#it will never be what you had the person you lost but it's something different and it's still something good and it makes you happy

[insidekatmind]

Resistance~Hwang in-ho

Request: yes!

The room was enveloped in an almost oppressive silence, the sound of the participants’ breathing filling the air. Every bunk was occupied, except for one, that of Hwang In-ho, better known as Frontman. As player number 001, he had earned everyone’s trust, managing to manipulate his fellow players’ minds without anyone ever suspecting him. But there was one person who didn’t fall for his charm, who wasn’t fooled by his sweet words and calculated moves: you.

After the team game, in which many had lost their lives, you found yourself in the room, lying on your bunk, staring silently at the empty top bunk. The thought of what had just happened tormented you, but there was also something you couldn’t explain. You couldn’t understand how you were the only one who realized something was off with Frontman.

The others avoided you, not wanting to hear your theories. They still believed he was just another man, someone who had been lucky enough to survive the first game, someone who wouldn’t hurt anyone. But you, with a clarity that seemed out of place in such a context, had noticed too much.

And just as you were reflecting, the door to the room opened, breaking the silence as Frontman entered with his confident stride, as if he were at home. His presence exuded an unsettling calm, yet there was something in his eyes that betrayed his interest in you. He knew you were the only one who didn’t bend to his will. And for him, that was a challenge he couldn’t ignore.

He approached your bunk and stopped right in front of you. His voice, soft but firm, resonated in the air. "You know, it’s not easy being the only one to see the world for what it is. Most prefer to close their eyes and follow the current. But you… you’re different."

You stayed silent, still looking up. You could feel his attention on you, but you weren’t about to give in."It’s not about being different. It’s about seeing beyond appearances."

Frontman smiled slightly, as if he had finally found someone worth talking to. Then he sat on the bunk next to yours, gazing at you with a penetrating look."You have an interesting intuition. But you’re wrong if you think I’m like the others. I’m not here to play by the rules, those rules you’re trying to follow."

"And I don’t want to play this game anymore. I’ve seen too many things I don’t like. And you, Frontman, are one of those things." You said.

His smile widened, but not in anger. Instead, he seemed pleased, as though he had finally found someone who wasn’t easily swayed by his power. "You never should have come. But now that you’re here, you have the chance to understand what it really means to be here, in this game."

There was a long silence between us, where neither of us spoke, but we both understood we were operating on different levels. You were the only one who wouldn’t be manipulated, but he wasn’t going to let you slip away so easily.

"Why don’t you stay with me? We could be powerful together. I can give you what you want, what the others will never give you." In-ho said.

You knew exactly what he was trying to do. He was offering you power, an escape that sounded too tempting to be true. But you would never give in. Your resistance intrigued him more and more, and every attempt he made to get closer made the anger inside you grow, something you couldn’t ignore anymore.

"There’s nothing you can offer me that’s worth it. These games are your prison, and in the end, you’ll be trapped just like the others." you replied

In ho raised an eyebrow, visibly amused by your response. His smile was enigmatic, as though he was reflecting on something deeper."We’ll see how long you last. In the end, you’ll understand there’s no way out. You either bend, or you perish."

His gaze grew more intense, as though he wanted to engrave every word in my mind. But I wasn’t afraid. I wouldn’t give in.

And so, the tension between us remained suspended, like a tight rope ready to snap. I knew this was just the beginning.

[ka1rin]

Blue Lock Romantic Tropes

isagi, kaiser, sae, rin, reo, nagi x reader (separate)

word count: 1.1k , genre: romance / fluff

note: this story is about what romantic trope would suit these Blue Lock characters. I hope you guys love this!

Isagi Yoichi — Childhood Friends

Yoichi Isagi had always been head over heels for her—though he didn’t realize it until it was almost too late. She’d been his best friend for as long as he could remember. She was the one who stayed after practice to kick a ball around when no one else would, the one who always seemed to know exactly what to say after a tough game.

But lately, everything felt different. He couldn’t stop noticing the way her hair caught the sunlight or the way her laughter softened the edges of a bad day. He wasn’t sure when it started, but he knew one thing for certain: she wasn’t just his best friend anymore.

They walked home together like always, her voice filling the air with stories about her day. Isagi barely heard a word. His mind was somewhere else, lost in thoughts he didn’t have the courage to say out loud.

When they reached her street, she stopped and turned to face him. “You’re quieter than usual. What’s up?”

He hesitated, his fingers tightening around the strap of his bag. “Do you ever think about the future?”

Her brow furrowed. “Sure. Why?”

“I mean… us,” he said softly, forcing himself to meet her gaze. “Do you ever think about where we’ll end up?”

Her eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. “What are you trying to say, Yoichi?”

“I think—no, I know—I want you in my future,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not just as my best friend, but as… something more.”

Michael Kaiser — Enemies to Lovers

Michael Kaiser had never believed in losing. In his mind, every match, every argument, every moment in life was a game to be won. That’s why she infuriated him so much. She wasn’t interested in playing by his rules.

From the moment they met, she challenged him—both on and off the field. She had a knack for seeing through his façade, stripping away the charm he used so effortlessly on everyone else. At first, he hated it. Then he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

One evening, after yet another clash on the pitch, he found her sitting alone in the stands. The moonlight caught the curve of her profile, making her look softer than he was used to seeing.

“You’re staring,” she said without looking up.

“Maybe I’m trying to figure you out,” he replied, sliding onto the bench beside her.

“You won’t,” she said, finally meeting his gaze. “You’re not as good at reading people as you think.”

Kaiser smirked, leaning back on his elbows. “And you’re not as immune to me as you pretend to be.”

Her lips twitched, but she said nothing.

For the first time, Kaiser felt like this wasn’t a game he could win—or one he wanted to.

Sae Itoshi — Second Chance

Sae Itoshi had always been good at letting go. Whether it was friends, family, or teammates, he had a way of detaching himself from people, of moving forward without looking back.

But she was different.

She’d been his calm in the storm, the person who grounded him when the pressure of his career threatened to swallow him whole. He hadn’t realized how much he relied on her until the day he walked away, convincing himself it was for the best.

Now, years later, she stood before him at the airport, looking as composed as ever. His pulse quickened at the sight of her, and for the first time in a long while, Sae felt unsure of himself.

“You’ve changed,” she said softly, studying him like she was trying to figure out a puzzle.

“Not enough,” he admitted, his voice steady but quiet.

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she glanced away. “Then why are you here?”

“Because I couldn’t stay away,” he confessed. “Because letting you go was the biggest mistake I ever made.”

Rin Itoshi — Sun and Moon

Rin Itoshi didn’t believe in distractions. He’d built his life around focus and discipline, shutting out anything that might interfere with his pursuit of perfection.

Then she came along.

She was everything he wasn’t—bright, cheerful, and completely unafraid to push her way into his life. At first, Rin had found her presence irritating, but over time, he started to notice the small things: the way she always brought him water during practice, the way her laughter filled the empty spaces of his world.

One afternoon, as they sat in the park, she turned to him with a mischievous grin. “You should smile more, you know. It’s not illegal.”

He frowned, looking away. “Why does it matter?”

“Because it suits you,” she said simply, leaning back against the bench.

Rin’s chest tightened at her words. He didn’t know how to explain that smiling felt foreign to him—except when she was around.

Reo Mikage — Unrequited Love

Reo Mikage had always been drawn to her. She was different from everyone else in his life, uninterested in his money or his status. She treated him like an equal, never hesitating to call him out when he deserved it.

He’d fallen for her quietly, keeping his feelings to himself out of fear that she’d never see him the way he saw her. Still, he stayed by her side, always there when she needed him, hoping one day she might look at him differently.

One evening, as they sat together in a quiet café, she broke the silence. “Reo, why are you always here for me?”

He blinked, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… you’ve never asked for anything in return,” she said, her voice softer than usual. “Why?”

Reo hesitated, his heart pounding. “Because you’re important to me. That’s all.”

Her gaze lingered on him, and for the first time, he thought he saw something shift in her eyes.

Nagi Seishiro — Forced Proximity

Seishiro Nagi didn’t like effort. He preferred simplicity, staying in his comfort zone, and avoiding anything that felt like too much work.

So when she moved into his apartment as his new roommate, he wasn’t thrilled. She was loud, messy, and always finding ways to drag him into her whirlwind of energy. At first, he counted the days until she’d leave. But as time passed, he started to notice the way her laughter brightened the dull moments, the way she always made sure he had dinner even if she didn’t cook for herself.

One night, as they sat on the floor eating instant ramen, she looked over at him and smiled. “You’re not so bad to live with, you know.”

Nagi shrugged, his usual indifference masking the warmth spreading through his chest. “You’re okay too, I guess.”

She laughed, nudging his shoulder. “Wow, such high praise.”

He glanced at her, his voice softer than usual. “I mean it. I don’t mind you being here.”

Her laughter faded, and she looked at him with an expression he couldn’t quite place. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

For the first time, Nagi felt like that was exactly what he wanted to hear.

[pedroscurls]

his girl (one-shot)

summary: logan didn't think he'd ever get a second chance at making his life matter nor did he think he even deserved it... but then he met you. his girl.

pairing: logan howlett [worst wolverine] x fem!reader content warnings: post deadpool & wolverine ("worst" logan!variant), light angst (mentions of death, logan has some insecurities - doesn't believe he deserves you 🥺), all the fluff!, no use of y/n. word count: 1.4k a/n: part of KLLOVEUARY 2025 challenge hosted by @lubdubology and @yxtkiwiyxt ♥️. this song and this character just fits so well and i'm so glad that i chose option 2. at first, i didn't know which route i wanted to take, but let's be honest... worst wolverine has to have some bit of angst right? hope y'all enjoy - i had a blast writing this! thank you kiwi and kristen for hosting this challenge <3 song: my girl by the temptations

Logan had met you over about six months ago when you moved in across the hall. He bumped into you on his way out one morning and you had looked at him with the most gentle and inviting eyes that simply radiated warmth. Even when you smiled at him, he couldn’t help but notice the way the corners of your eyes crinkled. Under your gaze, he felt protected, felt safe, felt at peace. You looked at him like he was the only person in the world, like no one else mattered. 

And if he’s being honest with himself, he didn’t like feeling this way. How his heart began to race even faster just at the mere sight of your eyes meeting his. Or how he felt this sudden urge to get to know you, to make you his. 

Even though he’s been in this universe for a year now, it still feels so new to him and he’s still battling with himself whether or not he belongs here, but you… You gave him hope. 

Something that he thought he lost a long time ago. 

And even now, you still look at him with the same kind eyes and he still feels that same warmth radiate through his entire body. There’s a sparkle in your eye whenever you gaze at him and even during Wade’s family dinner parties, you always make an effort to make sure that he knows you see him. 

Tonight is no different, though. Wade’s entertaining his guests and Logan's sitting on the couch with a beer in hand while you speak with Vanessa. Even through your conversation with her, your eyes flit over to Logan’s who keeps his gaze on you. It makes you blush, the way his eyes make you feel like you’re the only person in the room. You both give each other a small smile before looking away. 

“How about some music, hm?” Vanessa says, leading you towards the music player and pressing play. She smiles instantly, arms raising up in the air as her body sways to the beat of the song.

I've got sunshine on a cloudy day When it's cold outside, I've got the month of May I guess you'd say What can make me feel this way?

Slowly, you dare to look at Logan who’s already looking at you. You can see the way his hand grips the neck of the beer bottle, unbothered by Wade and Vanessa who begin to dance in the middle of the living room among the other guests he has over. Instead, he’s staring at you as you lean against the wall. 

My girl, my girl, my girl Talkin' 'bout my girl, my girl

Logan sees the corners of your lips turn upwards, sees the crinkles at the corner of your eyes begin to form, and he can feel his heart pounding in his chest. Everyone else seems to fade in the background until all he can see is you. His girl. 

I've got so much honey, the bees envy me I've got a sweeter song than the birds in the trees Well, I guess you'd say What can make me feel this way?

You bite your lower lip and turn on your heel, disappearing down the dim-lit hallway. Logan sets his beer on the coffee table before he begins making his way to you. For once, he doesn’t want to hide the way he’s feeling. You give him hope, give him the confidence he never knew he had. He gently reaches out for you and you turn around, eyes gazing up at him. Logan lets out a breath that he hadn’t realized he was holding. You stare up at him, the song filtering down the hallway you both are standing in as he gently reaches up to tuck a few fallen strands of hair behind your ear. His mouth parts when he feels you lean into his touch. 

“Were you gonna stand in that corner all night starin’ at me, bub?” he whispers quietly, loud enough for only you to hear. 

“I’d stand there all night waiting for you, Logan,” you respond. You part your own lips, feeling his thumb shakily brush along your lower lip. “I think we both know that.”

My girl, my girl, my girl Talkin' 'bout my girl, my girl

“You realize what you do to me?” he asks. “The way you look at me…” Logan steps closer to you when he feels your own hand move to his chest, nimble fingers playing with the buttons. “I’m not a good man, bub. I’m the–”

“Worst Wolverine,” you finish for him. “Yeah, I know. You and Wade like to remind me.” 

“It’s true.” 

“All I see is a man who’s trying to make things better,” you reply. “Trying to make his life better with the second chance he’s been given.” 

“I don’t deserve you,” he sighs, eyes and hand dropping momentarily.

“That your opinion?” 

“Just statin’ facts, sweetheart.” 

Then, he lets out a quiet gasp when he feels your hand come up to rest on his cheek. He looks at you, his eyes searching your own. Logan feels his pulse quicken at your touch—the way your thumb brushes across his jawline, soft and delicate, tender and light, gentle and grounding. 

He shuts his eyes and for a moment, all he can see are the people he failed in his old universe—dead and all because of him. It shakes him to his core; he can’t run away from his past, can’t run away from the terrible things he’s done. 

But then you say his name and it brings him back to reality. It dispels all of the inner demons that always keeps him up at night. He no longer sees his old universe. All he can see, all he can feel is you. 

“Logan,” you repeat quietly. 

When he opens his eyes, he’s greeted with your own. So kind and warm, soft and inviting. You were his peace. You were his second chance. 

You were his girl. 

“Yeah, bub?” he finally answers, voice shaky. 

“You’ve got me,” you whisper. “You’ll always have me.” 

“But–”

You shake your head and click your tongue, interrupting him. “And I’m not going anywhere.” 

He lets out a breath and slowly leans forward until his forehead lightly touches your own. He brushes his nose against your own as he hears you inhale sharply. Slowly, Logan’s arm snakes around your waist and pulls you flush against him as your arms wrap around his shoulders. He feels safe—here in your arms, is where he belongs. 

My girl, my girl, my girl Talkin' 'bout my girl, my girl

The song continues as both you and Logan stare into each other’s eyes, swaying side to side in each other’s arms. His eyes fall shut briefly when he feels your lips press against his cheek and his hold on you tightens even further. Nothing and no one else mattered. All he needed was you. All he ever needed was you.

His girl. 

Logan pulls back to look down at you, lips inches from each other. You lean in slowly, hands playing with the hair at his nape. 

Until Wade turns on the light to the hallway and begins clapping loudly, breaking you and Logan out of the moment.

“Fucking finally!” he exclaims with a grin. “Told y’all it would work. Am I the best cupid or what?”

Logan keeps his arm around you as he looks at Wade from the end of the hallway. He narrows his eyes and then glances down in your direction. You’re smiling, lower lip pulled between your teeth as you bury your face against the side of his neck. His own lips form into a small smile and he gently presses a soft kiss to your temple. 

“Wanna get outta here?” he whispers into your ear. 

“I hear my apartment is not that far from here,” you tease. 

Logan smiles. “Lead the way, baby.” 

You take his hand, lace your fingers with his own immediately, and lead him down the hallway past Wade and towards the front door. Logan looks at Wade and gives him one nod—an unspoken gesture of gratitude that has Wade jumping up and down in excitement. 

When you both finally leave Wade’s apartment to go to your own across the hall, Wade lets out a contented sigh and brings his hands to his chest. “I just love love.” 

And Logan can’t help but keep you close to him, the song playing on repeat in his mind. 

My girl, my girl, my girl Talkin' 'bout my girl, my girl

[amirasainz]

hi, you write beautifully! i was wondering if you could please write something about lando and the reader, when they have different love languages lando has touch and the reader has gifts

Thank you 😊

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

- xoxo babygirl 🧡

Different Love Languages, Same Love

Lando had always been a tactile person. It wasn’t something he tried to be, it was just who he was—he liked being close, feeling skin against skin, sharing warmth. And then there was Y/N, his polar opposite when it came to expressing love. She’d always had a knack for finding the perfect gift or gesture, something that showed she’d been paying attention to the tiniest details. They were different, yes, but those differences only seemed to bring them closer.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

The first time Y/N really noticed how much Lando’s love language shaped his actions was at a fan meet-and-greet.

It was a chaotic day at the track. Fans swarmed Lando as soon as he stepped out of the hospitality tent. Y/N had been standing beside him, holding his water bottle, her presence understated like always. But the moment the crowd surged forward, Lando’s hand shot out, grabbing hers and pulling her in front of him.

“Stay close,” he murmured, his arm wrapping protectively around her waist.

She could feel the rapid thump of his heart as he tucked her into his chest, shielding her from the crush of fans. Even as he smiled and signed autographs, his other hand never left her, his fingers brushing her arm or hip every few seconds as if to make sure she was still there.

Later that night, when they were back at the hotel, she teased him about it.

“Lando, I wasn’t about to get lost in a sea of fans,” she said, smiling as she pulled her hair up into a ponytail.

He looked up from where he was lying on the bed, his face softening. “I know. I just… I didn’t want anything to happen to you. You’re the most important person there, you know?”

Her heart melted on the spot.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Y/N’s love showed itself in other ways—like the time Lando won his first-ever F1 race.

It had been a whirlwind of champagne, interviews, and celebrations. Y/N was right there through it all, cheering the loudest, her face aching from how wide her smile had been the entire time. The next day, while Lando was still sleeping off the post-race exhaustion, she went out and found a small pendant shaped like a racecar. It wasn’t fancy, but it was something to mark the moment.

When Lando woke up and saw it, his expression was priceless.

“What’s this?” he asked, holding it up to the light.

“Just something to remember yesterday by,” Y/N said casually, though her cheeks were already warming. “You can put it on your keychain or something.”

Lando sat up and looked at her for a long moment before pulling her into his lap, burying his face in her neck. “You’re unreal, you know that? I don’t deserve you.”

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Their differences became even more apparent on the nights they’d go out with friends. Y/N wasn’t a big drinker, but occasionally, she’d let loose. Lando always took on the role of her unofficial babysitter, not that she ever needed it. One particular night, though, she’d had one cocktail too many.

On the way home, she slouched in the passenger seat of Lando’s car, her head lolling against the window. “You’re so pretty, you know that?” she slurred, turning to look at him with glassy eyes.

Lando laughed, shaking his head. “Thanks, love. So are you.”

When she tried to sit up, he reached over, guiding her feet onto his lap.

“What are you doing?” she asked, confused but too tipsy to argue.

