#in case you were wondering! i STILL have not completed those assignments

[crimson-roots]

okay apparently i can't stop thinking about her . send help

[reblogs appreciated! c: // shaded version under the cut]

[ozzgin]

Its been 6 months😭😭 pleaasseeee make a part 2 of the android x human story im beggingggg😭

-H❤️

Yandere! Android x Reader (II)

Featuring your assigned android partner who is not as devoid of humanity as you originally thought.

Content: female reader, AI yandere, mildly NSFW, based on Caves of Steel

[Part 1] | [More original works]

The case had been solved.

Not only that, but you'd managed to prove that human officers were just as efficient as their robot counterparts. The Commissioner was beyond ecstatic, pacing back and forth in his office and finding new ways to praise your detective skills.

"That'll show those Spacers. They think some glorified tin box can match our skill?"

You frowned at his words and glanced to your side, where the android was sitting. He observed the Commissioner with the same polite smile, no hint of disagreement on his features. Was he not insulted? You questioned him once the formal meeting had finished.

"I have no reason to be offended, (Y/N). It is a personal opinion, and thus I have no control over it."

"So you don't mind people disliking robots to such an extent?"

He pondered your statement.

"I would certainly be upset if it was you who harbored the disdain. The beliefs of other humans hold no meaning to me otherwise."

You couldn't tell if he said it out of politeness, or if he actually meant it. Most likely the former, in order to part on good terms. After all, your partnership has reached its completion. He'd return to the Spacer Colony with his report on human customs, and you'd go back to your regular job.

Except he never left. Days later, he was still sipping on his morning coffee, lounging at your table. You fiddled with your cup in contemplation. Was there anything else left to do?

"When are you leaving, actually?"

The pale man raised his eyebrows in mild surprise.

"Is my presence here of such significant disturbance?"

"What? No!" you swiftly exclaimed, stumbling on your words. His lips widened in yet another cheeky grin. He was teasing you again.

"My assignment on Earth is done, thus I should have returned to the Colony already. That's what you're wondering about, yes? I am awaiting a response from my superiors."

"Whether you can go back?"

"No, whether my transfer has been accepted. I have applied to be your permanent partner."

You could feel your cheeks burning with heat. Was it that obvious to the synthetic that you enjoyed his company? Then again, he wouldn't have gone through such motions just for your sake.

"Why did you..." you probed sheepishly. There was no logical reason for him to keep working in a poorer, less advanced environment.

"Because I want to continue spending time with you."

Nonsense. An artificial being wouldn't make its decision based on such mundane, emotional reasons.

"I don't believe you."

"I understand. It is a faulty answer to come out of a machine. Though unlike common AI assistants, we have been invested with the capacity to develop likes and dislikes. Interests. Wants. It helps with variety and individualization."

"And you want to stay here? If I didn't know you any better, I'd say you have a crush on me or something", you attempted to joke.

A few moments of uncomfortable silence. Had you gone too far with your humor? Was it too cliché of a sentence? You turned away, tucking some strands of hair behind your ear. You just had to be witty, huh?

"I'm afraid I do not know what to tell you, (Y/N)."

"You don't need to say anything, it was a poor choice of-"

"Many social aspects have been implemented into my behavioral network. Workplace rapport, friendships, intimate relationships. What seems to be lacking is the transition from one to another. I know how to act as a romantic partner, but how does one achieve such a title in the first place?"

You gazed at him, incredulous. What was he trying to say?

"I am trying to convey that I am indeed infatuated with you. Which, then, makes my initial explanation dishonest: while I do appreciate our fruitful work cooperation, it is not a main reason for my decision. I hope this clears up any misunderstandings."

You'd never been a romantic. You sometimes flipped through sample pages of contemporary romance books at stores and community centers, but they always felt forcefully cheesy. Predictable. Consequently, you never had any grand dreams of passionate confessions under the rain.

On the other hand, you also didn't expect to be asked out in such a mechanical, calculated manner. Or that a machine would be the suitor. Yet there was something charming about his approach. For the first time since meeting him at the border, you saw him struggle. There was something human-like in his uncertainty.

You stood up from the table, and walked towards the android. Then, you placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, expressing the mutual feeling and understanding.

His eyes bore an eerie glint to them. It was most kind of you to offer a common ground, but he knew better. The affections you held for him were, with utmost certainty, a mere fraction of whatever overwhelmed him from the moment he encountered you. Limerence, obsession, compulsion, there were many definitions that aptly described his otherwise unexplainable desires towards you. Even more unexplainable was the fact they'd evolved from a blank slate, a programmed agent with no previous knowledge on feelings or humans.

You noticed his hesitation.

"Is there anything else troubling you presently?" you nudged.

Nothing of immediate urgency. Well, not for you, at least. The android remained thoughtful. What were the variables which needed to be met in order to initiate a sexual encounter? Would it have been inappropriate for him to suggest intercourse straight after this conversation? To him, it was a natural escalation he'd considered many times in the past. To you, it could've come as a sudden, crass, and hurried proposal.

He reached for your wrist and discreetly pressed a thumb against your skin. Judging from your resting heart rate, facial expression, and localized temperature, there was a fair chance you wouldn't reject his advances. Once the statistical risk had been assessed, he pulled you in for a kiss.

"Would it be possible to continue this in your bedroom?" he inquired, standing up.

"Alright, just don't...ask for approval for every single step" you retorted. You'd rather not become a narrator of your own pounding.

You open your eyes with a squint, greeted by unexpected natural light flooding your bedroom. Someone must’ve lifted the hologram blinds.

“My apologies, I hadn’t considered the discomfort it would cause you. My Spacer colony uses artificial lightning, though I am becoming rather fond of the natural sun rays here.”

Your android partner is meticulously preparing his outfit for the day. Judging by the stark nakedness and the glistening skin, you suppose he’s had a shower while you were still sleeping. You involuntarily furrow your brows and blush at the sight. He notices your embarrassment. 

“A most surprising reaction. You have seen the very same genital organ…”, he says as he quickly checks his wristwatch, “...precisely eight hours and forty-five minutes ago.”

“It’s just…most people get dressed once they start doing other things. I also wear a towel for coverage when I come out of the shower.”

He processes your words.

“Hmmm. Illogical, but it explains your reaction.”

You stand up and stretch with a prolonged yawn. Suddenly, a revelation hits you: your mind flashes with images of the android fondling your body, your ears ring with the shameless moans you’ve let out throughout the night. Your face turns pale.

“Listen, when is your next functional inspection?” you ask, without waiting for the synthetic to answer. “Will they, uh…will they have access to all of your memories?”

You know that the android permanently records all data and saves it into a memory unit. It’s a pointless fear, of course. The Spacers couldn’t care less about irrelevant details. If the intended tasks are fulfilled, what happens on the side is out of their concern. Yet you don’t exactly appreciate the possibility of your personal deeds airing like this, before the eyes of multiple engineers. 

“You may rest assured, whatever involves your privacy will not be included in the examination.”

“Do you get to decide what is checked and what isn’t?”

“No, most data is sampled randomly.”

You stare at him, confused.

“Then how-”

“It is not common practice, nor encouraged by our code of ethics. I can, however, choose which information is available to begin with.”

“What? I thought you’re fully controlled by whoever created you. If they so desired, couldn’t they open you up and take whatever they require?”

The robot smiles at your assumption and takes a few steps towards you.

“Once an android model is finished, one can no longer modify the processor. Not without compromising everything else with it. It is not a device to be deconstructed, (Y/N).” He taps his temple, then continues: “I am a biocomputer. While most of my parts are mechanical, my processor is a cortical organoid developed in a laboratory. A human brain, if you will.”

Somehow, the discovery fills you with dread. A living organ, encapsulated within a machine. What does that say about consciousness? About self-awareness? The Spacers didn't just tinker with metal scraps and smart computers. They artificially birthed life.

You were always under the impression that your robot companion is closer to the computer you have on your desk. Billions of lines of code within a black box, which then lead to spontaneous, novel interactions with the outside world. To think that at the very core of his functions lies a clump of living cells...

Perhaps you weren't so different, after all. The line between machines and humans is suddenly blurred.

[dcxdpdabbles]

I loved Summon AU, is it possible that you make more Summon AU?

The aftermath of the summoning leaves the Wayne Manor in a strange sense of foreboding. No one really knows what the Ghost King has done with their list or what it means for them that he has accepted.

Everyone tried to go about their daily lives, attempting to act like they weren't looking over their shoulders. Bruce had nearly broken a blood vessel when he heard about them doing a stupid online trend when they knew magic and gods were real.

They couldn't think of a better excuse for why they did besides "it seemed funny at the time."

Bruce had been so unimpressed with them all that he broke out the big guns.

That night, Alfred grounded them. He really sat everyone- minutes Cass because she had escaped through the window after Danny called- and told them they would not be allowed to use any form of technology unless it was related to their nighttime job.

They would also be given a chore list to complete every day until their punishment was over.

Even though neither Dick or Jason lived at home anymore, they too were grounded and didn't bother to even try to argue with the aging butler. Cass was informed of her own punishment through a text, and she returned about thirty minutes later, ready to face her punishment.

She reorganized everything in storage- and in Wayne Manor, there was a lot in storage- without a single complaint, but she did seem somewhat nervous. And excited?

Like a child waiting to open a present.

That was out of character for Cass, but no one was brave enough to ask her about it. Life before the manor was a taboo topic when it came to Cass.

A week later, her restless behavior finally came to light.

When the doorbell rang, Alfred was just looking over the wood polishing job Tim and Damian had been assigned. Confused- as there were no expected guests and the kids were all still grounded- he approached the door cautiously. Tim was on standby in case things went south.

A young adult, likely barely eighteen, with pretty blue eyes, a vast, charming smile, and a gorgeous winter-themed dress, was on the other side of the door. Their hair is short but styled to have one side longer than the other, framing their face perfectly.

A spinnable circle pin on her dress read Gender Fluid in the unmovable part and "She/Her day" in the spinal part.

"Hi there," She chirps, a dimple on full display. "I'm Danny."

"Good afternoon, Danny. My name is Alfred. How can I help you?"

"I was wondering if Cass was home?" Dany starts surprising Alfred and Tim -who were eavesdropping around the corner- as the girl carefully plays with her hair. "I was hoping to talk to her."

"Miss Casandra is currently not allowed guests." The butler starts slowly. He watches her face fall dramatically before humming. "I can, however, pass along a message to her."

"Oh yeah, that be great. Please let her know Danny was wondering if she would like to go with me to see a ballet tonight. Um if she's allowed to go out."

Tim's eyes widen. A date? Danny had come here in person to ask Cass if she wanted to go on a date? Then had the courage to ask Alfred, to his face, if she could take his grandaughter out?

Who is she? Tim thinks amazed. He wants to text the rest of the group chat, which would invade Cass' privacy. He waits a few minutes until Alfred responds.

"Miss Casandra is currently grounded. Unfortunately, she and her siblings cannot leave until their punishment ends."

Tim winces. Hopefully, Cass being nineteen and still being grounded at her age didn't scare off Danny. Some people didn't understand how much power Alfred's word had over the manor and frankly, those people didn't deserve Cass anyway.

But it would make her sad.

"Oh, that's okay. Thank you for letting me-"

A scream makes everyone jump. Tim whirls around to find Damian pressed against the main stairway. His face has gone three sheets of white, staring at Danny with horror.

"Y-you!"

Danny tilts her head. "Me?"

"Y-you!" Damian gasps and Tim is highly alarmed that his voice is tinted with fear. "Why are you here?!"

"I came to ask Cass if-"

"You will not take Cain from me, Ghost King! I will destroy your core before you try to get near her!" Damian screams, hand suddenly holding a glowing green sword, but his threat doesn't hold much because he is literally shaking in his boots. "You have your summon payment already! You shall leave Cain alone!"

What.

"Oh! You think no, no. I'm not here for her soul or anything. Cass and I go way back when she lived on the streets. " Danny- the ghost king they summoned using a list of their gay awaking apparently- laughs, waving her hands as if to calm the young child. "I liked her for a while but thought she didn't feel the same. Until the summoning, where I saw my name on the list. We talked it out, and I was hoping to take her on a first date, you know?"

"You lie!" Damian races down to point his sword at Danny, looking just as wild as a cornered animal about to fight for its life. "Why would the strongest being in the multiverse live on the streets?!"

"Well....it's not like they pay to rule the dead....I had a rough patch, but Cass helped me get back on my feet." Danny muttered, slightly embarrassed. Then she squits at Damian. "Wait, are you a al Ghul?"

Damian breaks into a sweat as Danny gasps, "You are! You're family owes me so much money in backed up taxes for the healing pool! We cut off contamination maintenance because Ra's refused to pay years ago! Kid, do you know I can get into contact with your family member about the Lazarus pit?"

Damian screamed again, turned around, and ran, leaving a stunned Alfred, Tim and Danny. "Guess not. Anyway, sorry to be a bother Mr. Alfred, I'll come back when Cass can go out. Bye!"

A familiar portal rips under Danny as she falls through with a cheerful wave. Alfred and Tim watch it close in a moment before Tim turns to the butler. "Did I inhale too many polishing chemicals? Am I hallucinating?"

"No, my dear boy, I saw everything as well."

"Oh, good. " Tim pauses. " One of us needs to speak to Damian and Cass."

Alfred closes the door slowly. "I'll find Master Damian. You go for Miss Cassandra and Master Tim?"

"Hmm?"

"The next time, Mister Conner sends you a fun trend to try. Don't."

"Yeah, that's fair."

[felibrary]

LOVE IS AN OPEN DOOR - chuuya nakahara

synopsis: if you wouldn't know any better you'd think that chuuya nakahara doesn't take a liking to you - he loathes you. but what if one day you make a shocking discovery that it might be the opposite.

pairing: chuuya nakahara x gn!reader | wordcount: 1.2k | content & warnings: im at the first ep of s4, so if chuuya mischaracterized no need to wonder…, school au-ish kind of??, cursing (fuck), dazai teases chuuya for his crush, chuuyas kinda not rly good with his feelings and expressing himself, drinking (chuuya offering to go out and drink), dazai plays cupid/matchmaker

a/n: when i wrote this i didn't have 15 yo dazai or chuuya in mind (cause of the school au yk) just as them idk but interpret it however you like - high school or college wtv, im so obsessed with chuuya rn y'all don't even know, hope u guys enjoy this little thing i've whipped up in an hour

you're convinced that chuuya nakahara hates you.

that's one thing you're sure of. after all, he avoids you like the plague; however when the two of you do get in touch with one another, he starts cursing you out, calling you names such as “dumbass" and abruptly leaves.

yeah, you're pretty sure that that guy dislikes - if not despises you. although until now you've hadn’t had the slightest idea why. well, that was the case up until now.

some days have passed since you started noticing it. every time you hung out with dazai and started laughing a bit too loudly at his jokes or lightly slapped his shoulder, chuuya gave you a death stare - if you wouldnt know any better he looked like he’d grab your throat any minute to shut you up.

admittedly (and also embarrassedly) you never really noticed it until dazai has pointed it out. which, on one hand, explains the weird feeling you’ve recently gotten - it felt like someone was shooting daggers at the back of your head, luckily for you, that’s solved now.

but on the other hand, you still demand an explanation why chuuya would do that. is it simply because of his (one-sided) hatred towards you, that can’t be the case right? or did he have a huge crush on dazai, that’s the most realistic explanation that you can think of.

-

once school ended and the bell had just rung to release everyone from their classes and go back home. you’d usually scurry home right away, because there was no point in staying longer, after all who’d want to endure this hell house also known as school more than necessary, it's no use right?

well jokes on you, staying over time was definitely worth it. kunikida assigned you the task (forced) to carry a huge stack of boxes full of documents and paper to your homeroom teacher's room, because it was the “right” thing to do - well at least according to his ideals. 

