...]

[minorlyatfault]

⌗ 𝗢𝟭 — HE'S A GENIUS ! ❪ 'CAUSE I LOVE A WOMAN LIKE YOU ! ❫

♯ headcanons : : the batboys with a special fbi agent!reader

♯ specifically ncavc!reader ( national center for the analysis of violent crime )

♯ with : : b. wayne , d. grayson , j. todd , t. drake , d. wayne && d. thomas

♯ suggested ( & assisted ) by @yeoniverseee && @laufeysgoddess !

♯ tags : : gn!reader( but fem!reader in mind while making this ). inaccurate with the fbi job. ooc. rushed. not proofread. fluff. fbi agent!reader. ncavc!reader. grammatical errors. reader knows their identities. not much details about the ncavc because the author has no idea how to actually do their job. criminal minds mentioned / references. established relationship. reader has trauma but not shown ( they're an special fbi agent, fbi = tough shit ). long ( again, it's not proofread ). cheesy && cringe. all are aged up ( also because to become an fbi agent, you must be of age. unless they're part of the naturals program. + the program doesn't exist in the fbi btw. it's from a book ). viana & her shit humor.

♯ m.list ⨟ dc m.list

♯ notes of viana : : 000. hi hi

001. it should be special agent only but, but! i felt like it didn't sound professional because fbi agents legit have to make it clear of what kind of ( special ) agent they are.

002. mighttt,, a make one for the supers !

003. &&& terry mcginnis 😋

004. unsub = the culprit

005. @dntaed was the first person ( aside from the two who suggested this idea ) that i hinted ab this uh work. && trust,, roy's in the works ‼️

❛ BRUCE WAYNE ❪ BATMAN ❫

✦ bruce is very overprotective of you, especially when you work late. he's used to having you surrounded by danger, but he still gets worried whenever you get yourself involved in a case that may end in violence.

✦ occasionally, you need to convince him not to call in his "backup" ( a.k.a. the entire batfamily ) when you head out for a solo field case.

✦ he admires your work but is still concerned. he'll have alfred deliver you a blanket or some coffee after a particularly difficult case, even if you're not home yet.

✦ alfred loves you. so whenever you come home late, expect not only your boyfriend, but alfred who's preparing a hot cup of coffee & a meal.

✦ bruce can be stand-offish sometimes, especially after a long day of fighting crime, but you're one of the only people who can get past his defenses & actually get him to talk.

✦ you've discovered his identity ( how could you not, working in the fbi is part of the ncavc? ) & he's not as shocked as he ought to be. nevertheless, he feels uncomfortable discussing it initially.

✦ when he's drained, he'll allow you to assist him in relaxing, even if it means sitting quietly while you read a case file. he doesn't require words. simply being near you is enough. more than enough, in fact.

✦ he doesn't show affection in public, but he'll send you a tiny smile when he thinks nobody is looking.

✦ bruce is the kind of person to leave you little notes with directions or reminders on a case you're handling, typically signed "b."

✦ he can't help but respect your mind. if there's anything that makes him relax around you, it's discussing about your jobs▰breaking down patterns, reviewing cases, & deciphering criminal minds.( criminal minds mentioned !? )

✦ occasionally, after a tough case, he'll catch you in a moment of weakness & softly let you know that he's proud of the work that you do, even though it's risky.

✦ when he's batman, he doesn't want to admit it, but he'll occasionally leave you a little token or a note in places that only you would be aware of▰such as the office desk drawer or the kitchen counter.

✦ he always asks how your day was, but only after he's finished with his batman business. he'd ask you,,, "how's your day, my love?" & really listen as you speak.

✦ he never asks you to give up doing your job▰he even encourages it, but that does not mean that he is not worried about you being in the line of fire.

✦ bruce may be rough, but when you report to him that you have solved a tough case, his face will crackle with pride for you even though he may attempt to hide it behind his glowering.

✦ when you both get stressed, you'll just sit together, no talk, just holding hands as a silent reassurance.

❛ DICK GRAYSON ❪ NIGHTWING ❫

✦ dick is a goofball & a big tease. he'll always joke with you about your serious, no-nonsense approach to work & say that you're too serious for your own good.

✦ he'll pull you into spontaneous sparring sessions to get you "let loose" from a difficult case. & although he does let you win sometimes, it's only because he enjoys seeing you get all riled up about it.

✦ despite dick having a love for joking around, he's intensely defensive of you when it comes to the risks of your job. he attempts to keep things light, yet he doesn't miss if you appear slightly too exhausted or stressed.

✦ he enjoys having you assist him on cases, even though it annoys him when you point out things he missed ( because, naturally, you're smarter than him at times ).

✦ dick has no problem showing affection in public. he’ll grab your hand or steal a quick kiss when you’re least expecting it, just to see your reaction.

✦ if you’re ever caught in a dangerous situation( like the unsub almost getting you ), dick is the first to swoop in. he may joke about it afterward, but he’s always looking out for you.

✦ he can't help himself from texting you all day long, even when you both have work to do. most of it is just random junk, like memes, jokes, or just checking in.

✦ dick enjoys learning about the cases you're handling, & you'll find him asking questions that get him way too involved in things that don't pertain to him.

✦ he'll occasionally steal your snacks or lunch throughout the day when you're in analysis, just because he knows that you forget to eat when you're concentrating.

✦ if you ever get him catching you becoming too stressed out or overwhelmed, he'll envelop you in his arms & explain that it is alright to rest. you & he both should relax sometimes.

✦ he loves to hear your observations about the criminal mind ( hehe. cm mentioned. again. ) & frequently calls you "the smartest person in the room" when you're around him.

✦ when you're out in the field, dick keeps a close watch on you, but he covers it up with a smile or a joke. he trusts you, but he can't help himself.

✦ he adores it when you become all serious & analytical, but then he's there to top it off with a joke that will make you roll your eyes.

✦ dick will spoil you with little things. like dropping by your office with coffee just because he knows you like it.

❛ JASON TODD ❪ RED HOOD ❫

✦ jason is much more serious about your well-being, & he will usually try to keep you from getting into harm's way ( even though he knows you're going to do your job no matter what ).

✦ he doesn't understand why you work in such a high-risk job, but he respects it because he can tell how much you love your job & the people you're helping.

✦ jason's affection is subtler. he might give you a kiss on the forehead when you're working, or text you something like, "don't make me come save your ass."

✦ if you're looking at a really violent case, jason doesn't like you getting too close, but he'll never tell you to give up. he just gets a little overprotective.

✦ when he's had a pretty bad night out playing red hood, jason prefers to return & simply lie alongside you, holding you without speaking a word. it's his way of receiving comfort without exposing his vulnerabilities.

✦ he is enchanted when you're in control. he'll joke with you about being the "brains" behind the operation while he's the "muscle" but secretly adores your brains & analysis. definitely finds you hot whenever you analyze a case.

✦ if a person hurts you or threatens you in any form, he's right there instantly to deal with it, & there's no dissuading him.

✦ jason is also super good at reading your mood. if you're tense, he'll pull you onto his lap & get you to discuss it, sometimes going so far as to make you watch a film just to take your mind off things.

✦ he's extremely proud of what you do, even when he doesn't say anything. he understands how difficult it is, & every now & then he'll just hold you in silence after a bad case, giving you a quiet "you did good."

✦ jason doesn't exactly try to be discreet about his love language. expect lots of trash talking, possibly some sarcastic remarks, but you can always tell he's got a spot in his heart for you.

✦ he keeps sending you silly stuff like, "will you bail me out of prison if i got arrested?" or "i'm going to blow something up. what are you doing?" just to catch your response.

✦ when you fight, it's intense, but always ends with him pulling you near & apologizing in his manner. the gruff exterior disguises how much he cares about you.

✦ jason will open up emotionally more often after a passionate fight. when he's had a bad night on patrol, he'll turn to you & show you how much he values your support.

❛ TIM DRAKE ❪ RED ROBIN ❫

✦ tim is the most intrigued about your work, questioning you incessantly & wanting to know everything there is to know about criminal analysis. you're always the first with the best theories, & he can't get enough of picking your brain.

✦ he values your knowledge a lot. it's not unusual for tim to utter the words, "you're so much smarter than me," but you'd never let him catch on.

✦ he's such a considerate person & will leave little treats for you. a cup of coffee in your favorite mug, an assistive case file, or something random he thinks you'll like.

✦ if you're working late, tim will sit in with you on the analysis, sometimes just hanging around your place to keep you company & facilitate things through for you. ( he rarely sleeps, anyway. )

✦ he has a tendency to drop by your office unexpectedly, but he's not there to flirt. he really does want to know how your day is going & whether you need anything.

✦ tim enjoys hearing about your cases, especially when you're working on something tricky. he'll geek out over it, even coming up with new theories that make you think.

✦ his gift & acts of service language is for sure. if you ever require assistance, tim will be the first to step forward to aid you without you ever having to ask.

✦ he enjoys those moments of silence with you. when you two are working together, there's always a peaceful understanding between the two of you even when you two are both immersed in your work.

✦ tim is not as sensitive as some of the others, but when he has a hard day, he will come looking for you just to sit with you & have you read or work.

✦ when you are frustrated with a case or having a bad day, tim will instantly try to make things better by coming up with solutions or by reassuring you with his silent understanding.

✦ he's the one who checks up on you all the time, even when you have your hands full. count on receiving out-of-the-blue texts such as, "how's your case going?" or "need a break?"

✦ tim's also going to be most likely to plan date nights including you geeking out together, such as a movie marathon, reading through case files, or cracking puzzles together.

✦ he certainly does have times when he'll get too engrossed in a case & forget to check in, but he always apologizes afterwards, checking that you're alright.

✦ if you ever find yourself in harm's way( ahem, ahem, unsub ), tim is the first to devise a plan of action, going over everything down to the smallest detail to ensure you're safe.

❛ DAMIAN WAYNE ❪ ROBIN ❫

✦ damian wayne is a perfectionist & will demand that level of precision & attention from you. he has the utmost respect for your work, but if you ever slip up & mess up something minor in any case, he will call you out on it. not to be rude, but because he knows you can do it better.

✦ his protective persona is a little too much. he's the sort of man who will hover if you're in harm's way & will insist that you don't interact unless he's with you. he doesn't believe anyone can protect you the way he can.

✦ he's also possessive about you, too, particularly when you're on duty with the other colleagues. if you linger with another colleague too long, even for professional purposes, look forward to having a very crabby damian at home.

✦ damian is impressed by your intellect, though he'd never say so in public. he may casually quiz you on criminal profiling ( wooo, cm mentioned. you know i had to. ) or the cases you're handling, attempting to subtly display how impressed he is with your abilities.

✦ one of his love language is acts of service. if you're having trouble with a case or stressed out, he'll assist in the best way he knows: with his action. this may mean him shadowing you on a case or assisting you in gathering evidence ( though he's very particular about how things should be done. ).

✦ damian isn't too affectionate out in public, but when you're by yourself, be prepared for unexpected, passionate bursts of affection, such as being pulled into a kiss without warning or having his head in your lap at the end of the day.

✦ he attempts to keep his jealousy concealed, but if he perceives that someone is getting too close or familiar with you, he'll either keep his distance from you or confront the person in a rather "damian" fashion.

✦ when he’s upset, damian retreats into himself, but you’re one of the few people who can break through his emotional walls( you are ). he might not talk about it, but he’ll silently seek comfort from you, sitting close or offering a hand.

✦ he’s fiercely protective of your well-being. if you’re involved in a dangerous case, he’ll insist on helping you, even though you’re fully capable of handling it yourself.

✦ damian doesn't like distractions▰least of all from you. when you're both on a case, he'll get intensely focused & expect you to be the same way. but if you interrupt the quiet to joke with him or lighten the tension, he'll flash that hard-to-find smile for you.

✦ if you've been working too hard, damian will pull you away from your case to ensure you get some rest, even if that means forcing you to sleep.

✦ he doesn't get upset when you're discussing work with other individuals, but if someone tries flirting with you, you'll notice a side of damian you never knew existed. a cold, calculating one that will piss the pants off whoever overstepped.

✦ during the times that you feel stressed out, damian would quietly volunteer to spar with you. that's how he winds down & how he finds that it's also a way to bond with someone▰albeit not a suitable stress relief for you.

✦ damian will sometimes pretend not to care about your work, but he's always listening quietly, taking things in. when you come up with something, he'll be the first one to point out how brilliant you are ( in his own manner, obviously ).

✦ his idea of a date could be assisting you with an especially tricky case, or inviting you on a training session, demonstrating that he is able to mix work & "romance" in his own particular way.

✦ he doesn't just say so out loud, but he is immensely proud of you. there are little signals of affection only you can read▰such as his hand casually touching yours during a meeting or his tendency to huddle with you after a rough day.

❛ DUKE THOMAS ❪ SIGNAL ❫

✦ duke is a naturally nurturing person & will always check in on you to ensure you're alright. after long, stressful days at the ncavc, he'll stop by to visit you & ensure you're not overworking or stressing yourself out.

✦ he's a bit of a worrywart. when you're out working on a case, duke will be calling to inquire about all these things like, "are you sure you're safe?" or "do you need assistance with something?"

✦ duke admires your intelligence, but he's not beyond joking about your seriousness as a special agent. he'll attempt to lighten the atmosphere by cracking jokes or sharing random memes while you're heavily engrossed in case analysis.

✦ when you're stressed, duke's the type of guy who'll pull out all your favorite snacks & have you sit down to watch a movie or something fun to take your mind off it, even if you complain about having to work more.

✦ he's a bit of a sentimental softie with you, always showering you with affection in little but nice ways▰such as making sure your coffee is precisely the way you like it or giving you a tight hug after a tough day.

✦ duke values teamwork. he'll do his best to assist you with your cases whenever he can. although his abilities are more street-level crime fighting, he's willing to provide any assistance he can in terms of research or brainstorming.

✦ duke manages to bring lightness into a situation no matter how buried under tons of files or pressure cases you are. his inherent positive outlook is catching, & part of the reasons why you balance each other is because of that.

✦ he hates seeing you burning out, & he will nag you to get breaks. walking outside or grabbing lunch, sometimes even.

✦ duke is a big softie when it comes to you. if you're upset or just need a hug, he's there with his arms wide open, eager to hold you close & soothe you.

✦ he enjoys helping with cases. he'll gladly hear your theories & share his own insights, & when you make a breakthrough, you'll notice his beaming smile.

✦ duke will make you feel comfortable sharing with him what's on your mind. he's always willing to lend an ear & never push you away, regardless of how bad things become.

✦ if you're ever handling a very violent case, he'll intervene to assist you, particularly if it seems like you're having trouble emotionally.

✦ when times get hard, he's the first to drag you away for letting loose▰whether that's a night out on the town, a movie fest, or a stroll under the stars. he knows how to recharge your batteries.

✦ duke is so cuddly when you're together. he'll be holding your hand constantly or kissing you on the cheek, not shy about showing the world how much he loves you.

✦ if you ever second-guess yourself or your capabilities, duke is on hand to calm you down. he'll remind you of your strengths & all the great things you've achieved▰making you realize the worth of your work, the people who've helped & the victims you have avenged.

✦ he doesn't feel so serious about himself, which makes him excellent at your sometimes more serious dedication. his sense of humor & playfulness will always make you feel at ease.

✦ duke also tends to text you silly jokes or remarks during the day, just for the sake of making you smile, particularly when he knows that you're up to your neck in work.

© MINORLYATFAULT 2025

[larluce]

Ooooh, I love this!

Well, first I would justify WHY Merlin got pregnant. I know mpreg generally doesn't care about logic, but I personally prefer it when fics don't use the excuse "Merlin has magic" as the only explanation for being able to bare children.

So in my mind, the story would go like this: Arthur discovers Merlin's magic and they’ve been distanced from one another since then. Merlin still serves Arthur, but there's no banter between them anymore. For once Merlin acts like the perfect servant, just does as he's told and speaks when asked. And Arthur hates it.

Arthur is still hurting for the lies and the betrayal, but he also misses Merlin deeply. Arthur is so distraught, he ends up getting drunk in a tavern like he never did before and Merlin is the one who has to get him out of there. Due to this they have a heart to heart conversation. There are yells, there are tears and finally forgiveness. Their relationship begins to heal from then, slowly but surely.

Is in the process of healing when that night happens. They made it a rutine to speak alone at night in Arthur's chambers to talk things through, the good and the bad of the things Merlin has done. They always had a bit of wine to endure heavy conversations, but that night they drink a bit too much, so it happens. First a kiss, then 2 kisses, and then suddenly, their clothes are gone and they are making love. The next day, when they wake up naked next to each other in Arthur's bed, they decide to act like nothing happened.

What they didn't know, is that that night was a special one, when the planets aligned with the full moon. The druids from more than one comunnity were doing a ritual, praying to the goddess of fertility and to Emrys, the god of magic itself, that magic may be reborn in Camelot again and flourish.

And that’s how Merlin ended up pregnant with Arthur's baby.

So yes, when Merlin first tells Arthur, he doesn't react well due to that talk he had with his father about what happened to his mother, distrusting Merlin again, but also because they hadn't completely restore their relationship by that point.

Merlin is hurt that Arthur thinks he planned this, that Merlin tricked him into getting him pregnant. He doesn’t even know how it happened! But no matter what he says, Arthur doesn’t believe him.

Merlin thought they were making progress, but it seems he was wrong. His word, his loyalty to Arthur, everything he's done meant nothing to his prince after all. And this knowlegde destroys him.

So Merlin decides to do something drastic: abort. He prepares himself the potion to do it and with tears in his eyes he drinks it.

When Arthur goes to Gaius's chambers to look for Merlin after realising how cruel he had been for accussing Merlin of something so horrible, he finds the worst image he could have seen: Merlin lying on the floor, unconcious and with a growing stain of blood between his legs. Arthur loses it, picks Merlin up and calls for help, desperate. Gaius, fortunately, arrives in time and treats Merlin the best he can and stables him. When Gaius figures out what Merlin tried to do and tells Arthur, the prince can't feel more guilty and devasted.

Arthur: (tears rolling down his eyes, holding Merlin's hand while he lies still unconcious on bed) The baby... Is the baby...?

Gaius: Merlin may have wanted to abort, but his magic didn't. It protected the baby, so it's still alive, but...

Arthur: What?

Gaius: Now his pregnancy is more delicate than ever. Merlin will have to stay in bed and do minimal effort during all his pregnancy and...(his voice breaks) he might not survive childbirth.

Arthur: (breaks down crying)

Merlin: (opens his eyes weakly) Arthur.

Arthur: Merlin! (Leans and holds his hand more tightly)

Merlin: (smiles weakly) It’s okay, Arthur. I got rid of it. You won't have to worry about it anymore.

Arthur: (cries harder)

Arthur apologises over and over again and of course Merlin forgives him, because is Merlin, but the damage is done that's something Arthur will never forgive himself.

Time passes. Arthur visits Merlin everyday during his pregnancy and takes care of him. As Merlin's belly grows, so does his hapiness, but also his fear. He loves this baby with all his being already and the idea of being a father, but the possibility of losing Merlin during childbirth is terrifying. He can't lose Merlin. Is this how his father felt when his mother was pregnant with him?

Is when he compares himself to his father that Arthur realises he loves Merlin. He's been in love with his manservant this whole time. Arthur never felt more stupid.

Then. I don't know. I guess Uther would find out at some point and try to kill Merlin and "that evil creature" he has on his belly. And chaos would ensue.

I saw this meme and the first thing that came to my mind was that I need a fanfic based on this meme. Not just an casual Mpreg merthur story but one were Uther has an actual serious talk about dangers of magic with Arthur and as a example he tells the story of how he's mother got pregnant and died because of magic. He's warns Arthur so that he won't make a similar mistake of trusting magic just like in the meme AND then few weeks later he discovers that he got his manservant pregnant because of one time fucking they did when drunk and went to pretending they were just friends. Imagine the consequences omg.

Like Artur feeling betrayed by Merlin, realising he disappointed his father, Merlin being scared for his life, being accused of tricking Arthur and getting pregnant because of his evil sorcerer plan, hiding it from everyone, not knowing that he could actually get pregnant in the first place he is horrified.

I think it would be interesting if Arthur knew that Merlin has magic before it, fully trusting that he is a goodhearted person, keeping his secret safe. Then he has that talk with Uther and after that Merlin tell him about the pregnancy and Arthur's mind goes back to this talk. He 'realises' that he had been tricked by a sorcerer and Merlin beags him, swears this was an accident.