“Just keeping you close,” he said simply, one hand steering the car while the other rested on her ankle.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

For Y/N, showing her love meant remembering the little things—like the time Lando casually mentioned wanting a specific pair of headphones while scrolling online. Six months later, on his birthday, he unwrapped the exact pair he’d been eyeing.

“How did you remember this?” he asked, holding them up with a mix of surprise and awe.

“I pay attention,” Y/N said with a grin. “You should try it sometime.”

He tackled her onto the couch, peppering her face with kisses.

“I don’t need to,” he said between kisses. “I already have everything I want.”

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

One of Lando’s most memorable gestures came during a rare beach day together. They’d found a secluded spot, far from the prying eyes of fans or photographers. Y/N had been lying on the sand, soaking up the sun, when Lando suddenly scooped her up and pulled her onto his chest.

“Lando!” she yelped, laughing as she tried to wriggle free. “What are you doing?”

“Keeping you close,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. “And making sure you don’t get sand in your hair. You hate that.”

She rolled her eyes but let him hold her, her head resting against his shoulder as they watched the waves.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

The balance they struck was perfect in its own way.

When Lando came home after particularly grueling race weekends, Y/N always had something waiting for him—sometimes flowers, sometimes his favorite takeout, sometimes just a handwritten note tucked into his pillow.

And when Y/N had rough days, Lando would pull her into his arms and hold her until the tension melted away.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

One night, as they lay tangled together on the couch, Y/N looked up at him and asked, “Do you ever wish we had the same love language?”

Lando tilted his head, considering her question. “Not really. I think it’s kind of perfect the way it is. You make me feel loved in ways I never expected.”

She smiled, reaching up to trace his jawline. “You do the same for me.”

And that was all that mattered.

[amuromi]

★ ₊ ⊹ ⋆˙ ┈ 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 X ᶠ!ᴿᴱᴬᴰᴱᴿ

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 ┈ 6.2k

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ┈ NSFW! baby fever!gojo, breeding kink, unprotected sex, established relationship, pet names (mama, baby), oral (f!receiving), talks of having kids and starting a family, ooc!gojo

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐀!𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ┈ The sequel is here! I felt like I couldn’t continue the storyline without at least mentioning the complications of someone like Gojo having a kid. It’s inevitable that they’re going to have a high level of cursed energy, so I wanted to explore the idea of sorcerers trying to live outside of jujutsu society constraints while also still having to adhere to them.

✮ 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 & 𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓!! ✮

The heat is on because it’s mid-winter and it’s finally gotten cold enough to snow, but somewhere in Gojo’s sprawling apartment a window is open. Not wide enough to cause a terrible draft–not that Gojo cares because he can afford to open all the windows while the heat is blasting at full tilt–but just enough to let in the smell of the crisp air outside. Gojo admittedly isn’t overly in tune with his sense of smell, all things considered. His strength is in his eyes so he’s never bothered to mull over the things that aren’t associated with his sight. He can’t exactly see the scent of frost and he can only smell it as well as any other person, but the window is open because he knows you like the smell of light snowfall. 

His staring problem comes with the territory, but, in the comfort of his own home, Gojo can’t really be faulted for looking too hard at any one thing. Especially not when his eyes are locked on his pretty girlfriend laid up on his couch. You’re curled up like a kitten in a nest, tucked into another one of his shirts and bundled beneath the giant fleece he bought because you’re always catching a random chill. It probably has something to do with low iron levels and leaving the window open in the winter. He briefly considers buying supplements but the thought is lost as soon as it forms when his eyes catch on the distracting length of your leg peeking out of the fuzzy blanket. It’s a wide expanse of bare skin that belies a lack of pants or at least anything beyond another pair of those damningly short shorts you love to wear around the house. There’s the fleeting thought that your aversion to longer pants might also be a contributing factor to your constant chill but he isn’t about to mention it. You’ve never had any qualms about going against things he says, but it’ll be just his luck that you actually decide to start wearing pants around the house and then where would he be? 

Infinity makes his footsteps imperceptible, especially with the adage of the downy carpet. There isn’t even a twitch of your lashes as he crouches in front of you, staring at your face half buried in the blanket before he reaches out to touch your leg. There’s no need for him to have his Infinity up in the house, but it’s habitual at this point, as easy as breathing. It’s the dropping it that always gives him pause. After going so many hours, day after day, never truly touching anything, it always feels like he’s relaxing a tense muscle when his barrier comes down. Not necessarily painful but palpable. The same way you can always smell when a storm is coming, Gojo can feel when his Infinity dissipates even though it’s intangible by nature. And once it’s gone he can feel everything. Hot or cold, the temperature never really matters because he’s always in his little bubble of body heat, but now he can feel the artificial rush of the vents pumping out waves of warm air and the slightest chill from the open window. 

Goosebumps rise over your skin as he traces his finger up the length of your leg. The jut of your ankle, the slope of your calf and the curve of your knee to settle over the softness of your thigh. You’re warm in a way that’s different from the blasting heat. Soft and comforting and Gojo tries not to dwell on what that might mean for his constant lack of physical contact. He drops his Infinity on occasion. Especially to interact with you or his students that are doing nothing but feeding into his desire for fatherhood, but it’s still few and far between. More often than not, Gojo is locked inside the untouchable barrier of his cursed technique. It’s not exactly loneliness that he’s feeling but some type of longing that makes him settle next to the couch so he can lay his cheek against your leg and just feel. His Six Eyes still tries to tell him things, outlining the shape of your body buried elusively beneath the blankets in a silhouette of cursed energy, but he closes his mind to it as best he can.  

It’s always been something unspoken between you; your level of cursed energy. You ended up a bit like Nanami, a bit like Suguru, turning your back on jujutsu for your own reasons. He’s never forced you to come back, never really even asked why you left because he doesn’t exactly care. All Gojo needs to know is that you’re happier with your life as it is, living as a non-sorcerer. He can’t really wrap his head around your love of working retail when it’s such a mixed bag of benign and volatile customers, annoying bosses, and ridiculous hours from what you tell him. But it’s leagues safer than fieldwork and Gojo isn’t about to be the one to coax you back into active duty. He barely tolerates when the higher ups call you in to do menial managerial tasks when the school is shorthanded. 

Their excuse for still keeping you on the payroll even after all these years always boils down to something about death being the only way a sorcerer ever really leaves the business. As if jujutsu society is some kind of yakuza holding members hostage. The people in charge act like sorcery is an inescapable cult and Gojo will be glad when he’s done tearing them down from the inside out. And as if you can sense him working himself up even in your sleep, Gojo watches your lashes pinch and flutter before a hand comes slinking out of your fuzzy cocoon to settle on his head. Your eyes are still closed but the momentary tension leaves your brow as soon as your fingers skim over his hair. No Infinity, only comfort. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” It’s always so instinctual the way you reach out to him. You always have an innate ability to tell when he’s falling and needs catching. Even just the sound of your voice, low and thickened with sleep, is enough to banish any worries from his mind. At least for the moment. 

“Nothing,” he says just to hear you mumble back “it’s something,” like you always do when he lies about what’s on his mind. It isn’t a matter of trust because Gojo trusts you with his life. He just doesn’t want to plague you with all the things he’s mulling over. It’s really only important to him. You’ve already declared your disinterest in sorcery, he’s not about to force you to listen to him formulating a plan to reform jujutsu society. And besides, he can’t have you worrying because it isn’t good to worry when you’re pregnant. Something about stress not being good for the baby. Sure, you aren’t pregnant yet, but he can see it coming in the near future. 

It’s not like he’s worn you down, you’ve always been way too steadfast to be bending to anyone’s whims. It’s more so just that it’s time. That ever constant “soon” looming closer and closer on the horizon. 

“Quit your job,” Gojo says, sounding every bit like a petulant child. Finally, your eyes open. Just barely, only enough to give him a hazily unimpressed look. 

“I know that’s not what you were thinking about.” He knows you know, but he also knows you won’t press him on it. Even when you were an active sorcerer, there were just some things you didn’t want to know about for plausible deniability’s sake. No need to get your hands dirty, especially now that you’re not even active anymore. Gojo’s strong enough to take on the consequences of his actions, strong enough to keep you safe from the fallout of his decisions. And anyway, he’s far more concerned with his personal life at the moment. What he does at work becomes virtually irrelevant the second he’s alone with you. 

“It’s what I’m thinking about now!” He’s whining because it’s really all he has on his mind now. The idea of coming home from a long day of work and being greeted by the pattering of little feet as your babies rush to meet him at the door. He imagines them all chubby cheeked and starry eyed, pushing to be the first one he hugs when he gets home. He’s annoyingly fixated on the thought and thumps his forehead against your thigh, knocking against you over and over until you’re fisting your fingers in his hair to keep him still. 

“You’re annoying.” You mean it but he can hear the endearment in your voice. And just to really get on your nerves, Gojo starts pouting. 

“I’m lonely.” It’s true in a way he doesn’t want to admit. Never mind the fact that he has his cheek pressed against your leg, arms wrapped tight around your thigh. There’s always been that nagging sense of loneliness. The looming feeling that something is missing. Children or something else, Gojo doesn’t know. But he does know that he wants babies. Your babies. Preferably sometime in the very near future if you’ll let him. 

“Lonely? Then what am I?” He feels you flex your leg as if to remind him that there’s no space for loneliness between his skin and yours. But there’s a hint of something in your voice, that heaviness of unspoken acknowledgment. You’ve known him for so long, been together for so many years. Some things don’t need to be said for you to know. It’s innate, intrinsic. And he loves you for it. You’re everything to him, but what he decides to say is,

“The mother of my children.” There’s desperation in his voice but Gojo doesn’t care to be embarrassed. He’s been stuck on this for most of your relationship and he isn’t about to get flustered asking for what he wants for the umpteenth time. You haven’t shamed him the first thousand times he’s asked so he isn’t expecting to get teased on attempted one thousand and one. 

“I’m not pregnant yet.” Gojo perks up. That’s new. The two of you have had this conversation in some variation at least once a week for months now and Gojo has grown used to all the answers you usually give him. It’s always something like “not yet,” or “let’s wait a little while longer.” And he does wait, but he’s also woefully impatient. Gojo knows you’re not pregnant and that’s the torture of it all. You’ve already said you’ll have his children. Kissed his forehead and reminded him that not now doesn’t mean not even whenever he gets particularly sulky after being told to be patient. It’s always just a matter of when but he’s eager for when to be now. And something about your answer makes him look at you with wide eyes. 

I’m not pregnant yet. It’s teasingly open-ended, like you’re taunting him with the knowledge that you’re not pregnant but you could be. But Gojo knows you wouldn’t tease him like that. Not about this. He’s always been a tad bit overzealous in his pursuit of babies but that’s because he wants it so bad, and he knows you wouldn’t be cruel enough to taunt him with it. He trails a hand up your thigh, dipping beneath the blanket as he maps out the curve of your hip. A shiver runs through your body as his fingers dip under the hem of your shorts. 

“Not pregnant… yet?” It’s hopeful. A question lingering in his tone. Is it time? Will today be the day? You smile, going back to petting his head, and that’s all the answer he needs. “You looking to change that, mama?” 

“I’ve been waiting for you to ask again,” you tease. “Thought you kept track of my ovulation window.” You’ve been waiting? Gojo’s heart stutters in his chest. All he had to do was ask. It’s always been that way really. He’s been begging you for so long because he knew it was just a matter of asking when, but after so long of being told to wait a while it seems almost too good to be true hearing you say you’re ready now. 

“You better be serious.” He knows you are because you know how desperate he’s been for it, but he can’t help but want to hear you say it again. Hear you ask in so many words. He’s always begging and pleading and Gojo wants to hear you want it just as plainly as he does. 

“Don’t make me beg, Satoru.” It isn’t what he wants to hear but he scoops you and your blanket into his arms even still. He’s got all the time in the world to hear you ask for it and he’s not about to delay it any longer just because you want to play coy. He can see it in the way you’re biting at your lips trying to hide a smile, feel it in the way your arms wind around his neck. There’s a slight tremor to your hand as you run your fingertips up the column of his neck. He can almost hear the way your heartbeat has spiked, blood swelling with desire as he lays you down in his bed. It’ll be your bed soon because there’s no way he’s about to spend even a second more than necessary away from you. He’s been begging to get rid of your apartment for almost as long as he’s been wanting a baby, and Gojo is looking to have it all in one fell swoop. 

“Gonna have to move in with me, mama,” he reminds you. Marriage is a more amorphous thought. Really it’s just a piece of paper that will serve to complicate your lives. He’s the head of a clan and his wife will have certain expectations imposed upon her that he doesn’t want to wrestle with right now. Maybe later, when he’s made things better. But for now he’s happy just having you. You don’t have to be a Gojo just yet because you’re his regardless. You’re in his bed, wearing his clothes, wanting to have his baby. Gojo can’t put a bigger mark on you than that but he’ll sure as hell try as his mouth latches onto the sensitive skin of your neck. You make that same gasping sound you always do, a little shiver running through your body as your hands find his hair again. Your grip is tighter than before, pulling at the roots as he digs his teeth into your delicate skin. Usually he’d be more careful about where he’s putting his little love bites but he can’t bring himself to care right now, and you don’t seem to mind. 

“You gonna ask for it, mama? I’m not gonna give it to you if you don’t ask for it properly.” As much as he’s been begging for it, Gojo won’t settle for anything less than hearing you tell him exactly what you want from him. All he’s been hearing is you telling him to wait, so he’s not giving you anything without explicit permission. Of course you take your time with that, too, and Gojo is more than happy to indulge you. It’s like running a marathon and finally seeing the finish line so close within reach. He can count the steps, the breaths, the heartbeats it will take until he crosses the line and finally, finally gets what he wants. It’s what you want too, or else you wouldn’t have said anything. It’s easy to provoke him when it comes to this and he hasn’t heard exactly what he wants yet, but he’s still keen to get you out of your clothes. And for all your smirking silence, you let him. Lifting your hips and arching your back as he strips you out of your clothes. 

For a moment, all he can do is savor the sight. His girl laid out on his bed, so close to asking for his child. You squeak when his nose presses into the space between your breasts, skin cold without his Infinity to regulate his temperature but he’ll be warm soon enough. Already he’s soaking in the heat pouring off your skin. You’re that fuzzy sort of warm that comes with the first waves of wakefulness, eyes still half-lidded and skin nearly feverish as he rubs his cheek against your bare chest. You smell nice. A perfect balance between his scent and your own, mingled together in a heady fragrance that has his tongue drawing wet streaks across your skin. He shivers as you thumb at the nape of his neck, brushing over the cropped hair at the back of his head because you can’t get enough of the feeling. Gojo is almost certain he’ll be just as insistent with touching your stomach when you start to show. 

He can already imagine how you’ll look. Only a few months pregnant, belly just starting to show. In his shirts you’d look the same as you always do. They hang so big off your frame that no one would be able to tell what was growing beneath it. But he’d know. And when you got bigger the whole world would know. Belly round and breasts heavy, whole body changing to accommodate the little life you made together. Gojo already can’t stay off you and he imagines your first pregnancy will shatter what little is left of his restraint. 

“You’ll tell me what I wanna hear, right, mama?” He murmurs against your stomach. He kisses around your naval, moving lower to dig his fingers into the thickness of your hips. You return the favor, running a hand through his hair until your grip tightens, pulling his eyes towards you. It sends a stinging twinge of pleasure down his spine, scalp prickling beneath your rough treatment as he stares up at you. He realizes you’re holding so tight because you need something to ground you. He can feel the way you’re squirming beneath his weight, hips shifting awkwardly as he pins you down with his bright blue gaze. Gojo has always been so open about wanting to start a family yet you can hardly articulate the words to ask him. It’s what you both want, but after so long saying no he can imagine how hard it is to fix your lips to say yes. It’ll be hard to collar him again once you let him off the leash. 

“Satoru,” he nearly melts at the sound of his name on your tongue. The way you say it with such sweet reverence. He can hear the affection in every syllable. “I want it.” It isn’t some heartfelt confession but it’s just as sincere, and Gojo hasn’t exactly been asking for it in the most romantic terms. You aren’t begging yet but it’s a start. A slow one compared to how feverish he’s been in his desire to get you pregnant but it’s enough for the moment. He can hear threads popping with how quickly he works to get your clothes off. It’s his shirt anyway and he has the money to buy you as many new sets of underwear that you want for nearly ripping your panties in half as he yanks them down your thighs. The poor lace is mangled as you kick it off your ankle but he doesn’t hear you complaining. In fact, you’re giggling. Laughing and smiling so pretty as he kisses your knee. 

“What’s so funny, baby?” He asks. You poke him square in the forehead as he looks up at you. 

“You are.” You’re still laughing. “You’re like a damn puppy.” It’s not the first time you’ve called him that but it makes him smile every time. He presses his grinning lips against your skin and smiles wider when you call him a weirdo as he licks the inside of your thigh. 

“Don’t complain now. In a few minutes you’re gonna want my tongue all over you.” His tone is joking but he watches the word land. The way you go quiet, nipping at your lip to hide your smile behind a shy pout. He can feel your thigh flexing as he rests his head against your leg, squirming at just the thought of him touching you. Gojo has regained some of his control, reigning in his eagerness so he doesn’t get overzealous. The last thing he’d want is to hurt you. He wants the conception of his first baby–all his babies–to be perfect. Even if it’s him that’s asking for it, it’s not really about him. It’s about you. Your body. You’re the one that’s going to be going through the woes of pregnancy, so the least Gojo can do is make the prelude feel good. He kisses your leg again, sinking his face into the soft skin, absolutely melting as he frames himself between your thighs.

There’s an ease to the way his arms hook behind your knees, pulling you down the bed until you’re flush against his face. The sound you make when his nose nudges at your clit has his head going hazy, empty to anything that isn’t you. Sleep still clings around the edges as you moan his name, a low hum that’s steeped in fading fatigue. He can feel your body rising to full consciousness, finally catching up with your mind as your legs shift along the curve of his shoulders. 

You’re still so warm, that sleepy heat lingering as your thighs close around his head the moment he wraps his lips around your clit. He’s only got his lips on you for a second and you’re already squirming, half trying to run away from his mouth. Gojo laughs, the sound rolling off his tongue to tease at your clit. You whine, pushing at his head even as your thighs pull him closer. He whines when you scramble far enough to get away from his mouth, glassy eyes staring up at you like you just slapped him across the face. There’s tears sparkling in your eyes as you look down at him, brows furrowed and lips caught between your teeth. Gojo leans in again, real slow like you won’t notice if he moves at a steady pace. You whimper and start squirming again the second his lips brush against your skin. He tries to be gentle, kissing over the swollen hood of your clit as his tongue parts your sticky lips. A faint, whimpered “wait!” falls from your lips and Gojo pulls away, forcing back a groan, trying not to look at the way your pussy is drooling on his sheets. 

He presses a kiss over the curve of your mound, doing anything to distract himself from thinking about where he really wants his mouth to be. The mess of your arousal is drying sticky on his lips, leaving glossy little prints as he kisses across your stomach. 