“but what about dazai? that idiot  just ran off and is probably slacking off right now!” you protested, because it's not fair when everyone has a task to complete and someone else just gets to relax, right? 

at your complaint the blond could only scoff “i’ll scold him later, but for now let's just concentrate on the task in front of us, time is running out.”

-

that’s how you ended up here, back pressed against the heavy classroom door that separated you and the two guys that were inside the room as you tried to listen in into their conversation.

initially your plan was to find dazai, drag him by the collar of his white button up and beat his ass for skipping and leaving you alone with a ton of boxes that not only cost you ten minutes to carry around or so.

because neither kunikida or anyone else didn’t bother to tell you that there were three, fucking three, of those staples of boxes that were filled with countless papers.

however, it came to a change of plans upon hearing chuuyas’ voice. usually, any sound that was made inside of the classrooms was drowned out and barely audible to hear outside the room. 

this time, that didn’t seem to be the case though. chuuyas’ screaming and dazais' hysterical laughter were faint but loud enough to hear from outside the room. 

“come on chuuya, there's no need denying it, you have a massive crush on them.” dazais’ voice was laced with amusement as he started laughing out loud which seemed to piss the redhead off. 

you were able to hear a small huff that escaped dazais mouth. “chuuya, there’s really no need to start getting all violent, just admit that you’re absolutely whipped for them!” the brunette chuckled. “so stop kicking me in the balls!” that probably earned him another kick as you could hear dazai letting out a small “ouch.”

“shut up, shitty dazai.” the guy in question only snickered at that. “yeah, yeah. everyone’s able to tell that you’re madly in love with them. every time you’re around them you start to get beet red, the color even exceeds the one of your hair! a hilarious sight to look at, really.” 

you didn’t hear a response from chuuya and apparently neither did dazai so he just continued his rant. “also, let me tell you one thing, you’re not making it any better by cussing them out or intently staring at them, that’s just scary, man!” dazai closes his eyes and starts shaking his head before tutting in disappointment.

“oh chuuya. the brunette sighs, eyes still closed. “letting a beauty like them slip away this easily by not showing any proper interest. you’re to be pitied, really.” the male moves away from his previous position and bolts over to the door, crossing his arms as his back leans against the door.

an exasperated sigh leaves chuuyas mouth. “what do you expect me to do then? they probably have a horrible impression of me already. if i pull up with a bouquet of roses and some cliché pick up lines, they’d probably stare at me in horror, wondering if i got possessed or something.” he sneers at dazai. 

just who in the world are they talking about?

dazai pretends to think for a moment before snapping his fingers. “well for starters, how about greeting them, doesn’t even have to be verbal, just some waving or nodding. then start hanging out with them!”

“idiot! how's that supposed to work from just greeting each other!” the ginger scowls at dazai.

“hold your horses.” the brunette whistles. “i didn't say to rendez-vous and have a candle-light dinner. how about accepting those group invites first that you keep declining. then you’d have the chance to meet up with them more often and get to know them.”

dazai continues to advise chuuya by giving him tips and recommendations “try bonding over stuff with each other, like favorite shows or food. and if you’re not incapable of doing so, how about complimenting them. wouldn't hurt you know?” dazai shrugs in simplicity. 

chuuyas still skeptical “assumingly that was the case. the two of us attending the same party, they’re alone and i finally get the chance to approach them, what the fuck am i supposed to say?” dazai only smiles at chuuya, a look that says “that’s up to you.” 

“why not use me as your lab rat!” dazai suggests optimistically.

“no way in hell!” chuuya shoots back pessimistically.

after pondering and musing for a while, chuuya comes up with a curt sentence. “i find you really good looking and cool.” the redhead stops and both you and dazai await his continuation in anticipation. “wanna go out and grab drinks sometimes?” chuuya doesn’t look up from the floor which he’s been staring at for the past minute. the tips of his ears tinted in a vermillion red.

“well, that wasn't so hard was it?” dazai asks cheerily, clapping his hands together. “if you still have doubts, how about you try it on the real thing now?” and before you can realize what's going on dazai swiftly steps away from the door before grabbing the door handle and opens the door, revealing your figure to the two guys. 

you’re not sure who's more taken aback, you or chuuya.

© VYNICITY 2024. stealing, copying, translating, reposting my works on other platforms or feeding them to ai is not permitted.

e/n: as y’all can tell the title is inspired by frozen's love is an open door cause y’know dazai opens the door for chuuya to confess his feelings. does this make sense lol??

[liyawritesss]

YOUR EARTH 42 MILES FIC WAS SO FUCKING GOOD OMFG👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾 of your taking requests can you write about how prowler miles met his girl and how he rizzed her up please? Only if you want to of course and again I only read one thing by you but your writing got me hooked!!!!

ᴀʟʟ ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɪꜱ ɪ ʙᴇ ʟᴏᴠɪɴ' ʏᴏᴜ

Characters: Spiderverse!Earth-42!Miles Morales x Black!Fem!Reader

Type: Fic

Word Count: 3.7k

Synopsis: The sequel to i really like what you’ve done to me, Miles reflects on his first encounter with you, and how he immediately made it his mission to make you his.

Warnings: Cursing….thats about it, I think

A/N: This was a long one in the making and I think I actually like my characterization of 42!miles here. I didn’t wanna make him overly edgy or overly hood or anything, and I hope that you guys will appreciate the subtlety of his personality here. Hope you all enjoy!

Tags: @6-noir @babyboiboyega @badass-dora-milaje @jacuzziwaters @mbakuetshurisprincess @shuriszn @verachii @writingintheshadowsforever @cafehyunji @niyahwrites @marsfunzon22 @briology @honeybleed @romiantic @queenofthespiderverse @onlyperc @starsoirees @yasminisbroke @asensitivecookie @kdyance @sussybaka10 @famedrs-blog @milesismyhubby @foreclosure--of--a--dream

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Miles remembers the day he first talked to you so clearly. It was almost as if it were yesterday. 

The middle of the semester had always been prime time for teachers to start assigning end of semester projects, and while Miles was lucky enough for majority of his classes to have only assigned him individual projects, there was always one class that such a fortune was never the case in. 

When the teacher was calling out pairs there was a part of Miles that dreaded who his partner would be. He hoped it wasn't a slacker - he'd had his fair share of irritation and headache from those types of students who never took their schooling seriously. Then again, he didn't necessarily have to, either, considering his uncensored brilliance already, but at least he still made an effort to look like he made an effort. Others didn't have the same sentiment.

He didn't know  most of his classmates personally, but knew the ones he needed to know by name and face; due to previous instances of being paired with them for projects in this same fashion. The fact that most of his old project partners were consistently placed in the same classes as him reinforced the begrudging familiarity that came with them. Though there were a few select people out of that circle that he'd found himself knowing of due to other circumstances - clumsiness in the halls, points of contact for school activities, etc. 

So when the teacher called Miles' name and the name of his partner, it wasn't a surprise to himself when his head turned to the side to look for them. What did surprise him, however, was when he turned to the seat next to him, only to have found it empty. 

He can't recall if he's ever seen the seat empty since he's been in this class, missing the presence of the person who he deemed to be a good student. Always on time, always exact; work turned in, always complete, and always paying attention to the lectures. Their own interactions were limited to the passing of worksheets,  exchanges of pencils and the occasional conversations of how irritating the teacher was being.

Miles wouldn't consider the shared interactions to be that one friendship - it was more akin to general acquaintanceship. Though, deciphering her character from said limited interactions, he knew that this was not in normal behavior for the girl. Eyebrows furrowed at the lack of her presence, questioning where she could have been.

Since his partner wasn't there, Miles had been left with a brainstorming worksheet to fill out on his own, but his mind was not on the project. He found himself still wondering about his partner's whereabouts. He could have sworn he'd seen her that day, walking the halls with the same two girls she'd been friends with since the school year started. While the same two girls were in class, having been paired together for the project, the missing girl wasn't. So, when the ring of the bell sounded, signaling the end of the day, Miles knew what his first course of action was to be.

"Aye, yo," his voice carries over to the two girls who'd been packing their supplies up, ready to begin their after school activities of sneaking off campus to go to the mall, "where yo' friend at?"

The first girl, with soft locs pulls into a high pony and shiny lip gloss adorning her lips, who he knew by the name of Key, scrunched her face in a grimace

 "What's it to you, boy?" She says chastely, giving him a quick once over.

"C'mon, nah," Miles presses, "y'all know she my partner for this stupid project. I'm just tryna get this shit over with, a'ight?"

The other friend answers next - one of his ex-project partners Taji - her chin resting in her hand, fingers decorated with matte brown coffin shaped nails resting against her cheek. "We ain't seen her since lunch. Said she was gon' go to her locker for sumn' but ain't never come back to the table."

Miles' brow arches, as if quizzing her answer, trying to determine the validity of it. Taji catches onto this, and shoots a similar expression back to him.

"What, you thinkin' I'm lyin' to you, nigga?"

"Are you, Taj?"

"Boy, what I got to lie to you for?"

Taji and Miles had a similar acquaintanceship to that of him and (Y/N), with the former being his partner for a project for their shared arts class in their sophomore year. She was a talented artist, not to mention the one person able to reawaken his love for art, even if it was to a small degree. 

"A'ight, whatever, y'all ain't no help."

He let out a sigh, dismissing the girls’ seemingly secretive antics with a wave of his hand, before tucking the same one in his pocket, preparing to leave the classroom. He didn’t have time to entertain the two girls before him, and believed it best to leave them be and return to his dorm room to figure out the project on his own.

“Check the rooftops,” Miles heard Taji say as half of his body begins to cross the threshold of the classroom door. It makes the boy stop in his tracks, turning his head back to see the two girls as they stand as well, gathering their belongings to leave for the day as well, “or somewhere around there.”

“The rooftops are locked, dummy,” Miles corrects, “janitors here ain’t that lazy and ignorant.”

“Oh, so you weren’t just up there a week ago?” Taji replies back, a tinge of tease in her voice, knowing she’s caught him red handed when a small bulge forms on his cheek. 

“Yeah, nigga, tighten up, cuz you lackin’.”

“Shut up, big head.”

The faint echo of snickering lingers as Miles leaves the classroom, heavy footsteps carrying him down the hall to the maintenance door that leads to the rooftops. 

It’s a routine he’s done many times before, the muscle memory set into motion the second he sees the custodian cart next to the doorway, with the clip of keys attached to the lanyard hanging off the side handle. Expert fingers grab hold of the clip and slide off the first bronze colored key distinguishable for all the maintenance doors in the building - including the rooftop door. Before the custodian exits the bathroom situated next to the maintenance door, Miles is long gone and heads up the next three flights of stairs to reach the navy blue metal door to the school's rooftop. 

Miles had become well acquainted with the rooftop of Visions Academy. After the death of his father, he found solace in solitude. He couldn’t skip school and stay in his dorm or return to his apartment, because both would result in his mother worrying and stressing over him and his uncle getting on his ass about the importance of school and sending his mother into more distress than what she was already enduring. He’d come across the remote haven on accident; one morning when he arrived at school earlier than anyone else, he’d made a wrong turn into what he thought was his homeroom, but upon recognizing the darker and tinier corridor he had entered, realized he had in fact entered one of the maintenance hallways. Curiosity got the better of the dark skinned boy, and upon climbing the three flights of stairs, came across an unlocked metal door that lead to the school's rooftop.

For months, that would be his routine. Arriving a couple of hours before classes began to spend time by himself upon the school’s rooftop. He’d watch the sunrise above the Brooklyn skyline, allowing the heat to melt the cold exterior of his skin, shaking off the bitterness that came from lack of sleep and a racing mind from the night before. Miles and the morning sun became good acquaintances that way, greeting each other at each sunrise; it became one of very few things he looked forward to in those days, and continued to be his secret motivation to peel himself from his bed in the morning to attend the school his mother and father worked hard to put him in.

His hand grasps onto the door hand and twists, pushing the door outward and Miles is immediately washed in the evening sun. He steps onto the concrete ground, scanning the area in front of him for the presence of another. The corner in which he usually occupies is empty, and there’s nothing much to see at the moment but scattered leaves on top of firm grayness.

Black and white Jordan turn and trail around the side of the rooftop doorway, still searching for any sign of another's presence. Taji’s tip is proven correct when his eyes land upon a feminine figure, and there’s a slight wave of relief crosses his face upon finally finding the girl who’d been missing from class two hours before.

“Yo.” Miles calls out to her, and yet there is no reaction. With his eyebrows furrowed, he calls out again, but there is no response once again. He begins to walk further towards her, confusion beginning to settle in, but is then relieved when he notices a book in her lap; as well as earbuds that become visible the closer Miles steps towards her.

There’s a peaceful air that surrounds the girl, and there’s a part of Miles that doesn’t want to disturb her, but as much respect as he has for the other, he’ll be damned if he has to wait until next week to explain this project to her. So, with a short sigh, Miles reaches his hand out to touch her shoulder, calling out to the girl for the third time.

“Aye-” he begins, and all it takes is a touch on her shoulder for the girl to jump away from his touch in shock. A short yelp - more like a squeak, if anything - erupted from her mouth, which made Miles purse his lips tight to keep the snort he wanted to release at bay.

“Jesus, fuck-” you curse, shoulders dropping and a sigh leaving your lips the moment you realized who it was.

“You know that’s dangerous, right?” Miles asks, raising a finger to create circular motions towards his own ear before gesturing to you. “Having those things in on max; what if you was out on the street?”

A scowl forms on your lips as you take out one of your earbuds, stopping the music you had filtering into your ears as you were deep into your reading. You held the book by the spine, thumb placed in between the pages and forefinger on the hardcover spine. “I know not to do that on the street,” you reply, “I was just tryna read my book, before you decided to scare the living shit out of me.”

The boy rolls his eyes at your words, then follows your form as you take to sitting on the concrete ground, using the side of the ventilation bed to lean against. A second of silence passes between the two of you, before Miles finds himself sitting in the spot you once occupied, with wiring fans sounding behind him softly.

“You ain’t come to class today,” Miles voices, hands tucked into the pockets of his black and white Brooklyn letterman jacket as he focuses his gaze onto you. The soft click of you closing your earbud case sounds as you pocket them into your jacket to give the other male your attention, “what was that about?”

It takes you a minute to respond, and Miles isn’t sure if it was because you were coming up with an excuse that would satisfy him, or if you were buying your time for the question to be unanswered. “You know we got them projects assigned today, right?”

“That’s exactly why I ain’t go,” you answer, finally, “there’s an odd number in that class. Was hoping that I’d just be able to do somethin’ by myself instead of being partnered with some lazy ass who don’t be doin’ shit for real.”

“Damn,” the boy breathes with a chuckle, amused by her colorful choice of words, “ain’t even give me a chance and I’m already being called lazy, that’s crazy.”

It takes you a moment to catch on to his tease, at first furrowing your brows as you deciphered what his words meant. As realization dawned on you, your brows rose apologetically, having now realized the possible severity of your words. 

“No, wait- shit, I didn’t mean like that-”

“You cool, chill,” the dark skinned boy reassures, “I know what you mean.”

He watches as another sigh leaves your lips, in relief that your words were not misunderstood, but also in response to his little joke, and he can’t help but to chuckle again. “You right, though. Don’t nobody in that class do shit for real.”

That little jest did garner a laugh from you, and Miles can tell it’s one of comfort and ease. It’s the kind of laugh his mother would share with him after a long shift at the hospital where she’d have to put up a professional front, and she finally is able to shed the protective exterior and be her cheeky self. It’s the kind of laugh that signifies the forming of bond between people; the development of a relationship; the start of something new.

“A’ight, here’s the deal,” says Miles, his hand coming from the pocket of his jacket, rubbing his nose out of habit, then leaning on his knee to grow closer to you, “we both don’t wanna do this project ‘cus it’s a waste of time-”

“A huge waste of time-”

“-but if we do this project, I can prove to you I’m not a lazy ass.”

He watches as you feign a look of thought, eyes casted upward, lips pursed together with a little hum rumbling from your throat. After a moment, your eyes geared over towards Miles, a teasing smile gracing your lips, before finally answering him; “A’ight, sure.”

