#life would simply be so much easier if I could start watching anime again I think.

[sheepie-self-ships]

WHY CANT I BE IN A NORMAL FANDOM THIS YEAR GRAAAAAAAAAAAA

[thefreaksrunthisshow]

Richie working at Beanies, Max is a regular. Occasionally Richie brings Max coffee at school or before games. Idk.

Barista Boy

Max Jagerman x Richie Lipschitz

Genre: Fluff, confessions, first kiss

A/N: I had a great time writing this… I might make it a long fic on my ao3 if there’s enough interest 🫣 Anyway, enjoy!

Richie knew exactly how he ended up as the personal barista of the biggest bully in Hatchfield High. The inability to say no combined with his huge fucking crush on the guy made it virtually impossible for him to avoid it.

Coffee was far from his passion. No, that belonged to the worlds he was able to slip into when watching anime or playing his favorite video games, but Beanies wasn’t a terrible place to work in retrospect. Sure, the customers could be assholes, but that was bound to happen anywhere he worked dealing with the dreaded public. The coffee smell did however make him sick quite often. It seeped into all his clothing, his hair, and his very being. He swore that no matter how much he scrubbed after his shifts there was still a faint scent of coffee. He was convinced the smell had burned itself into his nostrils and he would never escape it.

The scent made it even easier for his predator to find him. Had he not managed to evade Max a time or two he would have thought the jock had a tracking device planted on him. The way he was able to find him at any given moment was uncanny. So he submitted to bringing him coffee as a sort of peace deal.

“You know…” Max started his voice echoing in the empty locker room. He was a big tipsy, they’d just won the biggest game of the season against Clivesdale after all and he couldn’t say no to a few celebratory beers. He sipped the coffee from Richie, turning the cup over in his hands, his leg bouncing with the weight of what he wanted to say.

“Mhmm?” Richie questioned, his head tilted a bit in confusion. Max wasn’t usually one for having difficulties speaking, that was however very normal for himself. Sometimes his mouth moved faster than his brain worked and his words got all jumbled around.

“I absolutely fucking hate coffee,” Max finally whispered.

The weight of his confession hung heavy in the air. If he hated coffee why did he demand such a task from Richie?

Oh… could it be because… surely not?

Richie sucked in a sharp breath, his cheeks on fire as he looked away. Focusing on the nighthawk painted on the wall he began to count backward from ten before he glanced back over at Max, hoping that his flush was less visible now.

“Why?” he simply asked.

“To see you.”

“Me?” Richie asked dumbfounded. Surely he wasn’t hearing things correctly.

Max nodded, throwing the cup of coffee across the room. It landed in the trash can with a soft thud and silence for what felt like an eternity followed. Sobered up by the coffee he scooted closer to Richie on the bench who tensed up as their shoulders collided awkwardly.

Richie mumbled something that Max couldn’t make out, breaking the silence. With a bit of prodding he spoke again, this time a bit louder. “What game are you playing?”

“No game,” he shrugged and Richie relaxed his tense shoulders just a bit.

“I — I should be going,” Richie stuttered. Stumbling to his feet he attempted to run but Max was faster and he found himself pinned against the wall. Knowing a beating was coming he scrunched up his nose and closed his eyes, but it never came. Instead of a fist meeting his face, he felt something featherlight, hesitant, and a bit wet on his cheek for just a moment. His eyes flew open just in time to see Max pulling away from him, a furious red blush on his cheeks.

His eyes cascaded down, hovering over his lips and then up to his eyes. Terror couldn’t even describe his emotions as he found Max slowly moving back towards him, with a hunger in his eyes that he’d never quite experienced in real life before.

Their lips met. Soft, gentle, hesitant of the other.

Just as they were closing in for another kiss they heard loud footsteps coming their way. Panic settled across their faces as they jumped apart just in time for Jason and Kyle to stumble in.

“See ya, nerd,” Max chuckled with a sly wink and joined his friends.

Richie sat in the locker room alone for at least an hour, his lips raw from his constant rubbing trying to process what the fuck had just happened and whether it was nothing more than a dream.

[shortpplfedup]

Chapter 5: Wrong You in the Right Time

I feel like I say this every time, but what an episode. Revelatory in more ways than one, as we learn the story of Wen and Alan, Wen discovers that Li Ming is basically dating, and Heart's parents find out that Heart being deaf doesn't rule out teenage rebellion as a normal part of life. I ended up feeling really sorry for a lot of characters I haven't felt positively about up until now, the power of a good story!