“What do you need, baby? Tell me.” His voice is breathless, muffled against your chest as he crawls up your body. You’re still trying to pull him closer and push him away, thighs locked around his waist even as you knot a fist in his hair to pull him away from your pert little nipples. 

“Fucking tease,” he mumbles against your collarbone, void of any true malice. It would almost be amusing if he wasn’t nearly vibrating out of his skin with the strength it’s taking to restrain himself. 

He can’t help but grind against you when you pull him into a kiss. It’s a heated mess of tongue and teeth, barely passing for affection. It’s desperation on the cusp of frenzied aggression as he grinds against you, cursing at the barrier of fabric between you. You’re already clawing at his shirt and there’s no mistaking the sound as Gojo shreds the fabric to be closer to you. His pants are a bit harder to contend with, made infinitely more difficult with the way you’re all but fucking him through the fabric, legs locked so tight that he can barely inch his hand between you to shove the last piece of distance between you out of the way. He knows the moment you register his skin against yours. You’re babbling, close to tears as you whimper his name. It’s a broken mantra that sounds so sweet on your lips. He only gets his pants down to his knees before you’re shoving his hand out of the way. He nearly misses the determined mumble of “make it fit,” too focused on the way your hand feels wrapped around his dick. 

It snaps him back to focus for a second. Long enough to worry about you hurting yourself without his fingers to stretch you open first. But all thoughts melt from his mind the moment you guide his dick between your thighs. He can feel the last threads of his self control unwinding bit by bit as you clumsily guide him where you want him. It’s a messy drag up and down your slit before he catches against your entrance. He can feel how eager you are, clenching at his head as he grips at your hips to keep you still. 

“Just the tip,” he stutters even as you groan out your despair. “Be patient, baby, you’re gonna hurt yourself.” He still has the taste of you on the back of his tongue, that orgasm that you ruined for yourself. He can feel the way you’re still trying to pull him in closer, heels digging into the small of his back to no avail. Gojo is stronger than you. The strongest ever. And even when he’s on the cusp of coming–pitiful when he’s barely inside you–he can keep himself from giving into temptation if it means keeping you from harm. Even if you want it now, you’ll be cursing and whining about how sore you are later and he wants this to be a good memory. It’s messy and fast but he can still practically see the hearts in your eyes when he looks down at you. Then you smile and he knows he’s a goner. 

“I’m gonna come,” Gojo says without a shred of embarrassment. He’s long past that as he feels your pussy suck at the tip of his cock. He doesn’t go any deeper, still feeding you shallow thrusts as he goes over the edge. It’s a disappointment to watch the steaks of white spilling out of you when he pulls back, sticky threads still clinging between you. 

“Gotta keep it inside, mama,” he murmurs, already cleaning up the mess with his fingers. Your hand is on his shoulder the second he curls his fingers inside you. Pushing and pulling as your nails scratch across his skin. Only you can ever leave marks on him, only you can ever touch him like this. He gets drunk off the thought, balancing himself on his forearm as he presses his forehead against yours. Your face is wet, smeared with tears and spit and sweat. You look dewy in the lowlight, eyes glittering up at him. It’s muscle memory getting you to the edge. He knows just where to press, just how deep you need it. It’s so second nature that Gojo nearly forgets he’s got his fingers inside you until you shove your hand between your bodies, rubbing desperately at your neglected clit until your back is arching, pressing your chest against his. He can feel your heart fluttering behind your breasts as your nipples skim over his bare skin. 

When you finally sag against the sheets, coming down from the high, your hand slinks over his shoulder until you’re cupping his cheek. Gojo leans into the touch like it’s the last thing he’ll ever feel. 

“It’s time, Satoru,” you say, voice soft and breathless. “Let’s have a baby.” 

The sound he makes sounds pitifully desperate even to his own ears but Gojo can’t bring himself to stifle his voice. He only gets louder when he’s inside you again. An orgasm has you loosened enough to take him now, pulling him in with three deep strokes.

“Just like that, mama,” he murmurs. You’re less erratic now, far calmer after coming once already. “Not running now, are you?” You have the nerve to look bashful, looking away as he rubs his hands down your sides. It’s easy to guide you now, to get you to follow his rhythm as he bottoms out inside you with each thrust. There’s something so enamored about your eyes as you stare up at him. Dazed and half-lidded, full of adoration as you catch his arm where he’s holding your hips. The adoration that floods through him the moment he feels your thumb brushing against his wrist is enough to nearly choke him. Fuck, he wants to marry you. Wants you to be his in every way possible. But there’s still a thousand things he needs to do first. Things to make the world better for you and your baby. His eyes fall to your stomach, vision almost doubling from how hard he’s staring at your tummy. There’ll be a baby in there soon. His baby. Gojo feels himself getting close at the thought. 

“Eyes on me, baby.” It’s a sound like music as you call his attention back to your face. Something you only say when his eyes are closed. He was lost in his dreams of the future. Of babies with his name and your face. 

“I’m here,” he assures you, panting the words against your parted lips in a messy imitation of a kiss. Words are spilled in a slurred litany between soaked mouths with no clear distinction between either whining voice. The sentiment is the same no matter which one of you is saying it. I love you, I love you, I love you. 

“What do you want?” Gojo feels himself murmuring. It’s a hushed mumbling that comes as the end of a long drawl of your name, so low that the syllables come out as graveled sounds against the edge of your ear. Still, you answer to the barest hint of his voice, back bowing off the bed like you’re drawn towards him like a flower to the sun. His arm fills the space, wrapping around your waist. He can feel the way you shiver on the cusp of falling over the edge, can hear it in your voice as you babble your answer of, “you, you, you, just you!” 

“My babies?” He can’t help but goad and tease even though he’s so deep inside you that there’s no question of what you want from him. Still, you answer. Clawing at his shoulders as you do. 

“Yes, Satoru! Your babies, only yours!” It lights something deep and possessive in his chest as he reaches a hand down to rub the shape of his name on your clit. It’s the best he can offer with no ring, no wedding. Writing his name on your skin, pressing his mark into every corner of your body until he can do it the right way. 

“My babies. My girl.” He sets his teeth against the skin of your throat, tasting the sweat as the sound of your voice vibrates across his tongue. There’s no mistake of what you want when you come. Your legs lock tight around him like he’d try to run from the way you’re milking his cock. Squeeze tight like you never want him to leave. He squeezes you tighter in turn, fingers pressed tight against the shivering column of your spine. He spells his name there too, tracing each muscle as they move under his fingertips. He feels your hands in his hair again, scratching at the back of his head. It’s a feeling he’s come to associate with comfort–with you–and it’s enough to throw him headlong over the edge. 

When he tosses his head back, cursing towards the ceiling, your hand is still there to catch him. Brushing against the nape of his neck as your nose tucks up under his chin. He feels your lips wet and hot against the place his pulse is racing in his throat, and knows you can feel each whining pant of your name as it falls from his lips. It’s the only word he knows as his stomach flexes, ropes of come spilling inside you. So much that it starts to leak out in a dribbling mess. Gojo is quick to pull you up, struggling to his knees so he can keep his come where it needs to be. He’s still pulsing inside you, achy from the sensitivity as your walls squeeze around him. You start squirming as the high fades, wiggling in his hold and mumbling about “put me down.” 

Gojo hikes one of your legs higher, pressing a kiss to your ankle. “Can’t, mama. Gotta keep it in or it won’t stick.” 

He placates you with another orgasm, thumbing at your clit until you’re whining and shivering. He can feel the dull pulses as it washes over you, clenching his dick as he softens inside you. You’re so warm that it feels like he’s melting but Gojo can’t suffer the thought of pulling out just yet. But he does finally let you down. He follows you as you sprawl across the rumpled bedding, resting his head against your chest. He nuzzles against your breast until you snap at him to quit it when he sneaks a nipple into his mouth. He pulls away with a pout, kissing across your chest because he can still feel the way your heart is hammering behind your ribs. Your skin is hot beneath his lips and tacky with sweat but he can feel the goosebumps starting to rise with each kiss. 

A car honks outside. The sound carries from down the hall where, somewhere in the apartment, a window is still open. A draft blows in through the half-open bedroom door. He’s not cold yet, but he can feel the shivers starting as you cling to him, soaking up the warmth of his body. He lets you pull him in, reveling in the closeness. 

“Puppy,” you mumble affectionately as he nuzzles closer. You press kisses to his eyebrow, the bridge of his nose, the corner of his mouth. Places only you can touch. Even without his Infinity, people act like Gojo’s face–his eyes–are something beyond human. Sometimes he feels like something divine and untouchable but then your lips press softly against his eyelids and he’s suddenly just a man. A desperate, possessive man. He catches your mouth against his, licking at the seam of your lips until they part to let him taste your tongue against his. When he’s done he takes the liberty of licking a bead of sweat from your temple and you push him away, whining about him being gross. 

“S’not gross,” he pouts. “I love you.” He says it like an explanation. Like everything he does can trace back to the fact that he can’t breathe if he goes without touching you for too long. Tasting your sweat is one of the tamer things he’s done to prove his love. Sometimes Gojo wonders if you forget that he’d burn the world down for you. Then he remembers that he’s already doing it. For you, for your baby. For himself. His hand squeezes between your bodies to press against your stomach. Soon, he smiles at the thought. Now. 

“You should eat something, baby.” He hears you talking, hears the concern in that soft, satisfied tone, but you’re stroking his hair like you’d rather he fall asleep against your chest. 

“C’mon,” you say when he doesn’t move, patting where your nails left scratches across his shoulders. “I’ll make you food and then we can go again later.” Gojo chokes on his breath with how fast he’s trying to get his words out. “Calm down, baby, I know it takes more than once to make a baby.” 

Gojo watches you grab his shirt off the floor–the one he just took off, not the one you’d been wearing all day–tucking your nose into the collar as you waddle to the bathroom with your knees hugged tight to keep the mess he made from dripping on the carpet. Fuck, he wants to marry you. The look you give him when you come out of the en-suite, eyeing the way he’s tenting the sheets just thinking about his come spilling out of you does little to make him feel ashamed. He waits long enough for his body to calm down before he’s pulling on a pair of shorts and joining you in the kitchen. You’re bouncing around in front of the stove, making eggs even though it’s late in the evening. Gojo crosses his legs and tries not to imagine that you’re making breakfast before school, waiting for your oldest to finish getting dressed as you bounce your youngest on your hip. 

“You want pancakes?” He must nod because you start making batter. 

“You gotta move in with me,” Gojo reminds you, eyes watching the way your–his!–shirt hikes up every time you lift your arms too high, conspicuously checking for a peek of what’s hidden just beneath the black fabric. 

“My lease is up in like two weeks.” And just like with your teasing not pregnant yet, Gojo knows he has you. For good. Happiness suddenly smells like freshly fallen snow and maple syrup. 

[amazingmsme]

Like Salt in the Wound

AN: first fic of 2025, woohoo! Starting off strong with some angst/comfort & I honestly wouldn’t want it any other way! Odysseus really needs a hug, but I guess he’ll just have to get wrecked instead, lmao. Telemachus & Athena’s friendship means everything to me! I had an absolute blast with this one, & I hope you do too!

Odysseus had only been home just shy of a year, but even a few months spent with his beloved family repaired more of his soul than he ever imagined. There were nights where he slept peacefully; the nightmares fading away as his wife cradled him in her arms. He was less jumpy, more at ease. He no longer drew his sword when he heard a loud clatter or bang, instead merely gripping the hilt until he was sure there was no threat.

The past still haunted him, but he had learned to cope as best as he could.

He had changed, yes, but he was still Odysseus, and the man Penelope fell in love with all those years ago continued to shine through in little ways.

It was in the way he held her with such tenderness, the way he cupped her cheek and kissed her. How he laughed at his own terrible jokes. The way he blushed and shied away when she said something suggestive. How he hung on their son's every word, showering him with love and affection to make up for lost time.

He might've done terrible things to return to them, but he was not nearly the monster he saw himself as. There was still the smallest unspoken softness about him, but it slowly grew larger every day.

He shoved his insecurities down, only allowing Penelope to see him so weak. But there was one secret he kept from even her.

The first time he saw Telemachus, dawned with spear and helmet, wearing Athena's cloak, he felt a wave of panic wash over him. He couldn't let his mentor do to his son what she had done to him. He refused.

But then, Athena apologized. She actually admitted to leading him astray, and offered the chance to rebuild a better, more peaceful word. That this time, things would be different. She promised to train Telemachus with empathy, to not shut him out like she had done to Odysseus all those years before.

The idea terrified him. He saw so much of himself in Telemachus, and knew first hand how easy it would be to strip away his vibrancy and innocence. He had been hesitant to allow her to continue training him, but he caved the moment his son asked.

It felt... strange, watching the two of them interact. Watching his Telemachus spar with Athena stirred old memories that brought a bittersweet smile to his face. Oh, what could have been.

Telemachus had told him that Athena once called him her friend, on the day they first met. She didn't say his name, but he now knows she was referring to his father. Odysseus just wished she would've admitted that back then.

They both acted differently in each other's company; unlike they ever were with him.

Telemachus adored Athena. He looked forward to her visits, lighting up the moment she entered a room before running off for his next lesson. He was never so eager when Odysseus trained with him, questioning his methods and suggesting what Athena would do. He tried not to let it get under his skin, but he'd be lying if he said it didn't sting a little.

Athena might as well be a completely different person with Telemachus. She was patient and understanding, gently correcting him when he made a mistake. Odysseus seemed to remember her harsh tone and judging words when he was to screw up. It felt hypocritical, and it left a sour taste in his mouth.

He felt horrible for harboring such thoughts, and yet, he couldn't help it. He was jealous. Athena already knew Telemachus before he ever had the chance to truly meet him. She taught the boy how to fight; something he had been looking forward to doing himself. He still had much to learn, but he would rather listen to a Goddess than his own father.

Odysseus could never fault him for doing so. After all, he had been the same way at that age.

He remembered how great it felt to have her favor. To earn her praise after a battle well fought. She used compliments sparingly and went heavy handed on the criticism, so you would know when she really meant it. She would try to hold in her laughter when he would tell jokes, but he was able to catch her off guard on more than one occasion.

Even if the friendship had been one sided at the time, it had felt real to him.

So you can imagine how much it hurt to see Athena and Telemachus get along so well.

She didn't push him as hard as she did Odysseus, making sure to respect the young prince's boundaries. With the King of Ithaca, she sparred with him as her equal, as if he had the strength and speed of a God, and ridiculed him when she bested him in combat, pointing out everything he did wrong. But with Telemachus, she held herself back, only increasing the difficulty once she knew he could handle it. Her criticism was constructive and soft, and it made Odysseus roll his eyes. That wasn't the Athena he knew.

She didn't brush him off or keep him at arms length either; she welcomed the friendship with open arms. She called Telemachus her friend, to his face. And without a drop of condescension! She gave him plenty of breaks to go goof off, sometimes even joining in on the fun. Odysseus had only been allowed three breaks at most. 

It was fine. He was happy for them. Well, mostly for Telemachus. As long as he was happy, that's all that matters.

They were deep in the woods, close to where Odysseus killed the boar all those years ago. Oh how Telemachus loved that story. He loved all his stories, really. Odysseus feared that he would never quite live up to the legend Telemachus saw him as.

He was currently training him on his sword work,  blocking every strike Telemachus made. He swung down towards his father's shoulder with the blunt practice sword, only for Odysseus to parry the blade and spin around behind him. 

Telemachus whirled around just in time to block the sword with his shield, tucking and rolling across the ground. He popped back up, slashing across the back of his father's legs. Odysseus played along and fell to the ground, crawling as if he were severely wounded.

"Great job, you've disarmed your opponent and hold the advantage. But I could get up if I try, so I'm still a capable threat. What will you do?" Odysseus talked him through it, waiting for his son's next move.

"I..." Telemachus started, thinking of his options before committing, "I go straight for the heart," he said, raising his sword high above his head before stabbing down. He softened the blow just before poking Odysseus in the chest.

The King of Ithaca arched his back, screaming and writhing in mock pain. Telemachus couldn't help but chuckle and roll his eyes at the dramatics, but his amusement was obvious.

A slow clap sounded from behind, and Telemachus turned to see Athena watching from the trees. Her scar was healing well and she sported a proud smirk, "Well done, little wolf."

Telemachus smiled wide, running over to greet her. "Athena!" He threw his arms around her in a tight hug, one that she reciprocated.

"I see you're keeping him busy," she addressed Odysseus with a fond smile of her own.

"Are you kidding? He practically begged me until I agreed to spar with him," he teased. He stood up, brushing himself off, taking a step closer.

"Father!" Telemachus whined, a blush spreading across his cheeks. Athena chuckled and shook her head.

"Well then, how about I take him off your hands for a bit?" she asked, cocking her head.

"Be my guest," he invited, taking a seat on a fallen log.

"Alright Telemachus, let's give him a show."

"Alright!" he cheered, pumping a fist in the air. He snatched his discarded sword from the ground, taking a fighting stance.

Odysseus watched the training session with a gentle smile that felt more forced than he cared to admit. It was as though he were looking into his own past through rose tinted lenses.

They moved around each other with such practiced ease, as if it were a well rehearsed dance. Telemachus grinned from ear to ear, dimples on full display. He never smiled like that when it was Odysseus teaching him. Instead, he wore a tense, focused expression, broken only by the occasional smile before determination settled back once more. They bantered back and forth, goading and teasing each other as weapons clashed.

"Ha, is that the best you got?" Telemachus taunted as he parried another strike. Athena smirked, arching a brow before swiping her spear behind his legs and knocking him off his feet.

"Nope."

He sprung back up, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "Bring it on then!"

Athena charged at him, only for Telemachus to sidestep her at the last second. He spun around, kicking the back of her knees to buckle her legs. She yelped and stumbled forward, leaning against a tree for support.

She stood up, studying the tree thoughtfully. Odysseus watched on skeptically, unsure where she was going with this.

"Is this a dogwood tree?" she asked, running a hand up the trunk.

Odysseus scooted closer to the edge of the log. No, she wouldn't!

"Uh, I don't know. Why?"

"I'm pretty sure it is," she mused, barely holding back a smirk.

"Really? How can you tell?" Telemachus asked, stepping closer to get a better look at the tree.

Athena looked down at him, allowing her smile to make its presence known. "By its bark."

She fucking did!

It took Telemachus a moment to get the joke, but once he did, he threw his head back in laughter. "Oho man, that's a good one!"

"Hey, that was my joke!" Odysseus spoke up, because what the hell gives? He told that joke to Telemachus a month ago and all he got in return was a fake chuckle! And further more, he could barely remember Athena ever laughing at his jokes, but suddenly, they were funny enough to steal?

Telemachus looked at his dad and shrugged. "Sorry, I guess she's just funnier than you!" he teased.

Okay, ouch. Odysseus clenched his jaw, ducking his head to hide the twitch of a frown tugging at his lips.

"I suppose she is," he agreed, trying to play along. He looked back up, an empty smile back in place as they resumed sparring.