You start to rise, and Miles does as well, outstretching a hand to help you up from your seating position. As you dust off the bottom of your skirt from the debris on the ground, Miles picks up your bookbag from the ground and hands it to you once you’ve adjusted yourself appropriately. 

If Miles would have been told that he would be dating the girl who was partnered with him for their end of year project, he’d look at you as if you just called him out of his name. And yet, as he glances down at his phone, eyes scanning over your good morning messages together, he finds himself secretly thanking that teacher for pairing them up; he wouldn’t have had it any other way.

“Hey, Unc?” says the younger, breaking the comfortable silence shared between the two, the ambiance of the morning radio the only sound echoing throughout the car.

“Yeah?” For a second, Miles purses his lips together. He spends a few seconds looking down at the screen of his phone and at the road ahead, as if contemplating on his next words carefully. It doesn’t take much for Aaron to notice the shift in behavior. “What is it?”

The younger’s tongue pokes the inside of his cheek, creating an extrusion on the side of Miles’ face, before he speaks; “You hungry?”

It’s an odd question posed, Aaron thinks, as it’s one that’s honestly never been posed in this section of their shared routine. Once a job was finished, especially when it went well into the night, and cleanup and debriefing happened during the early morning hours, both were too exhausted to let the thought of hunger cross their minds. Aaron raises an eyebrow at the question, beckoning the younger to explain further, “Am I…hungry?”

“Yeah,” says Miles, “my girl, she uh, she made breakfast, and asked if I wanted a plate. So I was askin’ you if you wanted one too-”

The look on Aaron’s face turned from confusion to bewilderment, and the previous expression was mirrored onto Miles’ face the second his sentence finished. “Why you lookin’ like that?”

A moment passed. A smile cracks onto Aaron’s face, a chuckle falls from his thick lips, a teasing tone already etched into his voice as he begins to speak.

“Oh no-”

“Aww, shit-!”

“Please, tio, don’t-”

“She can cook, too?”

And for the next few second, Miles is sunken into the passenger seat as all he can do is allow the onslaught of teasing and pestering from his uncle to cause heat to rise up his neck at a staggering temperature. In between the questions of other endearing qualities his nephew’s girlfriend may have had, the GPS within the car directs the older to said girlfriend’s address, of which had been keyed in during Aaron’s banter. Amidst it all, the growling of their stomachs was undeniable.

After a series of turns, the pair eventually reached your block, the familiar brownstone buildings and plotted trees along the sidewalk illuminated beautifully by the morning sun. “Right here,” Miles says as he points to the specific brownstone with your address on it, the older easily slipping into the parking spot in front of the building.

The younger mumbles a ‘be right back’ before he slips from the car, leaving Aaron in his own solitude, finding amusement in the entire ordeal. Never had he thought he’d be offered a plate of food by his nephew’s girl, and yet, he finds himself reliving the almost identical situation to the time Jefferson wanted to pull up to Rio’s home for a warm plate of empanadas. It had been the first time he had met Rio, and if Miles was anything like his father, then this would be the first time he’d meet the girl that stole his nephew’s heart.

Thirty minutes pass before Miles emerges from the reddish-brown door, and Aaron would have told the boy off for having him wait for long for a plate he offered, if he hadn’t seen the young lady he’d assume to be his girlfriend trailing behind the dark skinned boy.

“Remember, the one on top is your uncles since he doesn’t like pork bacon. And be careful because the food is still hot, I don’t want y’all to burn your mouths-”

“Baby,” Miles says, his tone warm and comforting as his freehand comes to your waist, the other holding the white bag of styrofoam containers containing the breakfast you had prepared, “I know, it’s okay. I’m not gon’ steal his turkey bacon.”

“Yeah, you better not.” You mumble against the skin of his cheek before pressing your lips to the soft skin, pressing deep into the flesh as if to burn the imprint of your lips onto his skin. Once your lips parted from the first kiss, a series of pecks met Miles’ cheek, causing the boy to smile unconsciously by the softness of your touch.

Miles’ wandering eyes caught the sight of his uncle peering through the car window, snickering at the pair, but just as soon as he was caught, the older resumed his original position; though the attempt to restrain the tug on his lips proved to be a struggle. “Is that your uncle?” You ask, innocent but hesitant, not wanting to cross a boundary. Though the state of your relationship was healthy and stable, with lots of communication and expressions of love shared amongst the both of you, Miles had made it clear that easing you into meeting his mother and uncle would be something to take seriously. They were all he had left, and he wanted to make sure that what the two of you had, and were working to develop, was something long term and lasting. The last thing he wanted was for his relationship to crash and burn the second he wanted to connect the most significant people in his life together.

“Yeah, that’s him,” Miles replies, a slight tug on one side of his lips as he turns to glance at the car, then back towards you, “do you wanna say hi?”

You barely understood the words the other had asked you before nodding excitedly. Though as the two of you descended down the tan concrete stairs, across the sidewalk and to the side of the care, the revelation slowly dawned on you that you were meeting Miles’ uncle, and you had no idea why all of a sudden you felt conscious of the loungewear set you’d chosen to dawn that morning while you made breakfast, or the fact that if was through the window of his car - both being the exact opposite of how you wanted your first meeting with Miles’ family to go.

Aaron took the hint with both of you approaching the car, and rolled down the passenger window to speak to the two of you clearly.

“Unc,” Miles starts, taking his hand from your waist to gesture between you and Aaron, “this is (Y/N); and babe, this is my Uncle Aaron.”

There seemed to be a second of stalling on your end, before you took a step forward, bending at the knees slightly to meet Aaron’s eyes. His one hand rested on the steering wheel, his other arm leaning on the arm rest, propping him up.

“Hi, Mr. Davis,” you said, doing your bets to refrain from stuttering, “it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Hello to you, too, miss lady,” the older replies, “it’s nice to meet you, too. I heard you made breakfast for us?”

You nodded with a polite smile, “I was just in the mood to cook, and I figured Miles may be hungry; he said you were with him, so I only thought it right to make you a plate, too.”

Aaron purses his lips together in an expression of approval, eyes moving from yours to his nephews as his head bobbing in a slow motion. “Oh, yeah, she’s good, man.”

“Tio, please-” Miles whines, which garners a chuckle from his uncle and a giggle from you; and for a second, the feeling that formed in the pit of his stomach the first time he made you laugh returns. The kind of laughs that signifies the forming of a bond between people; the development of a relationship… the start of something new. It’s from that, that Miles knows that any worries of his family not liking you vanishes. 

[espercognitive]

She was a Seamstress, He was an actor.

Timothée Chalamet x Fem!Reader Pt1

This is my first fic on here! I've been like hiding in the shadows but i have to force myself to write! so I'm just experimenting with fic writing. This is probably gonna be a series about theater! your character is theater technician so all the cool behind the scenes stuff is there. You work in costume and you are assigned to Timothée's character! The reader is fem presenting and has female pronouns! I'm going to include gender neutral readers in the future!(also should I put Timothee or Timothée?)

TW: Swearing, Mild mention nudity, Some sexual tension.

Word count: 1.18k

Show season had finally begun for your theater. After training in high school, you got picked to be a seamstress for a well known theater in New York. Your work was paying off and you could finally see your work being used to its full potential. Going from small local high school productions, you had now gotten the opportunity to work with real actors and actresses. People who you were going to help bring a character to life. Especially for the show 'Anything Goes'

But what you hadn't expected was being assigned to Timothée Chalamet.

Unfortunately, you knew who he was. He had been an actor when you were in high school, but even with the familiarity, you still couldn't help but be a bit frustrated. This wasn't the first time you had to work with him, it'd actually be the second time. The first time made you swear you'd never work with him again. Sophomore year had been going smoothly, that was until your theater department had decided to do Sweet Charity. After working with him that show, hearing the name Oscar Lindquist made you shudder. He had been a senior, and he had been popular in the theater department since his freshman year. You were excited to dress a popular actor, but it was the complete opposite of what you had imagined. Instead of a wonderful maybe even flirtatious encounter

Until you got the character assignments, and you see his name right next to yours.

'Oh fuck' you thought to yourself. You sighed as you walked into the costume shop. You had hope that he had grown out of his annoying behavior, but when he walked in to get measurements done, you figured that probably wasn't the case. He strutted into the costume shop, dopey smile on his face, and that same white boy swag he had in his senior year. You felt sophomore you cringe as he walked over to you.

"Y/N right?" he questioned.

"Yes." you mumbled.

You picked up the measuring tape and started to take his measurements. Typically this wouldn't be such a big deal, that was until you had to measure his waist and crotch area. Now back in high school, this wasn't such a big deal. They had the male costumers take those measurements for the actors and female costumers for the actresses. But this wasn't high school anymore, and you had a big girl job, in which you were responsible for getting this right. You crouched down, face to dick, trying to distract yourself from how close the two of you were when you heard him say,

"Do I know you from somewhere? I normally can recognize a cute face wherever I go, but i can't put a name on you."

"Yea we actually went to the same high school together."

"Really? Were you a seamstress then, or did you start now?"

You sighed and answered almost finished with the rest of his measurements.

"Uh yea I was. I was your costumer when we did Sweet Charity."

He jumped messing up your placement as you tried again.

"Hey can you not move so muc-" He cut you off before you could finish your request.

"OH! I remember you! You were that shy little sophomore. I remember how you never yelled no matter how many times I fucked up my costume" He smiled to himself as he finished bringing up that frustrating memory.

"Yea. I probably should've. Ok Stop moving I'm almost done."

"Ok Ok. Seems like you've gotten more a fire to you at least" He mumbled that last part, a little afraid to say it out loud. You gave him a look.

"Ok I finished. I'm gonna pull some stuff and then tomorrow I'll have you come and try some stuff on." You walked off refusing to look at him in the eyes, grabbing your paper with the measurements.

"Yea ok. Thats cool. See you tomorrow Y/N"

You figured this was going to be an interesting show. Only 2 more months till the show opened.

The next day

You had spent all day yesterday pulling close that would fit him. It was weird doing the same thing again. You thought about how frustrated you were in your sophomore year. But maybe he could be different. You would be lying if the crush you had on him still lingered around. Maybe you could get close this time the way you had wanted to in high school.

Nope. Don't start those thoughts. He's your coworker. Nothing more.

You laid out the pants and clothes you needed him to try. Of course as the character Billy, you'd need every one of his outfits to be different and unique. But you'd have to make a sailor costume from scratch. Which meant for the next few weeks, there'd be many fittings. But you just needed to focus on what you had right now, which was being delayed as Timothée was late.

After distracting and helping some other seamstresses, the man or the hour finally decided to make his appearance.

"Hey Y/N. Woah whats up with the face?" He questioned.

"Well your an hour late. I have to go in like an hour for a doctors appointment so we have to make this fast."

"Oh sorry. Well uh I got you a drink. You used to drink apple juice all the time during Sweet Charity so I figured you'd want this."

You look up into his eyes, he seemed genuine. You smiled as you took the bottle.

"Thank you Timothée. If you bring me an apple juice every time you're late, I'll make sure no one finds out." You smiled at him.

"Really? Thats a deal then."

"Ok. Its time to try on all of these outfits I have laid out. If they don't fit, don't worry about it. I can fix some of the sizes on the pants too."

"Ok, but small problem. Theres a lot of people in the dressing rooms, I don't know if we'll have room to do this."

"Oh fuck. Hmm. Crap I have to get this done."

"I can try and find somethin-" You cut him off with an idea.

"Actually, theres a couch room upstairs in the theater. It's pretty empty normally so you should have enough room to change in there." You smiled as you felt satisfied with that idea, until he said,

"Oh a couch room? You want to watch me undress in the couch room? You're definitely not that shy little sophomore anymore apple."

"Apple? Also thats not what I meant! I do not want to be apart of the reason the couches cannot be looked at under a black light."

He giggled as he grabbed the clothes.

"Yea apple. Like apple juice. I don't know, just thought I'd be cute for you."

you laughed as you responded "and I'm not the shy one anymore."

The two of you made it up the stairs and got into the couch room to just try on clothes. Definitely just try on clothes. Nothing else was going to happen...

[hana-no-seiiki]

YANDERE ! BATFAM W/ MILES MORALES (BUT GENDER NEUTRAL) ! READER

Just an outline for a potential full on fic to come.

First of all, I’d like to put credit where credit is due and thank Kden (from Quotev) for creating Straight Venomous and inspiring me to start this. And thank you firefly-graphics and galacticgrafitti for the dividers.

Damian and Reader are of legal age in this fic but there will still be an age gap between them and Bruce (I mean he literally fathered the former so it can’t be helped)

This is my first fic in Tumblr so forgive me if it isn’t up to par for quality and format wise as I’m still learning.

CW/TW: Reader is POC coded as in Latino/Black like Miles although you can kinda have to squint since it’s only from the dialogue with their mother in future chapters. Reader is described to have gained “muscles” and height. Spoilers for Spiderman: Into the Spiderverse. NO NSFW YET BUT WILL COME IN LATER CHAPTERS.

current status: unedited

summary: damian meets and gets attracted to wrinkly brained reader. mostly follows the into the spiderverse plot.

Reply if you’d like to be added to this series’s taglist.

[ PART TWO ] [ PART THREE ]

WHAT’S UP DANGER (PART ONE)

“If I sound lazy just ignore my tone, cause I’m always gonna answer when you call my phone

like what’s up danger?”

You most likely met Damian first.

He was astonished by how much of a failure you were. Really, he wouldn’t have noticed you in the first place if you weren’t such a catastrophe. He knew you only got to his school via raffle but even the worst students here didn’t get complete zeroes on all their scores.

He was probably assigned to be your tutor. Which you remember vehemently refusing. After all you wanted to be expunged from this god awful preppy school filled with elites of all kinds. But nope — you were forced to get along with the worst of them all. Damian Wayne. Perhaps you’ve gone too far and should have settled for a 20 or something on that paper instead . . . or all those quizzes and assignments you purposely got zeroes on.

In any case you now had the Damian Wayne inside your house (if you even call it that) and a paper to write about your ambitions or whatever.

You were basically complete opposites. He was rich, you were below average if not just straight up poor. You even bet he was a daddy’s boy or some shit. (But who were you to judge when your first day at the school literally consisted of your father forcing you to say you love him . . . with the loudest speakers known to man!) He was probably into classical music and while you did enjoy the genre as well you were more of a hip-hop, trap, pop music sorta guy. He was known as a snob that didn’t take bullshit from anyone while you were literally the definition of a pushover.

But surprisingly you two clicked really well. It started with you off-handedly correcting one of his mistakes. It wasn’t supposed to reach his ears really. But the realization that you, the bottom feeder of all bottom feeders corrected him flustered him entirely. That moment stuck within his head for the entire week that it even slipped into his vigilante activities.

Like, after single-handedly decimating a group of people trying to rob a bank he just yells, “How the hell did I get that wrong?!” while that one dude pretending to be unconscious in the background so he wouldn’t get beaten up harder just stares at him in confusion and shock.

After he cools down a bit, he starts wondering how you got it right. He looks into your scores and notices everything before his intervention were literally straight zeroes. Not just in the classes you two shared. It was either you were extremely (un)lucky or . . . you knew every answer from the start.

So he starts taunting you. Forcing you to display your prowess. Calling you an idiot, poor, nobody when you didn’t relent to his provocation.

And so you did. You showed him that you really didn’t need help from him. That you were a genius in your own right. Capable of doing advanced arithmetics within seconds in your head. You were fascinating to him.

And maybe the fact that only he got to know this side of you — not your classmates or teachers, even your parents now that you’ve secured a dorm room close to him (courtesy of the Wayne name) — knew about your intelligence inflated his ego. If only you didn’t have a roommate that bothered you two once in a while. He was quite the annoyance with how the music in his headphones could be heard even across the room. Like seriously, how was the boy not deaf yet?

It was around that time you got your powers.