The potential for heavy angst is immaculate...

[gatorbites-imagines]

Elijah “Smoke” Moore nsfw alphabet 

this is me replying to a request that asked for both Stack and Smoke, but i wanted to post them seperately, so here yall go.

you can find the Stack alphabet here

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) 

Like Stack, I think it depends a lot on who you are and what your guys relationship is like. Smoke isnt the most verbal guy, or affectionate for that matter, but boy does he yearn and feel. Will wipe you down and kiss your brow though. Is even worse at accepting aftercare in return, so you gotta wear him down enough for him to allow it. 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) 

On himself it's his hands, chest and eyes. On his partner, to sound cheesy, its everything. Guys a silent yearner, can't put it into words or actions, but Smoke seems like the kinda guy who thinks about you all the time. Biggest sucker for your eyes though. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) 

A bit, or very, embarrassed about how much he likes it. Doesn't want it going to waste, so it's either inside you or him, or it's rubbed into either of your bodies. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) 

Cried the first couple of times you guys did it, because he felt like he was betraying something by being with a man. But it just felt so right and good. Is very touch starved too. Being attracted to men would count as a very dirty secret during that period as well. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) 

Has some experience with women, but most likely has none when it comes to men before he got with you. 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) 

Like when you push him down and take him from the back, especially when you turn his head back over his shoulder so you guys can kiss. Loves missionary too though, cuz he can wrap his arms and legs around you, and you guys can just cling on to each other. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) 

Not a very goofy guy in general, so don't expect him to start cracking jokes when you guys are together. Might say something once, maybe twice, but that's only after you've fucked him so hard he can barely think. Won't admit it afterwards though. 

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) 

I don't think men during this time were as groomed as they are nowadays, I still think Smoke takes care of it though, to make it presentable. Doesn't mind it as much as Stack does though. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) 

Depends. There are days where it's just rutting, where Smoke can't even get himself to kiss you. And then there are times where he's clinging to you, trying to express everything he can't with words. The kind to whisper that he loves you over and over, but never actually says it louder than that whisper. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) 

Doesn't really jack off, Smoke wouldn't want to do it cuz it just feels wrong, and cuz his thoughts always fall to you. Has used it as stress relief a couple of times. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) 

Likes it when it hurts a little 

Crazy breeding kink, both on you and himself 

Spanking, on him for the most part 

Gun kink 

Spit and drool 

Deepthroating, and just throatfucking in general 

Dacryphilia, on himself 

Major praise kink he wont admit 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) 

Will only do it places where you guys can be safe and not discovered. He doesn't actually care about his own safety, but yours is the most important thing to Smoke. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) 

Hes a hotblooded man, so it's not too hard to get him going. He just hides it really well, and lets it boil inside for just the right moment. Seeing you in an undershirt and sweaty is a great motivation though. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) 

Share, unless it's like, with Stack or something. You would be the only one receiving though, and Smoke can get really possessive and jealous.  

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) 

Prefers giving, but doesn't mind receiving. Would rather have you spill inside him when hes riding you though.  

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) 

Your guys pace is slow but intense, like Smoke is trying to melt you guys together into one being, foreheads pressed together and everything. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) 

Isn't the biggest fan, mainly for safety reasons, but you guys do it semi-regularly because that's all the options you guys get most days. It also gets him real hot to feel your spend inside him the rest of the day too, so, he won't turn you away if you want a quickie. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) 

Not the biggest risk taker when it comes to where you guys are together, but can get kinda risky when it comes to wanting you to hurt him or when his gun is involved. You have to talk him out of having bullets in it multiple times. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) 

Has great stamina, but this also comes from you guys not getting to let it out as much as you wished you could. Can go multiple rounds, and would love to keep going even if he can't get it up, cuz it still feels good to him. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) 

Doesn't own any toys, and neither do you. Closest you guys would own is like some ropes or ties, smth like that. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) 

Isn't the biggest tease, cuz he doesn't want to risk it, but has some very intense eyes at times when nobody else is looking. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) 

Not that loud at all, more of a grunter and panter, but if you go at it right you can get him whimpering, which he will try to smother.  

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) 

Would wear a ring you gave him, even if it's bad quality, especially compared to some of the other stuff he picks up over the years. I can see Smoke carrying your dog tags too, if you were in the military as well. Would have had your name and information rubbed off, for safety reasons, but he knows it's yours and that's all that matters. 

Stack would know about your guy's relationship, but he wouldn't say anything. Seeing Smoke happy with someone and getting to be vulnerable is more than enough. Stack also knows how intense Smoke can be, so he won't even joke about it. 

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) 

Above average in length, but just average in thickness. Cut, cuz I read somewhere that he might have been, so. 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) 

Smoke screams silent yearner to me, you would never expect it, but he feels so much but keeps it all under wraps. I don't think it's all him wanting to bang, a good chunk of it is just him yearning for your presence and affection.  

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) 

Doesn't like falling asleep afterwards, cuz when you guys finally get the chance to be together, then Smoke would want this time to just lay close and hold each other. Wants to just listen to you talk. If you've worn him out enough though, Smoke will fall asleep against your chest. 

[bucketgetter535]

No Margin for Error: Chapter Six

CW: Language

WC: 5.5k

Notes: Paige and Azzi 🤝 racing when they really shouldn’t. Anywayyy lmk what yall think. Like fr send thoughts plz. Also there fr might be some typos in here so my bad

The Belgian Grand Prix always felt different.

Longer track. Longer days. Longer everything.

Azzi adjusted her gloves as she sat in the cockpit, feeling the rumble of the Ferrari underneath her like a second heartbeat.

Outside, the clouds were heavy — Spa was always threatening rain — but right now, it was just cool and gray.

Perfect for fast laps.

“Radio check, Azzi,” Mateo’s voice buzzed into her ear.

“Yeah, loud and clear,” Azzi replied, rolling onto the track exit and easing onto the throttle.

Spa was brutal in how spread out it was.

Everything felt distant. Every sector was a journey.

“First timed lap. Let’s stay clean through turns 2, 3, and 4, see how she feels.”

Azzi took the corner flat, climbing the hill with the precision of someone who didn’t fear physics anymore.

“How’s the balance?” Mateo asked.

Azzi gave a tight shrug even though he couldn’t see it. “Good. A little light at the front.”

Then — almost without thinking — she asked:

“Is Paige on track yet?”

There was a beat of silence, like Mateo almost smirked over the radio.

But when he spoke, he was professional as ever:

“Yep. She’s about halfway through her flyer. Sector two just came through — she’s down three-tenths off you.”

Azzi bit the inside of her cheek.

She told herself it was a racing thing — knowing where your competitors were.

Right. Competitors.

But no matter how many times she repeated that in her head, it didn’t explain the little spark in her chest when she heard Paige’s name.

Or the ache when she remembered last week — Paige in her lap, Paige tangled up with her in bed, Paige saying Azzi’s name like it meant something.

Azzi took another lap, the track sprawling out endlessly in front of her.

God, Belgium was long.

And Paige hated it.

Azzi shouldn’t know that. She shouldn’t know that Paige thought Spa was too stretched out, too hard to find rhythm at.

She shouldn’t know that Paige preferred tighter, technical circuits — Monaco, Singapore, Hungary.

But now she knew a lot of things she shouldn’t.

Like the smell of Paige’s perfume when she leaned in close — something expensive and clean.

Or the way Paige’s body fit against hers — soft, perfect.

Or that Paige’s middle name was Madison — something Azzi had teased her about mercilessly after discovering it.

They hadn’t known each other like this back in F3.

Back then it had been easier — teammates for half a season, both still reckless kids.

Azzi had thought Paige was cool, a little bit cocky, insanely fast in the wet.

Nothing more.

Now?

Now it was so much more it scared the shit out of her.

“Sector times coming through — you’re purple in one and three. 2nd overall for now, behind Red Bull,” Mateo updated casually.

Azzi wiped her sweaty palm against her race suit.

“Copy,” she muttered, half-listening.

The car roared through turns 16 and 17, and she could hear Mateo flipping through data in the background.

“Paige improved, by the way. Only two-tenths off now.”

Azzi’s stomach twisted again, but she just gripped the wheel tighter.

Focus.

It was just racing. Just Paige.

Except it wasn’t just Paige anymore, and they both knew it.

And with every lap around this endless, endless circuit, Azzi felt that truth getting harder to ignore.

–

The debrief room was freezing, the kind of cold that cut straight through Azzi’s race suit and made her wrap her arms around herself without thinking.

She sat next to Mateo, laptops open, sector maps and tire graphs blinking on screens in front of them. Azzi stared at her lap data, half-listening to Mateo talk about telemetry spikes and brake balance, nodding when appropriate.

Her mind was still stuck on the track.

No, not the track.

On Paige.

“You’re being weird quiet,” Mateo said lightly, clicking through to another graph. “Not like you.”

Azzi flicked her eyes over at him but didn’t bite.

He leaned back in his chair, tapping his pen against his thigh.

“Hey, random, but—” he flipped a tab open on his laptop, scrolling, “Paige posted something during break. New York. Did you guys, like… run into each other?”

His voice was casual. Almost too casual.

Azzi kept her face neutral.

She was good at that. Had been for years.

“Yeah,” she said, short. “We had drinks.”

That was all.

No extra words. No stupid smile, no fucking heart in her throat.

But Mateo clocked the hell out of her anyway.

His eyes flickered — a quick, knowing look — before he leaned forward again like he hadn’t noticed anything at all.

“Cool, cool,” he said, flipping to another page of data. “Same city and all. Makes sense.”

Azzi nodded stiffly, focusing hard on the tire degradation charts.

Her hands were a little too tight around her water bottle.

They wrapped up another ten minutes later. Mateo didn’t push. He never did.

He just handed her a printout of race sims, gave a quick grin, and said, “Go shower, Fudd. Take a break.”

She wandered through the paddock toward the team motorhome, boots heavy, race suit still half unzipped around her waist.

Her head buzzed, not from the laps, but from Paige.

The constant undercurrent of her.

Azzi stepped into the small private bathroom near her room, turned the water on scorching, and stripped down automatically.

Steam rose around her, thick and blinding.

She stepped under the spray, letting it hit her full force.

Finally — finally — she could think.

Paige.

Paige, looking a little awkward this morning. Paige’s voice over the radio. Paige’s fucking middle name.

Azzi leaned her forehead against the wall.

She was comfortable being out — she really was.

Her parents knew. Her brothers knew. Her close friends.

It wasn’t a secret. It wasn’t shame.

But this world…

F1 wasn’t exactly known for making things easy.

Cameras everywhere. Millions of eyes. Endless judgment.

It wasn’t fear, exactly.

It was exhaustion.

And somewhere in that fog of exhaustion, Azzi found herself giving Paige a little bit of grace.

Paige, who wasn’t just dealing with the weight of the grid, but the weight of herself too.

Paige, who probably hadn’t told anyone either.

Paige, who smiled like hell but pulled back the second anyone got too close.

Azzi closed her eyes.

Sometimes she forgot — just because they were the same age didn’t mean they were the same.

Azzi had been in F1 three seasons longer. She knew the rhythms. The grind. The loneliness.

Paige was still new. Still raw.

Still learning how brutal it could all be.

Azzi let the water beat against her skin until she felt wrung out.

She didn’t know what they were doing.

She didn’t know what it meant.

But she knew this:

When Paige leaned into her in the middle of the night — when Paige trusted her enough to stay — Azzi wasn’t going to pull away.

Not now.

Not when it felt like maybe, maybe, they were both reaching for the same thing.

–

It was lap six of the race, and everything felt…wrong.

Not in the car — Azzi’s Ferrari was moving well, nimble on mediums, grip solid in the cool Belgian air.

Not in the strategy — tire life looked good, energy deployment was fine.

It was the pack.

Too tight.

Too crowded.

Like no one was willing to let go.

Azzi gritted her teeth and focused ahead. The front group — her, a Red Bull, both Mercedes, both Ferraris — were jostling for the same slice of track.

Way too close for the early laps of a race this long.

“Car behind two-tenths,” Mateo’s voice came through her radio, cool and clipped. “ERS mode four. Watch turn nine, dirty air.”

Azzi adjusted her settings, leaned into the corner.

She trusted Mateo. Trusted herself.

Still — the air was wrong.

Nervous.

And then—

Yellow flags.

Sector two.

Static cracked through the radio.

Azzi heard shouting. Caught the tail end of someone screaming “incident!”

Then a blur of white and red, off track, smoke trailing.

Azzi’s stomach dropped straight to the floor.

Paige’s Ferrari was nose-deep into the barriers at 150 miles per hour.

Azzi was already pressing the radio button before her brain caught up.

“Is she okay? What happened?”

Static. More static.

Mateo didn’t answer immediately.

Azzi downshifted instinctively, glancing at the crash site as she passed under double yellows.

The car was wrecked.

Front wing destroyed.

Tires twisted wrong against carbon fiber.

Azzi’s hands tightened around the wheel.

Is Paige okay?” she demanded, sharper now, heart hammering.

Mateo’s voice finally cut back in, frazzled: “She was bumped. McLaren behind got too aggressive. McLaren spun too. Medical car’s rolling.”

That was not an answer.

Azzi flexed her fingers on the wheel, forcing herself to breathe.

Focus.

Focus.

She remembered her first crash. Rookie year. Barcelona. All she could think afterward was how much it shook you — not just your body, but your head. The noise. The force. The way the world tipped sideways and didn’t right itself for days.

And this — this was Paige’s first crash. Paige, who had never so much as brushed a wall in her entire career.

“Mateo,” she said again, voice low, “I need to know if she’s okay.”

“Still waiting,” Mateo answered. “We’ll tell you the second we know.”

Azzi nodded to herself. Professional. She had to stay professional.

But the worry scratched under her skin, itching, pulling, refusing to be ignored.

They sent the safety car out. Azzi slotted behind it, controlling her tire temps, flicking through settings like she was supposed to.

But her mind stayed on sector two.

On the wreck.

On Paige.

It didn’t matter that they were awkward still. It didn’t matter that Azzi hadn’t been able to look her in the eye in the driver’s room all weekend without remembering skin and mouths and Paige’s stupid, beautiful laugh at 2am.

None of that mattered.

What mattered was that Paige was lying somewhere behind the barriers, maybe hurt, maybe worse, and Azzi couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

“Driver extraction complete,” race control finally announced over the airwaves.

Azzi closed her eyes for a second, unseen inside the helmet.

“She’s walking,” Mateo added quickly, relief clear in his voice. “Medical checks pending, but she’s out of the car.”

Azzi let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. A deep, shuddery thing that rattled through her chest.

Good.

She was okay.

The race would go on. Azzi would keep driving. Keep fighting. But under the steel nerves and the race-honed focus, something inside her stayed knotted tight. Because that was the thing about caring about someone you shouldn’t.

It didn’t turn off just because the lights went out and the visor came down. It didn’t turn off when the cameras rolled, when the whole world watched. It didn’t even turn off when you needed it to the most. It just sat there, stubborn and aching and alive.

–

5th.

It wasn’t bad but it wasn’t what Azzi wanted.

Especially not when the car had felt good in the first stint. But somewhere after the safety car, the Ferrari started behaving…wrong. Weird loss of power on straights. Something in the deployment.

Mateo was already talking about engine mapping errors before she even peeled her gloves off.

Azzi climbed out of the car in the garage, jaw tight. The first thing she did — before debrief, before interviews, before even pulling off her helmet — was ask Mateo:

“Paige?”

Mateo caught her meaning instantly.

“They sent her to a local hospital,” he said, lowering his voice. “Just precautionary. More thorough scans.”

Azzi nodded. It made sense. Belgium was brutal — the track long, the barriers close, medical protocol strict.

Still.

Still, something twisted in her gut.

Mateo lingered a little too long as she pulled her fireproof face covering off.

“You and Paige,” he said, voice casual, but not really casual at all. “You two good?”

Azzi kept her face neutral. Professional.

“We’re friends,” she said simply. “Teammates.”

Mateo didn’t push it. Just clapped her lightly on the shoulder and muttered something about checking telemetry later.

Azzi barely heard him.

She just wanted —

God, she didn’t even know what she wanted.

To see Paige.

To hear Paige.

Something to prove she was fine.

–

Her hotel room felt cold when she got there. Cold and too quiet, even with the windows cracked open to the late-summer air.

Azzi sat on the edge of the bed for a while, staring at the blank wall.

Finally, she picked up her phone.

Thumb hovered.

Paige’s name blinked up at her.

She hadn’t texted.

Hadn’t called.

Azzi hesitated — then hit the button anyway.

The line rang twice before it picked up.

“Hey,” Paige said.

Her voice was…off.

Small. Tired. Guarded.

Azzi’s heart twisted again, but she kept it steady.

“Hey,” she said back, soft. “You okay?”

A beat.

Two.

“Doctors said I’m fine,” Paige muttered eventually. “X-rays clean. Just bruised up. Said I could go home tonight.”

Relief slammed into Azzi so hard she nearly closed her eyes.

“Good,” she breathed. “That’s good, P.”

Another long pause.

“You didn’t have to call,” Paige said finally.

Not angry — just…tired.

Azzi’s chest tightened.

“I wanted to,” she said simply.

Paige didn’t say anything for a second.

Then:

“You don’t have to babysit me, Azzi. I’m not a fucking rookie.”

The words came out sharper than either of them intended.

Azzi flinched like she’d been slapped.

Fought to keep her voice calm.

“I never said you were.”

“No, but you think it,” Paige shot back.

Azzi sat up straighter.

“Jesus, Paige, I don’t—”

“You do!” Paige snapped. “You think just ’cause you’ve been here longer, you know everything and I’m some dumbass kid who needs her hand held—”

“Paige,” Azzi cut in, sharp now. “That’s not fair.”

Another beat.

Breathless silence between them.

Paige’s voice cracked when she spoke again.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” she muttered. “I just—”

Azzi closed her eyes.

“I know.”

Soft. Real.

“I know, P.”

She didn’t take it personally.

Not really.

Not when she could hear it — the crash still rattling in Paige’s bones, still spinning her brain sideways.

Azzi leaned back against the headboard, pressing the phone closer to her ear.

“I know you’re upset,” she said quietly. “It’s your first crash, Paige. It messes with you.”

Another long silence.

Then Paige, so small she was barely there:

“Don’t worry about me Azzi. I’m fine.”

Azzi swallowed the lump in her throat.

“You’re not,” she said gently. “Not right now. And that’s fine. Just rest for a bit, okay?”

No answer —

but Azzi could hear Paige breathing.

Alive.

Still fighting.

And maybe that was enough for tonight.

–

Paige had texted when she made it back to the hotel.

Azzi knocked once before letting herself in.

The door wasn’t locked anyway.

Paige was curled up on the far side of the hotel bed, looking rumpled and exhausted and irritated in the low light. She barely looked up when Azzi entered, just muttered something under her breath that Azzi didn’t quite catch.

“You shouldn’t be alone,” Azzi said, shutting the door quietly behind her.

“I’m fine,” Paige said immediately, the words too sharp.

Azzi ignored the tone. She crossed the room anyway, dropping her backpack onto a chair, keeping her voice low and careful. “You don’t look fine.”

“I don’t need you to babysit me, Azzi.”

The way she said her name — like it was something dirty — set Azzi’s teeth on edge. She sat on the edge of the opposite bed, facing her, keeping a little distance, even though all she wanted to do was reach out.

“You almost ended up in a hospital overnight.”

“I didn’t, though.” Paige shifted, pushing herself up onto her elbows, wincing slightly when she moved too fast. “I’m not a child.”

“You got bumped into a wall at 150 miles an hour, Paige,” Azzi said, sharper than she meant to. “Forgive me if I’m a little—”

“What?” Paige snapped. “A little what? Concerned? Worried? Acting like you have some right to—?”

Azzi clenched her jaw. “You’re my teammate.”

That hung there, ugly and thin between them.

Teammate.

Like that explained everything.

Like it erased everything else.

Paige laughed under her breath, bitter. “Right. That’s all we are, isn’t it?”

Azzi felt heat crawl up the back of her neck.

“This isn’t the time,” she said tightly. “You’re not even—you’re not thinking straight.”

“You mean because I’m pissed off?” Paige bit back. “Or because I’m sick of pretending like none of it matters?”

Azzi froze.

There it was.

All of it.