"Flattery won't get you very far," Athena rolled her eyes, but joined in on the playful taunting. "That goes for both of you," she cast a quick glance towards Odysseus, faltering when she could've sworn she saw a look of sadness on her old friend's face. But it was gone just as fast as it appeared. She decided to let it go for now, but made a note in the back of her mind to check in on him later.

"I don't know, it's gotten me pretty far in the past," Telemachus bragged, showing off with some sword twirling that Odysseus had taught him.

"Okay, take it down a notch," she teased, but her words only embolden him. He tossed the sword in the air, catching it with his other hand.

"Make me!" he taunted. Athena grabbed her spear and shoved the blunt end against his chest, effectively knocking him off balance. He fell on his back, playfully glaring up at her from the dirt. "That was mean."

"You were being cocky."

"Yeah, and?" he asked, arching a brow. Athena shot Odysseus a look when he barked out a laugh, but a smile played at the edge of her mouth.

"The last thing he needs is more encouragement."

Odysseus merely shrugged, sporting a smug grin that put her mind at ease.

Then again, he'd always been a great actor.

Odysseus couldn't help but to feel like a third wheel. They clearly enjoyed each other's company more than his own, so why not just... slip away?

He scooted off to the side, sitting on the edge of the log. Neither one seemed to notice, so he casually stood to his feet, giving his back a stretch. He silently slipped into the shadows of the trees as the continued training.

He didn't go too far, but far enough to feel alone. He leaned against a tree, rubbing a hand over his tired face. He was surprised when his palm came back wet. When had he started crying? He quickly wiped away his tears, sniffling softly. By the Gods, he needed to get ahold of himself.

He closed his eyes, taking a few deep, yet shaky breaths. He could still hear the faint echoes of their taunting jeers in the distance, and sighed. He supposed he'd better head back before they noticed he was gone. He took his time on the way back, staring at the ground and dragging his feet.

Meanwhile, Telemachus and Athena continued to spar, although she had noticed the moment he left. She had known something was off, but she didn't know it was that bad. She tried to keep Telemachus busy so he wouldn't notice his father's absence.

She was lost in thought when a foot suddenly connected with her face and she was sent tumbling to the ground.

"Whoa! Dad, did you see that?" Telemachus cheered and jumped in the air, turning around for his father's approval. "Dad?" He looked around, but saw no trace of him. Panic began to creep inside his chest. He ran into the woods, shouting, "Dad? Where are you?"

"Telemachus, wait!" Athena called after him, but the kid was fast and he was in a mission. She ran after him, calling out for Odysseus as well.

As soon as he heard them call out, he ran towards them, yelling, "Over here!"

He came into view, and Telemachus ran into him with a bone crushing hug.

"Where were you?" 

Odysseus wheezed as the air was knocked out of him, wrapping his arms around his son. "Can't a man take a leak in private?" he joked. Telemachus chuckled, shoving at his chest.

"Just tell us next time! I roundhouse kicked Athena in the face and you didn't even see it!"

"Really? That's amazing! I'm so sorry I missed it," he apologized, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "You'll just have to catch her by surprise and do it again, eh?"

"I doubt that'll happen," Athena piped up, crossing her arms.

"I wouldn't underestimate him," Odysseus praised, slinging an arm around his shoulder as they walked back to the clearing.

"Yeah Athena, don't underestimate me!" Telemachus taunted, sticking his tongue out at her from behind his father's back. She scoffed, eyes widening in shock.

"That's it, you're in time out when we get back!" she scolded.

"WHAT? You can't do that!" he yelled, a blush quickly spreading across his face as his father's laughter filled the air.

"Shehehe put you in time out!" he giggled, patting his son's back comfortingly.

"Don't laugh," he whined, but the smile on his face told him he didn't really mind. After all, he had barely heard him laugh since he returned.

"On the contrary, laugh it up Odysseus," Athena said, but something about her tone made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. "When we get back, it's your turn."

"I don't know," he trailed off, hesitant to accept.

"You gotta! I never get to see you fight!" Telemachus begged, and he caved.

"Well if you insist. But go easy on me, I'm not as young and spry as I used to be," he said, and now it was Athena's turn to laugh. She threw her head back as she cackled, loud and hearty. She wiped a tear from her eye, glancing over to see matching quizzical expressions.

"Wait, you're serious? After what you did to Poseidon? Absolutely not," she deadpanned.

"You fought Poseidon?" Telemachus practically screamed in his ear, making him flinch away.

"You mean you haven't told him? If you ask me, that should've been the first story you shared," Athena mused.

"Come on, you gotta tell me what happened!" he hopped in place and shook his father by the shoulders until he relented with a chuckle.

"Well, it's kinda a long story. One you'll hear at dinner so your mother can enjoy it too," he deflected.

"Boooo!" Telemachus whined, giving him a thumbs down. "You can tell it twice!"

"He just wouldn't let me go home! So I stabbed him until he called off his storm," he huffed out, telling an abridged version to satisfy his son.

"With his own trident," she added. Telemachus stared at his father in awe.

"Whoa," he said breathlessly. Odysseus rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

"What can I say? I had limited options," he shrugged, ducking his head down.

"Why so bashful all of a sudden?" Athena asked, cocking her head as she looked down at him. Odysseus gawked, face turning red.

"What? I am not!"

"If you say so," she conceded. "Now, what's do you say you and I have a go, just like old times?" she asked, shooting Telemachus a wink out of the other's sight. He arched a brow quizzically, unsure of what plan she had brewing up. But whatever it was, he wanted in on it.

"You're on."

Athena lulled him into a false sense of security, sparring bantering back and forth before she struck. She dodged his attack, managing to disarm him as she spun around, locking one arm beneath his and held the back of his neck as she held his own sword to his throat with the other.

"Alright, you win," he held his hands up in, surrender, furrowing his brows when she didn't move. "Um... did I... do something wrong?" he questioned, not daring to move an inch.

"Not at all. I just noticed you seemed a little down today."

"Athena," he warned, tensing with a gasp as she squeezed the back of his neck. Telemachus watched on curiously.

"Do you remember my lessons on morale?" she asked, ignoring the threat.

Odysseus was squirming now, tugging at her arms, but she held firm.

"Come on 'Thena, not here," he whined, voice dropped to nearly a whisper. The nickname melted her heart, and made her feel only a little guilty for what she was about to do.

"You mean not in front of the kid?" she taunted, waiting until he opened his mouth to speak before scribbling at the nape of his neck.

Odysseus yelped and flailed around in her hold, scrunching his neck for protection.

"Hey stop! What are you doing to him?" Telemachus protested as he saw his father struggle in Athena's hold. From where he sat, it looked as though she was about to snap his neck. She flashed him a sly, knowing smile.

"Yeah Odysseus, what am I doing?" she asked in such a playful tone, even Telemachus hadn't heard.

"Huh?" he cocked his head, confusion knitting his brows together.

Odysseus clamped his mouth shut, but a wobbly smile tugged at the corners of his lips. She tossed the practice weapon aside, scratching just behind his ears with both hands. He snorted and tossed his head around, grimacing as he tried to contain the giggles building up inside his chest.

"Come on, you're usually so talkative," Athena prompted, reaching around to flutter under his chin. He threw himself back to try and get away, but only succeeded in leaning against Athena's chest for support, feet frantically pushing against the ground as he fought to escape.

Telemachus watched on with a growing smile as he realized what was happening.

"Wait, father, are you ticklish?" he asked, not bothering to hide his excitement.

"No!" Odysseus choked out, yelping when Athena reached down to tweak his hip.

"Ignore him, he loves to lie. But you didn't think you got your sensitivity from your mother, did you?" she asked, somehow finding a way to tease both of them at once. Telemachus looked away, cheeks dusted a light pink.

"Well, yeah, kinda," he admitted, unable to take his eyes off the pair. Athena rolled her eyes fondly, easily evading the frantic hands slapping at her wrists.

"You share more similarities with your father than you might think," she said, shooting him another wink. Odysseus shoved at her arms as they wrapped around his waist, shrieking when she picked him up off the ground.

"No! Put me dohohown! Stohohop!" he broke down into deep chuckles that were quickly melting into hysterical giggles. Telemachus had only ever heard his father laugh like that when he told terrible jokes, but he had always kind of assumed he was playing it up for his behalf. He didn't know he actually giggled like that! It was a funny, infectious laugh that seemed adorably out of place.

"Careful what you ask for," Athena smirked before dropping him to the ground, quickly pinning his arms above his head. He desperately pulled at his arms, surprisingly strong despite being mortal. "You sure are struggling a lot. I think I might need some help," Athena raised her voice, making the hint as unsubtle as possible. Telemachus was by their side in a heartbeat, sporting a mischievous smirk.

Odysseus could only grin wider as he shook his head. "Son, wait! She's ticklish too, wouldn't you rather go after a God?" he tried to bargain by deflecting the attention onto Athena, who scoffed in disbelief.

"Excuse me?" She drilled her thumbs in the center of his exposed pits for even suggesting such a thing. Telemachus ignored his father's screams for mercy, tapping his chin as he considered the offer.

"Sounds tempting, but you're the one pinned down," he reasoned with a shrug, planting himself on his kicking legs. Athena held up a hand for an approving fist bump.

"Wise choice."

He grinned as he knocked their knuckles together, adding a few extra slaps and bumps. Athena's hand just hovered there awkwardly, not copying any of the steps he taught her. He shrugged, "Eh, still needs some work."

Telemachus wasted no more time and latched onto his knees, squeezing around the bone. Odysseus snorted and tried to kick his trapped legs, barely able to move them an inch. He couldn't help but laugh along at his reactions, noting, "Wow, mom was right! You do have a funny laugh!"

His words sparked a blush to spread across his cheeks as he cried out in protest, "Shehehe sahaid whahahat?" Logically, Odysseus knew Penelope talked about him while he was away, or at least, he hoped she would. But she really talked about him, not just the legends he left behind. She humanized him...

Maybe a little too much, but still.

"No no, she said it in a good way!" Telemachus assured, spidering over his knees with blunt nails. Odysseus wheezed, drumming his legs against the ground to cope with the ticklish jolts shooting through his nerves.

"I agree Odysseus, your laughter is quite endearing. It's such a shame we don't hear it more often," Athena chimed in. He whined through his giggles, unable to pull his arms down from where she had them pinned. She traced maddening circles against his exposed hollows, making him squeal and arch his back. But no matter how hard he tried, he remained trapped between his son and his friend.

Granted, he might not be trying all that hard. What? He hadn't laughed like this in years, so sue him. And Telemachus seemed to be having fun, so why stop him?

He shook his head in denial, blushing profusely at her words. "Nohoho ihihit's nohoHOHOHOT!"  Loud cackles abruptly gave way to a hysterical shriek as Athena began scratching the spot just behind his ears with long, sharp nails. A stream of giggles and snorts spilled past his lips, nose scrunching adorably.

"I don't know, you sound pretty cute right about now," she drawled, leaning over him to "inspect" his face. Odysseus giggled and tried to look away, failing to protect his now exposed ear with his shoulder.

"'Thehehenaha!" he whined, sounding all too giddy to actually mean anything by it.

"Yep, you look cute too-"

"Ohoho just shut up!"

Athena mock gasped, and Telemachus covered his mouth in shock.

"Uh oh," he teased in a sing song tone, poking all around his stomach. He twitched with each touch, pulling on his arms desperately each time he felt that nagging finger wiggle into the slight pudge of his belly.

"Oh you're gonna regret that," Athena growled playfully. She turned his head to the side, keeping him pinned with one hand. She took a loud, exaggerated breath just so he would know what was coming.

His eyes widened in giddy fear and his thrashing grew stronger once he connected the dots. Empty protests fell past his lips, "No, no wahahait! I'm sohorry, I'm sorryyyy! Plehease dooooon't!" He was already giggling, and his smile only grew wider.

Telemachus couldn't help but laugh along and tease, "She hasn't even touched you yet!"

"Bullshit! You both HAHAHAHAVE! Ohohokahay, oKAHAY! I GEHEHET IHIHIT!" he squealed as Athena leaned in to blow a loud, obnoxious raspberry on the side of his neck. She grabbed his hair and moved his head so she could get the other side.

Not wanting to be left out, Telemachus clawed at his father's stomach, encouraged by his hysterical laughter. Odysseus jolted in place, unable to curl in on himself for protection. The only thing he could do was kick frantically and laugh his heart out.

Which, unfortunately for him, caught his son's attention.

"Great idea, dad! Can't forget about the feet!" he taunted, wrestling his legs down to untie his sandals.

"Nohoho, plehehease! Ihi don't deserve thihihis!" he pleaded, hiding his face behind a pinned arm. Athena snorted in amusement and pulled away to stare down at her friend.

"Actually, if anyone deserves a good laugh, it would be you," she said, her tone softer, yet still teasing.

"Hehehey!" he whined at the remark, his blush now reaching the tips of his ears.

"Yeah, laughing at your own jokes doesn't really count," Telemachus added, raking blunt nails down his arches.

"HEHEHEY!" Odysseus shrieked indignantly at the comment. He tried to keep his feet planted on the ground, but all it took was a quick scribble against the backs of his knees to get him kicking again. "Ihihit counts!" he insisted through deep, rumbly chuckles.

Both Athena and Telemachus rolled their eyes. Telemachus decided to take it a step further and shrugged, unable to hide his smirk.

"Does it though?" he asked skeptically. Before Odysseus could answer, he scratched just beneath his toes. Odysseus cackled wildly, thrashing around as best he could, bucking hard enough to throw Telemachus off.

Athena took that as her cue to back off as well, releasing his arms from where they were pinned. He either didn't have the strength to pull them down, or he just didn't care at this point.

Odysseus let out a giggly groan, throwing his head back against the ground. "You two ahare thehehe worst!" he spoke through residual giggles, but didn't mean a word of what he said.

"Yeah, but I learned from the best!" Telemachus quipped, reaching out to pinch his side one last time. Odysseus jerked away, finally yanking his arms down as he barked out a laugh.

Odysseus scoffed in amusement, a wide smile still plastered on his face. He doubted it would be going anywhere for a long time.

He shook his head fondly, gently shoving at his son's shoulder. "You're a real piece of work. Both of you," he added, shooting Athena a playful glare.

Athena decided not to say anything... to him. She just smirked and addressed Telemachus, as if Odysseus wasn't even there. "Notice how he said just about everything except stop," she noted smugly, and Telemachus muffled his giggles behind his hands.

Odysseus gasped, his fading blush quickly returning. "Well- I- you two looked like you were having fun," he justified with a huff, crossing his arms as he looked away.

"Like you weren't!" Telemachus goaded, throwing his arms around him in a bear hug, rocking side to side.

He couldn't help but give in to the smile tugging at his lips. "It was coerced." Telemachus laughed and shoved him away.

"Oh whatever!"

"Regardless," Athena piped up, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, "It's... refreshing, hearing you laugh again." Odysseus placed a hand atop her own, leaning into the touch.

"Yeah well, you better not make it a habit. There's easier ways to make me laugh, you know," he sassed.

"Ah, but this is the most entertaining," she shot back.

He turned to Telemachus, pointing with his thumb at Athena over his shoulder. "See what I mean? Piece of work."

"Careful, or I'll go for round two," she warned.

"Maybe tomorrow. After all, I believe I'm overdue for some revenge."

"Is that so?" she cocked her head, and Odysseus nodded smugly.

"Yup."

"Well then, you'll have to earn it," she teased, standing up and offering him a hand.

"And you better watch your back, because the tickle monster strikes when you least expect it," he threatened, pointing at Telemachus.

He giggled nervously and took a step back, a pale blush dusting his cheeks. "I'll uh, keep my guard up."

The response made Odysseus throw his head back with a hearty chuckle. He threw an arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer and ruffling his hair.

"Just relax. You won't even see it coming."

"That's not as comforting as you think it is," he deadpanned.

"It wasn't meant to be," Odysseus quipped, and Athena had to stifle a snicker at the comment. "But I believe it's about time we head back for dinner."

Telemachus whined, even though he knew his father was right.

"We'll pick up where we left off tomorrow," she promised.

"Or you could join us," Odysseus invited after a moment's hesitation. The offer took her off guard, but she softened nonetheless.

"Really? I wouldn't want to intrude…"

"Come on, 'Thena! It'll be fun!" Telemachus encouraged, tugging on her arm.

"Yeah, and you'll get to hear the story about how I stabbed your uncle until he cried."

"In that case, how could I resist?"

The three walked back to the palace, chatting all the way. It may very well be true that Athena and Telemachus were closer than they had ever been, but that doesn't mean the friendship wasn't still there. And Telemachus thought the world of him, that much was made clear.

Now that he thought about it, he didn't know why he had been so worried in the first place. He was home, he was loved, and that's all that matters.

[violetvines]

hey can u do averyjameson as parents hcs? or them generally parenting teens or something(a fic)

averyjameson it is!

avery & jameson hawthorne as parents ♥️

- before the gender reveal, they played a game and said that whoever won would get to name the baby while whoever lost would not be able to say a word about the name the winner chose (the loser could give the baby their middle name tho)

"You sure about this, Hawthorne? Don't complain when I win... because I'm not going to lose, not this time."

"When have I never been sure? You know I love to take all kinds of risks... and risky gambles are my favourite kind. They have been for a very, very long time."

Jameson looked at her, stared into the depths of her soul, as if begging her to understand what he meant, and Avery did know what that meant. "You are my favourite very risky gamble."

But she also knew that deep down, Jameson would never treat her as a gamble, or a puzzle, or a game – never again.

- this whole thing was jameson's idea, and avery went along with it bc she was sure she would win – and also bc she knew jameson would name the baby something unconventional and she already had an idea of what it was going to be bc of a previous conversation...

Avery knew that when a 911 was called, Jameson would have to drop everything he was doing and answer. Not answering had its... consequences.

Which is why when 911 was called that night, when they had been in the middle of their weekly unwrapping sessions where they would tell each other the most memorable things that happened to them that week, when they would talk and laugh and fall in love all over again, she had let him go.

She had to admit it, she didn't know when Jameson would return, but she still stayed up to wait for him. When the clock struck 2 in the morning, Avery, having fallen asleep on the sofa, was woken by heavy breathing right next to her ear. And pressure on her right shoulder. Someone's head was resting right on it, and judging by the scent of that person, it was no other than Jameson Winchester Hawthorne.

He also smelled of alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol.

Avery's eyes flew open. "Jameson!"

He didn't budge. She nudged him lightly on the shoulder. Still no response. She called again. "Jame–"

And then he said something, whispered it in her ear, without so much as a warning.

"I know what I want to name our baby."

Under different circumstances, her heart would have warmed with that revelation. She and Jameson had not touched this topic outwardly before, but knowing that he could see them with a little kid of their own almost made her melt like a puddle on the floor. The only issue was the fact that he was intoxicated. But she still played along anyway, because that's what the two of them liked to do.

They liked to play, and when they did, they were a force of nature because they never played each other – they played with each other. Of course, there were also times they played against each other, but Jameson almost always yielded to her.