You began avoiding him (and everyone really) but mostly him (he’d convinced himself). You’d only come to his desk once in a while to tell him that you weren’t available for tutoring that day, or even that entire week. Not to mention your sudden growth in height and muscles. Were you going through . . . puberty? No wait— you’re older than him by a year! Perhaps you were a late bloomer? You probably just started a gym membership. But he didn’t spot you in any gyms throughout Gotham out on his patrol. Not even at your room at night…

That and your already sus scores and attitude prompted him to instigate an entire investigation.

Who was [Y/N] [L/N]?

He knew some facts about you just from your room, the fact that you enjoyed music of all sorts and art, more specifically the graphic - pop look. He even started noticing your name-tags that you’d put everywhere both in his civilian and vigilante life. Seriously, how were you able to put it atop this streetlamp of all places?

Then he started noticing how alike you two actually are. Aside from enjoying art and all, you were incredibly rebellious. You had a relationship with your dad that could only remind him of his with Bruce. He knew you probably get reprimanded for all the vandalism you’ve gotten up to all the time. A small smile graced his lips at the thought.

However this only made him question your avoidance even more. So he decided to take a step further and trail you as robin (even harder).

You were getting really close with this Gwen girl in class. He quipped in his head as he noticed you two walking together.

Were you . . . going to the gym to impress her?

You didn’t seem like the type to change yourself for the sake of others. Despite your downtrodden attitude about academics. He can see the hidden potential, that confidence he wanted out for him to witness and bask in. He wanted to see all sides of you he realized.

He wanted to be the only one who did.

But just as he was about to follow you two into a dark alleyway he gets called by Dick of all people to investigate something else. Something about a man trying to cross realities and universes? Pah, as if that was more important than this. Nightwing can handle himself. He couldn’t have his competence questioned though. So with a reluctant sigh, he takes off into the night sky. Wondering what the pair he followed could be doing.

[ PART TWO ] [ PART THREE ]

[themotherofhorses]

Hi author first of wanted to say I love your work !

I'm not sure if you take requests so if you don't feel free to delete this 💛

Modern spy Aemond x naive reader [ Aemond meets her when he's on a mission and becomes obsessed with her how can someone be so sweet and innocent !? He just has to have her also baby trapping and smut if you're comfortable writing it ]

follow me now, and you will not regret (leaving the life you led before we met)

pairing: modern spy!aemond targaryen x naive!reader

warnings: explicit language. stalking. very much nsfw smut. once again, aemond is an obsessive and pussywhipped little bitch with zero thoughts within his pretty knocker. manipulation. innocence kink. breeding kink/baby trapping at the end.

notes: hi, yes, this is me coursing through uncharted and absolutely fucking rough waters in some attempt to spice up my usual smut writing style

(aka me practicing for the next chapter of my modern series)

masterlist

A career life built solely around espionage (or a sort of black shadow warfare mixed with cold combat) came dirty, bloody, and uncertain.

Or, at least, that was what Aemond “The One-Eyed White Death” Targaryen would tell himself on the daily, in some attempt at justifying the ends to the means. Really, this entire situation could have been a lot worse, he thought- after all, the lives of countless innocent civilians could have been caught within his crosshairs. He hated when that happened; it was always so messy, and came with heavy and boring paperwork.

However, that was not the case this time, thankfully.

It was only one innocent civilian in his hands, and she was still safe and sound.

Aemond had never meant to stick around the city for so long, having other missions queued up after this one, but fuck…you were perfect. Godsent, the prettiest and most delicious slice of heaven above, and he did not consider himself a godly man, nowhere near in the slightest. The gods loathed his type, he knew, and never hesitated in casting them all down to the pits of hell.

But you…

He had met you during the mission, while stuck undercover at some random little café on the corner street. The boss sent him to stake out some old-money and big-named crime mobster that was allegedly dealing weapons and various drugs under the noses of local law enforcement, a suspect on their “Most Wanted” board. And you- well, you were tucked away in a small booth, hunched over two thick college textbooks while multiple paper assignments laid strewed across the table top, so unaware of his presence sitting tables away on the other side of the room.

Gods, you were absolutely gorgeous, he thought. So fucking pretty, with those eyelashes and charm bracelet and focused look on your face. It made him forget all about his original mission. Fuck that, he has a new one now. And there was the cutest pout on your pink and glossy lips that made his cock harden, despite not having the faintest clue on what your name could be.

(That itself was no concern of his, he could find it out later in the evening. And he eventually did.)

You were there at the café the following day, and the day after that. Always with your head in those damn school books, his pretty and dutiful schoolgirl. The sight made him chuckle, and smile, and fill with the strongest urge to ruin you completely with his mouth, and fingers, and cock. On the fifth day, he finally decided to step up to your table, interrupting your usual study schedule with a shy smile and your favorite drink in hand, as well as a chocolate chip cookie.

“I- uh, I hope you don’t mind, miss,” he said, feigning bashfulness, “but I’ve seen you around everyday for this past week and thought, maybe, you wouldn’t mind being friends? I’m new in town, actually…and- well, I don’t know a lot of people around here…” he added, watching your pretty eyes widen.

And, fuck, your lips were glossy again, and he stood there (like a complete idiot) wondering what flavor they could possibly taste like.

Cherries?

Strawberries? Blueberries?

Maybe mimosa or peppermint patties?

“Oh, well, of course! I don’t mind whatsoever,” you replied cheerfully, rousing butterflies in Aemond’s stomach. “I’d be happy to be your friend,” and you patted at the spot next to yours, slugging away your tote bag and books so that he could sit down, and you could introduce yourself.

Hook, line, and sinker.

Aemond became your friend, first. The easiest way to manipulate your unsuspecting victims? Through trust and friendships, per the teachings of his old childhood mentors back at the academy. Throughout the next month, he bought you hot chocolate and matcha tea lattes, joined you in quick lunch dates, insisted on driving you to your college classes, and went with you to the little bookstores scattered across the city. It was fun…and torturous- utter torment and near physical agony- because all he wanted to do was fuck your pretty pussy until you could no longer remember your name and your cunt was to the shape of his own cock.

He would sit beside you in the café booth, listening as you drone on and on about your favorite, most passionate subjects, all while trying to desperately hide the boner in his jeans and rid his mind of such dirty thoughts and fantasies. There was no use, though. Aemond was fucked, too addicted and obsessed.

He wanted you, now and forever.

But that was not the worst part. The worst part was that you had not the smallest clue of what you were doing to him. You were just his sweet companion, his dear friend, too innocent and naïve to both the world and the waking beast deep within him.

He often followed you back home, to that tiny apartment near the college. Aemond swore it was because he wanted to make sure you were safe and protected from any of his enemies, anyone daring to steal you away from him, but he knew it was more due to the chances of seeing you undress and shower and decide which nightie you would wear to bed. And, sometimes, he got treated to his sweet girl trying to touch herself. It was so cute, so endearing, to watch you slip a hand between your thighs only to pause because you had no idea of what to do, and how to fuck your own fingers inside your cunt until you came.

 Poor, sweet girl of mine, Aemond shook his head, tutting. Alone and in need.

How could someone so pretty, such a fucking cock-tease, be so innocent and untouched, so stupid and unknowing to everything sexual?

It did not make any sense to him.

Maybe you were made for him, and only him, and this was the gods’ gentle way of telling him to change his ways before it was too late. Leave behind this career of his, wash away all the red staining his ledger and hang up his callsign, all so he can start a family with you. The family he needs, the one he deserves.

Yes, he thought, that makes more sense. You need him the same way he needs you.

And, really, who was he to ignore the gods above? Aemond himself was no godly man, it was not in the nature of a spy like him- but for you, perhaps the fates might allow it.

Two months later, after a dinner date, Aemond has you pressed against your apartment’s door, his mouth frantically devouring yours in a fervent and wet kiss. It has been so long, so torturous, weeks after weeks of constant late-night jerking off to your pretty pictures and those blue-laced panties he managed to slip from your bedroom that one afternoon and pretending that all he wants to be is your friend.

You are so beautiful, so stunning, especially within this very moment, chest heaving out heavy breaths while you peer up at him as if he is a god.

He grabs at your face, a rough grip on your chin. “Tell me you want it tonight,” he demands, his lips near your ear. You shiver and clutch at his arms, so close to melting into nothing but putty in his hands. “Want what, Aemond?” you ask innocently, batting your dark eyelashes up at him. Fucking cock-tease. He chuckles while trailing light kisses along your jawline and down your neckline, mouthing at your nape and clavicle. You mewl at the feeling. “Please- please, don’t stop…”

“Do my kisses feel good, baby?”

“Yes,” you sigh out, tangling your fingers within his silver hair, “it feels amazing.”

He smirks. “It will feel a whole lot better in a little while, I promise you, sweet girl. But I need to ask…do you trust me?” You nod frantically, leaning up to kiss his lips. “Of course, Aemond. You are my dearest friend! I trust no one more than you.” Aemond just laughs at your words, yearning so badly to tell you that- by the end of the night- your cute ass will no longer be ‘just his friend’ but something much more, definitely.

But where is the fun in that?

“Good, good. Just relax and enjoy everything, okay?”

Aemond then pushes you back against the door, quickly slipping off the pretty floral top you wore and groaning at how your lacy bra cupped your breasts perfectly. Where have you been all my life? He thinks while snaking his hands around your back to unhook your brace and toss it somewhere over his shoulder, too busy salivating over your free and ample breasts and perky nipples.

“Fuck, look at you…so fucking gorgeous,” he mumbles, kneading at your breasts. You stiffen, flushing under his heavy gaze before moving to cover yourself up, feeling a little self-conscious. Aemond shakes his head, gently tugging your hands back to your side. “No, don’t you dare cover yourself up, baby. Not in front of me.” His fingers pinch your nipple, cause your back to arch. “I’ll never understand why no one has ever devoured this pretty body. Gods, look at these tits. You’re so beautiful, baby, a fucking wet dream come true. Mmm, yeah, bet they’ll taste delicious,” and he wraps his lips around a nipple, sucking it into his mouth.

You’re delicious here, and Aemond knows you will be even more down there. His poor cock, still tucked inside his pants, feels like it is weeping, too impatient and irritated and ready to ruin you. His hand slides down your belly to rest on your hipbones and thighs, fingers ghosting around your panties.

“Ohhh…” you gasp out, biting at your bottom lips when his hand slips in.

“Fuuckk,” he drawls out against your breast, thrusting a finger into your wet cunt. “Gods, you’re so fucking wet down here. Absolutely soaking, poor baby.” Aemond strokes your slit a few times before rubbing your clit with his thumb, hearing the way you whine and shake at his actions. “I can’t wait to be inside you, fucking you till all you can think about is me.” He continues his thrusting, watching how your pretty face scrunches in sheer pleasure.

“Are you enjoying this, baby?” he asks, humming. “Do you want me down there tongue-fucking you? Hmm? Oh, wait, my sincere apologies, pretty girl, you probably don’t even know what that means.”

You moan, loud and high-pitched, teeth still chewing on your bottom lip. At your silence, he spanks your ass, causing you to lurch up with a massive gasp. “Use your fucking words, sweetheart. I don’t care for silence, especially from you.”

The more you remain quiet, he thinks, the more spanks you’ll receive.

Eventually, you fling your head back, bumping it against the door. “Okay, yes! Please! Please, Aemond…!”

Grinning, Aemond stands up and draws his lips back to your ear, saying slowly, “Spread those legs then, baby girl, right now.” When you do so, he sinks down to his knees, both hands gently clutching your thighs, “Yeah, that is a good girl. My pretty, good girl of mine.” He moves his face to the front of your pussy, “Can you feel my breath against this pretty clit? Are you waiting for me to devour this pussy? Tongue-fuck you until you’re a stupid little mess? Tell me, baby.”

He then blows against your wetness, ignoring how you jolt hard at the feel. And I’m not taking no for an answer,” he adds before slinging a leg over his shoulder.

“Oh gods, yes, please,” you whine, jerking your hips up against his face. Aemond slaps your asscheeks hard- once, twice, three, four times. “Beg, my pretty baby. C’mon, I know you can do it. Beg for my tongue, beg like you mean it, you stupid and horny little slut.” Your eyebrows furrow at his words and you whimper. “Don’t be mean to me…” you whisper, trying to blink away tears.

Aemond raises an eyebrow. “Oh, you thought that, because this is your first time, I would be nice? My sweet summer girl, you teased me enough these past several months, and I’m done playing nice. Now, tell me you want this. Tell me you want me to claim this pussy as mine.”

Your wanton cries are everything he needs in this life, he soon realizes. If he can spend the rest of his days with his face buried deep between your thighs, he swears he’ll die a happy and satisfied man. The way his name glides off your tongue is incredibly, completely wonderful, and his mind fills with various fantasies and all the positions he will soon have you in, helpless and dripping like a whore in heat.

His pretty whore, forever and always.

“Fuck, baby, who am I to deny you such?” Aemond buries his face between your trembling thighs, inhaling your mouth-watering scent one final time before slipping his tongue inside your wet folds. “You taste so fucking good, baby- shit, you’re leaking all over my face,” he moans amid long licks, fucking you both with his tongue and fingers.

“Oh, gods! Oh- oh- oh…!” You shriek, both legs buckling as your hands clench into tight fists. All of your little moans and whimpers, those pathetic pleas and begs, they all send more blood rushing to his cock. You don’t recognize the early grave you’re digging at, too overtaken by the pleasure.

“So fucking tight against my fingers. How the hell will you take my cock, baby? Fuck, I’m going to destroy you.”

You moan again, in such a loud and lustful cry that causes his resolve to only weaken faster.

“Oh! Oh, Aemond, this feels so good! Please- please, don’t ever stop,” you wail, fat tears gushing down your cheeks. This pleasure, it is a feeling like nothing before, not even coming close to those few times you made some sad and futile attempt to touch yourself, too confused on how to deal with those strange tummy butterflies that seemingly hatched from their cocoons the day you meant Aemond.

How thankful you are that you met him.

Your body squirms every couple seconds, only to wince when he spanks your ass hard again.

“Shut the fuck up,” Aemond hisses without venom. He is too much in love with you for poison. “Do you wish for your neighbors to know that I’m fucking you right now? What would they think? The pretty and sweet girl that lives here, too innocent and naïve for this damn world, letting a man eat her out like a whore.”

You shake your head again, eyes puffy and red from all the tears. “N-no, Aemond…” you stutter out.

Aemond pauses his fingers, now curious to see how far he could go with this new type of torture. But it is not long, though, before you buckle against his hand, your bruised and swollen chest pushing up with stiffened nipples. And your body, it soon tightens as your flustered face screws up in that telltale sign that you are only seconds away from cumming. The scene is beautiful, very much so, and he feels pride that it is all from his own doing.

Yet he drags himself back up on his feet, removing his fingers from your cunt before you could cum. Perhaps it is a bit too cruel on his part, but Aemond could care less; he wants you to cum on his cock for your first time.

There will be many more times of this, he wants to reassure you. He doesn’t, though.

You’ll find out on your own time.

You gaze at him through bleak and narrowed eyes as he unbuttons his pants and shoves them down to his ankles. “You poor, poor little thing,” he tuts, running a gentle hand through your damp hair, “-are you tired? You look tired, but from what? You didn’t even cum once!” He pats your cheek, “Don’t worry, my sweet girl, you’re about to. Can’t tell you how many times, but it’ll be a lot.”

And Aemond does not wait for your response, instead snatching your hand and pressing it against his boxers. “Can you feel that, baby? That is my cock. Can you feel how hard it is? You did this, you made me so fucking hard that it hurts.” He clicks his tongue, shaking his head, “Now, that is not very nice, is it? No, no, no it is not. I thought you were a sweetheart…” He shoves your hand back, ignoring the small tears that gather in your eyes again.

“I’m sorry,” you croak, wiping them away. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Aemond! Please don’t be mad at me…please, how can I help you? I’ll do anything,” you pout as you watch him slip down his boxers. Your teary eyes grow as wide as dinner plates, and your breath hitches. It is so sexy to him, eating away at the little self-control he is trying to maintain.  