Every unspoken thing between them, cracking loose under the weight of exhaustion and fear and whatever the hell today had been.

“I didn’t ask for this,” Paige said, softer now, her voice catching somewhere in her chest. “You didn’t either. We were supposed to be friends, Azzi. Teammates. Nothing else. But then you—” She broke off, shaking her head like she couldn’t say it out loud.

Azzi breathed in slowly through her nose, trying to keep calm. “I didn’t do anything you didn’t want.”

“I know,” Paige said, closing her eyes briefly. “I know.”

Azzi didn’t know what to say to that.

The silence spun out, heavy and suffocating, until Paige let out a rough, frustrated sigh and pressed her fingers to her temples.

Azzi’s instincts kicked in immediately.

“Your head?” she asked, voice sharp with concern.

“I’m fine,” Paige muttered, but her hand stayed there, rubbing slow circles against her forehead like she could scrub the pain out of it.

Azzi stood up without another word. She crossed the room, dimmed the lights even further until only a soft golden glow was left, and slipped into the bathroom to dig out the Tylenol and a bottle of water from the hotel’s amenities.

When she came back, Paige was still rubbing at her head, her body coiled tight like a wire ready to snap.

Azzi set the water down on the bedside table, then sat again, closer this time.

“You need to take something,” she said gently. “You hit the wall hard, Paige. You have a concussion.”

“I’m fine.”

Azzi gave her a look that said don’t lie to me.

Paige stared at her a long second, something raw and pained flickering in her eyes — and then, wordlessly, she took the Tylenol from Azzi’s outstretched hand and swallowed it down with a gulp of water.

Azzi watched her the whole time, making sure.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The tension from earlier still simmered under the surface, but the edge was blunted now, dulled by exhaustion and something dangerously close to tenderness.

“You’re stubborn,” Azzi said eventually, voice low.

Paige gave a breathless laugh that didn’t sound happy. “Takes one to know one.”

Azzi huffed softly, reaching out to brush a piece of hair off Paige’s forehead without really thinking. Paige didn’t pull away.

“You don’t have to do this alone, you know,” Azzi said, quieter now. “You don’t have to… fight everything by yourself.”

Paige’s mouth twisted like she wanted to argue — but then she just looked down at her lap, saying nothing.

Azzi leaned back slightly, giving her space.

Outside, the lights of the city flickered in the dark, and somewhere deep in Azzi’s chest, something hurt.

They weren’t just teammates.

They never had been.

And they both knew it — even if the world wasn’t ready to know it too.

Azzi stayed sitting at the edge of the bed for a long time, watching Paige fight the pull of sleep like it was a battle she couldn’t afford to lose.

Paige’s head kept tilting forward, jerking up again each time, stubborn to the bitter end. Azzi didn’t say anything. She just shifted up onto the mattress properly, leaning against the headboard, close enough that Paige could feel her there without either of them having to say it out loud.

After a while, Paige gave up.

She shifted over almost unconsciously, head finding Azzi’s shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Azzi froze, then forced herself to relax. She carefully tilted her head back against the wall, careful not to move too much. Paige’s breathing evened out slowly, the tension in her shoulders finally giving way to something softer, heavier.

Azzi stayed.

She stayed even when her arm went numb.

Stayed even when her own body begged her to move.

She stayed because this was Paige.

Because for once, Paige let her.

The city lights eventually dimmed to nothing, and morning started to bleed into the sky outside the window.

–

Azzi woke with a start when she felt Paige stir beside her. She glanced down to find Paige blinking sleepily, clearly disoriented.

“Hey,” Azzi said softly.

Paige grunted in response, still half-asleep. She pulled away slowly, sitting up with a groan and rubbing her hands over her face.

Azzi swung her legs off the bed, stretching her back out with a grimace. “We should get moving. We’ve got a flight to catch.”

Paige nodded, looking wrecked.

Azzi wanted to say something — anything — about how bad Paige still looked. But she bit her tongue. She could push, or she could stay close. Today, staying close seemed smarter.

They packed quickly and quietly. Azzi had already arranged for her private jet to be ready at the small airfield just outside town. One benefit of her success — and the Ferrari paycheck — was not having to wait around in airports anymore.

They barely spoke on the drive to the airfield. Paige leaned her forehead against the window and closed her eyes, her whole body drawn tight with something Azzi couldn’t name.

She knew she should say something.

Press harder.

Force Paige to admit what was obvious to everyone with eyes — that she wasn’t okay.

But Azzi had known Paige too long. Pushing would only make her dig in harder.

They boarded quietly, the engines already humming low and steady. Azzi dropped into a seat and buckled in. Paige took the one opposite her, slouching low.

Once they were in the air, Azzi finally broke the silence.

“You still look off,” she said, trying for light but coming off more worried than she wanted.

Paige shrugged without opening her eyes. “Just tired.”

“You’re sitting out in practice one.”

It wasn’t a question.

Paige cracked one eye open, giving her a crooked half-smile. “Yeah. They’re gonna let one of the F2 kids have a go. Learning experience, right?”

“You need more than one session off,” Azzi said, voice low.

Paige shrugged again, which Azzi hated even more than an outright argument.

“I have to race,” Paige said after a minute. “Hungary’s a good track for us. The car should be better there than it was at Spa.”

Azzi rubbed her hands over her face, exhausted in a way that had nothing to do with racing.

“I know. But we’re miles ahead. Constructors’ points aren’t gonna vanish overnight.”

Paige didn’t answer.

Azzi looked out the window, watching clouds roll by beneath them. She wanted to reach across the small aisle between their seats, grab Paige’s hand, tell her it was okay to take a break, to take care of herself. That no one would think less of her for it. That Azzi — of all people — sure as hell wouldn’t.

But Azzi stayed where she was.

Because that’s what Paige needed right now.

Not pressure. Not even kindness that felt like pressure.

Just someone sitting across from her, not pushing.

They landed in Budapest in the soft light of late morning. The heat pressed down immediately, sticky and heavy. It was going to be a brutal race weekend, physically and mentally.

Azzi caught a glimpse of Paige’s profile as they climbed into the car waiting for them on the tarmac.

The stubborn set of her jaw.

The way she moved just a fraction too slow, like her brain and body weren’t quite lining up.

Concussion, Azzi thought again with a sick twist in her stomach.

But Paige didn’t say anything.

And Azzi — against every screaming instinct — didn’t either.

They had a job to do.

Two more days, Azzi told herself.

Just get through Hungary.

Then the summer break.

Three blessed weeks where maybe, maybe, they could finally figure out what the hell they were doing.

If Paige was still in one piece by then.

Azzi wasn’t sure if that was hope or fear threading itself through her ribs as they drove away from the airport and into another waiting weekend.

–

It was Practice Two.

Hot, heavy air clung to the circuit at the Hungaroring, making everything feel just a little slower, a little stickier than usual.

Azzi clipped into her gloves, slid her helmet on, and jogged out to the car. She had a job to do — scrub some tires, run some quali sims, feel out the long run balance. Nothing crazy. Just sharpness. Precision. The usual.

Still, even as she fired up the car and pulled away from the garage, her eyes flicked toward the other side of the pitlane, searching for a flash of red and white.

Searching for Paige.

It was the first time Paige had gotten back in the car since Spa.

Since the crash.

Since the moment Azzi’s heart had slammed into her throat when she saw Paige’s car buried in the barrier.

She tried not to think about that now.

Tried.

The laps blurred past — smooth, professional, careful. Azzi was ticking off her list, hitting her marks. It was good. It was fine. But something still nagged at her.

“How’s Paige?” Azzi asked over the radio, casual enough that maybe it wouldn’t sound weird.

There was a pause before Mateo answered.

“Taking it easy today,” he said. “Or at least that’s what Luca said.”

Azzi pressed her lips together inside the helmet, glancing at the sector times lighting up her dash.

Slow.

Paige was slow.

Fine, Azzi told herself. It was fine. Paige deserved to take it easy. She deserved to get her feet back under her without everyone breathing down her neck.

“Copy,” Azzi said shortly, and threw herself back into the lap.

–

The next day, Practice Three, Paige looked different.

Sharper.

Faster.

Azzi watched from her own cockpit, tucked into the garage between runs, as Paige’s name kept popping up higher and higher on the timesheets.

She didn’t know if she should be proud or furious.

Because as much as she wanted to wrap Paige in bubble wrap and lock her away somewhere safe, she knew — God, she knew — that Paige was right.

She had to race.

By the time qualifying rolled around, the tension in the paddock was a living thing. Hot, vibrating, electric.

Azzi climbed into her car, clipped her belts tight, and tried to drown it all out.

Focus.

Precision.

Speed.

Nothing else mattered.

–

Qualifying was brutal.

Hungary always was.

Hot tires, hotter track, little mistakes costing tenths that you couldn’t afford.

One corner slightly wide, and you were done.

Margins razor-thin.

Azzi went fastest early in Q1, then again in Q2.

In Q3, she wrung the car’s neck, every millimeter of track used, every ounce of herself left on the circuit.

She crossed the line, heart in her mouth, and saw her name flash to the top of the board.

Pole.

For about fifteen seconds.

Then another time blinked onto the screens.

Paige Bueckers — 1.

Azzi just sat there for a second, her hands still tight around the wheel, staring at the timing screen like it had personally betrayed her.

Then she laughed, the sound raw and sharp in her own helmet.

Because of course Paige had done it.

Of course she had.

Paige fucking Bueckers — stubborn, brilliant, impossible Paige — was back.

Azzi coasted back into the pits, pulling into the garage with her jaw tight, trying to keep everything professional. Everything controlled.

The car was wheeled back into the Ferrari bay. Mechanics flooded around her. Someone was shouting numbers into a headset. The whole garage buzzed like a struck wire.

Azzi climbed out of the car, pulling her helmet off in one smooth motion, shaking her damp hair free.

Across the garage, she saw her.

Paige stood just inside the barrier, helmet under one arm, suit half-unzipped to the waist, chest rising and falling fast.

Dr. Liao hovered at her side, clipboard in hand.

“Do you have water?” Paige asked, her voice raw and tired.

Dr. Liao smiled patiently. “Yes, Paige. Let’s get you some water, alright?”

Azzi stayed where she was, watching.

Paige didn’t even seem to see her.

She just nodded stiffly, letting herself be steered toward the back of the garage, toward the quiet little alcove where the team doctors set up shop on race weekends.

Azzi peeled off her gloves, slow and deliberate, trying to keep her face blank.

She should feel relieved.

Paige was fine.

More than fine.

She was fast.

But something still pulled at the back of Azzi’s mind — the way Paige swayed slightly when she moved, the way her hands trembled just a little when she handed off her helmet to a mechanic.

Azzi turned away, forcing herself to focus on the debrief, the data, the job.

Because this was F1.

Because feelings didn’t win races.

Because even when it was Paige — even when it was everything — Azzi still had to keep her head.

For now.

–

Race day in Hungary was so hot it shimmered.

Even in the garage, under shade, Azzi could feel the thick weight of it pressing down.

But for once, everything worked.

The cooling systems inside the cockpit. The drink system. The radio. All of it humming along without a hiccup.

It was like the world was finally giving them a break.

Azzi settled into her seat, belts strapped tight, gloves tugged into place. Her visor clicked down.

Focus.

One more race.

Then the break.

Lights out — and it was a dream start.

Paige nailed it off the line. Azzi tucked in right behind her, slingshotting forward, clear of the pack.

It was obvious within the first few laps — Ferrari was just better today.

Faster, cleaner, untouchable.

Azzi heard Mateo’s voice in her ear, smooth and almost relaxed. “2nd, Azzi. Five seconds off Paige. McLaren’s about seven behind you. Just manage tires, yeah?”

Azzi clicked her radio once.

“Copy.”

She settled into the rhythm, letting the track come to her.

Hot wind screaming past the car, tires digging in through the corners, engine singing behind her.

Perfect.

Out of the corner of her eye, once in a while on the straights, she caught a flash of papaya orange — the McLaren behind them. It was one of the new guys. Some kid who was just happy to be here, racing like it was Christmas morning. Every time Azzi saw him in her mirrors, she felt the same tiny, almost reluctant smile tug at her mouth.

Good vibes all around today.

No chaos.

No failures.

No disasters.

Just pure racing.

By the time they crossed the finish line — Paige first, Azzi second — the pit wall exploded.

Cheers, fists in the air, Mateo’s voice breaking into a shout over the radio.

“Yes, Azzi! Beautiful drive! Double podium for us! Let’s go!”

Azzi coasted into the cool-down lap, letting herself grin, exhaustion finally bleeding into something lighter.

God, she needed this.

They both did.

–

After the champagne, the interviews, the endless photos — they finally peeled themselves out of their suits and helmets and made it back to Azzi’s jet.

Still buzzing, but quieter now.

Sleepier.

Heavy-limbed with satisfaction.

Paige sprawled into a seat near the back of the cabin, head tipped against the wall, hair a mess from her helmet.

Azzi dropped into the seat across from her, kicking off her sneakers and grabbing a water bottle.

“Got summer break plans?” she asked, cracking the cap.

Paige peeled one eye open. “Yeah. Heading to Colorado for a while. Some cabin up in the mountains. Good weather. No people. Just chill.”

Azzi tipped her head back, whistling low. “Damn. That’s a good idea.”

She hadn’t made any real plans.

Maybe catch up with some friends. Wander around New York. Sleep too much.

Nothing like what Paige was describing — clear air, quiet, a full step away from the noise and the grind.

Paige stretched, arching her back slightly before slumping again, lazy. “You could come, if you wanted,” she said, almost offhand. “Cabin’s got extra rooms.”

Azzi blinked at her.

It was nothing.

Just a casual offer.

Still, her brain scrambled for a second, words tangling.

“For the cooler weather,” she said, aiming for easy, casual, totally normal. “Not for you or anything.”

Paige’s mouth twitched, the tiniest smile.

“Right,” she said, and let her eyes close again, as if she hadn’t just thrown Azzi’s heart into an Olympic-level gymnastics routine.

Azzi leaned back into her seat, letting the hum of the engines fill the cabin, letting herself breathe.

The summer break stretched ahead of them now.

For the first time in a long time, it didn’t feel heavy.

[scrivenger-grimgar]

svsss x tgcf crossover where shen yuan is so dedicated to making sure his blorbos get everything they deserve.

shen yuan dies cursing out pidw as normal but he ends up in tgcf.

the book was his meimei's favorite and they both read each others favorites so they could yell about them together. he did not expect to end up loving this danmei so much, and shi qingxuan was his queer reality check. did he figure out that he was aroace-spec from relating to xie lian? yes. does he want to talk about it? no.

when he dies cursing out pidw he SHOULD have ended up there, but there was a glitch in the system and he ended up in a little village in tgcf. he knows all the plot points and character names, but he doesn't know where or when he is in the plot and he really wants to give his blorbos everything they deserve but he is a toddler.

so he just,,, lives. he knows he wont be able to cultivate, his family can't afford to send him to a sect, and his village doesn't have much outside of the basics. so when his family caught him teaching other kids abd realized that shen yuan could read? AND write?? AND do math!!?? well...

"meng po said i didnt need any soup." becomes the first lie he tells. he is so glad he retained his resting bitch face.

they think he might ascend as some legendary civil god. shen yuan knows he wont. and he doesnt.

his days are spent teaching other children, learning from the village craftsmen, listening to the brothel jiejies play music, panicking about his blorbos, and planning.

in his teens he becomes the village's official teacher, and officially apprentices under a cloth weaver and learns to make paper and ink.

part of him tells himself that he's learning these things ti help his family, another part says its to keep his mind off the plot.

his second death is uneventful, mostly because nobody actually realizes that he's dead. his parents were old, and his elder sister already married out, so he lived alone for 5 years already. dead at 27 due to a house fire, yet his soul is already strong enough to be wrath.

he comes to the very fair assumption that its simply due to his status not as a reincarnator, but as a millenial. the sheer amount of depression and existential dread he faced as a physically disabled terminally ill millenial in the corporate hell that is the post capitalist corporate purgatory primed his being as one that simply cultivated resentment like a finely aged wine.

but he so geniunely enjoyed teaching and learning that he just. never told anyone that he was dead. it completely slipped his mind as unimportant because he knows that ghosts in this world are just humans a bit to the left, and since he is still the same person as before, is just as much of a ghost as he was before, knows that he can still teach and learn the same as before. it doesn't change anything for him.

he just picks up his ashes, apprentices himself to the village potter, makes himself a new tea set, and weaves a beatiful tapestry dedicated to the only god who can truly do no wrong, yushi huang.

he continues teaching and learning, and genuinely caring for his village, carefully, carfully making sure he does not hurt his people, making sure he does not scare them.

the way his people discover he is a ghost is not pretty, but neither is it ugly.

a nobleman was in town to rest the night with his entourage of guards. one young lady working the local brothel is harrassed by the guards, so nervous she trips and spills wine on the young master.

the nobleman, covered in wine, tipsy and enraged, grabs her and throws her to the ground, yelling at her to grovel and apologise; he does not notice the hateful gaze of shen yuan, once playing a delicate tune only moments before.

shen yuan wants to stop this, but that would definitely reveal him as more than human. the choice is taken from him as this stranger has the gall to step on one of his own students, he feels his patience snap in the stunned silence of the entertainment hall.

faster than possible for any mortal, he stands by them, holding the nobleman by the front of his stupid fancy robes, panicked babbling about that bitch having her man-whore friend doom himself to suffer both their fates. one of the guards stabs shen yuan through the chest.

there is screaming as the village's beloved teacher is run through, even as he ignores the wound and drags the nobleman from the building, the guards running after them. shen yuan takes the entire group out to the forest with only the nobleman as bait, and uses the silence if the night as a backdrop for the unrelenting slaughter of 15 people.

when he returns, he is covered in blood, carrying everything they had on them. the word has spread. their teacher is something else. but that wasn't nesicarily bad. the nobleman's rescources are stripped of identity and spread amongst the villagers. shen yuan has not harmed them, only stepping in when one of them was in harm's way. they have known him for 30 years, they know he is nothing if not kind.

so he protects them. because they have always been his family. so for centuries he does. he watches his peers as they grow old and die, caring after their children and grandchildren and great grandchildren. he is their teacher. he is their uncle. he is their ---.

there was a period of time where the town thought shen yuan took on a heveanly tribulation only to reject godhood and return to the village. shen yuan tried to tell people that wasn't true, that he never became a god or refused godhood, that he was simply trapped in a mountain for a decade, stewing in a pot of resentment and accidentally becoming a ghost king.

he doesnt even know how he did that, just that apparently yoyos are similar enough to meteorhammers that he could apply the same concepts, and also that he had enough condenced rage and nerdiness to actually figure out anime moves with qi. so what if half of the ghosts in the kiln thought he was some kind of spider demon, he has cool threads that he can use to kill you.

and actually fuck you, spiders are pretty damn cool!

it starts not long after that. the prayers. his people are praying to him, as if he's some kind of god.

thats when he realizes. he can pray to the gods. he can pray to the gods, and they will only ever know the temple it came from. and really he's spent so long worrying over not just his blorbos but also his whole village, and really what is he if not an anonymous millenial internet troll.

and so it begins.

[yandere-sins]

The Cure

[My Commission Info] | [My Ao3] | [Ko-Fi]

a/n: Another commission for a lovely anon ♥

Characters: Dr. Ratio (HSR) x Male!Reader Warnings: Yandere, Sexual Content (Non-Con/Dub-Con, Rimming, Anal, Hand job), Domination, Obsessiveness, Insults, Long Post Words: 6684

"I told you to be punctual."

Sighing inwardly, you put on an apologetic smile as you hurried into the exhibition space housing all the statues the museum had collected over the years. The hefty footsteps of the moving sculpture and the squeaky ones from your shoes were the only sounds echoing through the halls this late, and you scurried over to the bench closest to Ratio before letting the pile of books fall down on top of it, relieved once the weight was gone. 

"I know and I was, but it's getting harder to fool that old guard that I am really so forgetful I need to be let in every night after closing." 

"Excuses."

Dr. Veritas Ratio made no secret of his approach, not wasting any time before snatching the first book of the arm-full you brought and flipping it open. Better than anyone, he knew how precious time was when he had to return to being a silent and still piece of art again, the moment the museum opened its doors to the public. You could have been mad about his constant chiding, but in a strange way, you've gotten used to it, pitying him too much to do the self-respecting thing and leave him to fend for himself. 

Because it was partly your fault, he was in such a bad position in the first place.