"Oh yeah? What's that?" She tried to stifle a laugh.

"Don't laugh at me, Heiress..." he slurred, "...I'm being sssserioussss..."

A few seconds of silence.

"I want to name him... brandy."

"What? You want to name him after a brandy?"

She found it quite amusing, seeing as the name Jameson was a brand of whiskey.

"Nooo, noooo..." he trailed off.

"Brandy. Let's call him Brandy." He started chuckling at that moment, and Avery could not tell if he was joking or not.

Brandy Hawthorne? What kind of name was that?

"Jameson... you don't know what you're talking about."

"Shhhhhhhhh!" He put one finger to her lips. "He's going to get offended and–"

"You shhh!" She retorted, gently pushing his hand away and getting up to adjust the pillows on the sofa. He pulled her back down in one swift movement.

With a huff, she turned to face him, only to find that his bright green eyes were inches from hers. She asked the question anyway. "How do you know we'll have a boy?" She let it hang in the air.

After another few seconds of silence, there was finally a reply.

"Heiress," he began, "have I ever told you that drunk Jameson is a psychic?" And then he started snoring.

- avery did NOT like the name he drunk-picked and after she told him what he said that night, he laughed and said it wasn't a bad name

- of course, jameson was only doing this to annoy her more bc he loves the thrill of getting her to laugh and still kiss him even if she's annoyed with him (he thinks that it's a win)

ok i'm actually gonna do the hc for them as parents now

- avery gives birth to a... daughter! which means drunk jameson is not a very good psychic after all

"Still am," Jameson replied, a twinkle in his eye, "a psychic for saying the exact opposite."

- her name is [kylie], after avery's middle name, and after kaylie, hannah's sister because avery knew how much kaylie meant to her mom

- before telling jameson the name she picked, she joked and asked if he thought of the name virginia (back to the whiskey brands thing again LOL)

- as a baby, kylie loved touching people's hair and jameson always let her touch his, which is why every time he goes out, his hair would be naturally messy and he always jokes that his hair stylist is his little girl

- avery played with kylie the same games her mom played with her and she feels very nostalgic about it and holds those moments close to her heart

- when she was little, kylie loved playing hide and seek, and she had a habit of hiding in the most obvious places, but avery and jameson always pretended like they couldn't find her just so she could be happy

- somehow, when it comes to taking risks and chasing danger, kylie takes after jameson, but to be fair, he taught her to take a lot of risks when she was a kid and to never fear danger

- of course, avery is always nearly getting a heart attack because she now has to take care of two "uncareful" people

- when kylie was old enough, and the three of them were sitting at the table for dinner one day, she asked about how they met and jameson told her the story

- so that's how kylie's fantasy of randomly inheriting billions of dollars started, "just like mommy"

- but afterwards, she couldn't help but feel a bit angry with uncle grayson because of how he treated avery in the beginning (jameson may have exaggerated some things...)

- kylie inherited her looks from jameson (lucky girl) and her personality from avery which means that she loves mathematics and solving things and she does it with a cheshire cat smile (that smile will go on to be the most attractive smile on earth)

- and when she was old enough to get on a plane, the first few places they brought her to were tahiti and prague

- when she was a young teen, she had quite a rebellious phase... sounds familiar? – and she once made avery cry

- jameson definitely lectured her afterwards, and when she asked him, "weren't you the same in your early days too?" he replied with, "i was, but that was before i met your mother. she made me a better person."

- he went on to talk about how she shouldn't be how he was in the past and the only thing he can do now to fix any mistakes he regrets making in the past is to make sure his daughter doesn't destroy herself and the relationships around her

- so yes, jameson has a lot of deep talks with kylie and they're sort of like besties too! they even have a secret handshake and games they made up together

- kylie got really sick once so avery decided to take a whole day off work just to spend time with her

- when avery wasn't sure how to go about parenting kylie, she would always call libby and libby would give such good advice

- in fact, every year on kylie's birthday, avery would bring kylie to libby's house and they would spend time together (girl things)

- avery might be super busy, but she always makes time for kylie (much to jameson's delight, because spending time with kylie means spending time with him)

- they have family game night every sunday

- when kylie got her first boyfriend, jameson spoke in riddles the whole time when she brought him to meet her parents

- avery was kinder about it but she was still particular about her daughter choosing the right person – she asked kylie a similar question to what max asked her: you're standing on a cliff overlooking the ocean... are you able to picture yourself with him?

- the three of them are a tight-knit family, and kylie isn't afraid to tell her parents what she thinks about things and also rant to them bc she knows they will always be there for her <3

[winksasleeplesseye]

SUMMARY: Leon is falling deeper and deeper into perceived bliss, but something else is at play. Is he really with you or is something else more complex going on?

PAIRING: Leon Kennedy x F!Reader

WORD COUNT: 2.8k (just about)

WARNINGS: slight smut, noncon voyeurism

[PREVIOUS][MASTERLIST]

"She's an intriguing figure, isn't she?" Thompson's voice cut through the sterile hum of the machinery, clinical yet there was an underlying tone of fascination. But he couldn't control the set of his jaw, perhaps a…hesitation? The observation room was so quiet, a pin could drop and every person present would hear it.

Most all the scientists watched as Leon turned again in his bed, fingers twitching against the sheets, reaching for someone who wasn't there. Brows furrowed, a soft murmur of your name falling from his lips.

"He's predictable. His attachment patterns, but one can see why he is so…enthralled by her," Dr. Morales noted, running a hand in a through line of his vitals as they pulsed with longing. "Let's see how far he's willing to go. Increase the sensory fidelity."

Thompson's eyes lingered on the photo of you, caught in a candid moment as you entered a government building. The tilt of your head as you wore a more reserved smile, less like the figure in their dream reality. Your physical attributes certainly left an impression on anyone you encountered so he could understand this….fixation? Not to mention, your shared history with Leon.

Raccoon City. That's where you had met, shared a connection of some sort. The pictures didn't lie.

The motel you had escaped to, another girl and a child, and Leon. Both of you to one room, them to the others. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to put the pieces together.

He gripped tighter to the clipboard, "This tampering of this nature….it's…."

"Necessary," Morales interrupted, not tearing his eyes away from the screen. Data poured in every minute, every part of it valuable. "Don't you know that when you know your enemy, what drives them…that trumps ethicality? Would you concur?"

Thompson couldn't respond, he shifted his gaze back over to Leon. A twitch, another smile. Breaking through tension that lived on his face in his waking world. Raw, real human emotion displayed in front of them, yet none of the scientists moved from their positions. Eyes laser sharp focused on the data.

A knot formed in Thompson's chest but in the end, he was in no position to question this.

Leon threw on his jacket, one not too dissimilar to the brown one he'd lost in Spain. He figured you'd have liked to steal it from him. "You wear that like a badge of honor," he heard you again, voice laced with playfulness. The sound of your voice cut through the silence of his apartment, his hand lingered on the zipper.

He can't keep doing this.

He audibly groaned, "Give me a break."

It wasn't that he was frustrated by you, just frustrated how he'd come to enjoy the intrusion of the version of you he knew didn't exist. If he were to tell anyone about this….especially Chris, they'd throw him in the psych ward, and Leon and a straitjacket should never be in the same sentence.

Shaking his head, he grabbed his keys and stepped out for the day.

The office was no different than it was the day before, same beige walls and same dull sunlight filtered through the window. Leon's office streamed in some of that light but somehow it didn't compare to how it was with you. While in the midst of his daydreams and repeated routine of paperwork and reports, a knock at his open door caught his attention. He never really liked keeping his office door closed, something in regard to cramped spaces unsettled him.

His eyes turned toward the door to find—oh, for goodness sake. Chris.

Chris was dressed more casual than usual, not wearing his standard tactical gear that Leon had seen so often. Leon fought the urge to roll his eyes at his presence. Did Hunnigan snitch on him?

He wore an awkward smile, "Sorry to interrupt, you got a minute?"

If there's one thing Leon knows about Chris, it's that he doesn't let up so if he didn't indulge him now, the guy would not leave him alone for the foreseeable future. Just the thought of not hearing the end of his lectures was enough to get Leon up. He's definitely letting Claire know that maybe she shouldn't have introduced them.

"What do you want?" Leon questioned, pushing himself away from the desk. He tried not to sound too frustrated but it was seeping through.

Chris' face screwed up momentarily, "What's got you so tense?"

An image came to him uncontrolled, one he'd felt, seen, heard just earlier as he showered. You stood behind him as the water streamed over both of you, your arms wrapped around his bare torso. You rested your cheek against his back, your touch a balm against the weight he'd carried.

"You're always so tense," you had murmured, your voice soft, your hands trailing over his shoulders. He had turned in your arms and kissed you then, slow and unhurried, allowing the world to melt away. The memory still clung to his skin. God, he really needed to get a grip.

"Nothing's got me tense," Leon responded, voice becoming more defensive than he'd like. Way to rouse more suspicion, Kennedy.

"Sure. And I'm retiring next week," Chris wore a half-smile as he stepped further into the room. "I know you probably don't want to hear this, but you look like hell. Have you been sleeping?"

The itch of Chris' gaze on him was like a weight he couldn't shake. The shift in the air was subtle but not subtle enough for Leon not to notice.

Leon fidgeted with his pen, running it between his fingers. "Plenty. I took a great nap during my morning existential crisis."

Chris crossed his arms, sitting in the chair accross from Leon. "Ha, ha. Hilarious. You're not fooling me, Kennedy. I've seen guys walk this line before, it doesn't end well. If something is going on, talking about it can't hurt—"

"There's nothing going on," Leon cut him off, sharper than he intended.

Deep down, Leon is aware he's being a bit of a dick but right now all reason and logic wasn't computing in his head.

Chris sighed, his more relaxed demeanor giving way to something more serious. He leaned forward, as if trying to bridge the gap between them. "I'm not here to lecture. You've got people who'd go through hell for you that you're pushing away. Don't forget that. But just know…I'm here too."

"Thanks, Doc. Should I lie down on my couch now, or later?"

Chris raised a brow. "Your choice, but I'm not writing a prescription for more whiskey."

Leon didn't look up as Chris left. His words sat like a weight in his chest long after the sound of his footsteps retreated further and further away.

Damn it. That was a lost cause.

Chris couldn't shake the feeling in his gut that something was off with Leon. More so than usual.

He hadn't been answering the phone and Leon would at least call him back once to assure him he hadn't done something stupid. It's why he came to the office, better that way so he can't avoid him.

But even a blind man could see how tense Leon had become. Jumpy, even. Leon was never one to be jumpy. He certainly was more of a dick than he usually is, too.

Chris could only walk away from Leon, letting him stew in whatever he had going on. That didn't mean he had no other options. He walked with purpose to the only other person who'd give him something. Hunnigan. The polished, poised woman sat at her desk, fingers flying across the keyboard and screens lit up with reports that reflected off her glasses.

Chris actually hated to disturb her work flow but he had to talk to someone.

"Hunnigan, hey," Chris greeted, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Got a moment?"

She glanced up from her screen, eyebrows raised in surprise but maintained her composure. "Sure, Chris. What's up?"

Chris hesitated. "You…talk to Leon much lately?"

Hunnigan could only scoff, "When don't I talk to Leon? Is everything okay?"

"That's the thing, I'd have thought you knew something. He seems off."

"What's your definition of off? This is Leon Kennedy we're talking about, he thrives on bad decisions and enough caffeine to stay awake for 20 years."

Chris wanted to laugh but decided against it. "Have you noticed anything? He seemed distracted. Denied anything was wrong, but I know him."

Hunnigan paused for a brief moment, a flicker of concern crossing her face.

"Now that I think about it…he did seem a little spaced out a week or so ago. Nothing too crazy. Just looked like he was in another world at the coffee maker. I don't usually tend to point out his appearance but his eyebags had eyebags."

"You think he's not sleeping?"

"That or he's having some late nights. But if you're concerned then so am I." Hunnigan's face softened only momentarily before reverting back to a strong resolve.

"I think we're in agreement." Chris spoke, a more serious tone to his voice. "Can you get me anything you can on his last mission?"

Hunnigan nodded, expression set in determination. "I'm on it."

If there was a point of no return, Leon is sure he'd made it there. The evening began like any other, lulling himself into the dream he never wanted to end.

He'd be lying to himself if he pretended he didn't want all that was offered to him in this dream space, the more he dreamed of you, the domestic life you'd shared with him…he wanted you in his life like this. It was undeniable. He craved it more than anything he had ever craved.

His decisions held no dire consequences in this place. No longer did he hold the fate of the world between his fingertips, they could slip through without so much of a grasp to pick up the pieces.

Tonight, somehow, things seemed more vivid, more alive. And certainly more passionate than all the other times he'd stumbled into moments with you. Your nails scratched down his chest in a way that sent chills down Leon's spine, an almost overwhelming tingle. Your warm breath fanning against his neck—it felt so real, too real. Your front molded against him in a way that made his heart pound. Could you feel how hard it was hitting against his rib cage?

A knot of guilt twisted in his chest, but he pushed it aside, letting your kiss consume him as though it could anchor him here forever.

"Look at that," Dr. Morales said, a grin tugging at his lips. Their connection was becoming more real than they anticipated. Data continuously streamed in as they watched the scene from the monitor. "It's like he's getting more than emotional satisfaction in this…it's almost physical. Like he thinks Y/N is really there in the room."

Dr. Erickson snorted, uncharacteristically. "If you think about it, Mr. Kennedy is getting action…even if it's just in his head."

Dr. Morales head shook as the scene on the monitor continued, juxtaposed with Leon as he laid in his bed. There was no hiding it what was going on. Leon's body responses aligned with the dream. Leon's hands splayed all over your bare skin as he held onto you desperately. This wasn't their intended goal, Leon getting the dream girl and living a dream life. The dreams were meant to test parameters for psychological breakdown. The data was baffling, to say the least.

His heartbeat spiked, body temperature rising the more and more he lost himself in the taste of you. Your fingers tangled in his hair. Jesus, did you know how much that drove him crazy? Without another word, you pushed him down onto the mattress, the springs creaking underneath his weight. Every sound seemed louder in the space of the room. The rustle of fabric as you slowly undressed, the clink of his belt as you pulled it from his body, the hasty breaths between them as he kissed you once again.

He tried not to stare too long as you straddled him but he had to take in all that you were, "You're gorgeous."

Your smile is brief as you brace your hands on his chest, "And you're sweet, but enough talking."

Once ready, Leon guided himself to line up with your wet folds. With one last glance between them, your eyes screwed shut, the breathy sigh that left your lips sent an indescribable feeling through him. Leon wanted this to last but the way you squeezed around his length—shit, this couldn't be a dream.

But even still, his mind nagged him. Was it possible this is all orchestrated? That someone—or something—-was controlling it all?

He tried not to—

"Fuck…" He couldn't think clearly, why did he want to when you were making him feel like this?

On the monitor, not a single detail was hidden, every body part, every sound, every movement—it was all there. Some of the scientists at the monitors turned away, others scooted closer in a sick curiosity.

The sensations he was receiving translated to Leon's sleeping form. Cameras zoomed in as he gripped at the sheets, knuckles turning white as clung for dear life to the fabric. His face, stoic in waking life, was now etched in pleasure—eyebrows furrowed, lips parted, his expression a mixture of longing and ecstasy.

The camera feed zoomed in slightly, Dr. Erickson could see the subtle rise and fall of Mr. Kennedy' s chest as he breathed harder. All the telltale signs of physical arousal. His muscles tensed in response to sensations that weren't really there. His free hand running down your back, judging from the movement in the air where you certainly were not. Dr. Erickson noted a slight tremor in his fingers, as if he really believed you were there, that he was touching you. He could even see Leon's mouth moving, quiet murmurs that the audio didn't fully catch.

Dr. Erickson felt a prickle of discomfort at how intense it had become. Even the auditory data peaked through—your voice, crystal clear as you did not hide your pleasure at all, even simulated. Both of their voices, faces etched in a rapture. Your mouth parted as pleasure overtook you, breaths ragged.

"He's deep in it," Thompson muttered, observing the infrared screen as Leon's body temperature continued to rise. A typical human body displayed in colors in green, yellows, and blues but Leon had red spread across body from his torso to his feet. "His brain waves are almost off the charts. The sensory stimulation is overwhelming—this isn't just a dream to him. His body cannot tell the difference between this and reality. Should we stop this?"

"We interrupt now and we risk damage, let this play out." Dr Erickson instructed, he turned towards his colleagues, some actually taking his spot at the screens for a closer look.

Dr. Morales placed a hand on Thompson's shoulder, an almost wicked smile on his face. "Increase the duration next time, let's see what it takes to fracture his grasp on everything." Thompson could only watch as his boss walked away, he tried to ignore the lurch in his stomach at what everything meant.

The heat surged between both of you, Leon's grip tightening as he pounded into you. Stars burst behind his eyes, letting himself soak in every sensation. He gasped your name as if it might tether him, as if clinging to your hips could keep the world from slipping away.

His movements stilled, a final shudder coursing through him as he spilled into you, a guttural groan passed from his lips.

And like a splash of cold water, Leon jolted from his bed. An ache in his muscles, a warmth in his bones, your breath fanning against him that shouldn't exist. His hands rubbed at his face, trying to rub the remnants of the experience from his mind, running a hand through his sweat-filled hair. His heart hit harder than a drum against his chest, rhythm unsteady.

He lifted the covers off himself. A telltale spot on his sweatpants. His lower half still pulsed from what he had just…felt.

A wet dream? What was he, a 16 year old? He huffed at such an immature act, considering 16 is the last time he had a wet dream.

Something wasn't right. Despite the fire that burned his skin from where his fingers had traced the outline of your back, how the heat flooded his body from the deep, soul-deep release—it had felt so whole, so real…it still didn't feel right. The way his body responded to yours, yours to his. Like they were both there, together, in the same place, in the same moment.

"Just a dream," Leon spoke out loud, as if a mantra. But that didn't explain the feelings in his body that said otherwise. The lingering desire. The heat. The ache. A heavy ache.

Just a dream, that's all it is.

Just a very vivid dream. That makes the most sense.

But, if this was only a dream, why did it feel like someone else was pulling the strings?

[oldsoul007]

late nights

javier peña x reader

summary: you help a DEA officer get intel but the lines between business and pleasure begin to blur as the two of you grow closer, tangled in a web of danger, secrets, and undeniable attraction.

Javier Peña, a seasoned former DEA agent, wasn’t the type to get entangled in messy situations. But then there was y/n—an escort with a sharp wit and a kind of vulnerability that caught him off guard. At first, our connection was purely transactional. I was smart, resourceful, and willing to share things that, at the right moment, could tip the scales in his ongoing investigation.

I had seen it all—my life had been about survival and control. But somewhere beneath the façade, I had a rawness that Javier noticed from the start. He had seen the world’s grit, and I wasn’t much different. There was a certain strength in how I carried myself, but also something lost, something almost invisible. I wasn’t like the others, the ones who simply went through the motions for the money. I was too sharp for that.