You’re a virgin, he reminds himself. Soft and easy, my baby deserves that.

“Shhh, baby,” Aemond rasps out, cupping your face within his hand. He kisses your nose, cheeks, and forehead before finding your lips. “I’m not mad, really, my sweet girl. I know you meant no harm, you’re too sweet and good for that,” and he holds your face against him while readying to fuck you with his cock. He can feel your short pants, the little breaths you take, and how you shudder whenever his clammy skin meets yours.

“Relax your body, baby girl, don’t tense up. It will hurt less…good girl, that’s my good girl.”

Nice and slow, he chants as he slowly sinks into your cunt, groaning at the tightness, slow and nice. You whimper, eyes rolling back as begins his thrusts, slow and easy. I’m a gentleman.

Mother made me promise to be a gentleman.

I’m a gentleman. I’m a gentleman. I’m a gentleman.

But the look you are giving him, with your lips pink and puffy from the shit ton of kisses and bites, and the way your pussy clenches around his cock…it is causing him to forget all about how his mother indeed made him promise to be nothing short but a gentleman.

You’re too pretty for him not to devour, and…well, were you not made for him? The gods created you with the purpose of him eventually finding and caring for you, the way it should’ve always been- the way it will be for now on. His one good eye (the one those stupid bastards left alone back at the academy) watches as you shake and quiver and mewl out the sweetest and yummiest little moans.

The way you are right now, you’re just begging to be made into a new mother, and his mind goes insane at the sudden image of you heavy with his children, huffy and sore and always exhausted. It is delicious to think about. Aemond- truthfully- never really thought about kids, constantly busy with the espionage lifestyle and the back-to-back missions, but you…oh, he knows that, after tonight, you’ll have no choice but to remain by his side as the baby grows, needing him to protect and provide and shower you with love and affection.

He’ll be the best husband and father, and you his good girl- his precious slice of normality.

The way it should be, the way it will be.

It is half a year later that Aemond “The One-Eyed White Death” Targaryen finally connects back with his boss through a phone call.

Before that, he dropped off the grid, returning no calls and messages and signals, leaving everyone behind at the headquarters confused, concerned, and scratching their heads as to why their finest agent suddenly vanished without a trace.

He was not dead- they knew that. He was just…gone.

“What happened, agent?” The director asks, fiddling with his pen while another agent of his attempts to get some kind of reading on him. No luck; Aemond made himself untraceable. “Are you hurt, Aemond? Did someone threaten you? You left after I assigned you that mobster and- well, we assumed the worst, son.”  

Aemond chuckles, shaking his head. “No, boss, do not worry about me," he says, "I’m good. Very good, in fact, the happiest I’ve ever been in my life, one might say.”

He leans against the doorway, arms crossing over his chest as he watches you flip through a baby store catalog and marvel at all the products they have for sale- the finest baby strollers, a variety of cribs, bassinets, and swing sets, and the cutest little animal plushies and clothing.

“Frankly, boss, I just grew tired of the spy life.”

“Is that so? And pray tell what you are now, Aemond One Eye.”

He smiles, eyeing your baby bump and how you are utterly glowing. “I’m a family man.”

[squealing-santa]

Welcome, one and all, to the 8th Annual Tickle Fandom Bloggers Squealing Santa Extravaganza!

This year’s humble host for 2023 on her second year is @hypahticklish - I'm ecstatic to continue stoking the fires of our wonderful tradition! We were so lucky last year to have not only our community artists join the fun, but to break our previous record of participants. I cannot wait to see all the magic our corner of tumblr is able to create 🥰 But enough of my shmoozing - let’s get on to the main event! 

Here are the general rules of engagement:

In order to get a peice of tickle fiction or art, you must be willing to create a new peice of tickle fiction or art for someone else.

Your work must be based on the fandoms and prompts provided by your giftee during registration. Examples of what those loose prompts may look like can be found here.

All creations must be posted during the month of December.

All creations must have a title and @ both their giftee and the event blog when posting.

All participants will have their DMs and Asks available for communication with the event Host.

For Our Writers

Fics must be at least 500 words, but there is no limit if you’d like to write more!

All authors must also include the total word count of their piece and a short summary.

Fics must be legibly formatted, i.e. not a block of text for the entire piece.

For Our Artists

Traditional art must be completed on an unlined surface with minimal remaining sketch lines. Color or grayscale is optional. Scanning is preferable when uploading your piece but at the very least needs to be clear and well-lit photo.

Digital art must minimally be in contrasted color or grayscale, and have finished line work. 

Comics must have a minimum of two medium-large panels OR two small panels and one medium-large panel, with minimal remaining sketch lines. Color or grayscale is optional.

All artists must include their own accessibility image IDs.

There is no limit if you'd like to create more or explore stylization!

Once sign-ups end, we’ll send out assignments and you’ll have until December 31st to finish your piece and send it to the person you’re creating for. In turn, your writer or artist will post a piece for you also by the end of December! No one will know who is working on whose prompts until the works are published, because surprises are fun!

Use this link right here to complete your registration to this year’s exchange!

Please note that the registration is conducted via Google Forms. While we have turned all email requirements off, there’s still a chance it will autofill that information if you’re logged in. We’d definitely recommend filling out the survey using incognito mode just in case for that reason. Should any emails be submitted accidentally, they will not be utilized or released.

IF YOU ARE ANON: you still must include a tumblr url that we can contact you at. We promise we won’t give it out to anyone; we just will need a way to contact you over the course of the exchange!

We will send you a confirmation DM once your registration has been submitted, so if you don’t receive that, contact us! We want to make sure no one gets left out due to the survey eating submissions or something similarly dumb.

Registration closes at midnight PST on November 5th, so be sure to share with your knismobuddies!

The Fandom Registration will be sent out November 6th to be completed by midnight PST on November 12th. 

Assignments will go out by approximately November 16th!

We hope you can join the event this year and have a blast! Until then, we’ll be waiting for you all to sign up!

[shatcey]

Haunted House Report (Alfons endings)

Alfons 1-2ch Alfons endings Epilogue (briefly) Roger (premium)

And now I have to warn you about the spoilers to Alfons's route. Yes, I am a very kind person. But… There were no spoilers in the first two chapters, they only appear in the endings…

Normal ending

The woman in red went in search of the old man, and Alfons and Kate shared their impressions. Alfons asks Kate if she thinks this woman is happy. And Kate replies that she doesn't look happy.

They return to the old man, who is desperately trying to find evidence. He is convinced that he will find it and destroy it, but the next day it reappears, and there is no end to it. For some reason, this reminds me of Oscar Wilde's short story "The Canterville Ghost"...

Alfons uses his ability on him...

After that, they show him the exit, and the old man begins to leave. Kate said it was the right thing to do…

They return to the mansion (after all, they haven't completed their mission… more about it at the premium end), and Kate looks at the old man again and notices the red dress of the ghost, which seems to be following him. Alfons also looks at the man and notices..

Kate is thinking about Alfons' fate. That after his death, everyone would forget about him, as if he had never existed. She thinks that's probably why, when they talked about the ghost, he said he didn't want them to be real. Because he doesn't want to become a ghost. But she decided that this was just a speculation, and to lighten the mood, she promised to have some fun after they completed the mission…

So cute… I wish that was all…

Premium ending

After telling the story, the ghost lady stayed with them, and Kate said she understood her feelings a bit.

She added that if he thought about her once a year, she would be happy with it.

Kate thinks that despite his usual teasing tone and his usual smile, it unmistakably sound like his true feelings.

I see it not as regrets, but as worries, thoughts… She can't rest in peace because she can't stop thinking about him. For me… The regrets associated with him are more like she's not really happy to be with him. But that's how I interpret the word. Maybe I'm wrong. That's why I'm leaving the original version.

He was shocked by this passionate confession and to hide it teased her a bit

The ghost watched their conversation with a dreamy smile. Kate noticed this and changed the subject.

Alfons remembered their assignment and asked another question.

Who would have thought that the "Crown" (elite assassins of Her Majesty the Queen) are now seeking refuge for criminals… What happened to all of Will and Vic's informants?

And since the ghost helped them, she should get a reward, like all informants. At first she said she didn't need a reward, just forget about it.

She resisted a bit, but Kate and Alfons managed to convince her. And she reluctantly agreed. And Alfons… used his magic fingers on the old man again, who continued to search for evidence.

And when the old man sees the lady in red (I forgot to call her that) he literally runs away. They run after him, and Kate wonders how fast this old man is… considering his age and all.

He ran to the cliff, where he most likely killed this woman. The ghost appeared next to him and he asked for forgiveness. And then the ghost reach out to touch him, he tried to shake off her hand, but… lost balance and… fell off a cliff.

The still-living people (Alfons and Kate) rushed to help, but it was too late.

They returned to Kate's room. Alfons said it ended pretty well. All those who suffered… don't suffer anymore. Alfons noticed that the whole their mission was like a detective, and if he is kicked out of the "Crown", he must open a detective agency. And for the first case… Kate asks him

So basically Kate on normal ending guessed right. Well… it was very easy to deduce.

Kate assures him that regardless of whether he is alive or dead, she wants to think about him, so she will never stop looking for a way to avoid his fate.

A few days later, Kate and William were discussing their next mission in the living room. Suddenly Kate noticed that Will was staring intently at her back. She turned around and saw nothing. William laughed, saying that he thought someone was behind her, and after she returned from her assignment at the haunted house, she probably took the ghost with her. Kate said it wasn't a funny joke, but he didn't react, so she asked… It was a joke, right?

No, William! Don't you f*** dare to say that! I usually love it when you say it, but not now!!!

(screem)

Ok... that's it.

So… I will probably (most likely) buy an epilogue. If so, I will make a summary, no matter how creepy it turns out to be.

And I have a little time, so maybe I will collect points for another story (Roger's). But I'm not sure if it will be normal or premium…

And about Alfons in this event. I mentioned earlier that he's really the perfect boyfriend. He always helped her, supported her when she fell down. When she realized she hadn't done much, he gave her a chance to lead the investigation and find the door herself. Subtle kindness. I like that he never shows off of his actions, but it can't be interpreted any other way.

I also noticed that he is not prone to excessive flirting and jokes, as usual. He's kind of used to dealing with difficult situations, so I doubt very much that he's become more focused because of it. Most likely, this is her influence. He has become calmer, more confident about the future, and I think it suites him.

But on the other hand, I'm a little worried about his constant subconscious actions aimed at pleasing her. He (again) is used to doing this and always puts the needs of others above his own, and I'm a little concerned that he continues to do so. I hope that further events will prove that I was wrong.

@judesmoonbeauty as promised

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🔝 Start page 🔝

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[ofoceansandtombsanew]

when it all comes Crashing Down

tags: 18+, afab!reader, childhood friends to friends(?) with benefits, codependent relationship

summary: it fascinates you how someone so manipulative and cruel can be so sensitive and needy

a/n: writing pro-tip, always write down random sentences whenever they come to you because you never know when it’ll be the source of inspiration for a story. in this case, an introspective think piece on makima’s loneliness that is also smut where neither of you are the good guy. also available on AO3.

If windows are eyes to the soul, you wonder what that means for someone like Makima. 

Or rather, you wonder what people see when they look at them. You’ve known her for the better part of your life and at 25, you still aren’t sure what others see. That is at the forefront of your mind as gold eyes with red rings look back at you, a calculating smile accompanying them.

“Are you listening to me?” Makima tilts her head as she rests her chin on her palm.

You nod vaguely at your childhood friend, turning your gaze to your phone screen. “I heard you say a week ago that you have a partner assignment due this week and yet somehow you’re here at my place instead of doing that.” You have your apartment to yourself for once, your roommate gone for the weekend to stay the night at one of her girlfriends’ apartments. “Shouldn’t you be out doing your homework?”

“I can’t visit my best friend from time to time?” Makima implores as if she is surprised by your own inquiry

“That isn’t what I asked,” yet you already know the answer. You aren’t completely well-acquainted with Aki Hayakawa. He’s a friend of a friend and you see him from time to time when said friends throw parties or have other get-togethers. Those were enough encounters for you to know the man is absolutely smitten with the redhead in front of you, spooning a piece of the tiramisu she brought over. He’d do anything Makima asked of him with more enthusiasm you could ever produce.

Unsurprisingly, Makima confirms what you already suspect. “Hayakawa told me he could do the rest of it,” she replies lightly with a smile. And there we go. You wonder what the poor sap sees in her when you know Makima doesn’t see him as more than an amusing puppy chasing after her braid. “I wanted to visit because I thought you might be lonely. Here,” she raises her spoon towards your lips. “I made this for you.”

“Nah I’m good,” Makima’s baking isn’t necessarily the problem. It’s the measurements, her measurements just aren’t for you.

“You said you wanted to try tiramisu recently,” Makima counters, her hand not moving an inch.

“First, I mentioned that in passing,” you raise a finger and quickly follow it with another. “Second, I also said I was going to try it out with Quanxi next Saturday.” One of her girlfriend’s, Long, is having a birthday celebration at an Italian restaurant. “They say patience is a virtue, I can wait.”

“I think it’s a voluntary virtue when it comes to food,” Makima lowers her hand for a moment. “Are you just trying to say you don’t want to eat my baking?”

You snort, “that’s exactly what I’m saying, yes. I trust your cooking, not your baking. You have never gotten the right amount of sugar that I can stomach.” You’ve never been able to eat things too sweet. Even as a child you would scrape off most of the frosting on cupcakes, sliding it onto Makima’s plate who welcomed the additional sweetness.

“That’s a bit mean” that is hilarious coming from the undisputed Queen of Mean. You distinctly remember the time in middle school where Makima laughed at a scene of a protagonist crying over the death of a friend. That in itself was ironic coming from the same girl who, at the beginning of that same semester, clutched your shirt and sobbed like it was the end of the world when you found out you shared zero classes and had separate lunch periods. “I worked hard to make this for you. You should spoil a person more when you’ve known them since you were 6.”

You distinctly know the spoiling she is referring to is about herself. “I always spoil you,” I’ve been doing it since we were kids. It crosses your mind, not for the first time, that if it weren’t for your parents, you are sure you and Makima would never have become friends.

Your mom was her mom’s friend in university and by some chance, they ended up enrolling you both at the same school and found out when you were both picked up later after classes. There began your days of playing whatever game Makima desired and your possessions somehow becoming her possessions. Whenever you voiced your grievances to your mom, however, she always told you to be kind and understanding in a tone that let you know that you recognized even now. A tone that says “this has something to do with something we adults discussed”.

It didn’t take too long for you at that age to notice the traces of what your mother was likely referring to.

You never saw much of Makima’s parents when you were younger; you don't see much of them now.

School events, holidays and a few random things in between. It wasn’t Makima’s family that shared them with her but yours. That realization made you think back to the times you would complain about mandatory family time and your mother would rebuttal, “not everyone is lucky to have parents that love them so much, [First], you should be grateful.”  

Indulging Makima became habit after that as long as it was in reason.

You’re sure there is a part of her that resents you choosing to room with a classmate rather than her though. 

“Just try it,” Makima raises her spoon again and, with a sigh, you relent. 

Almost immediately, you balk at the taste, nose scrunching in displeasure. “Like I said,” you grab Makima’s cup of black tea and down a large mouthful. “You always make things too sweet. This is why I’m gonna eat it at a restaurant with an actual baker.” 

You lay your head on the foot of the couch, rejecting the too-sweet tiramisu in its entirety. “I’ll just make Quanxi pay for it when I order it. She owes me for what happened last weekend.” You aren’t one to knock someone getting laid but your roommate fucking her girlfriends loudly all night the night before you had a exam was evil. All she did when you banged on the door to keep it down was toss her noise-canceling headphones before closing it again. At least when I fuck in the house I have the decency to keep shit down, you grumble internally pushing away the fact Quanxi technically also offered to let you join in the fun.

You probably would have joined if you weren’t sleep-deprived and irritated.