His statue had been your big find. Your breakthrough. The thing that paid all your bills now. When you found him in that abandoned crypt, left alone and ready to be discovered after being buried there, you thought he was exactly what he looked like: A statue. A very beautiful statue, but a piece of art regardless. Never in a million years would you have thought that the statue you brought to your home museum, working on it for multiple nights to clean and restore it, would at some point come to life, step off its pedestal, and demand unrestricted access to books on all kinds of medical conditions, spirituality, and biology to find out how he had been turned to stone… hundreds of years ago.

"Thirsty?" you asked, twisting the cap off your water bottle before holding it towards him. Ratio turned his head, scowling down at you with his picture-perfect features, and you lowered your hand, taking a quick sip of your drink before hiding it behind the bench, reminding yourself that your kindness wasn't appreciated. In the beginning, you still told yourself he was just under a lot of pressure and the stress of solving his predicament, but in time, you came to realize it was just his personality. The man was so focused on himself that he hardly tried to understand others—well, you since you were the only one interacting with him. 

It was a conclusion you both reached. If it came out he was an immortal man, petrified by something or someone (Veritas swore he couldn't recall his last moments being flesh and blood), people would probably go nuts over the discovery. Not only would it raise questions about his rights and how to treat him, but he'd be the center of a freak show that he loathed even thinking about. Besides, maybe whatever made him this way would come to retaliate now that he had surfaced again, so he swore you to secrecy, and you, who put him into this museum in the first place, agreed. There were times you wished someone could assist the two of you in finding "the cure", but you respected Dr. Ratio's wishes not to involve more people than necessary. 

For someone grimacing just because you offered him water, he was unusually convinced you two were enough to figure out all the mysteries around him. 

Giving yourself a quick encouragement, you grabbed the second book from the pile, taking a seat before starting to browse. You two had gone through most of the common books found in the nearby library already, so you had begun scouting for more literature of interest around the bookshops and online. Still, neither of you were any closer to curing Veritas from his condition, and although he spent years able to ponder about it, the impatience was palpable as his heavy body walked up and down the exhibition. 

You didn't mind his pacing, the even rhythm of his steps even a bit relaxing as you read through yet another biology book, trying to find hints of petrification between descriptions of mushrooms, but it also made you worry. Even though he was stoic and self-centered on his better days, Ratio usually liked to talk about his findings, even when he wasn't solving his own mystery. He called himself a scholar before, so the new and groundbreaking knowledge of the last century really captured his attention like nothing else. He'd sit by your side, the coldness of his skin slowly warming as your knees touched, Ratio not even flinching when he felt your breath on his cheeks from how close he was leaning towards you to show you the paragraph in the book he was reading. It made you feel like you two were more than just caught in this weird situation. Like you were actually becoming friends. But as of late, he turned back to being colder and distant.

He didn't want to admit it, but he was getting desperate.

You couldn't blame him, really. The way he described the misery of being encased in stone made your heart ache for him, even if Ratio wasn't the easiest to get along with. "It's like time stands still, nothing moves forward, and yet, you are entirely and completely aware it does—just not with you," he once said. It wasn't painful to have his body turned rigid and heavy, but the feeling of constant cold and lifeless organs moving within made him feel like something was constantly wrong. As if he was in a state of mind and body he couldn't escape from but wanted nothing more. 

Considering this, centuries of being buried in the darkness must have felt like hell. And if that wasn't enough, you were the first face he saw in a long time, and he couldn't be sure if you were there to harm him. Instead, he was shipped off, and no one anticipated a living person as he was stuffed in a box and brought to an unfamiliar place at an unfamiliar time. The thought alone made your anxiety spike, and Ratio did it all without moving an inch and giving away what he was. 

So, of course, the prospect of solving his condition would leave him restless and eager to find out about it, even if it made you a little sad. You quite enjoyed the talks you two had, night after night, at the museum. The few but precious laughs you shared and what little similarities you had. You wished there had been more time to learn firsthand what it was like centuries ago and, in return, teach him about modern technology and how to browse the internet to satisfy all of Veritas's curiosities. Who knew, you two might have actually become real friends? His criticism could be harsh, but he was just as interested in going back and forth with ideas and finding solutions to even the most challenging questions as you were. If not friends, you two would have made great work partners.

Your eyes tore away from the page to look at him across the room, standing still like the statue he was, in a thoughtful position. Although it was bad to objectify him, he was beautiful, his skin glistening in the moonlight, almost like marble, cold and mysterious as it stretched over fine details like the lines of his muscles and his firm expression. A sight to behold, even though his chest didn't lift like a real person's, and he could stand completely frozen in one position for hours if he wanted. It was somewhere between uncanny valley and marvelous. 

Catching yourself staring at him for far too long, you shook your head, finally realizing that he seemed way too interested in the same page of the book he was holding. Knowing him just a little by now, you were well aware that the Dr. Veritas Ratio would not ponder just a single page in a book if it wasn't of any interest. Curiosity got the better of you, and you set your own book aside, standing up to walk over to Ratio and look over the edge of his book, standing on your tiptoes to see the contents.

Unexpectedly, Ratio jerked away, his whole body moving like a pillar being rocked by an earthquake, and yet, you jumped, too, expecting some kind of danger. Looking around, the exhibition was still the same, quiet place. Still, when you turned back to Veritas, his eyes were wide open, staring at you as if he had just caught you committing murder or something just as atrocious. 

"Are you alright? I just wanted to check if you found something."

"I'm quite fine!" Ratio replied, emphasizing his words a little too much to sound believable. Narrowing your eyes, you took another step forward, and he let the book snap close loudly before clearing his throat. "It's fine. Just an interesting segment."

"Really?" you followed up, your eyes landing on the title of the book. "Ancient Spells and Curses," you read it out loud, raising an eyebrow and looking up at him. Ratio refused to look at you, his chin raised high like a prideful peacock. "Did you find a cure?"

"What? In this? Don't be ridiculous."

While he was speaking, you reached out towards the book, using his moment of vehement denial to snatch it from his grasp. If there was one positive for you about his petrification, he couldn't react or act as quickly as your soft, blood and skin body could, and you were almost across the room already as he put his feet into motion. With a grin on your face, you couldn't wait to see what the doctor had been looking at so intently, be it a cure or just another interest of his, and you skimmed through the book, looking for keywords that would reveal the pages he had read. 

Naturally, when you saw the word "stone", you paused, flipping back two pages to find the following:

Cure against Petrification

The turned individual can resolve the misery of being petrified by being with their one true love. A body resting warm against their skin of stone, mouth soft to free their hardened lips, sounds loud to rush the still blood in their veins, and accepting the person no longer living as such—a human. Then, the spell may be lifted, and the body can return to flesh and bone.

Occasionally, the petrified will need multiple encounters with their one true love to sift out any remains of the spell.

You weren't sure if you should be laughing or rejoicing as you read the words. They sounded as fake and corny as only spiritualism could, and yet, it was the first thing you two ever found that would resolve the problem you were facing. Turning around, you stared at the hulking figure marching over to you with a sense of dread on his face, Ratio's expression turning from irritated to skeptical to surprised at seeing your wide grin and excitement. 

But then you felt your own mood shift as you suddenly realized why he stared at the solution for so long. If there was anyone that loved Veritas or he loved them, they were long gone, centuries-long. Now that you two had found them, there wasn't anyone who could fulfill the requirements. It was heartbreaking to realize that the only thing that helped could never be tried and tested. Even if you two went public with Ratio's condition, there was no guarantee he'd find the one. His one and only love. And if you two didn't, then… 

"I'm sure we can find something else," you mumbled, closing the book slowly. "I mean, this probably won't work anyway, right? It's just humbug."

You felt awful discouraging him after finally finding a solution, but you also didn't want him to feel your own disappointment. The nights spent with him had also taken their toll on you and your life. You didn't want Ratio to think you were going to drop him and leave him to deal with his predicament just because you were slowly giving up hope. He couldn't need that in his situation. He needed you by his side, helping and supporting him, even if Ratio made it hard to get along. With his personality, finding another pushover to rope into his plans would probably be even harder. Besides, he was your responsibility now. 

"It'll be impossible to get anyone else here and we can't really drag someone into this either, right?"

You did your best to make it sound like you were joking to cheer Ratio up, turning towards him and shrugging your shoulders dramatically. It was your best try to cover up this awkwardness surrounding you two after finding the spell removal, especially considering that Veritas would not try to keep you both focused on the mission, so it was up to you to stay positive.

"Where would we even find anyone else?" you laughed as if it was the funniest idea you had in a long time when your body suddenly fell forward, the book being ripped from your hand while you face-planted directly into a stone-hard chest. 

"Why would we need anyone else?"

The question sounded too certain for it to be a joke, yet you chuckled awkwardly, pushing your hands into his chest to create some distance again. Surely, he must be jesting, however weirdly phrased it was. So when you looked up, meeting his gaze head-on, his eyes clear and unwavering, with determination shining in them that made them look like jewels pushed into a bust, you gulped, wondering what else he could have meant. 

"Exactly…?" you agreed hesitantly, wondering if you had upset him. It was frustrating how hard he was to read, but you couldn't dwell on it. You yelped when he suddenly took a step towards you, your bodies colliding further into each other as you stumbled backward. But one of his defined arms caught you before you could topple over. Step by step, Ratio led you back, and you looked left and right at a way out.

"Exactly," he repeated your words, his voice suddenly low, rumbling like a purr in his chest. It was a reminder that he was still human and could make your head flush with heat, goosebumps rising up your arms. He sounded almost sultry, but you would never admit that. Ratio wasn't the type to make your heart jump, he was barely even a friend!

"I'm glad you understand. Now, I don't need to explain myself."

Your hands pushing against his chest were snatched from their place on top of his pecs. You let out an involuntary gasp as he raised them so high over your head that you had to raise your heels off the ground to avoid the sting in your muscles. "Wait, what? What do you mean?! I don't understand it at all! What's gotten into you suddenly?!"

Ratio clicked his tongue, clearly annoyed that he would have to explain himself after all. You looked up at him in confusion until your back hit the wall, and your body was sandwiched between two unmoving objects, your arms pinned above you. "Let's not waste time talking, when we could be conducting our research in the meantime already."

"Research? What are we–"

Ratio pinched your chin between his fingers, his stiff lips falling to yours with the full force of determination. The rock bounced against your soft flesh, and yet, you couldn't taste any stone at all, not even as his tongue pushed inside your mouth. It was a strange, hardened, foreign object that slipped against yours, brushing the tips together and coating it in your spit. Yet, the longer the kiss lasted, the warmer it grew, its flexibility returning as it explored more of your mouth than anyone had ever done before.

By the time he finally released you from the kiss, Ratio was dipping his softened lips lower, down your jawline, and hovering above your throat, your pulse hitting them over and over. His tongue lapped at you, tasting your nervously shivering skin all the way down to your collarbones. 

"W-What are you doing?!" you asked, flabbergasted and incredulous. Your relationship was undoubtedly special, but that didn't permit him to attack you suddenly! "That's not–Ah!”

Without warning, Ratio dug his teeth into the flesh between your shoulder and your neck, not enough to hurt, but enough to cause your muscles to jerk, your hips jumping forward and against him. You two had never been so close, never felt as much from each other as you did at that moment, and you felt all the blood leave your body as you met something prodding from his hips, brushing against your own crotch in an unmistakable feeling. 

He had an erection. 

Veritas let out something akin to a moan, but he caught himself and quickly cleared his throat, finally stopping the assault on your tender shoulder. "I had my doubts," he admitted, drawing away from you to look you in the eyes. His gaze was calculated and focused. It was the same with which he chided you for not understanding, minus the sneer usually plastered on his face. A face still stuck in a spell but with lips that had regained color after just a few seconds of being entangled with yours. 

"But it seems to work, let's continue testing."

Pushing his leg forward, you hissed sharply as he ground it against your crotch, parting your legs and sitting you down on his thigh, the tips of your feet struggling to reach the ground. "I-Impossible!" you panted, trying hard not to moan as Ratio lifted his thigh even higher, gravity pulling your weight down like you were sitting on a wooden horse. "We're not… we're not like that! It said you need your one true love, and we've been tolerating and working together at best all this time! No way you like me like that!!"

Ratio didn't humor you with an answer, merely leaning forward, more of his cold rubbing against the warmth seeping through your clothes. He was all hard muscles and breathtaking pressure as he pinned you between himself and the wall. A slight shudder went through his body as his cock perked up from beneath the sculptured waistcloth around his waist, brushing up against your thigh. His one free hand slipped along your arm to relieve his other hand from pinning duty. Instead, both of them crept across your palms until he could slip his fingers between yours. But when Ratio interlaced his fingers with yours, you were surprised to find them already fleshy and warm, and you glanced up to watch the stone subside, turning his skin back into flesh. 

"Your stupidity knows no bounds, but luckily, I am here to teach you," he mumbled, face back against your throat as Ratio let out a long sigh. "I waited so long for this. To feel that warmth, taste your skin. I'd done it at some point anyway, but if it returns my humanity, I won't waste time waiting for you to understand my desire."

Finally, Ratio rose to face you again, a slight flush in his expression, his cheeks not yet rosy. "I've never met someone even close to understanding me—until you pulled me out of that crypt. Yet, you think my feelings for you are so abysmal? If I'd care, it would hurt hearing you say that."

"S-Sorry," you whispered, his face so close that every sound louder than your breathing felt as if you were attacking him. Why were you apologizing? His brilliant eyes had their shimmer returned, the amber showing your reflection in them, making you shine in the golden light. You appeared even warmer than you felt with his cold body pressed against you, but it highlighted every one of your features, the beautiful glow of your tanned skin, the puzzled yet adorable look on your face, and the way your body contorted in front of Veritas in an almost sexy way, making you wonder if this was how Ratio saw you, too. 

But just as quickly, the illusion shattered as you came back down to earth with Ratio pressing his leg even higher, grinding you against it. He was beautiful, apparently interested in you, and frankly, a catch if he didn't open his mouth, but that didn't mean you wanted him that way. He was reaching for straws with his research into the occult, and you had been an enabler and pushover so far, but not to this degree! You had to do something, or it wouldn't end how you thought it was right!

"Wait!" you cried out, but you were immediately shut up by Ratio's lips. This time, the kiss was passionate, yet soft, lips engulfing yours as he robbed the breath right out of your lungs, breathing it in as if he had drowned and was desperate for air. You slammed your torso forward, grinding your cock over his defined muscles on his thigh, but it only pushed more air out of your body as you were met with the same cold stone that used to cover Ratio whole. 

When he finally released you, you were too busy gasping for air to continue your reasoning, and then suddenly, your soles hit the ground again as you were twisted around, your hot cheeks meeting the cold wall with a small thud. Your arms were released, immediately slacking to the side, and you listened to the sliding sound of fabric as Ratio pulled down your pants before you could react. 

Gasping, you pushed yourself away from the wall, trying to cover your ass and crotch as Ratio dropped down behind you. He was down on one knee, and still had his head way above your waist, making you wonder just how good his genetics had been for this kind of growth in his century. But that wasn't the point at that moment!

"Stop it, Doctor! We're not that close, we can't just have sex! In the museum nonetheless!"

"Disagree. You and I are both men of science. If not us, who else can prove this method works? Look."

Parting his lips, his tongue dipped out, the pink flesh twisting and moving in perfectly human motions, no amount of stone left in it. You watched it, entranced by its flexibility, when Ratio suddenly parted your buttcheeks and lowered his head while keeping eye contact with you. 

"Besides, I still seem to have failed in conveying my desire for you. I shall rectify it now."

You felt the slippery, wet drag of his tongue on your ass before you could attempt to move away. With a shudder and a jerk from your cock, your bud accepted the prodding muscle, allowing it to stimulate and pleasure you. With a face burning with embarrassment and arousal, you looked down to see your twitching cock bopping up and down as Ratio was undeterred, rimming you with more awkwardness than expected, yet his determination prevailed. 

Half stone, half flesh hand reached between your legs, a palm dragging over your balls before his fingers split and reached around your cock, moving slowly back and forth. It was a harsh feeling, followed by softness, constantly interchanging, and your precum soon wet the palm stroking you, making it even stranger. That didn't stop you from gasping as Ratio's tongue finally breached the rim of your hole, caving out the entrance until it could fit inside. You let out an involuntary moan as you felt it wiggle inside of you, making space for itself and what was yet to come, while Veritas's hand moved faster, the back and forth soon falling into a rhythm with his tongue, making it very hard to think clearly as your legs began to shudder from the pleasure. 

But just as you were edging closer to your orgasm, suddenly, his tongue slipped out, dragging over your bud one more time before his face retreated from your ass, and Ratio's hand came to a standstill. Your heart was beating so fast, it was tricky holding back and not fucking your cock into his palm for the sweet, sweet release. You bit your lips in an effort to keep them close and not reveal a pitiful mewl or moan. 

You felt Ratio shift behind you, effortlessly standing up again, your cock still in his hand as he slowly tugged you forward with it, your hips shamelessly following where his hand went. Soon, your chest was pressed against the wall again, your body hot even when his stone hips molded against your ass cheeks. You felt the outline of his cock rub between your flesh, realizing it was far too big to take inside despite Ratio's preparation. 

Looking back over your shoulder, you gave him a pleading look. "W-We can still stop this," you begged, but his grip on your cock only grew more rigid in return. 

"We've come so far, and you just want to stop? I thought I taught you better than this."

Drawing his hips back, Ratio positioned the tip of his cock in front of your ass, releasing your dick so he could grip your hips instead. You mewled, trying to move forward and away, but his hold was firm, keeping you in place. Ratio's hands were big enough to part your ass cheeks for easy access whilst settled on your hips, and you watched in horror and awe as he was able to produce enough spit in his mouth to drip on his cock for lubrication. The fabric around his hips had magically moved aside to bare his still gray cock, but it was as lively as a real one, the tip glistening as the spit ran off and down the shaft. 

"We've come too far to stop now."

And with that, his hips jerked forward, tip pressing inside you forcefully. You cried out in surprise and the first hints of pain as your bud parted to accommodate the cock prying it open. Another jerk, and this time, you felt him enter you for a few inches, the cold burning against your abused hole and being wet from your juices. "Shh," Ratio muttered, leaning over you and pressing you further against the wall. You hadn't even noticed the whines that had escaped you, too focused on the feeling of his cock forcing his way inside you. 

"I know you can take me. Just relax."

One hand released your hips, his cock lodged between your cheeks now, stuck to your entrance, and Veritas reached around to the front, massaging his palm over your previously abandoned cock again. Slow, deliberate movements that made your hips move in sync with him while he pressed up from behind, your body both fleeing and welcoming him outside of your control. You took a sharp breath in…

And Ratio pushed it out of your lungs at the exact moment, snapping his hips forward and lodging his length completely inside. 

You didn't know what hurt more, your body or the violating feeling you couldn't shake. Ratio could speak about research and desires as much as he wanted, but all this time, it hadn't felt real until you felt your insides clench around his cock, the cold sensation the only thing that didn't make you scream from pain—yet. Your own dick twitched in his hold, spewing ropes of cum over his fingers and onto the wall, and you barely noticed them, lost in a pitiful orgasm that made your muscles tighten and your legs shudder, your body unable to move even an inch. 

But you didn't need to. 

Slipping his feet beneath your soles, Ratio made up for the height difference by letting you stand on top of his toes, even though your heels still didn't manage to come down. It was all so he could keep you in place as he slowly dragged his cock out and plunged it right back in as if to preserve the space he had created. Your body tingled as he stroked your dick half-heartedly, resting his forehead against your shoulder before letting out a deeply held breath. He slowly, painfully retracted his body, dragging his cock out of you up to the tip before ramming his hips upwards and all the way back into you. And from then on, nothing was holding him back. 

In a mix of screams, gasps, and moans, you two felt the desire burn through his stoney body, his cock pulsating inside you as it changed back with every plow Ratio conducted. Mercilessly, he forced your ass to take all of his length over and over while gripping your cock in his palm, fucking your hips into his grip. You could barely find any hold, falling and rising at the same time as gravity played the third wheel in the debauchery, and the once silent museum was filled with your sounds—both the pained and the aroused.