Javier started visiting me more than he should have, often under the guise of asking for information. But the more we talked, the more he found himself listening to me—not just for what I said, but for who I was behind the walls I built around myself. We shared stories, some heavy with pain, some light with fleeting laughter. There were moments when the atmosphere was so thick with unspoken things that it almost suffocated him.

One night, after we’d crossed the line between the usual business and something far more complicated, Javier found himself staring at me, his heart pounding in a way that was both unsettling and intoxicating. We were lying together, a haze of tangled sheets around us.

“y/n,” he said softly, his fingers grazing my cheek, tracing my skin. “You’re better than this. You deserve more than this life. You should find something real.”

I looked at him, my expression unreadable. There was a flicker of something—regret, maybe, or fear—but I quickly masked it. I had to. I wasn’t a person who allowed myself to be vulnerable, not for long. Still, Javier could see through it. He could feel the walls I put up, but now he wanted to tear them down, even if it meant making himself vulnerable in the process.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, my voice distant, though it trembled slightly. “I’m fine. I don’t need saving, Javier.”

But he could see it in my eyes, the way I wasn’t quite convinced by my own words. He leaned closer, brushing his lips gently against my forehead. “I’m not trying to save you,” he murmured. “I just think you deserve something real. Something that doesn’t come with a price tag.”

There was a long silence. Then, quietly, I let out a soft, bitter laugh, the sound almost more painful than I intended. “That’s sweet of you,” I said, but my voice cracked just a little. “But we both know that real doesn’t work for people like me.”

Javier didn’t want to let go of her, not just physically but emotionally. He wasn’t sure what was happening—he didn’t want to admit it, but his feelings for her were starting to turn into something deeper, something more than just pity or sympathy. It was real, and he wasn’t sure he could walk away from it. But he was afraid she’d never believe that.

“You’re wrong,” he said softly, the weight of his words heavy in the air. “You deserve better. You’re worth more than this.”

I turned my head away, my breath catching. I didn’t know how to respond. Part of me wanted to believe him, to take him seriously, but another part of me feared what might happen if I did. I wasn’t sure if I could allow myself to be cared for like that—not when my whole life had been about keeping people at arm’s length.

But Javier wasn’t going anywhere. And even though I tried to push him away, there was something in the way he looked at me, the way he said my name that made me wonder if, just maybe, I was worth fighting for after all.

[eliza-and-her-monsters]

the tortured poets department

Info Post

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Part I

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Contains/TW: not really a ton of tws for this one if any! just general funny banter and i SWEAR on god that millie has game 😤 anyways! glad to finally be back! probably could’ve carried this on longer but i figured you had waited long enough <3

WC: 4.3k

Part V

The Alchemy

Caitlyn probably lived in what Americans could’ve called a ‘frat house’. A large co-ed ‘almost’ mansion on Oxford campus specifically for upperclassmen. For a while now it had felt more like hers with tenants however. People moved in and out every semester, she stayed.

Whenever I woke up I was already tucked into Caitlyn’s bed, the same fancy silky sheets she had insisted on always having and getting me too. From next to the bed Ellie’s green eyes blinked, a hand extended as if in an offering. “Hey, morning, sunshine.” She said with a weak smile. I stretched a hand over to enclose around hers, squeezing as if afraid I’d lose myself the moment I let go.

“How long was I out?” I whispered in a hoarse voice.

Ellie blew out a long sigh and brought her free hand forward, gently brushing her soft fingers against a tear streaked cheek. “Long enough to hopefully make up for last night? You’re not quite to 8 hours yet but… almost.” A look of guilt filled her expression, puppy dog eyes almost as her brows furrowed together and eyes widened. Innocent eyes. Gentle eyes. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I never should’ve let you go in there without me.”

“Els, it’s not your job to be there 24/7.” I shook my head in denial. A sharp pain seemed to shoot through my skull the moment I attempted to push myself up to a sitting position. The post breakdown headaches were always the worst. Concussion-level pain that made the room spin the moment I tried to move myself at all.

“Careful, don’t sit up too fast.” Ellie moved forward in worry, a strong arm slipping around my shoulders as she slid into the empty spot next to me. “I know it isn’t my job, persay, but… I still have this awful sense of self importance that makes me feel like if I was there it- it would’ve been easier.”

“Ego dissolution, remember?” I questioned as I attempted to twist around to face her. A little flush growing on her cheeks at the subtle call out.

“You’re right, ego dissolution.” She remarked, a soft thumb stroking my shoulder from where her arm still stayed draped around me. “We can go a different day… maybe whenever there’s classes and there isn’t too many people there. Besides, you definitely need to sign up for The Oxford Writers because they’re in charge of the student publication that comes out every semester. Plus I think they even have like slam poetry events and-”

“Els, I just lost the plot entirely just at the mere thought of entering the first day of club rush. What makes you think I can get up on a stage in front of people and read some of the most personal things I’ve ever written in my entire life!” I exclaimed probably with exactly the flourish you’d need to be a slam poet.

“But what about getting published? I mean, people need to actually read your stuff to get published.”

“Actually reading it aloud in front of a bunch of people is a totally different thing.” I added with a little shake of my head. “I’m definitely going to join it’s just- I don’t know about actually performing at these events myself.” I remarked as I slumped down in the bed, letting my body slightly flop over onto Ellie’s. Her arms slid around me like always, letting me rest my head against her slowly growing bicep. “There’s something really really wrong with me, Els.” I whispered, eyebrows furrowing together as I felt that same ache forming in my chest.

“There’s nothing wrong with you.” I could practically already see the shake of her head as she bent forward to place her lips against my throbbing temple as if she wanted to kiss the pain away. “You’re just… you. Beautiful, and talented, and kind, and smart, and brave…”

“I don’t think I’m very brave.” I denied, tilting my head backwards against her chest until I could see her peering down at me.

“Being scared doesn’t mean you can’t be brave.” I shifted in her arms as she spoke, whirling around to face her until I was nearly being cradled in her lap, as if I was a bride about to be swept up and carried over the alter. “You’ve been through a lot. You’re going through a lot. But you make it through every single time. And that’s brave.” My eyes softened as I looked into her green ones, gentle and grounding eyes that changed my life the moment they first saw me.

“Promise me something, Els?” I murmured just before lifting a curled together fist, pinky finger extended. “Promise me we’ll never grow apart. Even whenever love tries to complicate things like it, you know, tends to do. Just… p-promise me you’ll always be here?”

The corner of Ellie’s lips just barely twitched upwards in a mini smile before she blew out another heavy sigh of her own. “Always and forever, Mills.” She wrapped her own pinky around mine, a secondary promise to the first one we had made in the hospital. A friendship based entirely off of pinky promises and trust, it was stronger than I could’ve ever expected it to be. “Is this about your date with Vi?” She wondered after a passing moment, her arm still wrapped around me as I settled my head back against her chest.

“It’s not really a date.” I spoke in a muffled voice with my face buried into her hoodie.

“Hmmm, let’s see… Webster’s Dictionary refers to a date as ‘a social engagement between two people that often has a romantic character’-”

“I know what a date is, you fuck!” I groaned as I gave her another playful shove before promptly rolling off of her with a huff.

“Really? Because you seemed to be a little confused-“

“It’s just I’ve… never really been on a date before.” I spoke almost nervously as I hugged my knees to my chest with a small frown.

“Well, that much is definitely obvious.”

“Ellie!” I whined as I smacked an embarrassed hand against my face.

“Okay okay… relax, I’ll be serious for a sec.” She added though not being able to fight back her own little giggle. “Do I need to give you the unbiased version of ‘the talk’ not from somebody you’re related to or…”

“No, she- she promised she didn’t wanna see me just because of that.” I flushed almost painfully as I fiddled around with my fingers currently wrapped around my shins. “That- That kind of stuff still freaks me out.”

“I get it.” She was back to being soft again as she leaned back against the headboard. “Virginity itself is such an archaic term anyways, it’s so stupid. Just make sure she takes care of you or else they’ll never find her body.”

I let out a giggle at her statement even though I wasn’t entirely sure she was joking, and the look on her face read that she wasn’t. From outside the door however our conversation was quickly interrupted by the typical sound of whisper yelling bleeding through the paper thin walls. “Don’t, Vi! Don’t! She has finally been sleeping for once since she got here-”

“Did you give Ellie the same shit whenever she got here?! Or is it just because you have this fucked up personal goal to never let me near her? Is that it?!”

“If Ellie makes her feel fucking safe then she never has to get my approval to stay with her while she’s asleep!” Caitlyn seethed, and meanwhile the arguing only felt like it was going to do my head in.

With a glare forming on my face I swung my legs over the side of the bed to finally stand up. “Mills, be careful, you could still be dizzy.” Ellie was up to her feet with a start as she rushed over to my side. I hissed in pain at the pounding in my head, hands latching onto Ellie’s arms as if to better hold myself steady. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. I think there’s pain medicine in your bag.” She slowly lead me forward until everything came back into focus.

“Guys, it’s okay, I’m awake.” I voiced once I swung open the door nearly causing the arguing pair to jump in response.

Caitlyn’s face visibly softened as she peered down at me, arms still folded across her chest much like they were every time her and Vi argued. Which seemed to be a regular occurrence nowadays. “Hey darling, how’re you feeling?” She asked, reaching a hand out to gently rub my arm.

“I’m okay, my head’s just… pounding.” I answered, trying to massage out one of the aches that stretched across my eyebrows. From behind me I felt Ellie pressing two pills into my free hand before holding out my water bottle. “Thanks.” I voiced before tossing them both back almost without swallowing a drop of water.

“Cait, let’s give them a second to talk, okay?” Ellie cautiously began, extending an arm out to grab Caitlyn’s arm as if she was a rapid zoo animal, just waiting for a lashing. One look seemed to communicate it all though, you won’t stop her from seeing her. She’ll find a way regardless.

“Fine, but I’m just downstairs.” I wasn’t sure if she meant it as a threat towards Vi or if she was trying to reassure me, but either way she let Ellie take her arm to lead her down the hallway. All the while Ellie glancing back over her shoulder at the two of us to shoot us a knowing wink.

“Uhhh sorry… about that.” I spoke with nearly bright red cheeks as I twisted around to face her. “Caitlyn can be kind of… ummm, intense, but I guess you know that already. Do you do the same thing with Jinx’s suitors or-?”

Vi only laughed with a little shake of her head, muscles bulging even as she just simply crossed her arms. “Oh hell no, Jinx would kill them before I even got the chance. You, on the other hand…” She added, the lightest hand reaching upwards to grasp my chin as she ever so slightly nudged it upwards. “Look like you’d let someone walk all over you if it wasn’t for Caitlyn.”

“Having an overprotective sister certainly helps.” I shrugged, the pink tint on my cheeks only growing more and more by the second.

“So,” she began with a clear of her throat, my breath catching in my own as I felt her hands unravel to cup the side of my face. “How’re you feeling?”

“Embarrassed.” I huffed, leaning right into her touch however, lifting a hand upwards to wrap around her wrist. Only in some attempt to get her to draw closer. “Sure you still wanna be seen with me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” She answered with a softened expression, the lightest touch brushing underneath my cheekbone as she pulled me in. Sometimes I wondered if her cologne had pheromones in it, something akin to laughing gas that had me losing all sense of control. I think I would’ve given anything to not be someone who fell so easily. I know I barely knew her, but it didn’t take much whenever you were me. I also knew, deep down, how much I wanted love. How desperately I found myself searching for it in every unlikely place. Every place that I just had a sneaking suspicion would hurt me. “C’mon baby, come back to me.”

“Hmmm?” I hummed against her chest before I could feel her nudging my chin upwards to meet her face once more. I didn’t even realize how much things seemed to disappear whenever she held me until she was nudging me back to reality.

“You got quiet there for a second, I… wanted to make sure you hadn’t dozed off.” She chose her words carefully, a slight hint making me feel like they actually implied something else.

“Sorry I uhhh, I’m okay. Just kind of spaced out there for a second I think.” I chuckled nervously with a little shake of my head. “Do you… you know, still wanna see me tonight?”

“As long as you still wanna see me. I know you’ve had kind of an eventful day.” I flushed once more as I let out an airy chuckle just before I caught myself dragging my fingers up her muscular arm. “I do know if you keep touching me like that though I’m gonna have to see you.”

“Sure you’re not just a smooth talker?” I let a little smirk tug on my lips as I softly drew my fingers along her bicep like it was the most delicate thing on the planet. And I could’ve sworn I nearly heard her breath hitch.

“Yeah no… I’m gonna need to see you. For sure.” She slotted my chin in between her thumb and forefinger, lips hovering just inches from mine as she was waiting for permission or trying to tease to the best of her ability. Either way it drove me crazy. “Pick you up at 8?”

“You better.”

~

“You may enter!” Ellie called out in a sing song voice the moment I lifted my fist to knock on her cracked door. “What’s up?” She said with a sweet smile as she swiftly paused whatever game she was in the middle of. Though with one glance I could already see her eyes going wide before she sent the controller flying across the bed as she whipped around to face me. “Woah.”

I snickered a bit to myself with a little flush before spinning to face her full body mirror currently leaning haphazardly against the wall, “Do you like it? You don’t think it’s too much?” I wondered with a tilted head, back to studying my appearance in the mirror. Maybe the navy blue sweater was a bit too similar to Caitlyn, and had I gone for jeans rather than the black skirt I currently had on it definitely would’ve been. But I at least hoped that that would’ve thrown it off enough.

“Y-Yeah, I-I mean yeah, you look… wow. Y-You look really good. Like, really good.” I heard her stammer as she rose up to her feet, gnawing on her bottom lip. “I-I mean not to say that I haven’t always thought that you were beautiful because you are but-”

“Els, breathe, it’s okay.” I laughed, lifting my hands as if to tell her to relax, and on cue I could already hear the expelling of a long breath from her lips. “Now… do you think you can help me put these on?” I wondered as I unearthed the pearl necklace from my pocket, though the action didn’t seem to calm Ellie down any.

“H-Holy shit, am I going to get hit by an ancient curse the second I hold these?” She stammered with widened eyes as I dropped the pearls into her palm.

“Of course, your bloodline is screwed for at least the next ten generations.” I joked with a little smirk as I whipped around to face the mirror once more, lifting my long mane of hair out of the way.

“Good thing the cursed Williams bloodline dies with me then.” She added as she gently wrapped the necklace around my neck and fiddled around with the clasp for at least a hot minute before finally securing it.

“Oh yeah? Going for a childless cat lady kind of look?” I hummed with a light touch to the pearls as I whirled back around to face her.

“More like a childless dog lady, not that I should ever be expected to take care of another living being.” She shrugged casually causing me to let out a little chuckle as I stepped forward to slip my arms around her.

“Well, you’re at least a pretty damn good friend.” I muttered as I let my cheek rest against her shoulder. “I do feel really bad… you know, leaving you by yourself already whenever we just moved in.”

“Don’t love, seriously, it’s okay.” Ellie whispered, lifting an arm upwards to hold my head. “Go make friends, fall in love maybe… I’ll be okay, and I’ll be right here, regardless.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t do the same.” A little frown formed on my face as we pulled away. And I hated how hesitant I felt to do anything that Ellie wasn’t involved in. I know it was unhealthy, I didn’t need anyone to tell me that. But from the moment I met her it was as if there was some invisible string tied between the two of us.

“I will… I’m sure I will, just don’t worry about me, okay? Honestly, I mean I spent the first 16 years of my life alone. One night isn’t gonna kill me.” She brushed off with a weak smile before the sound of a knock on the door interrupted us both.

“Oh god… I didn’t realize it was almost 8. A-Are you sure I look okay?” I stammered, not even noticing the anxious pit that had grown in my stomach until I finally stole a glance at the clock.

“You look beautiful, now c’mon don’t leave her standing out there.” Ellie urged with a laugh as she gave me another gentle push towards the front door.

My eyes widened in surprise once I saw both of the brightly colored heads of the siblings however once I threw the door open. “Oh, Jinx! Hey-”

“Hey lesbians!” She interrupted with a grin just before sweeping inside without a second thought.

“Sorry, she insisted on keeping Ellie company while we were out and apparently she lives in the same complex so-” Vi began with an embarrassed tint to her cheeks.

“This unit’s so much nicer than mine though. Damn Ellie, are you also a nepo baby or something? Oh well, I guess being bffs with a Kiramman helps.”

“Oh my god, do you ever stop yapping?” Vi groaned to herself causing me to let out a tiny chuckle.

“No, it’s okay… open door policy here.” Ellie said with a nervous little smile of her own, cheeks reddened as if slightly amused herself.

“Yeah, stay as long as you want.” I repeated before finally letting my eyes sweep briefly up towards Vi. Still in that same leather jacket with a maroon button up underneath this time, undone just enough to drive me nuts and have to work twice as hard to keep myself from ogling. “So… ummm, a-are you ready?”

“Whenever you are.” She said with a little jingling of her keys before offering a hand for me to take.

“Vi, take care of her or else I’ll kill you, got it?” I heard Ellie’s protective voice over the anxious roaring in my ears.

“Yeah! And I’ll help!” Jinx exclaimed defiantly as she popped out from behind her.

“Alright, down tigers…” Vi snickered before I felt the weight of her muscular arm encircling around my shoulders, my heart stuttering to a skip in my chest as she did so. “I’ve got her.”

“I’ll see you later, Els?” I spoke just before lifting a little hand to give the two a wave.

“See you, Mills, have fun.” She remarked with another soft and subtle smile before letting the door slowly drift shut.

“Wow, you’re an American foreign exchange student with a car, I’m actually impressed.” I couldn’t help but flush even harder once we made it outside. An endless burn to my cheeks as we approached the large truck currently parked quite illegally on the curb.

“Really? I guess that’s a good thing, Kiramman’s seem quite difficult to impress.” She teased lightly as she trailed behind me towards the passenger side door.

“We can be, I’m not saying you don’t have your work cut out for you.”

“Well, challenge accepted.” The corners of her lips upturned in a smirk that made my insides twist, the raised entrance to the passenger seat not at all helping as she pulled the door open. “May I?” She questioned with an extended hand.

“You may.” I said with a small smile of my own as I slipped my hand into hers. She held my balance well as she hoisted me up into the vehicle, a gentle hand sliding around my back as if to keep me steady.

“To be fair, trucks are kind of hard to come by in england… Oxford specifically. You think it would be more because of the whole… you know, people moving into uni thing but-” my cheeks heated all over again as I watched her curious eyes scanning over me once she was situated behind the wheel. “S-Sorry I’m yapping. I- I yap a lot whenever I get nervous.”

Vi let her head tilt slightly, that same little smirk remaining on her lips. And I swear it was going to drive me crazy one day, if it hadn’t already. “Do I make you nervous?” She stated before firing the truck up into gear with a lifted brow.

I hesitated a moment, weighing the question around in my head before I propped my elbow up on the center console and shook my head, resting my cheek against my hand as I gazed up at her. “No, you don’t. And I’ve been trying to figure out why since yesterday.” Her eyes glanced over towards me, watching them stay locked on mine for a moment long enough to make my own widen. “Wh-What?” I muttered, now suddenly feeling as if nervous was the right word as she shook her head.