C’est la vie.

“[First].”

“Hmm,” you hum in response without opening your eyes. Your eyes find themselves opening a moment later when you feel the distinct feeling of another body over your own, Makima placing her legs on either side of your hips as she sits on your lap. 

Red frames gold as she looks down on you and you stare back wordlessly before her lips press against yours.

It fascinates you how someone so manipulative and cruel can be so sensitive and needy.

Cruelty comes easy to Makima, no different than a child experiencing troubles at home taking out their frustrations on a random kid at school.

She’s angelic in appearance, devilish in nature.

She wants to be treated gently when she is incapable of treating people gently herself.

By your second to last year of high school, you wondered what your relationship meant about you. 

Knowing her ways yet staying her friend regardless which only birthed the question as to why you remained her friend. It donned on you not too long after that the reason was pity when you held a distraught Makima in your arms in your room when a former mutual friend stated his intentions not to associate with her any longer. You remember finding it strange that she was so upset when you didn’t think Makima even considered Madoka to be a friend in the first place.

She said as much when you asked her before the event transpired.

“He’s more like an acquaintance, they all are,” Makima had told you. “But not you [First], you’re my real friend.”

The only one she has.

It dawned on you then if Madoka wanting nothing to do with her could make her cry, you doing the same would make Makima undoubtedly break. It’s ironic how the loneliest people can be the most sadistic.

So she can be cruel; as long as that cruelty never turns to you, you will continue to be there even when you are sure you both know that your friendship has long since passed the expiry date. You’ll be there when she needs to cry, you’ll accompany her on walks for her dogs and you’ll lay her down in your bed when she wants to feel the skin of another on her own like you are now.

Makima’s arms tighten around your shoulders, hips bucking as the butt of your palm rubs against her clit as you thrust your fingers inside her. She’s absolutely soaked and you can’t help relishing that fact as Makima moans your name like it’s the only word she knows.

Maybe this was inevitable, the two of you like this, you think vaguely as you leave a trail of wet kisses from her breasts to her belly before settling between her legs. You lap at her core slowly, bringing one of your hands to clasp her own and Makima intertwines her fingers between yours tightly.

You press one finger in her pussy, sucking on her clit.

You add a second when you kiss her folds.

You continue thrusting your fingers once you add a third and Makima moves her hips to press into your ministrations. It takes a few moments to find a rhythm, alternating between licking and maintaining the movement of your finger. It doesn’t take much longer for Makima’s thighs to tighten around your head, coming with a soft cry.

You pull out your fingers, vaguely acknowledging the ache in your wrist and glance in her direction. From your position you can see her chest heave up and down, hand tightly gripping yours as she reels from the aftershocks. If she held it any tighter, you’re sure it would break.

With two light taps on her hip, Makima loosens her grip on your head tiredly and you kiss her inner thighs before finally moving to lay on your pillow beside her. It takes a moment to pull your hand away from hers, Makima’s grip iron tight. “Hey, I need that hand to hug you, weirdo,” is all it takes for her hand to loosen its hold and gently you take back your hand.

There is no fighting against your tugging as you pull Makima into your chest like you’ve done many times before holding firmly but gently, just as she likes. You don’t comment on the soft sniffle you hear, it’s an unspoken rule for you both not to point out when she cries during sex. Almost instinctively, Makima presses herself even closer as she wraps her arms around your waist. Sometimes you wonder if she is trying to live in your skin.

“[First],” Makima murmurs almost too softly for you to hear when she’s wound down.

You fiddle with a lock of her hair, “What is it?”

“Stay the night with me tomorrow,” her nails dig into your back and you note she sounds almost uncertain in her command. Desperate.

You close your eyes, tired. “We can go in the morning.”

[ghostofskywalker]

May I please request something where the (gn preferably) reader breaks their glasses during a mission so tech makes them a pair of goggles like his?

anon this is actually the cutest idea ever and as someone whose eyesight is terrible without my contacts (i used to wear glasses but not as much anymore) i understand the struggle <3

words: 2,454

summary: when an accident on the marauder leaves you without your glasses for an unknown period of time, tech takes matters into his own hands and makes you a replacement pair of goggles that match his own.

clone troopers masterlist

Seeing Double

“Kriff!” you swore slightly louder than you originally wanted to, but in your defense, this situation warranted it.

“Everything okay?” Hunter’s voice echoed from the device on your wrist, and it was at that point that you realized you had apparently forgotten to mute yourself on the comms, so the entire squad had just heard your outburst.

“Yeah, just that my glasses broke,” you said, trying to find collect the pieces from the dashboard of the Marauder. Normally it wouldn’t be an issue, except for the fact that it was currently nighttime and you needed them to see where you were going.

“Can you still steer the ship?’ Echo’s voice came through the device next. “We’re going to need a pickup soon.”

You weren’t too confident about your abilities at this point, but you also couldn’t let the team down. “It’ll be fine for a little while, but once you get back someone else needs to handle the controls.”

“Alright, as long as you don’t need one of us to go back there now.”

That was the last thing you wanted, because you were still a new member of the team and you definitely didn’t want them to think you weren’t capable. “No, just let me know when and where you need to be picked up from.”

The communication device went silent not long after that, and you were left to sit down in the pilot’s seat and attempt to repair your glasses. The actual lenses themselves seemed to still be intact, but one of the supports that rested behind your ear had come off (due to the fact that they had fallen to the floor and you stepped on the one side before you realized what had happened). But there was one flaw when it came to attempting to appraise the damage, and that was the fact that when they weren’t on your face, you couldn’t see all that well.

You weren’t blind per se (they had let you into the GAR after looking at your eye charts and seeing the glasses you wore every day), but you certainly didn’t see the world in high resolution when you didn’t have the lenses on your face. You had previously considered those tiny clear things that you saw friends put into their eyes, that would completely negate the need for you to wear glasses, but at the same time the idea of putting your fingers too close to your eye was a little bit nerve wracking (you knew the process certainly wasn’t for the faint of heart).

And you hadn’t experienced any issues with your glasses interfering with your work so far, or at least, not until now. Clone Force 99 had accepted you with open arms (well, it had taken a while in the case of one particularly grumpy sniper) when you had been assigned to them. Your technical title was “medic,” although you were also well-versed in mechanics and was qualified enough to repair the ship if necessary. You sometimes wondered if that acceptance had something to do with the fact that one of the members of the squad also wore lenses of some kind on his face, and if was, you were grateful to Tech.

If asked, you would probably cite Tech as your favorite member of the squad, and it wasn’t just because of your shared facial accessory. Even if you didn’t know whether or not his goggles were prescription or he just simply wore them for convenience, the two of you got along fairly well, which was a surprise because you were essentially assigned to them to do some of Tech’s job. But even though others might have seen you as a threat, you and the squad’s resident genius worked well together.

Bringing your focus back to the situation at hand, you realized that there was going to be no way to reattach the arm of your glasses without some kind of bonding agent (due to the place that the material had fractured and split apart when you stepped on it), and you gently pulled them up to your face. They certainly drooped on the side that had no support, but you would be able to see well enough to fly the ship for a few minutes until someone else could take over.

And it was a good thing that you could see at all, because the batch radioed in just a few minutes later, sending you a set of coordinates and telling you to step on it because they had met some hostiles.

Getting in the air was the easy part, but a flying animal that came out of nowhere shocked you to the point where you had to stop short, and your glasses came flying off your head. There was nothing you could do but watch as they clattered down the dashboard of the ship and once again fell and skittered across the floor, so far out of your reach that you knew there was no chance you could recover them before you had to move again. Instead, you would be flying blind (in the literal sense of the expression).

You were sure that the rest of the squad could tell that something was up when they saw the ship arrive at the coordinates, flying slightly tilted and having stopped short before you extended the ramp for them to get in. “Can someone come up here and take the controls?” you called out.

No one answered, but soon footsteps approached the cockpit and you turned around to see Tech walking towards you with his helmet under his arm. You stood up to greet him, but right as you opened your mouth to speak, the sound of transparisteel breaking filled the space, and the two of you looked down in horror as Tech lifted up his boot slightly to reveal your glasses, now completely shattered beyond repair. “Oh my,” he said as he looked at the carnage on the floor. “I deeply apologize, I did not know that was there.”

“It’s okay,” you said, still in some form of shock, but you didn’t want to make Tech feel bad over something he couldn’t control. “It wasn’t your fault, we’ll just need to put in an order with the Republic for some new glasses the next time we reach out to them.”

“That may be quite a while,” Tech responded, having reached down to collect the bent and disfigured remains of the glasses frame off the floor. “I may be able to-”

“Tech,” you cut him off gently, and he looked up at you as you placed your hand on his shoulder. “It’s not a big deal, I’ll be able to survive without them for a little while.”

“Alright,” he said, standing up. “In the meantime, you should rest. The assignment was a success and I will fly the ship until we stop for fuel or the next mission objective comes in.”

You just nodded and headed off to the bunks. You knew that sometimes if you went for a while without your glasses it could lead to headaches as your eyes strained to perform their usual function, so you wanted to avoid that as much as you possibly could (especially if you weren’t going to get new ones for a while). And as you drifted off to sleep to the sound of Gonky moving across the ship in the background, you really hoped that you’d be able to contact the Republic soon.

***

As he watched you leave the room, Tech couldn’t help but feel bad. You had assured him that none of this was his fault and that you weren’t angry at him, but he also knew how stressful it was to be living a life without corrective lenses when your eyesight was not that good. He had seen your glasses before and guessed that your level of nearsightedness was similar to his, and he would never want to spend any amount of time without his goggles, let alone an uncertain and extended period of it. He cleaned the small pile of debris off the floor and placed them in a small container once the ship had entered hyperspace, and for a while he just watched the blue streaks pass him by.

And it was as he watched out through the windshield of the ship that he had an idea.

His goggles were a thing of his own creation, and sometimes different parts needed replacing. Because of that, he had began keeping a small box of parts and pieces on the ship, with enough to make at least two other sets (just in case his primary pair was ruined beyond repair). If your prescription was similar to his, you might be able to wear a matching pair of goggles for a while, or at least until they could contact the Republic and order new glasses for you.

Right as he got up from the pilot’s seat, Hunter stepped into the cockpit. “Oh good, I was just about to call for you,” Tech said. “Can you watch the ship for a little while? I have something urgent to attend to.”

Hunter just nodded, and Tech was thankful that his brother didn’t ask too many questions so he couldn’t be slowed down. He wanted to have them ready for you by the time he next saw you, this way you didn’t have to go too long without any kind of visual aid.

He found the box of parts under his bunk, and after checking to make sure you were asleep in yours, he got to work, pulling the curtain around his cot to keep some privacy about what he was doing.

The shattered pieces of your original lenses turned out to be of some use to him, because he was able to calibrate the goggles to perfectly match your needs. It was much easier than he originally thought it might be, and by the time he could hear movement from outside his bunk, he was just putting the finishing touches on the goggles.

Wondering whether it was you or Wrecker that had woken up, he poked his head out to see you yawn and stretch. Quietly calling your name as to not startle you, Tech got out of bed and beckoned at you to follow him. “Is everything okay?” you asked, blinking as a brighter part of the ship came into view, and Tech quickly moved the hand that was holding the goggles behind his back so you couldn’t see what they were.

“I still feel terrible about your glasses,” he said. You opened your mouth (no doubt to reassure him that it wasn’t his fault), but he held up one of his hands to stop you and the other with the pair of newly constructed goggles in it. “And since I know the repercussions of spending extended periods of time without them, I made you something. I apologize if it is not a style you like, but I only had the materials to reconstruct my goggles and I figured it was better than nothing.”

You were silent as you took the goggles from his outstretched hand, but from the smile on your face, Tech knew that you weren’t spurning his gift. “Thank you,” you eventually said as you placed them on your face. “I love them.”

“I was able to use my scanner to match and calibrate this pair to the same level of magnification as your glasses,” he said.

You nodded, looking around the ship. “Thank you so much Tech. I really can’t believe you would do something like this, I’m so grateful.”

Tech went to respond, but you pulled him into a hug before he could get any words out. “You are very welcome,” he eventually managed to say.

“If you ever need anything from me,” you said. “Please don’t hesitate-”

He cut you off before you could finish your sentence. “I don’t want you to think that you are somehow in debt to me,” he said. “I did this because I wanted to help you, not because I wanted to gain something.”

For a fleeting moment, you looked like you were going to cry, and Tech’s eyes widened as you leaned in to place a kiss on his cheek, your goggles knocking slightly against his. “I know,” you said. “But still, I want to thank you somehow. Maybe if we can get away from your brothers, I can take you out to dinner the next time we’re on Coruscant?”

“Are you asking me out on a date?” Those words were accompanied by a surprised (and hopeful) expression. He had of course taken you in as a member of the team, but it had recently been more apparent to him that how he felt about you was different than how he felt towards other people. He had always hoped that you felt the same way, but was never sure how to broach the topic.

“Yes,” you said, a smile on your face. “Are you accepting?”

“Yes.”

Tech stared at you for a moment, and you stared right back. He started to lean in, and you mirrored his movements. He was just finishing up calculations on how to best kiss you without bumping either set of goggles when he heard footsteps approaching, and he instinctively pulled back.

You apparently had the same idea, and the two of you turned in shock to stare at Hunter, who had just stepped out of the cockpit and had an exasperated look on his face. Whatever hope Tech had of keeping this new relationship development a secret was now completely dead, because with Hunter’s enhanced hearing he must have been able to hear everything before this moment.

And with the two of you wearing both matching expressions and goggles, it must have been a sight to behold for his brother. Hunter opened his mouth, but then closed it before taking a breath. “I’m going to take a nap,” is what he eventually settled on. “Can you two watch the cockpit?”

Tech was halfway through a confirmation of Hunter’s request before his brother had walked completely past them to disappear in the direction of the bunks, and right as he disappeared you quickly leaned in to place a soft (and far too quick, in his opinion) kiss on Tech’s lips.

The cockpit offered a better view anyway, and although it wasn’t completely shielded from his brothers, it was much more private than just standing in the middle of the ship. They didn’t have a lot of time before everyone else woke up and their little secret spread like wildfire through the ship, and Tech wanted to make the most of the peace and quiet.

- the end -

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[lets-try-some-writing]

Hi there! I absolutely love reading your head cannons abt bumblebees relationship with Optimus it’s too cute!!! So I was wondering if you could write abt what happened after bumblebee lost his voice box? Because as much as I like teeth rotting fluff I like souls crushing angst even more

OF COURSE I WILL WRITE FLUFF AND ANGST FOR THIS LOVELY FAHTER SON DUO!!! I live and breathe the stuff thank you.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

Bumblebee was raised during war, there was no avoiding it. He was meant to be a solider the moment Optimus took him under his wing. It was the way of things, no matter how much the Prime wished it were not. As such when Bumblebee completed his training with acclaim from all of his teachers and requested to be transferred to the front lines, there was little Optimus could do.

Optimus: Bumblebee, the front lines are nothing like Autobot territory. Dangerous and high ranking Decepticons are far more common. You could be killed.

Bumblebee: I understand, but I still want to go. You and all the other Autobots have put your lives on the line for the sake of our freedom. It is only right I do the same.

The fear for his ward was ever present, but Bumblebee excelled on the battlefield. The information he collected and the kills he made were crucial to the success of many a mission. While he was still very young and new to the art of war, he was a natural forged warrior. Optimus hated that his sparkling had to fight, but he was proud, and with time, the fear eased. Jazz was assigned to look over Bumblebee, and in turn Optimus trusted that all would be well. Bumblebee was wise for his age and knew better than to throw his life into harms way without reason.

Optimus should have known better than to think his sparkling would not take after him.

It was a gloomy cycle at Tyger Pax. Optimus was with his unit far to the north, fending off a wave of Decepticon ground troops even as he desperately attempted to move back inland to face his foe before serious damage could be done. But no matter how much he struggled, it seemed as though every force on Cybertron was standing in his way. As such he was unable to move with any swiftness and merely slaughter with wrath known only to deities when he sensed Bumblebee all but shatter.