You couldn't be sure if he was still aware of the scientific research he claimed this was or if Ratio had been taken over by desire and pleasure, much like you. He didn't speak, only grunting his emotions into your ear. But with his free arm, he kept you tightly secured, wrapping it around your body while sandwiching you between the wall and him, never letting you fall or even escape as he fucked you senseless. The foreign object moving in and out of your ass pressed up against the wall, too, as it bulged your stomach to accommodate its size, your skin scrapping the cement and leaving it bruised, but it didn't seem to deter Veritas.

Soon enough, you both were gasping, breathless messes, feeling blazingly hot against each other. It was nothing compared to the cold firmness of his cursed body from before. All that was left was soft, fleshy, and comfortingly warm, his touches unrestricted, his cock wet and moving sloppily as Ratio was nearing his orgasm as well. And yours? You had spilled your jizz twice more while he had yet to finish once, sullying the wall with the pitiful painting of your violation. 

"That's it," Ratio breathed into your ear. "We did it! We did–"

Interrupted by his own breathless groan, you felt his cum spill inside you, swapping around like molten lava, hot and sticky, a testament to his transformation. You cried out as he filled you up with years of restraint, almost feeling as if he was shooting another load right after the first one. You, too, let out one last pitiful, watery string of cum; his hand, now completely human and sticky, was dripping with your seed as if it was lotion for his newly acquired skin. 

Your breath was ragged as you forced some focus on your hands, pressing them to the wall as your body shivered and moved. Ratio was still pumping you full of cum, but even he seemed to grow tired, staggering on his spot. And the mean, mean gravity did what it did best: pull you down the second Ratio took just one step back. 

His cock slid out of your buttered hole, releasing all the cum to seep and bubble out of you as you sank to the ground. You didn't even register the pain of your knees hitting the floor as your mind focused solely on the feeling of cum spewing from your abused ass. But reality hit you hard as you leaned your face against the wall, only to be met by your own sticky semen now drawing ropes between you and the cement. 

"Amazing," you heard the doctor mutter behind you, and although your ass and hips felt like they were mangled, you twisted around to look over your shoulder at him. Before you stood a man with the same statuesque looks as the statue you had spent so many nights sitting over books with. Yet, you couldn't see him with the same eyes again. At best, he was mad, completely out of his mind. And at worst, you had truly never registered what kind of monster he was all along, although the signs were clear and right in front of you. 

Neither perception looked as good as he did now.

With hair as blue as the night sky through the ceiling window above you, eyes that of liquid gold, and the build of an Adonis, Dr. Veritas Ratio was still a breathtaking sight. And you hated how it made your body flush with arousal when his gaze lowered back to you, gracing you with that unreadable, haughty expression on his face you knew too well, his cock still standing majestically, even after fucking you. To think you wanted to be friends with someone who had no regard for your feelings and rights if it proved useful to him. There would be no such thing now. You two would never be able to recover and form a relationship after what he did to you. 

Absentmindedly, you watched as Ratio picked up the book that had caused all of this. At some point, he had discarded it to force himself on you, but he seemed to immediately find the page again, reading it over when something else caught his attention. A short, unamused laugh echoed through the room, and he lifted one hand, twisting and turning it in front of his face. Squinting your eyes to see better through your teary vision, you could see the rigidness taking hold of his fingertips, stone spreading like ice crystals over his skin. His lips parted as if to comment on the circumstance, but he quickly closed them again, knowing it made no difference whether he spoke about it or not. It was happening again, and he could only watch. You saw his euphoria disappear into the depth of disappointment. However, you couldn't feel bad for him this time like before. 

Ratio's expression turned stern, his thoughts unmistakingly twisting around what went wrong and how to fix it. His gaze fell back to the page, then to his hand, the book, and finally, to you. Tapping his petrified pointer finger onto the paper, he took a deep breath before reading aloud, "Occasionally, the petrified will need multiple encounters with their one true love to sift out any remains of the spell, it says. Let us do it again to be sure."

Do… it? Again? Did he mean sex? Forcing himself on you as if you were nothing more than a means to an end? Perhaps you were—at least to Ratio. It had never been about camaraderie or pursuing the same goals, but now you had to suffer for his selfishness. Were you nothing more than an accepted sacrifice to solve his problem?

Your thoughts were interrupted by a tender kiss, much different than the ones before. His lips were almost playful as they coaxed you to return the affection that you refused to do. "Tell me what's bothering you," he mumbled against your lips. "I can see your brows crinkling from all the thinking when, really, you should only look at me."

His words only made you more upset, as if to say you weren't smart enough to think. Your contribution was no longer appreciated unless it was your body he needed to reverse the spell. You should have said something, making him understand how awful he was. But your anger settled above everything; your need to be validated after being used and abused greater than anything.

"I brought you here. You should be thankful I took you out of that crypt and helped you come this far. How dare you think you can treat me like this."

Ratio grew silent as he listened to your words, his eyes falling down to your lips ever so often before returning your angry gaze with one of belittling mockery. "I must admit, you're cute when you're angry. Is this what you are thinking? That I am using you, ready to discard you once I'm done? You are wrong, which isn't new, but you should know I am not planning on letting you go, especially not now."

Pushing your legs apart, Veritas positioned himself between them, his hands falling to your body, roaming until you attempted to stop them with your own. However, he merely interlaced your fingers again. This time, they had already returned to their stone-cold version. Yet, he forced them to comply, however uncomfortable it must have been. Back in this compromising position, you had no choice but to let him pin your hands to the ground, hovering above you with eyes so brilliant, they were beginning to fill you with dread. 

They showed yourself in them, vulnerable and resigned, knowing you couldn't fight him. That despite what he was doing, you couldn't just leave him and this place behind. That his discovery would always come to haunt you, one way or another. But far behind that reflection of yourself lay something much more sinister. It hadn't been there when he was still petrified from hair to toe, but you saw it now. Ambition and desire, feelings that only you could awake in him after all this time and in this new day and age.

"You could have left so many nights ago, but we both know you need me," he whispered, lowering his face again and bumping his forehead to you. "All these times I gave you a chance to never return, but you did. Perhaps, I know why. I am your magnum opus—and you are mine. I will make sure those idiots mocking your finds and achievements witness the greatness of the one and only person I desire to be with. Once I have my body back, you'll bask in the glory of excellence with me by your side. Together we will be unstoppable, darling."

His hand slipped off yours, and you remained still as you let his words repeat in your mind, like a proposal of sorts. But when his touch found its way to your ass, you jolted awake, trying to scurry away as he probed at your violated bud with his cold, stiff fingers. 

"But first, you need to do this for me. For us. A small price to pay for recognition, don't you think?"

Panic set in, tears shooting into your eyes as you shook your head vehemently. You wanted to say something, but the sounds coming from your hoarse throat didn't form words. 

"Don't pretend to be shy now," Ratio scolded you gently, and for the first time since meeting him, you saw a genuine smile play on his lips. Lips that parted to lick his fingers as he raised them before they twisted into a wolfish grin. "We still have a lot to study and find out. What's your favorite position? What makes you cum the fastest? Things like that. And we need to be thorough." 

He looked almost boyish as his smile softened again, eyes scanning your body with a never-before-seen interest before he found your gaze with his. You flinched as you felt his wet fingers back at your entrance, and you couldn't help but struggle, mewling and trying to get away from what seemed inevitable. Ratio shook his head and sighed. "Still resisting? Thankfully, we have all night to answer the questions."

Ratio looked up. Gone was all the softness, only ambition and lust remaining in its stead. Desire that needed to be quelled and strive that demanded absolut dedication from him. And then there were you, caught in the bullseye, the only thing he was focusing on at this and surely many other moments.

"I am sure you'll be a valuable asset to my research. Now relax, darling."

[brighteyedbushybrowed]

When considering Perpetua as trans, I think it's interesting to consider Copia also being trans (bc it's not unheard of for twins to be trans or generally queer).

And I think that then adds extra layers to who they are, especially when thinking about how much freedom they'd have had to explore their identities within their upbringing.

Copia being raised by his adoptive parents, who shape him into becoming Papa from an early age once he comes out as trans as a kid. They support him and are happy for him to discover who he is, but it also comes with the cost of molding and shaping him into the man they need him to be if he is to become Papa. And of course he knows who he is away from Papa, but there is still that underlying thing of "this is what will be expected of you as Papa, this is how you meed to be" and he wonders how much of him is truly him and how much of it is what he needed to become in order to he Papa.

And then you have Perpetua. Either raised by Sister or in a convent (I personally like to headcanon that Sister kept him as her own child so that it would draw suspicion away from her being Copia's mother too). And he has a lot more freedom to discover and learn who he is without the expectation that he will one day be Papa. I also think that perhaps he didn't figure out he was trans until he was older, maybe late teens or early 20s. Perhaps something always felt different or out of place within him, but because he has a different upbringing to Copia and different parents raising him he doesn't find the words to describe who he is until he's older and does his own research.

This possibility also adds layers to Copia's hatred for Perpetua. While his identity as a man is shaped by his destiny to one day become Papa and he struggles to identify what is him at his core and what is Papa, Perpetua doesn't have that struggle bc he's been allowed to grow and shape himself as his own man without the expectation of becoming Papa. He doesn't have that question inside him of "am I doing this bc it's me or am I doing this bc it's expected of me?" and for Copia that's something he's jealous of and resents Perpetua for.

Copia was so bitter and hardened when we first met him, remember? We joke that he's always been a hater, but it's more fascinating imo to consider that he's always been resentful of the Papas who haven't had their gender identities influenced or shaped by what they are supposed to become as adults. And that resentment has bubbled and festered into hate and spite. Meanwhile, Perpetua is softer, lighter. He doesn't have to question who he is as a man because Papa wasn't an option for him until he was older and already knew more of who he was before the shaping and the molding began. And now Copia has time to figure out and unpack who he actually is away from Papacy and the upbringing he had where all that mattered was becoming Papa.

[zbelle7]

That does look like an issue date but I think it must be 2020 because Irving says during the Attila dinner that the first severed office opened 12 years ago (which is probably accurate given he’s clearly investigating them) and the front page article of the newspaper in his trunk is about an employee suing Lumon who was severed in 2008.

Also since this whole thread is about Severance timelines, I wanted to add stuff I’ve been trying to figure out regarding it because I know some people have been theorising that Helena’s mother was an innie and that’s why she isn’t mentioned/isn’t involved with her, but I don’t think she was. If Mark was born in 1978 and the age gap between him and Harmony is similar to Adam and Patricia’s (5 years), then that means Harmony was born in roughly 1973. If we assume Miss Huang is about 14-16 when she does her work experience before her Wintertide Fellowship, then we can assume Harmony was also about 14-16 which would be around 1987-89. She went from her fellowship directly into a Lumon job which I imagine would be 17 at the youngest in 1990. So her invention of the Severance chip was probably sometime in the early 90s after Helena was born in 1989/1990.

I imagine once they discovered Harmony’s designs, they immediately began working on the chip. I get the impression Helena was pretty young when she was shown the original prototype - she thought she was going to have hundreds of brothers and sisters because severed Lumon employees were considered ‘family’, Jame loved her enthusiasm so this was probably back when he thought she was like Kier - so I’m guessing it was the mid-late 90s? Jame didn’t become CEO until 2003 so I think he was probably the Eagan family member that was assigned to oversee the development of Severance and he obviously eventually took credit for it when it went public. And as I said before, Irving mentions the first severed office opened in 2008 and in Irving’s trunk the newspaper article about the severed employee suing Lumon says he was severed in June 2008 so that lines up. Burt worked for Lumon for at least 20 years and his job was to ‘take care’ of the people who knew too much or threatened to expose the company. So that also fits in with the idea that Lumon were probably secretly experimenting on their workers between the late 90s and 2008. I think it’s during this period that the innies were being sent to the severed cabin at the birthing retreat to have Jame’s kids and that also lines up with Jame becoming less interested in Helena and wanting to replace her with another heir.

I’m sure it’s just another case of dead mother, shit father but I think it would be cool if Helena’s mother actually is alive and was shunned from the family and threatened to keep her distance because she didn’t agree with severance. And since I get the impression Irving isn’t actually working with any of the known groups trying to take the company down (Reghabi would’ve went to him otherwise, Lumon had no clue he was investigating them, John Turturro has implied Irving’s reasons for investigating them are more personal) my out there theory is that maybe Irving and Helena’s mother know each other and she’s working with him to take them down.

Anyways tl;dr I think it goes:

1973 - Harmony is born

1978 - Mark is born

1987/1988 - Harmony’s wintertide fellowship

1989/1990 - Helena is born

early 90s - Harmony works at Lumon and invents Severance

mid 90s - Harmony works on the severance chip prototype overseen by Jame

late 90s -Burt is hired, employee experiments begin, severed birthing cabin created

2003 - Jame becomes CEO

June 2008 - first severed office open, first severed employees

2017/18 - Gemma’s crash, Mark is hired

early 2020 - the events of season 1 and 2

rebloggable severance timeline for those that appreciate a visual! folks can click to zoom, but i did a lot of cross referencing with the severance wiki timeline pages (also shoutout to the severance community for finding previous mistakes!)

days highlighted in pink are days that helly is awake (adding up to 23, 24 if we count the second day of the ORTBO despite the fact that we can assume she was only awake for a short while)

days highlighted in orange are days that helena is posing as helly

there's a decent possibility that there is a bigger gap between 2x3 and 2x4 - milchick has his "monthly performance review" in 2x5 only a week and a half after he takes over

on the 11th ricken tells omark that he dropped off his book "five full days" ago despite the estimate that he dropped it off on wednesday the 5th (inconsistency)

dates are numbered around june's concert that canonically happens on the 17th (month unknown)

[natsredbra]

Tough graded

summary: Lottie thinks you’re mean - repeated tutoring sessions and a party proved her wrong!

pairing: Lottie Matthews x fem!reader

a/n: i hate this lowk but that happens with all my other stuff anyway soo

warnings: angst at the end, none other (mostly fluff and lesbian yearning)

word count: 3.5k

taglist: @towabirdno1fan, @minariiis, @feralnataroni, @lesbabe6, @radioactivesweet, @flurpe ,@ashliami, @johnnytoothpick @ikeepgettinglostwithchairs, @wompingburg

Lottie Matthews was a sweetheart. Everyone knew it. She was a popular girl, at least in a sense that everyone knew her. To be honest, she didn’t have many close friends, most of them being people she simply hangs out with.

Then there was you. You were just another student in Wiskayok High, with an average life, average home and average friend group. You were also familiar with Lottie, having being the first person she talked to once she moved from New York.

It was freshman year, and you’d never seen her before, her tall, seemingly confident appearance intimidated you a little. Somehow, you rubbed her up the wrong way that day and since then, she kept her distance. You didn’t notice it or pay much mind to her, but you always felt like she avoided you.

———————

“Settle down, class. We’re about to start.” Your chemistry teacher called out, preparing for the lecture as she attempted to calm a classroom of noisy teenagers down.

You sat in your admittedly uncomfortable chair, doodling in your notebook. At this point, it was as if the clock was going backwards. Ms Greene was in her own world, explaining something that might as well have been in chinese. Did I mention you don’t know dick about chemistry? And who could blame you, it’s not like any of this is actually important in the real world.

Fiddling with the sleeve of your shirt, your mind wandered. You remembered you had leftover sandwich from your lunch, and were eager to eat it on your break. You also tried to come up with a plan on how to convince your parents to let you go to Jackie Taylor’s party on Saturday. But just as you were planning the dialogue, your teacher spoke something you deemed more significant.

“So I graded your tests, you mostly did okay. Shauna - kudos, the only 100.” The professor spoke, and you knew exactly what was to come.

“Y/N, come see me after class.” She said, looking at you through her glasses. There it was.

You dreaded the moment but once the bell rang, instead of exiting the classroom and getting your paper on your way out, you stayed back, waiting. It was like a walk of shame at this point.

“You wanted to see me?” You inquired dreadfully.

“Yes, I did. I take it you know why?” The woman said, sounding disappointed. Why would she be fucking disappointed, she’s not your mother!

“Guess so.”

“You got exactly 38%. Now, I’m wondering why that is? You told me you tried harder, you said you understood the curriculum.” She exclaimed, handing you your exam. Lots of the color red.

“I know! But it’s like whatever I study never shows up!” You defended, clutching your backpack.

“Well I’d hate to see you fail. So that’s why I thought of something else. Tutoring. I think it’d be very beneficial for you, a peer could provide an easier explanation.” Ms Greene said as if she discovered warm water, making you internally roll your eyes. “And I have just the perfect girl for it.” She continued.

Before you could protest, or say anything really, you could hear the door open again.

“You asked to see me?” Lottie Matthews, in all her glory said once she walked in. “I’m sorry I missed class today there was this-“ She started before the teacher cut her off.

“No, no. I know the situation, it’s perfectly fine. I wanted to talk to you about tutoring your friend from class here. She needs all the help she can get, and frankly I think you’d be perfect for it.” She explained and you were baffled with the implied insult.

Lottie on the other hand looked like her cat just got shot.

“Um- I just don’t know if I’d be right for that.” She said with an insecure tone, which was dismissed.

“No, as I said- after Shauna you’re the best in class, and god knows that girl has a lot on her plate. Thank you for your help, miss Matthews.” Greene said, leaving no room for argument on Lottie’s side.

You felt awkward. The tension was eating you alive and you weren’t even sure why there was any as you two stood, looking everywhere but each other.

“You’re both dismissed.”

“Right.”

———————

The library felt suffocating with how quiet it was. People your age all around you, focusing on their studies just as you did, though they made it seem so effortless.

Lottie sat across from you, reading a book for her english class that you didn’t catch the name of as you answered some homework questions.

“I don’t get this.” You said in an annoyed tone, making her raise her head in uncertainty.

“Well that’s why I’m here. What can I help with?” She asked with a sweet smile. Overdo, much?

“This. None of these structures make sense and they all look the same!” You complained, louder than one could in there which earned you a dirty look from the librarian.

“What do you mean though? It’s pretty logical, this one is connected with this carbon cause-“ Lottie started, getting a bit closer to you to see the paper properly. That was, until she noticed you seemed entirely uninterested in what she had to say.

“Are you listening? I’m trying to help you.” She asked in that tender tone that always laced her voice. Lottie was very hard to truly piss off.

You felt kind of bad when you noticed how genuine she seemed, it almost melted all your rough walls down. Once you looked up at her you were met with big, rich brown eyes that glowed in the golden colored afternoon sun. Her lips rested in a slight, disappointed pout as she fiddled with the pencil between her fingers.

“Sorry. Yeah, show me.” You apologized with a sigh, leaning forward to better see what she was speaking of.

Lottie gave you a small nod and smile, really showing off those rosy cheeks. Well she was beautiful, but who didn’t know that already?

You really did try your best to pay attention to whatever she was saying, she did put her all into it. But it was difficult, after her hand brushed with yours when handing you an eraser, or when she flashed you a big, toothy smile every time you got something right.

Okay, okay. You’ve had a crush on Lottie Matthews for ages, so what? What wasn’t there to like? She was smart, athletic, nice and so damn cute. But it’s not like she’d ever notice you. You simply weren’t in her league.

What did Lottie think though? She thought you hated her. Thought you were rude and arrogant. You never spoke to her unless it was a grunt that passed as a reply even though you cross paths so often. You avoided her like a plague when it came to seating arrangements in class. Once, you wouldn’t even let her have a cigarette.

But this all felt different to you both. To Lottie, she thought you finally broke the ice - she savored the sweet voice you used in a sentence like a bottle of good, fancy wine. And you learned she might not have been so out of reach after all.

The session you had stretched on, and once you finally understood some of the schoolwork you needed to do, your conversation bent into something more casual. Getting to know her was nice.

She told you about how her parent’s divorce affected her. You learned she, quite begrudgingly, went to her dad’s at New York every two weeks. She also said that her favorite kool aid flavor was Black Cherry, and her favorite candy bar was a snickers.

“So, when should we meet up next?” Lottie asked as the talk slightly died down.

“Well tomorrow is fine by me. We have that test on Friday.” You replied, packing your books again.

“Oh, sure! You know, you can come to mine. Might be less distracting.” She offered with a tinge of hope that you did not catch onto. You just thought of the fact that you were about to go to Lottie Matthews’ house. A nice one, you’ve heard.

“Okay, yeah. Let’s go to your place.”

—————

See this is how you found yourself in this situation. God knows you were too afraid to talk to her, yet your questionable chemistry grades brought you together and that is why you were right there, standing in front of her house and too antsy to ring the doorbell.

However you couldn’t stand here and hope she got a radio signal about your presence, so you did. Not a moment later, a chipper Lottie as usual, answered the door.