“Nothing, you’re just… wow.” She finally said, a smile tugging back on her lips before reaching forward to fire up the engine. “I mean I thought you were ‘wow’ before but now that you’re actually in my passenger seat it’s like, a different story, you know?”

“What? You didn’t think I’d go for you?” I wondered with my cheeks flaring as I glanced down towards where her arm was now propped up against the center console. A bruised hand almost beckoning me to slip my fingers through it.

“Are you kidding me? Have you seen you? Have you seen me-?”

“Oh right. Bad boy in a leather jacket covered in tattoos who also happens to be an icon on the hockey rink. What innocent little doe-eyed femme would actually wanna go for you?” I sarcastically drawled on causing her to snicker with a brief roll of her eyes.

“You know, you do have a bit of a bite to you, you know that?”

“Well, Caitlyn Kiramman is my sister… and she taught me well.” I remarked almost proudly as I twisted a long strand of my hair around my finger.

“I bet Ellie cried the first time you used that sarcasm on her.”

“She did ask me if I was mad at her, but in both of our defenses we usually think people are mad at us if their vibe even slightly shifts.” I explained with a clear of my throat, finally giving in and letting my hand slide across the console to Vi’s. My fingers cautiously slipped through hers, so much smaller it was almost comical. She didn’t seem to mind though, another little smile forming on her lips as I slowly tugged her hand over towards my lap. “Just so you know though she isn’t this innocent little deer either, like, she could kill you… she could fuck you up if she really wanted to.”

“Oh trust me, I know, I mean have you seen her on the rink whenever she isn’t terrified of Anderson? Like she’s good. She’s really good. Contrary to popular belief I am going to try and not get on her bad side.” Vi added, and I don’t know why but the way she did speak so highly about her was refreshing. There wasn’t any jealousy between the two, at least for now, and I really hope it stayed that way. “Speaking of which, we’re here. I know we could’ve probably walked but what can I say? I wanted to show off the truck.”

“The ice rink? Geez, do you ever leave?” I questioned with another chuckle as I peered upwards to see the same stone building. “I thought they locked this place up at night.”

“They do, for outsiders.” She grinned as she brandished a key clipped to a silver carabiner before shutting off the engine and climbing from her seat.

“We’re- We’re not gonna get in trouble, are we?” I asked the moment she swung open my door with my eyes going wide. And suddenly the goody-two-shoes had possessed me once again.

“Baby, I’ve got a key. What could we get in trouble for?” She laughed before extending a hand to help me slide from the large vehicle. My heart nearly skipping a beat in the process. “I mean, your parents probably paid for this building anyways.”

“Well, not this one specifically, you’re thinking of the Anderson family.” I added, the feeling of her hand sliding back into mine nearly catching me off guard. “So ummm, what are we doing exactly?”

“You ever been skating before?” She wondered before gently tugging me towards the entrance, the question causing me to halt right in my tracks.

“Oh… Vi- th-this is a really sweet idea but I’m absolutely ass at skating. I went once with Ellie and cracked the shit out of my ankle- a-and I don’t even have skates!”

“Relax, I can get you rentals.” Her warm arm draped itself back over my nearly quivering shoulders. I don’t know why but it was almost calming, letting her drag me towards the entrance while I anxiously caught my bottom lip in between my lips. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you and your very sensitive ankles safe.”

“My ankles are not sensitive.” I huffed, expression shifting into a scowl as I tried to give her a playful shove, but she didn’t buck nearly as easy as Ellie did.

Vi only let out an airy chuckle before whipping out the carabiner attached to her belt loop once more and slipping the key to the rink into the lock, “Sure thing, princess, I’ll take your word for it.”

Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics

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[miitarashi]

Your choice whether you want to do this, might be a little weird or confusing but, could you do headcannons about what being with the different Tintin versions would be like (like, Speilberg Tintin, Jean Pierre Talbot Tintin or 2d Tintin or whatever, depends on who you want to include). Comparing what they would be like since they are all the same guy but kinda different at the same time. It's up to you whether you involve nsfw or not, I don't mind either way 😊

Since it's his birthday,why not?

Prompt: what being with Tintin's different versions would be like. (It's a very long reading,reeaall long so be aware)

[Name] = your name (neutral)

Tintin 1991

♤ This little boy right here,will be a handful.

♤ First,the start of your relationship almost didn't happened. Not that he's clueless,it just didn't registered on his mind at the time because or he was investigating something (dragging you and Haddock along) or he was running from someone (also dragging you along)

♤ When you guys finally started dating a few things changed.

♤ You probably is his first partner so he'll lean on you to learn since dating life never was a topic he knew much. Not naive,just not used to the idea.

♤ He kept dragging you along,this would never change,although he grow a tad bit more aware of you there. If it's too dangerous he would try to make you stay,but if you two were together is because or you are as reckless as him or the reasonable person who follow to make sure he get back in one piece.

♤ Getting you involved is his little way of showing affection (also because he doesn't want to leave you at home waiting for him for God knows how long)

♤ The 91 Tintin has more like a quality time and giving gifts as a love language.

♤ He always liked your presence,but now it got more significant. You were his partner,he loved you and wanted to be with you. Not that he follows you around,he just sees you in the living room,walks all the way there,sits, and keeps doing whatever he is doing, but now in the same place you are. Being honest,you just staying there even help him to concentrate more.

♤ He almost don't have time for himself since he's always running after something,so just having you in the same place without the need to talk,just being there is his favorite way of using the little time he have.

♤ About dates. He prefers simple things at best. Since his life is already a roller-coaster, moments of peace are precious, but with you, it became special. Walking on a park,having dinner at a local restaurant, and taking a stroll late at night. Just you,him, and the comfortable silence sooth all his worries in seconds, making him forget everything and get lost on his little world with you.

♤ What he like the most on you - your hair.

Short,long,curly or straight. Bro couldn't care less.

It's mostly because one time you were really tired, and Tintin offered for you to take a break. You nod and he took the books from your hands but before he could get up to put them back on the shelf,your head drop on his lap and you had fallen into a deep sleep right there and then. He got a bit surprised but also happy that you trusted him this much. He pulled your head in a comfortable position on his lap,moving your hair from your face and almost naturally,his fingers just combing through your hair in a soft caress. Since then,doing it has become one of his favorites.

♤ the gifts? "I saw it, and it reminds me of you"

A flower,sweets or food,a book,a scarf, or just a souvenir about something you were talking about. He's a good listener, so receiving gifts about a topic you really like isn't uncommon, but since he does it suddenly,it's always a delightful surprise. (Also,I don't know, but maybe even a rock if it reminds him of you. You probably have a small collection of them at this point)

♤ Petnames and touches.

I don't see him using one or at least not every time. Your name is a beautiful endering term itself. Why use another? But if you want,probably "love" at best.

Holding hands>>>>

He really loves to just hold and interwine your fingers or when you wrap your arm around his and leaning your head on his shoulder while walking together never fail to make his heart beat a little faster.

☆ Jokes on him completely. He tried to plan a date to,maybe,happen your first kiss, although everything that shouldn't happen happened.

He got dragged into a mess that Rastapopoulos has made yet again and,like always,he was in the wrong place at the wrong time and with you nonetheless. Ah,another classic adventure where you was dragged along again,but this time, he was determined to make it enjoyable and fun just like the date he planed! .

And then it begins,the running after a clue of where rastapopoulos is,hiding from the police because he was being accused of stealing something,followed by the Thompsons brothers who were hired to track him and you and to avoid them? Disguises, of course! Changing from one another every time you two were found was pure fun with the last one being an old couple from the nearest house you two could find.

"Good evening, mister and miss. Sorry for interrupting, but have you two saw a young boy with a quiff and a distinguished person by his side,perhaps?" — the Thompsons asked.

"Boy with a quiff, you say? Dear,have you seen anything?" — you questioned Tintin,who looked thoughtful through the window.

"Hmm,maybe honey...I guess.. they run to the left" — He pointed out. The Thompsons quickly thanked him and prepared to run toward the direction he said.

"Ah,your vision is not the same, dear. They run to the right." . "No, no honey,i'm pretty sure it was left." "No,it's was right." . "No,it was left"

"Ok,we know what to do. Dupond. " "Dupont."

They nod and take different directions,getting more lost than before making you two giggle while watching through the window.

"That's your date idea then?" — you tease,taking off the wig and glasses of the disguise.

"Maybe,is it good,love?" — he mused,taking some parts of the disguise as well. You smiled,taking his hand and encircling his arm around you,kissing his cheek.

"Aside from the running non-stop,it's being a really good time,dear." — his cheek grow slightly redder by the kiss,a soft smile made its way to his lips as he looked down at you. His hand reaches up,combing your hair back in an affectionate gesture,stopping at the back of your head while pulling you closer with the arm wrapped around you.

"It can always get better.." — comfort of your presence,your closeness and warmth gave the last push he needed to lean in,slowly to give you time to back away,but when you moved closer,he allowed himself to close his eyes and finally kiss you.

Tintin 1961/64

☆ This version is interesting.

☆ The 61 Tintin is somewhat more ""naive"". I don't know, but he give me this vibe.

☆ Like,if the 91 Tintin wasn't clueless,this one is. You know the type of friend that when someone see you two interact make them think you're dating but he just dismiss it with an polite smile? That's exactly how he is.

☆ Not that he didn't understand when he began to like you more than a friend,he just thought it would be better to not risk the friendship because he values you deeply. From time to time he end up going to the old man to ask for a few advices of how to deal with it without ending the friendship (not the best idea,Haddock's first words always was for him to just go for it)

☆ In the end,after a little pressure from our dearest Haddock, he finally gathered courage and asked you out on Valentine's Day ♡

☆ Dating life with 61 Tintin didn't change much from before.

☆ His love language is quality time as well,but also touch. He always have contact with you,not liking when he can't take you with him to an adventure but rest assure because everytime he can you will receive a call,even a letter if he can't call. Spending time with you is his favorite thing,mostly when you gush about your new interest having his full attention while also holding your hand,drawing circles on the back of it,completely engrossed on your words paying attention to your little excited squirms with a little grin. Poor boy is infatuated.

☆ Not gonna lie,when he finally had you as his partner,talking about you was the same as Aladdin talking about Jasmine. "I still can't understand how I got this lucky captain..they are funny,beautiful and their eyes!.. and,and how it light up when they talk..and!--". "For God's sake boy! I've understood it already since the fifth time you spoke about them!"

☆ The dates go from random trips to late at night movies.

☆ What he likes more about you - eyes.

The way it lights up when you speak about something you like,how you stare at him lovingly,the gleam when you get happy. Every little time get his heart beating faster since day one. Started with him finding your eyes beautiful to slowly loving it.

☆ Something specific about him is that he remembers every important day. Your birthday,your parents' birthday,any appointments. You didn't tell him? Jokes on you,he knows it anyway.

☆ Petnames and touch.

Going from calling you ''friend'' to "s/o" got he giddy. Sweetheart,honey,love you choose,he's just happy to be able to use those nicknames and hear them coming from your mouth when you call him. He's touchy,but not exactly clingy. Likes to hold your hand,caress your arms,rest a hand on your knees,but always respectful of your boundaries. If you don't feel like holding hands or touch at all, he will understand and resist the urge. ("Resist" because even if it's just the tip of his shoes or his pinky,he will still be touching you,but lightly)

☆ Now,a few different things about 64 Tintin compared to 61 version.

This one wouldn't be naive,not upfront about his feelings either, but he would try to see if you felt the same first before confessing. It's like the 61 version is him younger and more "teenager lover" while the 64 version is older and "mature" (oh wow,don't tell me). He's more aware of his actions, so he doesn't get too close to not trespass the friend zone without being sure of it.

☆ His love languages would still be quality time and touch,but now, also words of affirmation. When before he just admired your eyes and heard your rants,now he voices how much he loves when your face lights up with excitement,the little squirms he adores,how your messy bun is adorable and if he manage to make you blush it's an small victory,using just a tiny dose of his natural sass to tease before pulling you close for a hug.

☆ "Darling" became the main petname for him to call you. Still rant about you for whoever are willing to listen but more like thinking out loud than a dreamy tone like 61 would.

☆ Dates are a bit less random,he spends some time planning it to be a good time and memory for both of you.

☆ The first kiss was something that he was trying to plan but ended up happening spontaneously.

It was on one a stroll on the park after having dinner at your favorite restaurant. The silence of the city slowing down by the late hour embraced you two with a comfortable feeling. Tintin had one arm around you waist to keep you close and enjoy his warmth on the slightly cold night while walking together. His eyes focused on you like always,a soft smile as he tried to pay attention but couldn't help getting lost on your beautiful eyes,you features lightly illuminated by the soft light of the moon,your hair loose just enough to sway with the weak breeze. "Beautiful.." He thought. "Feels surreal..having someone like them this close,maybe I can.."

His arm pulled you closer,erasing any gap between you two,but he felt greedy. He needed more,more of you,wrap you fully with his body and keep you there,but he couldn't yet,the way home would take a while still for him to be able to cuddle with you. This is when his gaze falls lightly,your lips. Tintin's cheek got faintly painted with red, but before he could second guess himself,his steps stopped slowly, making you do the same with a small frown.

"Tintin,what's--" — you tralled off with his actions.

His hand moved to rest gently on your waist,the other cup your cheek with a reverent touch as he leaned his forehead against yours, making your heart race and cheeks flush with a soft tone of red.

"[Name]...can I kiss you,please..?" — he whispered,like if he was telling you a secret only you should hear and know.

Your eyes widen a little,surprised by the sudden request,looking back into his eyes that plead to you. You couldn't deny it,not when you had dreamed of it more than you cared to admit. Your small nod brought a smile to his lips.

"Thank you,darling" — he whispered lowly while leaning forward,kissing you with reverent love.

Tintin 2011

♧ The best for the last of course!

♧ This version is quite something.

♧ Not clueless,not naive, just...him. I have it in my mind (heart and soul) that's he's a Demi person. To feel attraction, he needs to really build a connection with you but have to be spontaneous,so much that he just noticed when he began to look forward to seeing you,talking to you,being with you, and you all know already.

♧ This one didn't have much of a problem to talk about what he was feeling. Obviously, he still felt nervous,but he already had this connection with you at this point and didn't want to mix things or live on the limb of "does they feel the same or not?". He was comfortable with you, so he just took a deep breath,gathered some courage, and spoke up. Friends or partners,having you either way is all he wanted.

♧ Having 2011 Tintin as a partner is,believe it or not,the most normal between those three.

You're probably his first as well and about romance. The only thing he got close to it was a book probably, but he's a quick learner. If you had other relationships through the time you two were friends,hearing your complaints or if you hadn't dated before and only talked about what you would like on a partner when you finally found one was a precious acknowledge he kept and used (not that he needed much,bro is already a perfect boyfriend material😌)

♧ Dating life is change here.

As a friend,he kept things as such. Mindful,respectful, and polite like with everyone else but now with this new level of intimacy he could be a little extra. Different from 61 and 91,he make you tag along because he trust your abilities,of course he still get worried but it's just normal,he doesn't stop you from coming,only when he's sure the danger is real bad.

♧ His main love languages are words of affirmation and touch. Quality time as well,but those two are what he does the most.

♧ A thing I just know for sure is that he really likes to pay attention to you. If you change you hair,even a little he'll compliment you. New style,skin care routine,the stimimg you do about something you like to talk,watch or read and etc,he commit every little thing to memory.

♧ The words of affirmation always come out like a loud thinking or an observation about something you do. Like,he'll watch for a while,smile to himself before speaking, "Your nose twitch when you're focused,it's absolutely endering." Never fail to get you flustered,great success. And if it's not enough..

♧ ✨️The eye contact✨️

He does it normally to anyone,but with you is something more meaningful. He's not only watching,his appreciating and admiring and a little something. This Tintin pass me the idea that letting his emotions real clear with words is not one of his strengths,so he tries his best to convey it through his gaze,that's why he hold the eye contact to make himself clear when he will compliment you.

♧ Dates are a mix of 91 and 64 versions.

He does like to plan it,but only when it's been a while since you guys go out because mostly,the dates are either on his apartment,your house, or Moulinsart. He cherishes much more those moments when it's just you and him spending time together like cooking,reading a book,playing with Milu and etc. To change a bit from the same old comes the planned or random dates,why random? It's just his luck. It can start with an evening strolling through the city doing some shopping and end with you two helping a person that just happened to be kidnapped not so far from where you both was,don't doubt it.

♧ What he like the most about you? Smile.

Plan and simple. Get him all warm inside and automatically bring a smile to his lips as well,what is a bit funny because it happens even with just a memory of it. Like a loose smile, you know?

♧ Petnames and touch.

Darling>>>>>>>

He prefers to offer his arm for you to hold when walking together. His touches are basically the same as the 61 version but less frequent,like not in a clingy manner, although he has this thing of touching when he speaks or explains something and always,I repeat,always ask before doing so. Even if you guys are dating for more than three years,he will still be asking if he can hug or cuddle with you (91 tintin does the same. And,although not clingy he have the same thing 61 have about this urge to be touching you even if slightly)

♧ The first kiss wasn't exactly planned but was on a planned date.

He was preparing for this dinner picnic on the weekend for a while now. Payed for some of your favorite snacks and sweets,champagne or juice if you wanted,even buyed a new blanket to use just for a little extra.

The night was smooth and great just how it should be,he was leaning on the nearby tree with your back against his chest,your eyes closed to fully enjoy the feeling of his arms around you while one of his hands where holding yours making that familiar caress on the back of it that never failed to take all the worries from your mind.

He took a moment to appreciate your face,how the soft light framed your cheeks,the faint shadow the tree provided on you,those small marks your face had,every little thing that made you,you. And finally,your lips. His heart raced with the desire to feel it but hesitant to disturb your peace,he leaned down,just enough to nuzzle the tip of his nose against yours to gain your attention.

Your eyes flutter open, and his heart skips a beat again by the soft and loving gaze directed to him. His hand leaves yours for a moment,reaching your face as his thumb tentatively brushes against your lower lips, bringing a soft blush to your cheeks. He made a silent plead with his eyes without courage to break this comfortable and intimate silence,avoiding your gaze to your lips then back up,with an small nod and shy smile from you, Tintin finally closed the gap between you two with a loving kiss.

A/N: Yo,long time, huh? I'll not be fully back on the blog until March because I will be busy studying for an important test, but this time, i came prepared! I will let some posts ready and programmed through those months I will be out to not let it die. This post is special for his birthday (that I lost last year but not this one!).

Anyway,that's sums things up enough. Thank you for reading,bye bye!

[hecallsmegirlieee]

blue couple

m.list ◦ askbox

synopsis: after months of breaking up, you and timothée meet again at your friends’ engagement party

He never learnt what your favourite flowers were—he never learnt many things.

You broke up in the last days of spring, but you didn’t realise what had happened between you until much later.