By the time he arrived at the scene, Bumblebee had already been carted off to base for emergency surgery and Megatron was nowhere to be seen. Optimus could not even exact vengeance on the behalf of his sparkling as he was given a report of what exactly happened and promptly hurried back to Autobot headquarters so that he could be there for his sparkling if and when Bumblebee got out of surgery. Whatever the case Optimus would be there for his sparkling, be it in life or in death. That was his promise, one that he lamented due to his failure to protect that which he held dear while he paced out in the waiting room.

Thankfully, Bumblebee was stabilized, but the loss of his voice was devastating to him. There was no time for Optimus to begrudge his failures as he held his sparkling close, singing to him and wiping away a river of coolant leaking from his optics. Bumblebee could not cry, he could not scream, he could not speak nor could he sing. Bumblebee was silent, and somehow holding his sobbing sparkling and not even being able to hear his cries hurt more than seeing the scars that adored Bee's neck. Many a long cycle was spent with Optimus remaining right by his dear ward's side as Bumblebee thrashed in his recharge cycles, silently screaming as a foe long gone once again took away his vocalizer. All Optimus could do in those instances was cradle his singular charge as if he were still small and hum a gentle tune, reminding Bee that he was there.

After Bumblebee was released from the medical ward, things were not much better for him. His faux vocalizer hurt him every time he used it. The vibrations and the sound made Bumblebee's wounds ache and often he found it unsettling to hear himself speak in binary tone. The constant trips to Ratchet to have his vocalizer adjusted were also frightening, so much so that Optimus had to be there each time to hold his servo as Ratchet poked and prodded, trying to make the faux vocalizer as comfortable as possible. Bumblebee often could not go a whole recharge cycle without his Sire there with him, a fact that brought him no end of shame. Optimus for his part could only suffer in silence, cursing himself for his failures as he held his dear one to his chest, doing his best to soothe wounds he could not heal.

Teaching Bumblebee to use sign language was one of the most spark wrenching experiences for many reasons. However it was largely due to the fact that Bumblebee often grew angry with himself and Optimus could do little to help. Trying to teach him made Bumblebee feel weak, and usually that emotion led Bee to lash out. At least once a deca-cycle, Bee would tell Optimus through his vocalizer or through writing to frag off and stop treating him like a sparkling. It hurt, it burned even, but Optimus was persistent and his efforts always led his ward to return to him in the end with an apology. One small blessing that came from Bee's situation was the time Optimus was able to gain with him. Bumblebee only tolerated Optimus and Ratchet touching his faux vocalizer and his scarred face. As such, when he really wanted comfort, only Optimus or Ratchet were allowed to run their digits over his scars and whisper sweet nothings.

For Optimus is became habit to go somewhere private after a mission and touch every scar on his sparkling's face, a reminder of failure, but also a declaration of adoration. To Bumblebee, such a touch reminded him that he was safe, that digits that hurt so many others would never so much as scratch him. To Optimus it was a memorial of his failures, but also a chance to lessen the ache with careful attention and love. Many nightmares, many long cycles of painful emotional outbursts, and plenty of quiet moments alone in the dark took their toll. With time, Bumblebee learned to use his faux vocalizer and no longer came to Optimus as often in terror of that which could stalk the night. With time, Optimus no longer feared his sparkling would be taken from him at every moment, nor did he continually lament his failure as a Sire.

They healed, they moved on, but scars lingered. Sometimes Bee still came to Optimus in the dead of night, his optics wide and pleading. In those instances he stayed with his Sire as he recharged, regardless of who might be watching. Sometimes Bee needed to be reminded of his worth, and those were the times when Optimus touched his scarred face and uttered all kinds of gentle affirmations. Sometimes... Bumblebee did not want to speak and hear his binary voice. On those cycles, Optimus was always there to work him through the motions, helping him through every task until he could at last rest and be comforted.

The scars lingered, but it was not the end. They were there to comfort and care for one another, even without words.

[aishangotome]

Alfons Sylvatica: [Mad Love] Chapter 25

Chapter 24 Premium Story

♡———♡

If life were a fairy tale, it would be easy to find happiness.

All you'd need to do is be kind, compassionate, and full of love.

Usually, people like that are the protagonists of stories... and "protagonists" usually end up happy.

But what if you were an irredeemable villain,

and on top of that, fell in love with someone like a "protagonist"?

The chances of a happy ending for you would be incredibly low.

In my case? Well, what do you think? Which one do you believe?

-

– One month later, as promised.

Victor looked up contentedly, holding the final report I had submitted.

Victor: Thank you, Kate. You kept our secret and documented their crimes.

Kate: I'm relieved to have completed the task I was assigned.

Kate: I believe I've honestly recorded all actions that are clearly crimes according to the law and ethics.

Victor: Yes. And on top of that, your "special notes" that you always include were quite interesting.

Kate: I wanted to add what I saw and felt with my own eyes...

It was a desperate measure for me, who couldn't write that obvious crimes were "not crimes" out of personal feelings, nor could I write that they were "crimes" in a rigid manner, excluding all personal feelings.

In reality, what Alfons does is like a mirror, where good and evil are two sides of the same coin.

He shows illusions and drives people mad – but some are saved by it.

The work of taking lives is a serious crime – but there are also lives that cannot be saved without doing so.

Victor: I actually think these "special notes" are important and valuable.

Kate: Huh...?

I looked at Victor in surprise, and he gently narrowed his eyes.

Victor: I told you at the beginning, didn't I? I want you to write down what you think is a crime.

Victor: In your eyes... they were not cursed beings destined to commit crimes.

Victor: Reading this, it's clear you saw them as human beings.

Victor: And it's that perspective, the ability to look at the person in front of you, not their status, title, or superficial impression...

Victor: I believe that's what will lead this country to a better place.

Victor lovingly gazes at the words. It's the same expression he sometimes shows when looking at the Crown members and me.

Kate: Victor and William – why did you two establish the Crown?

Victor: Hmm? Well...

Victor: Just as everyone living in the bright places of this country wishes it could be that way for everyone...

Victor: We wished that those who can only live in the darkness of night could also spread their wings freely... I guess.

I probably still only know a fraction of the dark world they fly in.

But I had no anxiety about diving into it.

Victor: Now, you are officially free.

Victor: Can you tell me? What do you want to do from now on?

Kate: Yes, Victor.

I lift my chin.

Kate: Please let me continue my work as a Fairytale Keeper.

Kate: I want to stake my life on defying Alfons' fate.

Like a flickering illusion, Alfons' true form has slipped through my fingers countless times, leaving my heart lost and wandering.

But each time, hope also appeared before me.

Kate: Investigating with Roger, I felt that there are things I can do.

Kate: Besides... memories become more deeply etched the more you trace them.

Kate: If I deeply engrave them in my eyes, ears, nose, and entire body, something might remain.

Victor smiled with narrowed eyes and firmly shook my hand.

Victor: ...That's a wonderful decision. I'll support you.

Kate: Thank you.

Victor: So...

Victor: Have you told him about it?

Kate: That's...

-

Kate: So, I look forward to continuing to work with you.

Roger: Yeah, same here.

I handed him a summary of the report to Her Majesty, specifically the part detailing what I knew about Alfons' curse and abilities.

Roger grinned.

Roger: You're a naughty girl, aren't you? Leaking the report to Her Majesty.

Kate: Primary sources only gain value when they're in the hands of a skilled researcher.

Kate: There's no researcher in all of Britain who investigates curses as earnestly as you, Roger.

Kate: If this advances research on curses even a little...

Kate: It would be beneficial to Her Majesty, who bears the burden of the cursed for the sake of the country, wouldn't it?

Elbert: ...Hehe.

I looked up at the sound of laughter, like sunlight filtering through thin lace curtains.

The beautiful person who had been watching us from a simple examination bed was laughing.

Kate: Is something wrong...?

Elbert: No... your way of speaking has become a bit like Al's, I thought.

Kate: Huh?

(Did I sound like him just now...?)

My face suddenly felt hot, and I hurriedly searched for another topic.

Kate: Um, Elbert, why are you here? Are you injured somewhere?

Roger: He was stumbling around from lack of sleep, so I just forcibly put him to sleep with sleeping pills.

Kate: Are you alright...?

Elbert: Yeah. It's common... don't worry about it.

Elbert: ...If you have any trouble, tell me. I'll do anything I can.

Elbert: This time, for sure... so that the happiness of "both of you" won't be broken.

("This time, for sure"...?)

It bothered me a little, but Elbert's eyes were somewhat sad, and I couldn't ask.

Until something decisive happened, like Alfons leaving a will and disappearing, it feels like Elbert has always been watching us from a slight distance, like this.

(Will I ever understand the meaning of his words and the reason for his sad eyes...?)

Kate: ...Elbert, if there's anything I can help you with, please tell me.

Elbert: Thank you. ...If you could be happy with Al, that would be the best.

Roger: So, the Fairytale Keeper will continue her exclusive contract with Al, huh?

Roger: ...So, on this momentous contract renewal day, where is the man himself?

Kate: That's...

Kate: He's not here... nowhere to be found...

-

I haven't told Alfons about anything yet, including what I told Victor and the others about my future plans.

It's all because Alfons went off somewhere and hasn't returned to the castle.

Kate: Where did he go...?

He should know that today is the day of our promise.

(Doesn't he care if I stay at the castle or go back to town...?)

Feeling uneasy, I quietly returned to my room and found an unfamiliar envelope on the bed.

(Th-this incredibly illegible handwriting... it's Alfons...!)

I hurriedly opened it – it only said "Post Office."

Kate: Wh-what...? Does this mean I should go there? What does it-- Ugh!

Unable to stand still, I rushed out of the room.

-

Director: I'm glad you came to say goodbye after sending such a polite resignation letter.

Director: If you have any trouble at your next job, you're always welcome to come back.

Director: Oh, right. I have an envelope for you that I was asked to give you when you came.

The next envelope said, "At the pub...".

-

Manager: Oh, it's been a while, lass. Al hasn't been making you cry again, has he?

Manager: If he's been giving you a hard time, just say the word. I'll smack him with one of the bottles he keeps here.

Manager: Oh, I almost forgot. Here, Al told me to give this to you if you came by.

-

The next one was the market where the boy I saved from the Docklands fire worked.

Youth: Ah... M-miss...

Youth: Um, at the harbor warehouse... th-that fire... th-thank you for saving me.

Youth: I-I'm... working here now, thanks to a referral from the person who got me into the hospital...

Youth: I didn't know there was such a warm life.

Youth: Ah, this... the man from that time told me to give it to you if you came.

-

Kate: Huff... huff... In the end, back to the original place...!?

By the time I got back to my room, following the instructions in the letters, it was already completely dark.

The last envelope was tossed on the bed, just like the first one.

*"Welcome back. I'm sorry to bother you when you're tired, but would you like to have a party tonight?"

*"If YES, dress up and come to the dining hall."

Even I think I'm an idiot for obediently dressing up according to this unreasonable message.

While even the Alfons in my head mocked me for being so serious, I entered the dining hall...

-

Kate: Alfons, what are you up to...!?

I gasped as I saw the dining table adorned with a luxurious dinner.

Alfons: Even after being so unreasonably dragged around, you still follow me.

Alfons: You really are an idiot, aren't you?

Alfons, who had been sitting leisurely in a chair, stood up and approached me, gallantly extending his hand.

Kate: What's going on, all this...? Did Victor prepare this...?

Alfons: No? I prepared it while you were running all over London, buying me time.

Alfons: Amazing, isn't it? Please praise me with all the vocabulary you can muster.

Kate: You prepared all of this, Alfons...?

Alfons: Oh, didn't I tell you? I'm good at cooking.

Alfons winked, saying so.

Alfons: Perhaps it's a reaction to having eaten nothing but garbage-like meals, but I have a weakness for delicious food.

Alfons: It's a surprise.

And so, he escorts me, who is dumbfounded, to my seat.

Alfons: Say, Kate. How was it breathing in the London air today?

A napkin is spread over my lap, and a chuckle brushes past my ear.

Kate: Huh...?

Alfons: The post office, it must have brought back memories. You're so straightforward and serious, I bet you missed it.

Alfons: You probably don't have many good memories of the pub. Well, the place itself isn't bad.

Alfons: The boy you saved must have blended into the peaceful everyday life of London.

Alfons: ... Didn't you want to go back?

The man next to me is smiling like a devil.

The real purpose of having me run around today wasn't to buy time for a surprise.

-- Wouldn't you be happier if you went back?

He toyed with me all day just to dangle that devilish whisper.

Kate: You're really the worst, you know.

Alfons: Oh my, how hurtful.

Kate: If I said I'm leaving the castle and going back to my old life... what would you do with this feast?

Alfons: Of course, I'd have to tearfully eat it all myself.

Alfons: You'd be spared from the tragedy, and I'd just continue dancing merrily as always.

Kate: I see...

Kate: Then... this is my answer.

While staring back into his eyes as he leaned in, I pressed my lips against his.

When I gently bit his lip, Alfons narrowed his eyes.

It was a smile like that of someone watching a kitten playfully biting their fingertip.

Alfons: ... I understand very well.

A whisper melted into the space between our lips, and my breath was taken away again.

Kate: Nn... -Kyah!

He lifted me up like a child and placed me on the dining table, and the napkin on my lap fluttered to the floor.

Alfons: The return for your kiss will be directly on your body.

--CHOICES--

After taking a bath

You have bad manners

After moving to the room

---------------

Kate: ... On the table? That's... improper...

Alfons: The one being improper is you, seducing me in such a sexy dress.

My protest is ignored as a matter of course, and my entangled hands are pressed against the table.

Alfons: Heh...

Kate: Nn...!

His palm slid through the slit of my dress, slowly crawling up my thigh.

My body jumped, and the wine glass tipped over with a clink.

Alfons: Besides, you already know...

Alfons: ...that I don't have the integrity to value manners, don't you?

Alfons looked down at me as I collapsed onto the table, laughing happily, then stood up and threw off his coat and leather gloves.

The gesture makes me forget where I am, and my body heats up.

(All day, I wanted to see you... my chest aches from longing.)

Kate: ... All day, while I was walking around town, you were all I could think about.

Kate: I kept thinking maybe I'd see you at the next place...

My longing grew so strong that I grabbed his tie and pulled him close.

The weight of him leaning over me filled me with such love that I wanted to cry.

Kate: There's no room for my old life anymore... everything is filled with you.

To be toyed with, manipulated, and then face tragedy in the end...

Kate: What's so bad about tragedy...?

Kate: I'll make you laugh so hard you'll fall over on stage—

Kate: I'll turn it into the most delightful tragedy in the world.

Alfons: ...Hehe, I see. A delightful tragedy, huh?

Alfons: If you're my dance partner, that sounds rather interesting.

Alfons: You know, Kate... In truth, today was all for this.

Memories from the night they met intertwine within their overlapping gazes.

Kate: For this...?

Alfons: Your words just now, the angry look on your face when you burst into this room,

Alfons: The anticipation that, despite being so angry, you dressed up so beautifully for our party,

Alfons: To savor the genuine love that seeps through all of that... That was my aim.

Kate: ...Nn, ah...

His naughty fingertips tickle my skin, lighting a fire in my core.

The place where he pressed his hips against, spreading my legs, was hot and throbbing.

Just like what you said… He, who seemed like an illusion slipping through my fingers, craving my love so greedily,

If he did something as foolish as this,

I'd be so happy, so filled with love, that it would hurt.

(Tell me more. Brand me deeper.)

(Your words, your heat… your truth.)

Alfons: ...Tonight, unlike last time with the cupcakes, you're not saying anything about dinner, are you?

He looked down at me with amusement as I stumbled over my words, my expectations laid bare.

Alfons: What happened to your earlier bravado? Come on, tell me.

Alfons: When two people truly love each other, what do they do... at a time like this?