“Hi! I’m glad you found the house. Kinda on the down low.” She said, moving from the doorframe to let you in.

You gave her a small “yeah” as you entered. Not only was it on the down low, it was gorgeous too. Very expensive and high end furniture, paintings that seemed like they could belong in the Louvre. Though the prettiest thing there was Lottie.

She might’ve had her hair in a messy braid, wearing a striped white and pink shirt with a pair of gray sweatpants, but she still made it look cool and classy.

“Balls.” You muttered as your eyes landed on an immense, glistening chandelier in the middle of her living room.

“Oh, my mom bought that when we got the house to piss off my dad and drain his bank account.” Lottie said way too casually, “Let’s go to my room.”

As you followed her upstairs you tried your best not to let your eyes rake over her lean from, but it proved to be hard. She really did look good - and it checks out, she’s a soccer player!

You wondered how strong her legs must’ve been, she could definitely trap you under-

“I’m sorry for the mess, the maid is coming later today.” Lottie said apologetically, tossing some clothes from her bed for you to sit on.

Her room was much different from the rest of the house and resembled Lottie herself. Girl band posters all around, a floral bedding, and photos of her soccer squad scattered all across her room.

“This is cool. I like the little bee.” You said, picking up one of the frames your gaze landed on. A picture of her and Jackie Taylor warmly smiling to the camera with a bunch of team spirit makeup.

“Oh, thanks! I just took that one about a week ago, I like keeping stuff like that.” She said, coming up behind you to take a look herself.

Right now, you could smell her perfume. Something sweet, vanilla and roses maybe - casually on her, as if it were part of her skin.

She slowly walked back to the bed, patting the spot next to her as she got her textbooks out.

You waltzed over there too, hugging your knees to your chest as she sorted everything.

“Can I ask you something first?” Lottie blurted, looking up at you with an unsure expression- made your chest flutter a bit.

“Of course.” You simply replied as you fiddled with the sheets under you.

“Did you like- hate me or something?” She asked with a nervous giggle, obviously a bit flustered.

“What, no I- wait, why would you think that?” You questioned back very invested, turning to her fully and bringing your knees to your chest. She repeated your action.

“It’s just…since we met, there’s been this weird thing between us both. I don’t think I did anything, but if I’m wrong, you can tell me.” Lottie spoke softly, voice sweet as honey as she hugged her knees.

“You didn’t. I was just being an ass.” You admitted, suddenly feeling a bit stupid for how you treated the girl. She obviously didn’t deserve that.

In fact, let’s take a quick look onto the day you met her.

~ You sat in a stuffy classroom full of people you went to middle school with just a couple of months ago, feeling the light breeze that the window cast.

It was a bit much, all the pre class yelling at eight in the morning along with the wind slapping your face repeatedly, but you pushed through it. When you raised your head, you saw something that was quite interesting. Which was rare for freshman year of high school.

A taller brunette speaking to your teacher that checked her schedule before nodding her head, likely a “you’re in the right place” signal. The girl she talked to wasn’t hard on the eyes either.

Oh shit, your seating mate wasn’t in here! She was definitely gonna seat her with you. How are you supposed to talk to such a hot girl again? Okay, now you’re just overthinking it, she could be nice.

“Hiya!” She cheered once she sat down, extending a hand, “I’m Charlotte. Everyone calls me Lottie though.”

You took the hand she put out, saying your own name sheepishly.

“Um…are you in any clubs or sports teams?” She asked, clearly trying to make conversation. Though it wasn’t clear to you.

“No.”

“Oh okay! Well- shit, I hope I’ll catch up with all the studying. New York is different with this stuff.” Lottie spoke, though you didn’t dare meet her eye. You might’ve passed out.

Somehow, what she said sounded weird to you. Maybe a little entitled? But she didn’t seem the type. That was, until you caught eye of the watch she wore. Was it real fucking gold? Likely. This girl was so out of your stratosphere.

“I think you’ll be fine.” You replied with a tight lipped, unwelcoming smile. Really, you didn’t mean for it to come off that harsh.

All she could do was sit in silence. She pissed you off already, somehow. Great work Lott! Was it even possible to make an enemy before a friend in a brand new school? Apparently. And anyway, her dad was her biggest one so it wasn’t such a foreign concept to her.

~ ”I understand.”

“Huh?” You inquired further, a tad confused and spaced out.

“I understand, trying to protect yourself for any reason. I get it.” She said again in that quiet tone which made you always want to pull her in for a deep, soul lacing kiss.

“Thank you.” You whispered as your eyes beheld hers. There was a sempiternal longing in them, something you’d never seen in anyone else.

“I don’t know why, but I really get you. I feel like…I know what’s going on with you, even though I don’t. We should definitely keep hanging out.” Lottie proclaimed happily, her voice still low.

You could see it in her eyes, that she was telling the truth. That she was genuine. You could see everything in her eyes. She could not hide or shy away from you.

“Me too. I feel the same way.” You said in a smoky tone.

She moved a bit closer, slightly forward until your knees touched. Just as she was about to speak again, there was a knock on her door.

“Lottie sweetheart?” A woman called out, likely her mother. She didn’t wait for an answer before pushing the door, and Lottie jumped as if electrocuted.

“Hey! We were just-“ She started, sitting flat on the bed and keeping her hands in her lap.

Mrs Matthews took a look around the room, then a long one at you.

“Go on. What were you doing?” She asked, her tone bordering on accusatory.

“This is my tutee mom. We were studying.” Lottie rushed, pointing to the books next to the two of you as if to make a point.

“Right. So, what did you need help with?” Lottie’s mother honeyed, turning towards you. Her lips curved in a smile, though it made you feel a certain unease.

“Chemistry. Ms Greene put us together.” You wheezed out, trying to ignore the slight charge in the air.

“Wonderful. Dinner’s at six. Let me know if your friend is staying.” And with that she left the room, leaving you with both of the previous and brand new tension.

“So should we start-“

“Are you coming to Jackie’s thing on Saturday?” Lottie asked, hugging her knees yet again.

“If my parents let me, yeah.”

“Good. Try to be there, okay?”

—————

Yeah, of course that’s how you ended up there. Since you did amazing on your test the previous day, with the luxury of Lottie’s help of course, you were able to persuade your parents into letting you go.

That’s why you’re now grabbing a glass of absolutely horrid spiked punch in Jackie’s glamorous kitchen, with an attempt to calm your nerves.

You’d only gotten to the party - maybe half an hour ago? And you definitely still weren’t buzzed enough to talk to Lottie.

There she was, in all her glory, wearing a slip dress to a fucking high school party. A purple one with her hair down and in its natural wave.

The shoes she wore were her signature doc martens with which she’d likely be buried in. In one hand rested a solo cup, filled with either the god awful liquid you drank or beer. Between her middle and pointer finger was a lit cigarette.

She looked entirely dazzling in the dimly lit room, filled with escapades of sin and Lottie’s silfira. Or that’s how you saw it in your reverie at least.

She surveyed the room for you as if no one else was there, mouthing you a “hi” as the guy next to her, some kid from her history class, continued to talk her ear off.

Politely she excused herself, leaving him bewildered as she walked over to you.

“How are you?” Lottie asked over the loud speakers, leaning onto the island next to you as she offered you a drag of her cigarette.

“I’m okay. Little bored though.” You said, sipping your drink again.

“Well we have to fix that don’t we?” She exclaimed in her usual chipper tone, moving over to face you. You could smell smoke, alcohol and cherries on her lips, since she stood so close to you.

“Do we?” You pondered jokingly, or not. Her idea of fun was likely something you’d regret in the morning, in terms of embarrassment at least. She was quite intoxicated too.

“Yes, we do! You know, I’ve never seen you dance.” Lottie teased, running the rim of her cup over her bottom lip.

“That’s because I don’t! Especially not here.” You interjected, gazing around the place.

“Oh come on! Dancing is fun, okay? I’ll even do it with you.” Lottie practically begged, gawking at you with those pouty eyes no one has ever said no to.

Fuck it. A month ago you’d give anything to dance with Lottie Matthews. Better yet, to be noticed by Lottie Matthews. This was a one time opportunity and you couldn’t let yourself pass it up because of slight insecurity and anxiety.

“Let’s go.” You muttered, downing the rest of your drink. Once you did, Lottie cheered a little, grabbing your hand and dragging you to the dance floor.

Her balter made you feel slightly better about your own moves, or better yet the lack of thereof. She let her hands wander, pressing her chest against your back as she trailed your abdomen to the beat. You could only follow her movements and remind yourself how to breathe here and there, of course.

She was warm and inviting against you, making your hips move with ease. Everything was easy around her. She was amazing to talk to, talk about. You decided to try your luck, moving around and pressing your chest against hers.

She seemed as surprised and as happy with the action as you were. The charge between you was inevitable and couldn’t go unnoticed.

Just as you wrapped your arms around her neck, there seemed to be a shift. Something in her eyes - those that were like a book for you to read, something overcame them.

She jolted away slightly, making you stumble back.

“Lottie, what’s wrong?” You yelled out over the obscene noise.

“I’m sorry. I can’t do this.” Lottie stammered, you couldn’t hear her but you read her lips well enough.

She gave you one more mordant look before scurrying off, pushing past the drunk teenagers as she left you behind. Turned around five times to check on where you were as well.

But you? You stood there in absolute shock. All the booze you consumed made your mind hazy, and you could barely believe what was happening. For a whole week, there had been a “will they won’t they” vibe between the two of you and what? Now she just runs off?

No, this was your fault. Your fault for making yourself believe and hope for a person you always knew was out of reach, untouchable for you, even. Lottie must’ve been embarrassed of you, that had to be it.

Anyhow, for a moment you stood there all alone, mean, unwelcome tears burning in your eyes as your whole body felt numb - other than the pounding headache that started to wash over you. How did it come down to this?

[sunschay]

You Bring Me Back to Life || Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Despite your broken heart, you try your best to overcome the huge hole that your ex-girlfriend, Natasha, left in your chest. You just never imagined in a million years that you would fall in love again, with your best friend, the Scarlet Witch.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Warnings: None

Word count: 5,755 words

Part 2 from A House of Lies

Sweat runs down your neck and drips from your forehead, accumulating on the back of your neck. The park is open and looks pleasant, it's still early so a small crowd of people gather around the huge green lawn, some chatting, others simply doing some exercise or admiring the crystal clear lake a few meters away or the huge fountain with a beautiful bronze sculpture. You stop, unscrew the cap from the transparent bottle and collect all the water to your stomach in minutes. 

Exactly three months ago, your life changed dramatically. Especially because you simply discovered that your lovely ex-girlfriend, none other than Black Widow, had been cheating on you for months right under your nose, in addition to having lied several times that she was going on missions with the rest of the Avengers. 

You trusted Natasha deeply and she destroyed your heart without even thinking about how you would feel. Besides, you were sick, isolated at home, on bed rest because a serious pneumonia had caught you. 

The fact that Natasha had taken advantage of your weak physical state, damaged by the virus, to betray you with fucking Captain America still hurt you deep down.

Fortunately, you had realized how much Natasha hurt you. Not only because of the cheatings you discovered, but sometimes you simply reflected on Romanoff's behavior and saw that she didn't seem completely ready for a relationship. Sure, she took care of you, even more so after you got sick, but when it came to companionship and trust, things were different. She always seemed suspicious of you even without giving her any reason to, and she didn't know how to solve an argument without yelling or sex, she really thought that fucking would solve everything. But no, you always prioritized dialogue and patience, things that Natasha really didn't mind putting ahead of your relationship.

Natasha also didn't know how to show her feelings clearly.

You didn't blame her for that, after all, the Red Room reshaped her into a cold woman created to be a special assassin with no limitations. 

Still, Natasha wasn't exactly the most loving type. She was a difficult person to deal with and you knew it from the beginning, but you fell for her anyway. Not because of her body, although she seemed sculpted by the gods above with every curve and every inch of soft, warm skin, even with her scars. She was a good person. She was a great friend and knew how to deal with situations of all kinds. 

She just wasn't a good girlfriend. She wasn't loyal either, and that kind of spoiled her. 

“God, it could be less hot.” You lamented, already completely drenched in sweat from your morning runs. 

You had learned something good from this lesson. Natasha had taught you, not directly, but she had opened your eyes to see that you needed to care much more about yourself than just the people around you who could stab you in the back. Exactly as she did. You were fortunately able to recover from pneumonia and were already feeling better and much more energetic. That's why you had already returned to your intense training and running, after all, taking care of your body had always been a habit, not an obligation.  

Things were going well, except for her completely broken mental state and her trust issues having returned because of what she did. 

Yeah, she really did a number on you. 

You sighed in relief when you entered your new temporary apartment, placing the bottle to fill under the cold filter and packing your things in your bag. You were still going to go to the gym that was a few meters away from the neighborhood. Moving from city to city and country was a habit for you, almost an addiction, but visiting France was always very frequent, since you spent a good part of your childhood here. You loved the landscapes, the food, the romanticism of the country – even though you had no one to share your romanticism and feel loved with – and you loved the extremely wide and common image of the Eiffel Tower. 

Either way, you needed to take a break from the United States, and from the things that reminded you of Natasha, because those things were there with her. 

“Fuck, holy shit Wanda, you want to kill me before I'm 40? I haven't even had kids yet!” You exclaimed as you turned around, seeing the witch leaning against your living room window. 

And there she was. Dressed in her usual dark goth clothes, leather jacket, boots, tight pants and a dark purple shirt underneath the jacket, her blue eyes looking at you as if she was seeing a miracle in front of her. Her red hair was a little longer than the last time you saw her, but she looked beautiful. Absurdly beautiful, and breathtaking, you thought. 

You mentally scolded yourself, thinking that you shouldn't look at your friend like that. 

Anyway, you simply disappeared from New York shortly after you got better physically and after you broke up with Natasha, so you didn't even give any explanations to any of your teammates, which must have certainly upset them. Exclusively Wanda herself. 

“If Steve were here, he would have lectured you for an hour for having such a foul mouth.” She laughed, the way her lips curved was adorable.

Your body quickly went still at the mention of Rogers' name. You felt your shoulders tense and your muscles turn to stone, a bitter, disgusting taste forming on your tongue as you remembered exactly how much contempt and disgust you carried for him now. 

“I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, Y/n...I forgot for a moment.” She apologized, feeling guilty for mentioning his name as quickly as she saw you.

“Alright, relax, Wands. Everything's fine. What are you doing here? Or rather, how did you get in, you clever little witch?” You teased her, the smile on her lips making you melt for a minute. 

“Oh, are you forgetting for a moment about my super invasive magical gifts? I came to see a friend. I know you left New York as soon as that happened and I'm really sorry. But you had me worried sick, Precious.” She sighed, now looking a little nervous. 

“Oh. Sure. She told you. Yeah, I just thought everything was fine between us and that she was happy, Wanda. But she chose to be happier by cheating on me with him right under my nose and fooling me like I was nothing.” You replied, licking your lips with a blank look. 

“She didn't have to tell me anything, Y/n. I felt it. I just felt it when you left and I felt your pain, so deep and so agonizing. You don't deserve any of this. Anyway, I had the displeasure of seeing them kissing at the Complex the other day.” She said, completely uncomfortable and disgusted with the subject. 

“Anyway. Come give me a hug before I rip your ears off if you try to disappear like that again without telling me.” She said seriously, seeing you laugh lightly and come closer. 

As soon as you hugged Wanda, everything seemed to disappear for a minute. You loved her hug, if her voice could comfort you, her touch made you melt. Her scent was even better, a sweet and light mix of fragrant vanilla and coffee. You closed your eyes, feeling her arms lightly squeeze your shoulders, bringing you closer, and you shivered when her breath lightly passed close to your neck. 

You always suspected why Wanda never had a romantic relationship with anyone. 

To be honest, you had heard some rumors from some certain little birds (Those that started with C and T) that she liked you. Of course you thought it was absurd at the time, you were best friends and you faithfully believed that Wanda only saw you that way, even knowing that Natasha was extremely irritating and frustratingly jealous of you with the Maximoff girl who always treated you so well and so affectionately. 

Still, you couldn't believe that Wanda could like you. 

Okay, sometimes you had reason to be suspicious of course. You were the only person on the team who always received a kiss on the cheek from Wanda (she only kissed her twin, Pietro, before he died) and she always let you lay your head on her lap to vent for hours about your problems, just like you always did with her too, after all you were super close to each other. 

She also used to give you affectionate nicknames like Smarty or Precious. And maybe that's why Natasha didn't like this friendship that you and Wanda share at all, but now Romanoff was no longer a flea behind your ear to worry about. 

You two weren't even together anymore anyway. 

“Hmm...you need a bath, honey.” She said, making you burst out laughing and leaned in close, her lips dangerously kissing the corner of your mouth. 

You shivered, your muscles turning to jelly and your skin crawling. It was embarrassing and it seemed confusing to you, because not even Natasha had that kind of effect on you, when the two of you were together. But Wanda... Wanda was deep, not just in her eyes but in her manner, her hands. God. She was incredible. 

“I know, little witch. I'll be working on it.” You chuckled, licking your lips thirstily. 

Removing the thick, warm sweatshirt from your torso, you adjusted the black tank top on your body. You usually used to wear cold weather clothes and sweatshirts to cover your body, after all, your insecurity with it was endless. A bit confusing, after all, you had always been in shape and your physique was amazing, but the various scars around your body from the battles with the team over the years and your body dysmorphia made you feel completely weak and useless. 

You pulled the bottle out from under the water filter, taking a long drink and suppressing a groan as the freezing water chilled your sensitive teeth. Out of the corner of your eye, you felt Wanda drinking from your body, her hungry green eyes moving up and down every part of you. 

This makes your face heat up and turn red like a raw pepper. 

A sigh left your lips and you tried to ignore it, thinking it was paranoia coming from your head. You grabbed a towel and a pair of clothes, a long black t-shirt and knee-length workout shorts, taking off your shoes and sweaty socks. 

“Would you like something to drink? Tea, some bitter coffee? I can get you something before I wash off the skunk smell I have.” You smiled, seeing her return a light smile. 

“Maybe just some herbal tea. But don't rush, go take a bath to relax your body. I'll be here.” She said, her cheeks reddening for some reason. 

You'd love to be able to read her mind like she used to do with everyone. 

“I'll be back in five minutes.” You walk away slowly, entering the small bathroom. 

The cold water made your bones shiver and your back arch slightly. As you washed yourself, you stopped to think if your paranoid theory was right about Wanda liking you. What if she did, and you gave in again only to get hurt again like you had when you were with Natasha? 

No, Wanda wouldn't do that. Right? 

She was the type of woman who would easily like to start a family just like Clint did, live in a calmer and more isolated place, in a house full of children and far from any chaos that could involve the Avengers. 

Even so, you were afraid. 

Wanda made your heart flutter and burn every time you looked at her face. Her voice, her hands, her words, everything about her calmed you. She was naturally sweet. She had lost everything a long time ago and yet she was still the same girl you knew, the same girl who might be the one for you. 

“Noisy head.” You muttered to yourself, the millions of thoughts about Maximoff making you feel lost. 

Once the shower was over, you wrapped yourself in a towel and brushed your teeth, finishing the rest of the hygiene routine you maintained. Drying your hair and the rest of your body, you got dressed again, your body smelling of fresh soap and freshly showered. Wanda was sitting comfortably in one of the corners of your couch, her eyes staring outside your living room window, looking distracted. You rested the slightly damp towel on one of your shoulders, putting on your slippers and putting water in a kettle, starting to boil on the stove. 

“What's the little witch thinking, huh? Vision, perhaps?” You joked, seeing her look at you with a hilarious expression. 

The fact that Vision was a robot created by a small incident years ago did not prevent him from having feelings and he himself has made it clear several times that he liked Wanda romantically. She, however, did not seem to share the same feelings, but still saw him as a friend like the rest of the team. 

“Certainly not. You still really think I like him, huh?” She laughed, watching you pour some herbs into the boiling water and a tea bag with chamomile tea inside. 

“I know he's been head over heels for you ever since he joined us. But I see that you just don't seem to feel the same way and I understand that.” You answered simply, grabbing two cups and watching the water begin to bubble. 

“I know, and I hope he finds someone who deserves him. I think we all deserve a little love sometimes.” She said and you nodded without much emotion, feeling her approach you. 