It all happened at a small café near the river. The place wasn’t symbolic or held any importance, just an équidistant overlap between your apartment and his. The weather seemed to mock you; air fragrant with dewy grass and basil, evening stretched infinitely. You ordered a tea you didn’t drink. He asked for a coffee he never touched.

There was no spectacle for the strangers in the audience, no dramatic scene, no theatrics. I’m falling behind, you finally said, after a million excuses and endless miscommunication. It took you everything to look at him in the eyes. Timothée couldn’t understand, he barely understood anything these days to the point where you didn’t even recognise him. He didn’t argue. And that’s when you realised, you had lost him. You left before he could. It felt important that you leave first.

Soon, summer came, and with it, a transatlantic barrier. You left for your island.

Deep down in memory lane, you didn’t mind the wind luring your hair or the sun caressing your cheek. You sat on the deck of the boat at those glistering white seats, gazing at the islands you passed by.

The summer before, you were together. You were leaning on the railings of the ship side by side, and he was pointing at an islet or an island rock, expecting you to know everything.

Timothée was the first person you met to your family officially, and they all fell for his charisma. It was important for you, you had explained.

All day you spent at the beach, taking him from village to village with your scooter, swimming in different waters every day and watching the green ray, from a million different angles. You walked the centre’s square, the cobblestone roads, all the places you’ve walked your whole life and felt as if it was the first time. He cut a jasmine branch as you passed by a small alley, the time was midnight, and he said he had never smelled anything like it, which you found strange.

Back then, you thought it would last forever. It’s strange how things change.

And change came with whispers. The word was out; he found someone new. It was as if he did it on purpose, as if he wanted to show you how easily replaceable you were, or maybe show you that you were never the only one for him. Suspicions clung up to you and never really left.

You felt like a fool, you wanted to hide from the sun.

That summer was long and torturous. Sunlight seeped into your chest, heavy and restless. You gazed at the sea, silent and craving, sniffing the swift of colours, as though it might carry something back. You prowled through the streets hunting for the liquid measure of his steps, for the curve of his mouth, his voice, his hair, his sleek laugh. But settled for the solace in fleeting angels of compassion that smelled of salt and stone.

How could he do this to you ? To you, who loved him. And still, after everything, you awoke every day hoping that he would be there, that he would wake you up and tell you that it was just a dream, you were sleeping, and that he would never let you sleep again unless you woke up the next morning beside him.

You wondered if in the midst of his chaotic life, he ever thought about you, just for a second.

Autumn arrived with golden days and silver nights. You were walking down memory lane, but now you were back. It wasn’t a place you wanted to live anymore. You harmonised with your new Heraclitean reality. Your heart flapped after a long time. And the thought of his hand grazing your face made your skin crawl in a way that felt like betrayal.

Yet life is a cruel comedian, and once you thought that everything was over, he was back into your life, squeezed into a small apartment with fifty other people, under a haze of dim lights and careless laughter. You couldn’t count the times you had dreamed of that moment, but simultaneously, you dreaded the time it came.

Cigarettes were burning low. Rippling faces circled around under technicolour lights, all posing and itchiness. In the middle of the cacophony, he was standing near a thrown-open window; cigarette on his lips, talking to some guys with someone next to him.

The evening breeze brushed past him. Shivers and obsessions straightened him, his gaze flickering to the people around the apartment, but his attention always came back to you. And every time he looked at you, the moment stretched and lasted as long as his eyes were on you. You considered leaving. His stare made you numb, your instincts were dying; a ridiculous figure.

His glance left an imprint on anything it dwelt on until his eyes fell on a foreign hand that sat on your shoulder as if it always belonged there. Tim lightly smiled in bitterness, everything was insultingly familiar. His heart was about to explode, but to you, he seemed quite relaxed.

You caught yourself glancing at her, the ease with which she stood beside him, all dolled up that you’d want to hit save, as if no one existed before her and no one after her. She made your shoulders deflate. You were curious as to what kind of a dancer she was. Did he call her babe ? Did she see you ? Did she even knew about your existence ? And just like that, your night was ruined.

The weight of the air around you heavy, almost suffocating. There he stood, and there you were, and the night refused to end.

« What’s wrong ? »

« Nothing is wrong, » you shook your head very unconvincingly. « I’m going out for a smoke. »

« Want me to come ? »

« No, » you said, glancing back through the crowd.

You walked through the heavy mist of smoke and alcohol hastily, unsure of what you were doing or where you were going.

The staircase outside was empty. You couldn’t bring yourself to look back. You made your way down the spiral steps. The black and white floor seemed to be moving in waves, but you pushed past that green wooden door and cool night air hit you in a way that made your skin alive with the sting of memories.

You sat on the last step, your legs drawn up under you. The cat, always the same cat, that twirled around the neighbourhood, looked at you with half-lidded eyes as if she was expecting you. She purred, rushing closer in a playful mood, hitting her head on your legs. You reached down and ran your fingers through her soft fur.

You said you were going for a smoke, you didn’t even have cigarettes with you.

The sounds of the party turned into a distant melody. He was inside and you were out. You cursed yourself for leaving. You cursed yourself for staying on the dirty steps of that old building in the middle of winter. It was ridiculous, pathetic even, how you sat there with your back open to the cold, like a creature of the night, waiting for him.

The cat purred more insistently, pressing into your touch, and you let her distract you; her presence so familiar and unburdened by the weight that only humans can carry.

You thought of the café again, the way you had left before he could. The way you had always been so hasty to make your exit, even now.

The door slammed shut.

If it was anyone else, you’d be painfully disappointed. You looked at him on top of your shoulder. Your gaze moved back to the road.

Timothée didn’t speak at first. He lingered at the door, a little too far away but close enough. He had no jacket either, he left it behind in a hurry.

« You left without saying goodbye. »

« Didn’t think it mattered. »

Timothée stepped closer, devouring the meters separating you. He sat parallel beside you, his distance kept intact, just the way it always was when he wasn’t sure whether he should stay or leave.

The cat padded over to him, nudging his legs with her head and a soft smile grew on his lips. He bent down slowly, fingers reaching to her almost instinctively.

« There she is, » he said, holding out a hand. The cat sniffed his fingers cautiously before leaning into his touch, purring loudly. You watched as he scratched behind her ears, his movements unhurried, almost tender. He laughed warmly, and the tension vanished, just slightly. « At least someone’s happy to see me. »

« Do you blame me ? »

« I don’t blame you for anything. »

You sat in silence, and the frame slowly shrank. How did time pass like that ? It was sweet and sorrowful winter. The streets were empty. The smell of almond trees hung in the air, and an aeroplane passed among the stars.

So many thoughts drifted by. You wanted to tell him that back on the island, seaweed reached the shores, and a cicada froze right in front of your eyes. You also wanted to tell him that you had been waiting for him all summer.

Your hands were shaking. A breeze passed through you and tangled your hair gently.

« I didn’t think I’d see you here. »

« Yeah, I’d be a real asshole if I didn’t show up, » he said and then looked at you, longing to see your eyes. Your silence, his response. He hesitated. « Would it have changed anything ? If you knew I’d be here. » You shook your head. « Seb invited me. »

« He didn’t think you’d come either, » you mumbled. « He said you didn’t want to keep contact. »

« He said that ? »

« He also said you’re an asshole. » Tim laughed at that and your heart filled with warmth. Everything was familiar. Your stare moved to him and he retreated. 

« Yeah, things are a mess lately, but I wouldn’t miss it. »

The cat came by your feet. You wondered if he had forgotten how many hours you had spent there, in these very steps, with that very cat keeping you company, waiting for your friends to return or just for them to stop arguing and damn open the door.

« Can you believe it ? They’re engaged, like engaged to be married. » A genuine smile tugged on your lips, and you nodded. « You think they’ll last ? », he pointed with his head to the door. You glanced back toward the window, where the sounds of the party echoed. Nothing had changed inside.

« Why not ? »

« I don’t know, they were like the least likely to last, » Tim said, naturally leaning closer. Chin on top of arm, frighteningly intimate, he examined you and your responses. « They were fighting all the time. » You let a small laugh, almost self-deprecating.

« Petty acts of hostility. Nothing matters if the essential love is there. »

In the dim of the street lights, one could barely make out who was who. Cold had drawn you close, or maybe it was something else that filled even the most long pauses.

« Didn’t ask, how you’ve been ? »

« Good. »

« You look different. »

« You too. » Timothée chuckled boyishly behind his arm.

« It’s the hair. »

« No, it’s not the hair. It’s something else, » you murmured, already regretting the words that left your mouth. You felt shy and fearful, despite the proximity between you.

« What ? »

« I don’t know. »

« Good or bad ? »

« Forget it, » you shook your head dismissively.

He stretched his legs out, his shoes scuffing softly against the pavement below. The cat wandered off, her tail flicking lazily in the air. You figured he was about to leave. But he stayed, leaning down on his knees. His mouth was agape, and his eyes wandered away, thinking of the next thing he was going to say. In contradiction to you, he came more prepared.

« Nice guy inside, » he said, stare on you, gauzing your reaction. « Is it serious ? »

« Serious enough. »

« That’s not an answer. »

« That’s the only one you’re getting, » the words rang in your voice like an irrevocable verdict of a judge.

« Don’t be like that. »

You looked at him, taken aback. He shook your hitherto conviction of the nature of this encounter. Surprised by the turn of the conversation, you felt a strange anger warming your insides, maybe it was pain, but bitterness the most.

« And what about you ? Have you figured it all out ? » Timothée lingered on your words, they stang him. An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth.

« I haven’t figured out anything. »

You couldn’t think of anything to say and neither did he. Maybe there wasn’t anything to be said anymore. Maybe language was over. Tim glanced at you, noticing the way your eyes drifted into the darkness.

« You know, I’m thinking about it, and I really shouldn’t have come here. »

« You shouldn’t have. » A heavy, almost tortured exhale escaped his throat and pain rushed through you. Your stare found him again, and this time with voice warm and soft after releasing the venom, you spoke. « Why are you here ? »

« I don’t know... »

« You don’t know ? »

« I wanted to talk. » You were begging him for a look, but he refused to meet your eyes. « I don’t know. I think about you, a lot. »

« You have someone else to think about. »

« It’s not like that. »

Timothée met your gaze, and his eyes seemed to glow in the dark. He turned up unannounced in your life. A part of you wanted to hold his face, touch him, kiss him, but an ivy climbed your auditorium. And spring passed once again between you, breathing through the ivy, squeezing you until you broke.

Toothless now, blind, you sawed diligently at the branch of your soul, lest it bloom again, lest love resurrect, and spring dare to dance in the cold.

« Were you cheating on me ? », your tone was strangely calm.

« You think I was cheating on you ? »

« Can you stand the truth ? » His face distorted as he looked at you, unable to find his voice. You shook your head dismissively a small sardonic smile tugging at your lips. « Don’t answer... I get it you couldn’t stand being seen with what’s-her-face anymore. »

« You think so little of me ? » Pain misshaped his features, pure, unadulterated pain, you couldn’t have possibly imagined. You brushed it off with a long grieving breath.

« Not even a month, Timothée. How could you do this to me ? », your voice was sad, not angry as one might have expected. « You moved on so fast like nothing mattered to you. And you didn’t even try to be discreet. You humiliated me in my family and my friends. »

« That wasn’t my intention, » he mumbled.

« And what was your intention ? », you almost smiled. « You made me feel like shit, and now you come here acting like nothing happened ! »

« So, it’s all on me for moving on ? », Timothée raised his brows. You didn’t reply. « Remember that you were the one who ended things. I didn’t want to break up. »

« You didn’t want to break up ? Why didn’t you do anything about it ? »

« I should have, okay ? I think about that day all the time. I should have stopped you, I should’ve said something. » You shook your head and he tried to catch your eyes. « You knew I was in a really bad place. And you left. »

« I left because I thought you wanted me to leave ! », your voice cracked at the end. The overwhelming and unspoken nature of your feelings almost brought tears to your eyes. « I thought that’s what you wanted ! With everything that was going on, I was a burden to you ! »

« You were never a burden to me and you know it ! »

« I don’t—I didn’t. I needed you too, you know, » you looked at him. « You are a really hard person to be with, Tim. » 

« I don’t know what to say. »

« Don’t say anything. »

Timothée bit his lips, torn between staying and leaving. His words seemed to vanish like all the dreams you never lived. He came with the hope of telling you how much he missed you, that he still loved you, but you killed all his romanticism point blank. And the way you were looking at him as if he was a stranger, broke his heart. He didn’t know what to tell you because love doesn’t know how to speak properly.

« I wasn’t cheating on you, » he finally confessed.

« It doesn’t matter anyway. Not now. »

Timothée covered his face with his palm and breathed out. He murmured your name, and your heart sank.

« I just wanted to hurt you. »

« You wanted to hurt me ? »

« I wanted you to remember. You left so easy, I was angry— »

« Fuck you, » you said, pulling yourself away from him and stood up. His eyes followed you. « You’re an asshole. You shouldn’t have come here ! You shouldn’t have said anything to me ! »

« I know I’m an asshole but I wanted you to know because I miss you— »

« Stop this, I’m going inside. »

« And I love you. »

His words lingered in the air like the final note of a song, reverberating with an aching clarity. You didn’t look at him—couldn’t.

« You don’t mean it. »

« You want me to say it again ? », he asked, a faint, uncertain smile forming.

« No. ��

« I love you. I never stopped loving you, » Timothée said softly, his voice swallowed by the pounding of your heart.

« It’s late, » you murmured.

« For us ? », his gaze searched yours, hopeful, desperate.

« The time. It’s late. »

The door creaked open, the sound pulling both your heads toward it. It swung wide with a heavy thud.

« Hey. » His voice cut through the tension, calm but laced with something unreadable. Timothée’s gaze shifted to him, his expression hardening as he stood in the doorway and exchanged a glance between you. « I thought you were on the roof. I brought your jacket. »

Your hesitation filled the air, thick and unspoken. You drifted between two words. Finally, you glanced at Timothée one last time, something unreadable passing between you.

« Bye. »

[mysteriousxgirls]

Hana watched him stand, a bittersweet smile playing on her lips as he ruffled her hair. His words, light and teasing, made her heart swell with affection for him, though she could feel the weight of everything unsaid lingering between them. She didn’t respond to his playful remark, not because she didn’t want to, but because her heart was too full of the quiet, unspoken truth she couldn’t bring herself to say. She remained seated, her fingers resting on the spot where his warmth had lingered moments before. Even in the silence, there was something so incredibly comforting about his presence. It was as if no matter how much their worlds shifted or changed, they would always find their way back to one another. As the door clicked shut behind him, Hana allowed herself a deep breath, still feeling the echo of his vulnerability, still wrapped in the afterglow of the connection they’d shared. Her eyes drifted to the window, her gaze distant, unfocused. She couldn’t help but think about the things she could never say, the thoughts that still haunted her in the quiet of moments like this.

Maybe if the accident never happened… She thought, her mind wandering to that time before everything changed. Maybe if I was still the same person I was then… if I still had my voice… maybe I could have been the person he deserves.

Her chest tightened as the memory of her former life, her former self, tugged at her heart. Before the accident, before her voice was taken from her (even if it was a choice), she was someone else entirely. Someone strong, someone whole. But now, she was broken. And no matter how much Everest cared for her, she still couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t worthy of his love. He deserved so much more than this—more than someone who couldn’t even speak without struggle, more than someone who could no longer offer the world she once thought she could. She had never quite realized how much her music had defined her until it was gone. There were times when she would find herself watching old videos of her performances, of her old band, just to hear her own voice again. The sound of it was so foreign now, as if it belonged to someone else. Someone stronger, someone unbroken. Each note, each word, was a painful reminder of what she had lost.

And yet, here she was, sitting in silence, holding onto a connection with Everest that she couldn’t quite understand. He was so much to her, yet she felt like she was giving him nothing in return. She wanted to tell him—tell him how much she appreciated him, how much she longed for things to be different. But there was a part of her that feared if she did, it would all fall apart. That he would see her for what she really was now—broken, incomplete—and walk away. And that fear, that silent terror, kept her tongue tied, her heart heavy with unspoken words.

She closed her eyes and exhaled, willing herself to push those thoughts aside for now. Maybe one day, everything would fall into place. She hoped, she really did. But for now, it was just a dream. And dreams were dangerous. They were fragile things, often slipping away when you least expected them to. But no matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise, the truth remained: She didn’t deserve him. Not in the way he deserved someone whole. Someone who could be his equal in all things.

he wasn’t the best at showing emotions other than his anger when someone innocent would suffer. all of the rest has been bottled deep within and at this moment, it erupted like a volcano. the hot lava was his tears burning as they continued trickling down his face. the sweet and caring gestures from hana were like the green light for him to just let it all out. his body shaking while he cried, even when he felt the lingering kiss on the top of his head, then the slight weight of her head resting against his. while his heart ached, he could have sworn it also felt a certain warmth at the same time. unknowingly to her, she was mending him. her actions spoke louder than any word could, everest knew that. aside from their bickering, which he absolutely loved, she always took such good care of him to the point he had sat alone at home, thinking. thinking if he could ever repay her for everything she had done until now. he hated reading into what they had as more than just a friendship, way too scared that if he revealed his feelings, he would ruin everything between them. one day, he would muster up the courage and talk about it. just one day, he would let her know.

with his raging thoughts calming down, his shaking body did too and the tears slowly ceased. taking deep breaths, everest realized his sleeve was soaked with tears after crying a bucket. somehow, the silence wasn’t so deafening now and his chest didn’t feel so tight. her presence, her touch, her warmth was the silent promise she would be there and he knew that, putting him at ease. the familiar ding of his phone indicating that the food he had forgotten he ordered was nearby, made him finally move his arm away. albeit not wanting to move, ruin this intimate moment, he slowly pushed himself to sit up. his expression conveyed just how much this meant to him– her being there and holding him through this eruption of emotions. he would do the same for her in a heartbeat. “ they’ll be here soon. ” he looked at his phone, seeing how their food seemed to be approximately five minutes away. everest got up, giving her hair a gentle but playful ruffle before shooting her a charming smile on his way. “ i'll be right back, don't miss me too much. ” he said while opening the door, making sure to wipe his face using his sleeves as napkins before heading downstairs.

[moeblob]

What Deacon thinks: what did that mean? did he want me to wear a collar too? why else would he mention my neck? i mean, if he /asked/ me i would wear one but he didn't so would wearing one be weird?

What Ymber meant: It's nice to be near someone who isn't tethered to this world to serve it with a physical reminder for all to see.

[hyp3rfixation-h3ll]

Seeing your post about toxic doomed Yuri burgertron/spudmuffin changed my brainwaves. I read it and was like woahhh they ARE toxic doomed Yuri

there is a top 10 messiest breakups botvid and spud / burgertron are in the #1 spot and i will not be considering otherwise. they could have been THE power v-shaped polycule with ulf but fate aligned their destinies and it was not written in the stars . pouring one out for the combo meal of all time 😔✊

[jewishcissiekj]

Quinobi *cries*