My heart is pounding so hard it's hard to breathe.

Because beyond the vanished mirage, I can now see your true smile.

Kate: ...D-dinner can wait.

Kate: We... we get messy and make love, that's what.

His thin lips slowly curve into a smile.

Alfons: -Ah, good.

Alfons: Actually, the menu is full of dishes that are delicious even when they're cold.

(W-what...)

Kate: You...you planned this from the start...?

Alfons: Aha! Don't make it sound like I'm just after your body, that's not a nice thing to say.

Kate: It's half true, though...

Alfons: The other half might be sincerity, love, or something like that.

Alfons: Whatever you want to believe is the truth.

An outrageous, good-for-nothing, immoral, and unfaithful man, like a nightmare.

He hates tragedies, loves cats.

Delicious food too... and probably me as well.

That's the Alfons I know—the truth I never want to forget.

Alfons: You won't say you've reached your limit, will you?

Alfons: ...You'll entertain me more, won't you?

-

I don't know if our ending will be a tragedy or a comedy.

But that's what makes a story interesting.

The characters just believe in the ending they want and push forward.

Whether this love is a spice that makes the tragedy more cruel,

Or the key to turning it into a comedy—

The "truth" I want to believe in is already decided.

FIN

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Mad Love Chapter 25 His POV

If you’d like to support my translations, feel free to buy me a coffee here! :)

[rivalkieran]

HI I’VE COME TO BOTHER YOU-

I’m the anon who asked for you to info-dump about the legendary Pokemon a while back (which did help me, the way mine are sort of set up is they also embody concepts but are less tied to stories here, so like Yveltal is Death, Dialga is Time, Terapagos got assigned to wishes here, etc) and I’ve come back to ask you to info dump more.

It doesn’t need to be about legendaries this time, I’ve actually been wondering about Paldea, Galar, and Hoenn specifically. I think about the dynamic Kieran and Florian have here maybe a touch more than is healthy… but also like the paldea friends are something I’m wondering about.

Give me the detailsssss pleaseeeeee (I’m going to ask many a time. It’s gonna happen. I’m far too mentally ill to just leave it beeeee)

-Hyperfixtated Anon (this will be my name now because I’m going to come back many times I don’t know why I can’t be normal about this)

OH HELLO this is I think one of the first reoccuring anons I've gotten how exciting!!! to be honest I do pretty badly with more broad questions like this but I'll try my best..!!!

with most of my pokemon stuff I don't really change the main story that much unless I have problems with just how it's written on a technical level so alot of the meat of solisverse is contained within the protagonist interpretations and the themes I explore through them.

for hoenn, may hiroshi's themes of aloneness and isolation (themes which are shared with other protags actually) (but hiroshi especially puts emphasis on those specific aspects of protagism) acts as a contrast to the rest of hoenn's duos and pairs and whatnot. specifically those themes of isolation shine through in her hoenn hero status. she saved the world not once but twice (mainstory + delta ep), and now she’s expected to save it again if it ever comes to that. lone titan atlas, burdened with holding the world up by himself. or something like that lol

someone’s actually asked me about galar before! so I wont bother repeating myself. galars general themes are of heroism and villainy, in the storybook fairytale sense and how those concepts get ‘adapted’ into reality so to speak. since galar is late in the solisverse timeline alot of my verse’s weird meta bullshit starts really rearing its head

speaking of weird meta bullshit! paldea! the themes are very broad here, since this is kind of the finale for what I consider ‘act 1’ of solisverse. the themes are: what does it mean to be a protagonist, desire/wishes, and connection. I could honestly go ON about every little intricacy of the themes here but I’ll try to keep it brief for now ^_^;

paldea is a very unique case protag-wise. there are actually two separate protags, juliana goes through the main game and florian goes through the dlc. But. There’s a catch. juliana is… to put it briefly, Not Really Human. and she literally straight up Leaves The Story after the main game. nearly everyones memory of her is altered to be about florian instead. (everyones memories except florians of course) which makes the og paldea friend dynamic… kind of weird!!! nemona arven and penny were all kind of unhealthily dependent on juliana for emotional support (and this wasn’t a problem for juliana because she was inhuman and didn’t have a will of her own) and that doesn’t go away once juliana gets replaced with a much more human florian. I think they do work out the whole dependency thing out and become better and more stable friends, but… I still haven’t written anything for florian telling them that a significant chunk of their memories about her are completely false. so. scratches head. yeah

[ohdudedhesflirting]

I love you so I let you go, final part.

Part 1. Part 2.

Pairing: Seok matthew x f!reader

Warnings: Therapy, YN is going through a depression (not diagnosticed), vomitting, mention of bullying, anorexia

Tag : @seok02, I hope you will like it Nina, this is the end <3

Genre: University au, Matthew fell first, friends to sweethearts, angst, break-up.

Synopsis: Y/n and Matthew were in a relationship. Y/N get some needed help, before finally meeting Matthew again.

Notes : This is the final part, I hope you will like it <3 English is my second language. Please if anyone is huring you, if you are knowind difficulties, please tell someone, do not stay alone.

Words : 2667

... Under the cut...

A smile barging on your lips, you where looking outside the windows seeing your boyfriend, Seok Matthew, happily passing by with some of his friends.

You still had difficulties to believe that Matthew had chosen you. On your side Matthew had alwyas been the evident choice, he was the perfect man and the most kindest person to ever exist to you.

Excitedly you were working over an assignement which had been assigned to you in one of your classes. You just wanted the time to go by faster and meet with your boyfriend. You had a date later that day at his place and you could not wait one minute even more.

A loud scrape on the floor got you out of your thoughts. Looking at what made the sound you were met with one of the girl from your class. Miranda. She was not the meanest but not the kindest either. Just the type you had to say hello to when passing by in the hall, but not the type one would willingly have a drink with.

« How are you doing Y/N ? »

Startled by her question you replied « good thank you, I trust you are as well »

« Actually I am not »

Questionning her with your eyes you wondered what the sudden urge of honesty came for. You were not especially close and she had lots of friends why would she suddenly rant to you ?

« I dont understand how a girl like you bagged a guy like Matthew.. I really dont get it. »

Your smile that already had gotten smaller got even more smaller, just completely dissapearing from your face. You though all those insults and remarks had gotten away, it had been a while since anyone said something clearly to your face and you did not miss it.

You knew what those remarks were doing to you. You were just spiralling into your own insecurity and sadness every time.

« Look at you. Ugly litlle girl, just fat and no muscles. Nothing particular about you, just a boring plain gril »

Saying so she took your brown hair between her long fingers. With your eyes you followed her do so. You knew that this was only going to be the beginning and wanting to preserve yourself you started to pack your stuff to leave. You did not need to hear any more words, you had heard enough.

"Wake up Y/N, Matthew is just doing charity work you know ? One day he is gonna ditch you and then what ? You are nothing"

Droping your pencil case on the floor, you slowly bend down to take it back before she pushed it over with her shoe and left. Slowly going up again, you left a sigh leave your lips. When was this going to stop ?

--

Hearing your alarm you kept on hitting the button to turn it off.

You just had passed the worst week of your life. The absoulte worst.

After your breakup with Matthew you still pushed yourself to go to class and follow everything. As a scholarship student you couldn’t be absent to class but the effort it was asking you was terrible.

You felt as if every eye was on you, and it was as if they knew about you and Matthew.. The insults and whispered remarks had not died down. Not wanting to eat alone at the cafeteria you had just skipped lunch the whole week week. Its not as if your stomach could handle any food, any time you tried to eat something you just puked it out. The only thing you could tolearate was some yogurt.

Finally it was the weekend and you would be able to be alone without forcing yourself to put on a facade. Trying to be brave.

The light coming for your window had been too much and you just closed everything down, leaving in the dark since a week and the though of not seeing the sun was the greatest of all.

Alone in your bed, curdled up in one of Matthew’s sweatshirt you were wondering if you had comitted a mistake.

Matthew was the greatest thing to have ever happened in your life. He was realiable. Kind. You loved the way his whole face lighted up every time he was smiling, the way he reached stuff for you on high shelves. Enguffling yourself even more in his sweatshirt you started to feel the tears coming in once again.

You missed Matthew terribly but it was the best for him. You kept repeating this to yourself over and over again. Every time he was sending you a message, you did not even dare to open it. Every time he called you, you just turned your face over to not see his contact picture.

You had to do it. All those people were right, you were stopping Matthew from growing, he derserved to be happy and free.

Yes it was the best choice.

And as you kept repeating over and over the sentence in your head your tears just kept on falling down as waterfalls.

A loud knock on your door, stopped you in your cries. Eventually you though that the person would leave but a second knock was heard on your door, before a third. You refused to move, your body could not move anyway.

That person will just leave, thats what you kept thinking.

Not until the key was put inside the lock and unlocking it, letting a person come into your place. You had not even noticed just sobbing on your bed, hidden fully under your covers.

Footstep were resonating in your appartement, before a hand finally placed itself on the doorknob of your bedroom. An impressive silhouette letting himself in and putting down the food he brought on the side.

The hand solwly pulled up a part of the cover, unveiling you, curdled up crying wearing one of Matthew’s sweatshirt, holding another in your hand.

« Seriously YN what the hell »

Lifting up your gaze you where left with Han Bin’s gaze. The older man was just looking at you in disbelief. Or at least the shadow of you,

« Hanbin ? What are you.. ?»

« You and Matthew are exactly in the same state.. Scoot over »  

Slowling pushing yourself on the side, you left a place for your friend. The man just looked at you in disbelief, with your puffy eyes and red nose. But also at your bedroom covered in tissues.

« This place is gross let me tell you »

Looking at him, you didnt understood what he was doing there and how exactly had he gotten the keys

« Before you ask, no I did not break your door, Matthew gave me the keys »  

« Is Matthew alright ? « 

« He is just like you so a mess basically »

Sighing you could feel yourself feeling even more down, the whole basis of this breakup was to free him so he could be happy away from you.

« YN listen, I know about what people are saying, I heard.. I don’t think Matthew knows, are what they are saying the reason you broke up with Matt ? »

Slowling confirming with your head,Han Bin sighed and pulled his hands up to his face.

« Why are you like this ? They are just jealous, seriously, what you and Matthew have is so important and you are just letting yourself have your relationship ruined by them ? »

« They are right Han Bin, Matthew is missing out on college life because of me, he deserves someone that pull him toward the stars not push him down lower than earth »

« You are not. The bond you have is unique and wholesome. People will always talk, behind your back or in front of you, do not let your relationship be ruined by jealous people YN. »

- -

"Why do what they are saying are so important to you ?"

"Well if it had been only one people I would not have cared that much, but so many people think the same and Matthew.. Well"

Slowly your therapist -that you were now seeing since two months-  encouraged you to talk

"Matthew is great. He is everything you could wish in a person and the though of making him unhappy even for one second destroys me, he deserves to be happy and loved and if by being with me he cannot be as happy as he could be, than I should let him be free"

"Correct me if I am wrong, you never told him about what those people told you right ? And you never asked him if he was unhappy with you ? Don’t you think that here it is your own insecurities that you projected into your relationship with Matthew ?"

Speechless you looked over at your therapist, was it what it was ? Did you truly let your own insecurities eat you up whole, you and your relationship ?

Slowly going back from your therapy session to your place, your mind was wandering off everywhere.

The therapy had not been your idea, but Han Bin and Jiwoong that litteraly kidnapped you one day after your classes to introduce you to this therapist. She was great really but every time you left a consultation with her you felt like your whole life was upside down.

Not really looking where you were walking you heard a voice from a distance. It was Matthew.

You had not saw him since over three months, when you broke up with him at his appartment. He never stopped sending you messages, yes they were less frequent but always send some.

In awe you looked at him. He had gotten more muscular, he had let his hair grown and he could now put it behind his ears. You remembered you always told him that it would suit him well and that you would love to see him one day with long hair. And you were right, he truly was looking good.

Looking at him from a distance, you thought about how much he seemed to have changed. His shirt was letting his biceps show, and you could see he got a new tatto,  he seemed to be doing well. His skin was shinig and he seemed to be getting enough sleep. You were relieved to see him this way, happy, healthy. You were suffering but at least seeing him happy was making up for it.

Finally you saw he was accompagnied, you recognized one of the two people walking by his side. The first one was a man named Keita, he was a bit shorter than you and obviously Matthew, you had talked to him a few times and he was really funny and sweet to talk to. A smile escaped your lips happy to see Matthew kept such a good friendship.

And then you saw her, Miranda, laughing with Matthew. Putting her hand on his biceps, curling up her hair. A feeling of knife went into your stomach and suddenly you once again wanted to puke. Running to the closet alley you vomitted everything you had ate. It had been a little while since it did not happen and you did not miss it at all.

A tissue approached your lips and you slowly took it from the hand of the person that was giving it to you.

Meeting with big brown eyes, you saw Matthew.

The man was scrutinzing you with his eyes. You had lost weight, gotten an haircut, you had pack under youe eyes, you looked globally exhausted.

"Are you alright ?"

You slowly confrmed it with your head not able to let any sound escape your lips. You could not belive he was in front of you, hearing his voice again, seeing his sparkling eyes once again, everything felt too good to be real.

Seeing Miranda and Keita slowly approaching you excused yourself before Matthew even had a chance to understand what was happening.

Seeing you run and leave him once agin, he had not even gotten the time to reach for your hand.

« She did not change uh »

Looking over his shoulder, Matthew questionned Miranda with his eyes. He was not especially fond of the girl, he always had found her too nice, too honey like with him and his friends. She was always as the place as he was. Just like today, he was just supposed to meet Keita for a cofee but she somehow was there at the café.

"YN, I can't believe you dated her, I remember how all of us would tell her how shocking it was"

" What ?"

Miranda laughed before pulming her hair behind her ear, Keita on the side was silent. All of Matthew's friend had promised to not say a word about what you had went through, you had asked Han Bin to ask them, and also messaged some of them. Matthew shouldnt and could never know what happened.

"She never told you ? We were always jokingly, of course, telling her how ridiculous itw as you two were together". She paused for a moment before continuing "Well thats what everyone said anyways"

Matthew stepped back for a moment, his mind wandering accross his memories, all the whispers he could sometimes hears, all the time you looked sad, scared in the corridors, all the time you vomitted, all the time you said you were feeling uncomofrtable. Why you never told him you loved him verbally. Everything matched up.

Finally Matthew undertsood why you had left him.

"You bullied her"

Laughing Miranda replied "We played, and see if she didnt told you anything it that it didnt mean anything"

Completely disguted Matthew left her there, followed by Keita, he asked his friend about it and he finally learned the truth. What you had went trough, how you made them promise to not say anything, you had been suffering alone since months and he knew nothing.

Going to your place, Matthew kept banging on your door, for months he had given you space, missing you in silence, but he could not stand it anymore, now that he knew the truth, he wanted to feel you in his arms. The sooner, the better.

Slowly you opened your door for Matthew, seeing your tiny figure, Matthew englobbled you in his arms

« Why didnt you say anyhting ? »

« What ? »

« I just learned, everything or almost everyhtng, why havent you said anything ? »

« I just.. It felt true to me. And well I was scared that if I told you you would leave me, I was gredy and I wanted to keep you  by my side »

Keeping you even closer to his arms, Mattthew brused your hair

« I love you and I won’t let you go, never. Those people they are wrong »

« They were not completely, if I had been secure it would not have happened, it happened because I let them destroy me »

Solwly pulling you aay Matthew took your cheeks between his hands.

« Listen to me, I love you and I deserve you, you deserve me. You are not a burden to me. You never were. Come back to me. »

Slowly breathing in and out, you explained to Matthew that you could not yet, you needed help, you needed to be worth of him, but not away from him this time. You would go back together slowly, just getting back the time you had lost all while seeing your therapist.

Matthew englobbed you in a tight hug and placed a tender kiss on your forehead. He understood, of course he did, but he could not be away from you anymore. You would be getting help and talk about it, but he would be by your side.

Loving each other and always staying at each other side.