Natasha made you believe that you didn't deserve love anymore ever since that happened. But that wasn't all. You just felt like your heart was building iron walls around itself, trying to defend itself from any possible loving 'threat'. You hated feeling that way, but you also knew it wasn't your fault. 

“Y/n. We need to talk a little, okay?” She said and you shivered when you felt her right behind your back, but you just nodded. 

“Sure. Did something happen?” You turned around, pressing your back against the counter and she shook her head with a smile. 

“No, certainly not. Today is Nate's birthday. Clint invited us, he'd love to have you come.” She said, already noticing the tension in your shoulders. 

“Will everyone be there?” The question came firmly from your mouth, but also with fear. 

“Everyone on the team. Although we haven't been a team since... a year ago. If I may say so.” Wanda muttered, swallowing hard. 

It's true. Since the Civil War a year ago, everything has changed dramatically, as the team has split up to fight against each other because of the Sokovia Accords imposed by the cold Secretary of State, Ross. 

“Wanda, you know how I feel about being around those... people. I don't want to cause any trouble.” You said, the thought of seeing Natasha making your stomach turn. 

“I totally get that, my precious. But you also need to understand that sometimes it might be impossible not to see her or Rogers, or both of them in the same place. Sometimes you have to face your biggest fears. Come on, Y/n. You don't have to stay the whole party, let's just have some fun, forget about our problems, you know Clint and Nate would love to see you there, we miss you among us.” She said, biting her lip as she hoped to change your mind. 

Well, she had a point. You missed Barton's son and Clint himself, his family was like a second family to you, if you had one, but being with them was like forgetting everything and anything bad. 

“Okay, I'll go to the party, Wands. For you.” You say, seeing something in the depths of her eyes shine and she hugs you sideways, one hand gripping your arm.

“It's on his farm in Iowa. Before eleven o'clock at night. I'm sure you won't regret it.” She says, making you smile sideways as you pour both cups and hand one to her. 

[...]

If regret killed, you would already be unconscious, sinking into a pool of blood. But you weren't. And you were doing this for Wanda, Nate, and Clint. You deeply missed your friends, missed the way things were before the Sokovia Accords separated everyone and put a good part of the team in a prison on the Raft. Anyway, that was over and here you were in Iowa, one year later. The night was starry, twinkling lights hanging from some posts in front of the Barton house and some familiar faces gathered around a table. 

Looking around, you faithfully hoped you wouldn't have to face Natasha there, but you could already see a tangle of red hair and the figure of a short body near the table made you shiver. Stay strong, you repeat to yourself several times. 

Gathering some courage, you walked over to the table, seeing a few bottles of beer and small glasses of soda scattered there, along with a cake with blue whipped cream cut in half. Nathaniel quickly recognized you on Clint's lap and you hugged them, stroking the child's short hair. 

“Look who showed up, those who are alive always show up! Hey, kid, you had me worried, you were gone for too long. How are things, huh?” He chuckled, ruffling your hair slightly and hugging you sideways. 

“I'm fine, Clint, thanks for the invite. For Nate and for you guys I'll go anywhere. I'm fine, things are slowly going in the right direction.” You said, watching him nod with some concern. 

It was already obvious that Clint knew that you and Natasha had broken up. You just wondered if she said that she was the one who ruined everything between you and that she cheated on you with Rogers. 

“I'm so sorry, mate. For you and Nat... I know what it's like to lose what you hold most dear in life.” He said, giving you a knowing look and you smiled weakly. 

“She was sweet, Clint, until she fucked up herself. But I appreciate the support. Mmm, beer, I could smell it from afar.” You laughed lightly, grabbing a bottle and opening the lid with your teeth, spitting it out and saw Clint frown in confusion. 

He didn't know anything. Natasha really was a tremendous liar. 

“Of course she wouldn't tell you, Clint, you're her best friend. She cheated on me with Steve, for months, yes while I was sick at home needing her attention and affection. People are not what they seem, I learned that kind of late. Don't worry, I've sorted it out with her.” You took a sip of the cold drink, watching Clint sigh in complete disbelief. 

It didn't matter if Natasha and he were best friends or not, Clint was also your friend and he saw you as a sibling, sometimes you even seemed like family, so what she did to you wasn't fair. 

“This isn't fair, Jesus, Y/n! She... fuck, she will hear the sermon she has never heard in her life, she needs to know that this is cowardice. You can make yourself at home, I'm going to call Laura to cut your cake, there are more sweets inside the house.” He said, giving you a quick hug and walked away to the house to clean the small mess Nate made on his shirt. 

You opened your mouth and closed it, sighing deeply as he walked away. You appreciated that about Clint, though. He was always a fair and principled man, so he certainly wouldn't let Natasha off the hook for the shit she did. Steve was also to blame for that anyway. 

“Hey, hacker! Did you miss me?” You laughed, watching Tony come closer and hug you. 

Even though you had been at odds with each other a year ago, Tony was one of the closest people on the team to you besides Clint and Thor, who apparently wasn't here. It was rare for you two to fight for a long time, you always found a way to resolve things. Your and Stark's sarcasm and genial demeanor really complemented each other. You still greeted Sam Wilson and the 'Bucky' nearby, ignoring Rogers' smug and arrogant face nearby, giving a brief wave to Laura, Clint's wife who was taking care of the children. 

“How can I not miss my favorite tin head? How are things with Pepper, big guy?” You smiled, taking another sip of your beer. 

“Listen, I heard about what happened with Romanoff, and I'm so sorry. She doesn't deserve you. I never liked the popsicle face to be honest.” He said, making you let out a light laugh. 

“I know, they deserve each other. It's okay Tony, I'm better off alone.” You whispered and he nodded. 

The night continued to unfold calmly and slowly, and you hated feeling Natasha's gaze on your back, even though she hadn't said anything. You looked ahead and your eyes lit up when the sight of Wanda approaching made you smile, wearing a shiny black dress that ended at her knees, her wavy hair loose and her face illuminated without much makeup. She didn't need any makeup, she was always so incredibly beautiful. You felt your heart race and bit your lip. 

To be honest, you rarely saw Wanda wearing dresses, it felt like the first time. 

“Look who came. I'm glad my mind manipulation had some effect.” She teased you, giggling as she approached. 

Your arms opened wide for her, one hand still holding the drink, and she quickly enveloped herself in the warmth of your embrace. You felt Wanda shiver for some reason as your somewhat bold free hand (the effect of the alcohol) gently touched her back and the side of her slim waist. Wanda laughed lightly against your neck, tightening the hug, and you almost grunted in frustration when she pulled away to greet the rest of the group. Her scent had lingered on you and was so wonderful that it intoxicated you like a new addiction. 

“You look beautiful, little witch. Always smelling so good.” You greeted, watching her cheeks turn pink and Wanda serve you a piece of cake on a colorful plate. 

“I can say the same about you, smarty.” She said, sending you an air kiss. 

Everything seemed peaceful as you ate and chatted in a group with each other, Wanda, Clint, and Tony. It was good to know that things were finally back to the way they were before the whole Sokovia thing. You wiped your lips, which were previously stained with whipped cream and chocolate filling, handing a wrapped present to Nate who was in Clint's arms. You faithfully hoped that he liked plushies because nothing else had come to mind as a birthday present for a 2-year-old. 

“Still not going to greet me?” A husky female voice with an unrecognizable Russian accent came through and you almost rolled your eyes. 

“Good evening, Natasha.” You answered seriously, feeling her deep green eyes look you up and down. 

“Good evening. You've gotten much closer than just friends. Have you ever kissed each other, perhaps?” She teased, trying to look innocent, looking between you and Wanda. 

“You can be sure that whoever wasted one of their kisses would be missing out on a lot, Romanoff.” Wanda smiled tightly, watching Natasha's expression fall and you heard Clint approaching the table. 

“I didn't remember you being so rude, Maximoff. Has time been hard on you, or is it just me?” Natasha smiled and you could already smell the strong drink coming from her. She was drunk. 

“Can you just shut the fuck up, Natasha? Please?” You interrupted, feeling her incredulous eyes now on your face. 

“And why the hell are you talking to me like that?” She questioned, crossing her arms. 

Now you could see her completely, before you. Her red hair was a little less long than before, but the color was still as bright as flames during a fire, and she was wearing a tight black skirt and a white blouse with a plunging neckline in the middle, her lips red. She would have been beautiful if she hadn't been so fucking petulant and ignorant. 

“You shouldn't talk to her like that, just apologize.” Rogers walked in on you and you laughed at the smug expression on his face. 

“Please calm down a bit guys, there are children here.” Laura warned with Clint by her side. 

“The lab mouse is defending his snack. Calm down, Rogers, you could soon be replaced by anyone who thinks faster than you think, get that puppy-dog expression off your face.” You laughed, watching him growl and take a step forward. 

“I'd rather be the lab rat than the abandoned rat. After all, you were the one who got traded first, my friend. If you did your job in bed, she'd still be with you by now.” He smiled cynically. 

You felt the blood boil until it went to your head, your brain simply reacting as quickly as it could. You punched Rogers' jaw hard, hearing the sound of something breaking in it and he staggered, stumbling on the floor already drunk. Of course there was a lot of disagreement between you, he had been created as a laboratory experiment and you were twice as strong as him due to the extra dose of physical and mental powers you carried. 

But Natasha had never said anything, like complaints about the relationship you had behind closed doors. The sex between you seemed pleasant to you and even so, that didn't justify her having cheated on you with Rogers like that. 

“No one complained while she was tasting me, 'friend'. She just thought it was fair to taste the little mouse to satisfy her neediness, it's no wonder Banner left you when he had the chance.” You said, seeing a flash of hurt in Natasha's eyes as you walked away. 

You threw the almost empty glass bottle into a trash bag, hearing the shards shatter and heard Rogers complain about you with your bruised face, besides him insisting on taking Natasha home. It was none of your business, really. Clint guided you inside, without judging or lecturing you, after all he understood how it felt right now. 

“I'll clean up the kids' mess outside. Feel free to do so, but no arguments please.” He said, giving you a knowing look. 

You sat on the couch, a little cramped, looking to the side as Wanda came in and sat next to you. She took your hand, seeing that you had hurt your knuckles when you hit Rogers and took a damp cloth, cleaning the small cuts. 

“Was it worth it?” She asked, the pleasant Sokovian accent making you relax for a moment. 

“Yes.” The whisper came from your mouth, husky and simple. 

“So it's all right. She hurt you, I feel it... right here. But things are moving forward.” She said, her hand implanted just inches above your heart. 

You nodded, feeling her hand still on your chest as you calmed the fury and contempt for the two Avengers outside. Your heart was still racing, but for Wanda now. You didn't understand why she had this effect on you, she was so kind, so perfect in every way. You felt your mouth go dry and your eyes roamed over every inch of her face. 

“I wonder why I can never get it right with anyone. It was like that with Sharon and now with Natasha.” You whispered, watching as she finished cleaning your fingers and began to caress the palm of your hand. 

“Y/n, listen to me and listen to me well. None of this is your fault. Okay, we all make mistakes sometimes in a relationship, it happens often and I understand, it can end up teaching us valuable lessons. But look at you, you are so respectful, patient and simply the most genuine and affectionate person I know. Natasha didn't cheat on you because you are the problem, but she herself is, she is characterless and needs validation from others.” She said, her fingertips caressing your chin. 

You were stunned for a moment, not only because Wanda seemed completely right but also because her closeness to your face, her extremely sweet and calming voice made you feel ecstatic. You nodded, leaning in slowly to feel more of her touch. 

“You think so? About me. You describe me as the best person you've ever met and I don't see that. Not on me.” You sighed, feeling Wanda hold your face with both hands. 

“You are the best person I know and I mean it. You mean so much to me, precious. And you deserve so much more than shallow relationships like Sharon or Natasha gave you. So much more.” She whispered, licking her lips eagerly. 

You smiled, the seriousness and depth of the matter lost as Wanda placed a blue cone-shaped birthday hat on your head. Laughter filled the room and you grabbed a party blower, accidentally blowing it into Wanda's lips. You held back a laugh, seeing the terrifying expression she made and when you thought you were going to get scolded, she grabbed you by the back of the neck, one hand grabbing the collar of your clothes. 

“Why don't you try blowing here?” She teased, smirking as she leaned in closer. 

Wanda's voice sounds insinuating, but she doesn't take any steps that might seem invasive or uncomfortable to you. Your muscles freeze and your breathing becomes irregular. For the first time, you have the greatest chance to kiss Wanda, and you know you want it desperately, because she wants it too, it's visible in her eyes. Her fingers caress your chin and her nails scrape without strong pressure on your skin, then she brushes her lips against yours for seconds before sinking her mouth into yours calmly. 

There is no malice or rush in the kiss. But Wanda brushes her tongue against your lower lip and tries to deepen the kiss, which you allow, feeling her tongue dance in your mouth. 

This is unlike anything you've ever experienced. 

The kisses you shared with Natasha were always rough or abrupt because of the strong sexuality she demonstrated in the relationship, things usually ended in bed. In any case, they were not always very loving or long kisses. 

But with Wanda it was simply intense. The softness of her lips was simply incredible. The way she touched you calmly and cautiously, without wanting to go too fast or being careful enough not to do something wrong to you, showed how angelic she was. The slowness of the kiss. The tranquility. Wanda's scent lingering on your skin. You let out a gasp when she bit your lower lip and your hands pulled Wanda closer, her forehead pressing against yours when the lack of air separated your lips. 

“I love you, Y/n. I don't care if you still wish you were with Natasha. You've always been my friend, my companion. My only love.” She admitted, making your heart race. 

“Wanda. I was so stupid and blind to try to hold on to Natasha while she slept with Steve. I gave her all my love, trust, and loyalty only to be hurt so deeply. But now I see.” You whispered the first words, your lips already missing hers, your fingers caressing her delicate face. 

“...And it's you that I love. I tried to hide it when I preferred to be in your arms and hear your loving words, trying to convince myself that Natasha was the woman of my dreams. But it's you, Wanda. You're the woman I love, the woman I breathe and the woman I want by my side. I don't care if I get hurt if I'm with you.” You said, seeing her eyes slightly watery. 

It wasn't just the fact that Natasha had cheated on you that made you see the truth. She didn't make your heart race like Wanda did. Romanoff's touch had cooled over time, before you discovered the cheatings. But Wanda's touch always comforted you, always made you want more. Her lips were magnificent, they made you feel in a deep ecstasy of passion. Her scent made you dizzy, dizzy with love. Everything about Wanda enchanted you, everything about her made you realize that she was the one you wanted and it only took this night for everything to become clear. 

“I've waited so long to hear this from you. So long.” She sighed, feeling your lips quickly pushing against hers again. 

You had finally found the feeling of having true love in the palm of your hands. The woman of your dreams was in your arms. Wanda kissed you more deeply, moaning softly as the kiss became deeper and warmer, her hands tangling in your soft hair. You saw her smile between the kiss, feeling your body being laid on the small couch and Wanda climbing on top of you, tossing her red hair back before biting your lower lip. 

“Guys, would you like to- Oh. Looks like I'm a little early.” Clint cleared his throat as he entered the room, startled when he saw Wanda and you kissing. 

“Hey, Clint... sorry, we just... uh…” You tried to explain yourself, watching Wanda's face turn an adorable shade of red as she removed her weight from your body. 

“There's some cake left over. Laura will keep it for you if you want...if you want. I'm going to leave right away.” He growled in frustration, walking away in shame. 

“That was... that was hilarious.” Wanda said, bursting out laughing. 

“It was your fault. Nobody told you to stick your tongue down my throat like a pervert.” You smiled, feeling her hold your face and kiss you hard, patting your arm lightly. 

“You say that as if you didn't like it, Smarty.” She replied, her eyes shining as she looked at you.

“I loved it. I love all of it. The way you... You bring me back to life. I love you, Wanda.” You finished, your heart burning in flames for her. 

You had found love in your best friend.  And now you could finally rest your head with the love of your life.

[jinuaei]

Godbless you for writing yandere where the reader is actually the one that’s more in control, it’s so hard to find yandere where the reader isn’t literally getting owned, emotionally and physically.

I just imagine Tarn with like a famous YN and discovering fanfics of them, he’s gonna be so appalled but he prob read them as like a guilty pleasure, especially the explicit ones.

It's rare to see sub!Character authors so I go crazy when I do find one, @/muletia is my fav TF writer by far!

And Tarn with a famous reader is such a good dynamic, especially if we still follow the lore of Tarn being close/'serving' the reader directly. Like he is happy that a lot of people appreciate you! That means all of them see your greatness the same way as he sees you, but also he'd be so competitive with his worship.

He always has to be your no 1 fan! The other bots/people who's saying that they are your #1 fan are lying! They'll find themselves on The List (tm) and will stay there until a) they retract their statement and say that Tarn is and always will be your #1 fan, or b) they can't say anything because they're dead. Also, haters will always get the latter treatment.

Anyways, he'd buy every merch to add to his shrine, he'd always be the first one on a merch drop and he'll buy two of each. One for the shrine, and the other to use for uh... other ways of worship. My gods he'd definitely run to you as soon as he gets the merch and have you sign it.

Fics are a whole different can of worms, because I agree, it is a guilty pleasure, he'd read every fic that even mentions you in any tags or genre(I think he'd be a big fan of you x readers LMAO). Smut is for when he is alone in his berthroom, but imagine him on his back, reading smut of 'him' and you interfacing, servos rubbing his node while occasionally slipping his digits inside his valve. And then the fic you suddenly says or do something that you will never do and he just lays there, frozen. It takes him a minute before he removes his servos to furiously type on the data pad to rant about how 'they would never say this!' and 'You don't know them like I do and this is BULLSHIT!!!'.

The horny energy is gone now and all that is replaces is pure, devotion fueled rage. And out of spite, he'd make his own fic, that is so accurate that it makes people question who the author is. The fans would always question whether it is a stalker, or one of your staff members, because it's so terrifyingly accurate it actually concerns some fans. But with how eloquent he is and how passionate his writing is, it's no wonder that he'd be a popular writer among fans.

Oooh, also depending on his role on your staff team, most fans would see you together a lot (I'm thinking he'd be a bodyguard honestly) and the way he treats you is so gentlemanly and so sweet that fans actually ship you both, but he also has his own fanbase of simps.

Going back to fics, after people started shipping you two there will definitely be an influx of fanworks; edits, fanart, and fanfics!! Once he discovers your ship ITS OVER! Nobody is safe from his commitment to the ship, HE'D EVEN MAKE MORE REASONS TO SHIP YOU TWO. He's the type to show off how good of a partner he is, and always make sure that the cameras always capture how sweet he is to you (as a way to claim you definitely).

I also think he'd be a lurker, he'd have a secret account he'd use to comment, share, and save all of the fanworks that involves you. He'd be in every post ever that he becomes infamous as the no. 1 Tarnxyou shipper, or a you fan in general.

Goodness I've been yapping so much about his but yes! I approve of this.

[aventurineswife]

Yo yo, do you think you could write hcs about a gn reader who has very sensitive skin who is dating Ratio? I feel like Ratio would love quality time with his lover, and baths together would be one avenue. But what would he do to work around reader’s skin issues? (I have to use special body wash and lotion after bathing otherwise I will literally never stop the itch rip)

Your Skin, My Careful Study

Tags: Ratio x Reader, Fluff, Domesticity, Established Relationship, Thoughtful Partner, Protective Ratio, Skincare & Self-Care, Sensitive Skin Accommodations, Bath Time, Gentle Affection, Intellectual Romance.

Warnings: Just soft, caring Ratio being incredibly attentive and meticulous about your comfort 🫶💜

A/N: I'm so sorry to hear that anon 😭🙏 it must be a struggle

Ratio is incredibly detail-oriented, so the moment he learns about your sensitive skin, he researches extensively. He won’t just look up generic solutions—he'll analyze dermatological studies, consult experts, and maybe even develop his own custom regimen for you.

Since he enjoys baths with you, he ensures that the water temperature is just right and only uses the most soothing, hypoallergenic bath products. He even experiments with making his own bath oils infused with gentle, natural ingredients. If he discovers a formula that works well for you, he considers patenting it—just for fun.

Any clothing or bedding he buys for you must pass his “skin test.” If it’s not ultra-soft, breathable, and non-irritating, he won’t allow it near you. He'll special-order silk sheets and make sure your towels feel like clouds. He’d definitely brag about how your comfort is a top-tier priority.

Ratio enjoys the intimacy of helping you with skincare. If applying lotion or soothing balms is necessary, he does it himself with steady, careful hands, taking his time as if he's conducting a delicate experiment. You’ll catch a soft, almost smug smile when he sees how much better your skin feels afterward.

If anyone dismisses your skin sensitivity, Ratio immediately shuts them down with cold, cutting precision. He has zero patience for ignorance and will lecture them until they regret speaking. He’d also subtly shield you from anything that might irritate your skin—whether that means steering you away from strong perfumes or ensuring no rough materials touch you.

If extreme temperatures trigger flare-ups, Ratio devises a plan. He ensures the environment around you is always optimal—whether it's adjusting room humidity, carrying a cooling gel pack, or having custom-tailored clothing for different seasons. If you ever get too warm or too cold, he fixes it before you even have to say anything.

Since he adores wisdom and academia, Ratio turns self-care into a ritual. He'll light gentle, non-irritating candles, put on calming classical music, and wrap you in the softest robe. He may even wear his alabaster mask, joking that he’s your personal guardian of skin health.

He won’t always outright say he worries about your skin, but you'll find neatly organized lists of recommended products, ingredient breakdowns, and skincare guides subtly left in places you'll find them. If you ever tease him about it, he’ll feign indifference—though the faint smirk gives him away.

While enjoying baths together, he casually analyzes the way your skin reacts to different conditions. “Hmm… so your skin prefers lukewarm water over warm. Fascinating.” It’s half-joking, half-genuine curiosity. If you splash water at him in retaliation, he’ll chuckle and retaliate—gently, of course.

While Ratio has a sharp, analytical mind, he softens when it comes to you. If your skin ever gets irritated, he never makes you feel like a burden. Instead, he methodically helps soothe the discomfort, as if it’s the most natural thing in the universe. And when your skin feels good? He subtly admires you more, brushing his fingers over yours with an unspoken sense of pride.

[ghostlynightpanda]

Hihi! If you're willing to, would you write something for chishiya based on the song "would you fall in love with me again" from epic? Maybe post-beach, where chishiya is alone and finds out his wife was actually in the borderlands all along

Ghosts of the Past

English is not my first language, so if you find mistakes, feel free to contact me!

A/N: I had never heard of the song or Epic before, and wow!! Their music is amazing! Thanks so much for requesting it and helping me discover it!

Synopsis: In the aftermath of the Beach’s fall, Chishiya wanders the Borderlands alone, haunted by memories of his wife. When he learns she may be in this world as well, he risks everything to find her, determined not to lose the one person he’s always truly loved.

warnings/content: Chishiya x fem!reader, fluff, 3.035 words

The fire had long since gone out, and the Beach was nothing more than ash and silence.

Chishiya sat in a small flat he'd found after the King of Spades destroyed the city. He'd barely escaped the explosion, losing the rest of his small, mismatched group in the chaos. He wandered the streets alone until he stumbled across this place, somewhere to stay for the night.

The weight of something small pressed against his chest beneath the zipper of his jacket. He reached in and pulled it free: a tiny charm, no larger than a coin, threaded onto a fraying string. A silver sakura blossom, scratched and dulled, but still intact.

Still yours.

He turned it over between his fingers like a ritual, as he always did when the silence got too loud.

You'd given it to him for your third anniversary. He remembered you curled in your shared bed, beautifully smiling, telling him, "It'll bring you luck. But only if you believe in it."

He didn't believe in much back then. Not really. Not fate. Not gods. Not luck. But in you.

That's why he'd held onto it every day since arriving in the Borderlands: a silent promise to get back to you, to find his way home. His way to you.

He thumbed the edges of the charm, jaw tight. The morning air carried the scent of smoke and distant blood. He'd always been a man of logic, of analysis, of cold understanding. And yet, you haunted him like a feeling he couldn't shake.

Thoughts of your smile lingered. Your laugh, sharp and sudden. The way you'd call his name when you were annoyed—"Shuntarō," clipped and stubborn.

No one had said his real name in this place.

No one but you, in his memory.

What were you doing now? Were you worried about him? Crying?

Hopefully, you were safe.

Or had this world—this warped reflection of Tokyo—hidden you somewhere too?

He clenched the charm in his fist.

For the first time in a long time, Chishiya wondered what he would do if he saw you again.

If you still wanted him.

If he was still yours.

It had been months, after all. What if you had moved on? 

He could hardly bear the thought of it. Time had a way of slipping through his fingers here in the Borderlands, and he wondered how much of it had passed while he was lost in this place, swallowed by the chaos. 

Did you think of him? Or had the world you lived in—one that still had hope, that still made sense—erased him from your mind? 

What if, in his absence, you'd finally seen everything he wasn't? Everything he couldn't be.

He wasn't affectionate. Never had been. The warmth of touch, the reassurance of words—those things were foreign to him, as much a part of him as the phantom ache in his chest now. He never knew how to give that kind of love, not even when you tried.

There were so many things he hadn't done, so many things he hadn't said, when you were still there with him. Simple things. The things that matter. 

Every morning, you'd kiss him goodbye before you left for work, your lips brushing his cheek with the softness of a quiet promise. You'd always say it then: "I love you." 

And he? 

He'd maybe grunt in response, or offer some half-hearted smile, but that was it. No words to match the weight of what you gave. No reassurance to return your devotion. He could never let himself be vulnerable like that—not even with you.

Now, here, in this place—this nightmare, this twisted mirror of everything he'd known—he found himself wondering if you still loved him at all. 

If you even could, knowing the lengths he'd gone to in order to survive. The people he betrayed. The cold, calculated choices he'd made, without a second thought, to secure his own survival, to gain any advantage he could. 

Would you still see him as the man you once loved? Or would you look at him as a stranger—someone unrecognizable, someone entirely different from the person you used to know?

A voice crackled on a nearby loudspeaker, announcing a new game: "Jack of Hearts. Participants, please proceed to the designated location."

Chishiya stood and slipped the charm back beneath his jacket.

His fingers curled once more into the shape of something he thought he'd lost.

Then he walked outside into the smoke, toward the game, toward fate.

When he arrived at the designated location, he was greeted by the usual mixed crowd of players. A momentary glance at each face told him everything he needed to know: everyone was just as desperate, just as broken. No one here was looking for redemption. They were looking for a way out.

He moved to the side, quietly observing. His instincts told him to avoid getting too close, not to invest in any alliances. But as the loudspeaker's voice crackled again, announcing the start of the game, he realized he'd already begun to observe one player more than the others.

Ippei. He could be his way to survive in this game about trust—another person to manipulate, another tool to use to ensure his escape.

The boy was nervous, his eyes darting around as if he could feel the weight of every gaze upon him. Shy and clearly out of place, he was easily intimidated, his body stiff with the tension of someone who wasn't made for a world like this. His hands trembled slightly, betraying his fear.

Chishiya studied him for a moment, the realization settling in—this kid wasn't cut out for the Borderlands. It was a brutal world, and that much was obvious.

"How did you survive this long?" Chishiya wondered aloud, his voice laced with quiet curiosity, though there was no sympathy in his tone. The boy flinched at the question, like the mere words had struck a nerve.

The boy hesitated, then spoke in a low, unsure voice. "I was with a girl earlier." His words faltered for a moment, but he pressed on, his gaze flickering to the ground. "She helped me get through a few of the other games. Her last name was... Chishiya."

The name hit him like a slap in the face. His breath caught in his throat, and he turned to Ippei, eyes narrowing.

"What did you say?"

Ippei seemed frightened by the intensity of Chishiya's reaction. He simply shrugged back. "Her name was Chishiya. She had long black hair, a scar on her wrist, and she was fierce. Strong. A fighter."

Chishiya's heart skipped. He could feel his pulse quicken, his mind spinning. He clenched his fists tightly.

"Where is she?" he demanded, his voice sharper than he intended.

"She's... not with me anymore," Ippei said, his gaze dropping for a moment, then looking up at Chishiya. „We got separated when the King of Spade came. But she said she was looking for someone. A man, a doctor... her husband. She said she wouldn't stop looking until she found him."

Chishiya's stomach twisted. His mind was racing. 

It could be her. It had to be.

He steadied his breath, forcing himself to remain calm, to maintain his usual detached demeanor. But inside, he felt something stirring—a fierce, desperate hope he hadn't allowed himself to feel for so long.

"She said her husband was important. That she had to find him, that no matter the cost, no matter what it took, she would keep searching."

What if you were here too? The thought struck him like a cold wave, and for the first time in months, he allowed himself to wonder. What if you had been pulled into this world as well? What if, just like him, you were fighting your way through this nightmare, trying to survive?

Chishiya's gaze hardened. He wasn't about to let this slip by. You could still be alive. You were alive. He didn't care about the game anymore. He didn't care about anything except finding you.

"Tell me everything," he said, his voice low but urgent. "Everything you remember about her. Where did you last see her? What did she say? I need to know."

Ippei hesitated, clearly sensing the intensity in Chishiya's voice, but then he nodded, his expression softening. "I'll tell you what I know." 

— — — — —

The air felt thick and heavy as Chishiya stepped out of the building, the echoes of screams from the Jack of Hearts still ringing in his ears. The speaker had cracked to announce the end of the game, the chilling finality of it all. 

But Ippei's death, his refusal to answer, haunted Chishiya's thoughts. The boy had been too scared, too broken to continue. And now, he was gone. Chishiya had been prepared for it, but it didn't make sense. He should've just hung on a little longer.

His mind, however, was already moving forward. His heart—what little of it he had left in this cruel place—was elsewhere. 

You. He had to find you. 

The realization had hit him like a storm, and nothing would stop him now. Not the game. Not the other players. Not the horrors of this world.

He knew you better than anyone else. 

Even without being the affectionate husband, he had paid attention to you. Every little thing about you, every subtle shift in your mood, every way you moved through your day. He had observed you with a quiet intensity, even when he never said the words you probably needed to hear.

You're not a Hearts player. That much was clear to him. You were too soft, too sweet to play these games of trust and manipulation. You would never throw someone's life away for the sake of your own survival. You always wanted to help people, to believe the best in them, even when it hurt. No, you wouldn't be caught in a Hearts game.

Diamonds? Chishiya shook his head. Sure, you were intelligent. But this was a game of resources, of quick, cold calculations, and he knew you'd hesitate when it came to making tough decisions. In a Diamonds game, you'd be out of your depth. He doubted you would survive long.

Spades? No. He could already see it in his mind—your gentle nature, your aversion to violence, the way you avoided physical conflict in the past. You'd never be the type to enjoy running for your life, dodging bullets, using your body in a constant game of survival. You weren't the "sporty" type, and he couldn't picture you in a Spades game. He knew how grueling it could be to keep up, even for the toughest players.

No, you weren't made for any of the games that relied on pure violence or manipulation. But Chishiya had a feeling you might be in a Clubs game.

He moved swiftly, his mind racing with the possibilities. 

Clubs games were different—focused on intellect, strategy, and teamwork. 

He had no doubt that if you had been dragged into the Borderlands, you would choose one of those games. You could handle the mental strain. You'd survive on wit, not brute force.

As Chishiya passed the remnants of the broken city, the buildings towering above him like cold giants, his eyes scanned the skies. 

The faint shape of airships, moving slowly in the distance, caught his attention. Airships meant games, now he just had to look out for a Clubs sign. 

His fingers tightened around the charm beneath his jacket as he quickened his pace.

He wasn't thinking about the risks. He wasn't thinking about the games he might still have to play. His only focus was you. He had to find you.

The Jack of Clubs airship grew larger as he continued walking, the urgency building within him. 

He had no time to waste. The longer he waited, the more the chance of finding you alive slipped away. He wasn't about to lose you, not like this. Not after everything.

The remnants of the world around him seemed insignificant now, nothing more than a backdrop to his single goal. He was prepared to do whatever it took to find you, to make sure you were safe. Because in this hellscape, he had nothing left but you.

You were his purpose.

As he neared the game arena, a deep rumble vibrated through the ground. The sound was unmistakable—a violent explosion. His pulse quickened. The airship erupted in a violent cloud of smoke and fire, signaling the end of a game. The Jack of Spades, no doubt, had been defeated. The explosion echoed like a death knell through the abandoned city streets.

Chishiya froze, his breath catching in his throat as the dust settled. His mind raced. He couldn't afford to waste any more time. If you had been part of the game, the explosion meant the end of it. But had you made it out?

A few players began emerging from the wreckage, their movements slow, cautious. Chishiya stayed in the shadows, watching them carefully. Some limped. Others staggered, but none of them were you. 

The anxiety gnawed at him, a sinking feeling building in his chest. Was he too late? Had you already been eliminated? Were you in another game? Had you been another casualty in this unforgiving world?

He leaned against a wall, the weight of the past few months crashing down on him. For the briefest moment, he let his guard down. 

The reality of it all—the possibility that he might never see you again—was too much to bear. 

He closed his eyes, gripping the charm in his jacket, grounding himself. 

He had come this far, he couldn't give up now.

Just as the last of the players trickled out of the arena, a final figure stepped through the smoke.

His breath caught again.

There, standing at the edge of the destruction, silhouetted by the haze and the dying light of the explosion, was you.

Chishiya's heart skipped a beat. For a long moment, he couldn't move. Couldn't speak. 

His eyes locked on you, taking in every detail, every familiar feature that made you unmistakably, undeniably you. The long black hair, the scar on your wrist, the look in your eyes—tired, but defiant.

You hadn't been eliminated. You were alive.

A surge of relief flooded through him, but it was quickly replaced by a flood of questions, of doubts, of fears. 

Did you still love him? After everything this world had taken from both of them? After the way it had changed him, more than he ever thought possible? What if it had changed you just as much?

You looked around as if you were still disoriented by the explosion. Your eyes met his for a split second, and in that instant, everything around him seemed to blur. 

His heart raced, pounding in his chest. There was no time for hesitation. He couldn't waste another second.

Without thinking, he stepped out of the shadows, his voice low but urgent.

"Y/N."

You froze, your gaze snapping back to him, recognition flooding your expression. His name—his real name—escaped your lips in a breathless whisper, almost as if you were afraid to believe it.

"Shuntarō…?"

His steps were quick, almost desperate, and he closed the distance between you in seconds. The world around them seemed to slow, fading into nothingness as he reached for you, his eyes never leaving yours.

His fingers brushed against your wrist, feeling the familiar warmth of your skin. For a moment, it felt like nothing had changed. Like this world, this nightmare, had never existed, and it was just the two of you again.

"You're alive." His voice was hoarse, as if the words had been trapped in his chest for far too long.

You stood frozen, your eyes wide, as if unable to fully process his presence. 

For a heartbeat, the world seemed to crumble around him once again. Weren't you happy to see him? 

The question lingered in his mind, a sharp pang of doubt threatening to claw its way out.

Then, before he could overthink any further, a sob broke the silence—soft, trembling—and in the next instant, you were in his arms, your body pressing against him with an urgency that stole the breath from his lungs. Your arms wrapped around him so tightly that it almost felt as though you were afraid he might disappear if you let go.

"You're here. You're really here…" Your voice cracked, breaking apart as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. The tremor of your breath against his skin told him everything he needed to know. 

You had been waiting.

The weight of it hit him, and for the first time in what felt like forever, his own walls cracked, leaving him raw. 

His arms wrapped around you instinctively, pulling you closer, holding you like he was afraid to lose you again. "I'm here," he murmured, his voice softer than usual, but no less certain. It was the only answer he could give, the only reassurance he could offer. 

"I'm so glad," you whispered, your voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt. "I love you, Shuntarō. It's been so long, these past months… I've been waiting, hoping you were safe. I love you so much. Always."

The words struck him deeper than anything else ever had. 

You loved him. 

Despite everything. Despite the distance, the uncertainty, the danger of this cursed world. You loved him. And no matter what this nightmare had thrown at him—no matter how far he had fallen, how much he had changed—there was something in him, something he hadn't let himself believe in until now, that told him you would always love him. You would always be there.

For once, he wasn't afraid to be vulnerable. Not when he had you back in his arms, not when you were so firmly anchored in his world again. His voice was barely above a whisper as he pressed his cheek to your hair, his breath catching in his chest.

"I love you too."

Masterlist

[klarolinexluv]

Okay but exes Prongsfoot where they remain codependent, they remain the closest of best friends.

Pre-jegulus and wolfstar.

The angst in that??

Because Remus is thinking that he will never be good enough for Sirius, especially when Sirius still has James. Remus thinks that Prongsfoot were perfect together and that Remus has no way of competing with that.

Whereas Sirius knows that him and James were not perfect. He still adores James, that would never change, it’s just that Sirius couldn’t give to James what he needed in the romantic sense and James couldn’t give it to Sirius. They tried very hard though to make it work but it just wouldn’t and sometimes that’s just how things go.

Their break up was very private and very emotional. Both of them cried. They talked it out in such depth and explained themselves throughly. They know they are on the same page and that feels good and also horrible because they both know that they can’t give eachother what they need and that is a physical pain for them.

Anyway. It takes a while for Sirius to realise what he feels for Remus and him and James talk it out. James helps Sirius come to terms and then plan how to ask out Remus and woo him.

Wolfstar happens before Jegulus I’m thinking.

Jegulus I feel is more angsty because of the whole best friend/exs brother, brothers best friend/ex thing.

Sirius and Regulus actually look identical. There are small give away and minor differences. Like their eye colour. Sirius’ is more grey with blue undertones whereas Regulus’ Is more blue with grey undertones. Sirius’ Is more the ocean and Regulus’ is more a storm.

Their hair is slightly different too. Sirius’ is more wavy whereas Regulus’ Is more curly. They both have the same freckles and the same mole at the corner of their lips, but Regulus has a second one closer to his left ear that is mostly hidden by his hair.

Anyway… because they look so alike, Regulus is a mean jealous cunt. I say this fondly, but he is. He does not believe James when he asks him out, he thinks it’s a joke and gives James a dressing down. He is so mean.

This goes on like this for months at the very least. James has to work hard to win Regulus over and convince him that James isn’t just looking for Sirius in Regulus (he never was but that’s what Regulus thought).

It’s not until Sirius asks Regulus about it that Regulus starts to think differently. Sirius ends up explaining what happened between him and James and at first it only makes Regulus’ resolve worse but after a week of thinking and overthinking, he changes his tune a bit. He’s more open to James’ attention but James isn’t asking him out anymore and this makes Regulus doubt what he knows.

PLOTTWIST. Sirius helps Regulus asks James out instead.

ANYWAY rewind a bit, to James working out his feelings for Regulus.

It doesn’t take James long to discover his crush on Regulus. He tells Sirius immediately, at first Sirius is sceptical, thinking that James might just be looking for Sirius in his brother but he is proven wrong not even a second after he has the thought when James starts rambling about Regulus and all the things he likes about him.

Sirius doesn’t really help much in the area of asking Regulus out, only that Sirius tells James things that Regulus likes. Things that would help him. Sirius then goes on to claim that he had no part in helping James but they all know (literally everyone) that Sirius is helping James without actually doing anything.

James and Sirius have a lot of talks about this, James is constantly coming over and pestering him. This goes on for months, Sirius sees the highs and lows. When James doubts himself and all that.

It’s at a particular low point that Sirius talks to Regulus and yk the rest is history.

ANYWAY years later, wolfstar marry first. James is Sirius’ best man. Lily is Remus’ maid of honour, (or whatever the titles are) and Regulus gives Sirius away.

Years after that, jegulus get married. Sirius is James’ best man and Pandora is Regulus’ maid of honour. Sirius gives Regulus away to James.

And they all live happily ever after the end.

PS. Pandalily hookup at the jegulus wedding and that’s the start of their relationship. It’s messy for ages too. They (Lily) can’t admit to their feelings and it’s screws them around abit. Lily gets her shit together after a hard talk with Regulus (because yes they are friends) and boom!

PPS. Rosekiller spontaneously get married like a month later whilst jegulus are on their honeymoon. They just went and did it. They weren’t even dating before hand. Drama ensues. (They were fully sober)

PPPS. (Girl idk how many of these there is going to be) Dorlene were the first couple out of the group to marry, even before wolfstar. Back when jegulus where only in their fetus era.

ANOTHER PS. Peter met Sybil through Pandora at Jegulus’ wedding. Sybil came as Dora’s plus one. Peter asks Sybil if she would want to dance and they danced together all night. He asks her out as he makes sure she gets home safe. She agrees and they start seeing eachother soon after.

AND THEY ALL LIVER HAPPILY EVER AFTER THE END