Six years. Wen and Alan spent six years together, slowly souring. And when Wen at least got up to the point when he knew it was over, he still couldn't really end it. Man, staying in a post-breakup quasi-relationship because you still have a glimmer of hope is SO RELATABLE. When you feel like you've failed, the chance of redemption is awfully enticing. Plus, It's not so easy to untangle from somebody after six years together, even when you know the love has gone. Wen dithering for more than a year after the breakup, latching onto Alan's insistence that they can be friends, can still live together, out of guilt or grief or lack of momentum or whatever has been animating him, OOF. It's one thing to fall out of love, but that's why a clean break is always recommended. It's not fair to either party to enter this liminal space. A breakup of a long-term relationship is like a death; you need to mourn, you need to grieve. And you can't do that if you haven't laid things to rest. Maybe Wen wasn't technically cheating with Jim, but he was keeping one foot in both worlds, and that wasn't fair to either Jim or Alan. Him finally ending things properly with Alan, and leaving that condo felt like Wen growing up. Landing on Jim's doorstep though, and Jim taking him in...well we'll see.

I think the fact that there was no specific inciting incident for Wen and Alan and that things just went south over time is so instructive regarding how Wen views love vs. Jim. For Wen, you grab love where you find it and worry about the rest later. For Jim, it has to be right and things have to be clear, it can't be messy. When Jim said heartbreak in your twenties is different from heartbreak nearing forty, I'm here from the other side of 40 to tell you he is absolutely correct. Wen's 'If it doesn't hurt, it's not love' is such a young person's take, let me tell you. Not that every young person feels like that, simply that when you're young, your ability to bounce back from the hurt is so much stronger. When you get your heart broken in your thirties, you feel exhausted, like you just don't have it in you to try again. Easier to just enjoy the life you've built and close up shop, so to speak. Sex is still on the menu but it would take an extraordinary person coming into your life to make you want to get into a relationship again. Love is harder as you get older, that rings true to me at least, and you're warier of people who want to come into your life in that way.

From the time Heart and Li Ming started sneaking out, it was clear that something was going to go wrong eventually, that his parents would find out, and that everything was going to blow up. But this is actually good, this was necessary. Heart has been rotting in that house, turning everything inward, because his parents couldn't understand him even if he bothered to speak, and if they could they wouldn't listen. Watching Jintana helplessly turn to Li Ming pleading for him to tell her what Heart was saying HURT. I think in that moment she finally realises what she's done, how she and Supoch failed Heart. The timing of Heart losing his hearing is so interesting, because it lines up with those years when kids are becoming independent young adults and parents are supposed to be learning how to balance that burgeoning independence with their kids' safety and well-being. That all got stunted with Heart, it's like to his parents he didn't just go deaf he also stopped growing up. They infantilised him, they thought, to protect him, but all it caused was resentment and rebellion. And then on top of that, to not even learn his primary method of communication; you could see how it hit Jintana that Li Ming could talk to Heart and understand him when she just...couldn't. Jintana and Supoch suddenly realised what their family looked like from the outside. When Li Ming went after Heart, nobody tried to stop him, and that spoke volumes to me.

God this SHOW!

Side Dishes

Next episode looks like Jim realises the nature of Heart and Li Ming's relationship and I'm so ready to get into this! Whether Jim knows Li Ming is gay and how he feels about it has been probably the number one simmering pot of this story for me.

Li Ming basically intimating to Jim that he's cool with Wen if Jim wants to pursue that was really cute. The independent big-brother relationship he's built with Wen has been really lovely.

Similarly, Wen instantly recognising that Heart is more than just a friend to Li Ming, and just smiling watching them being cute kids in love was fun.

Li Ming getting Heart a job 🤣😭 my feels!

That moment in the middle of the argument at Heart's house when Heart turns to Li Ming to ask him what's going on because everybody is talking around him and nobody is talking to him was just...ugh.

This past year I've watched First play slutty, and I've watched First play repressed, and now I've now watched First play bitchy, and he's nailed every single one.

[overwhelmed-overweight]

I've gained 25lbs since I quit my job as a waitress in March.

(Gonna start page-breaking my posts since I tend to ramble lmao)

It's been painful watching the scale go up. It's been excruciating knowing that I let it happen. I know I preach a lot about not applying restrictive habits to BED but it really is fucking hard when all you want is the number on the scale to go down.

I'm at the intersection of self-love and self-loathing. I'm wanting to be gentle with myself with the huge issues I have in my life right now, but I'm also wishing I could keep at least one thing, my weight, under control during a time where it feels like everything is spiraling out of control.

Doing 3-hour full-body strength-training workouts 3-4x weekly simply isn't the same as being on my feet carrying heavy trays (and not having access to my kitchen...) for 6-10 hours a day. It was easy to not eat at work since I'm vegan and almost everything had animal products in it. But I've mastered plant-based cooking at home, so it's so much easier to overeat due to the combination of time and food availability.

These 25lbs have destroyed my confidence even if I'm wearing them okay due to my muscle gains. My clothes are getting tighter and feeling it is almost nauseating.

I'm at a breaking point. Tonight, my boyfriend and his brothers were all going bowling and I was supposed to go, too. But everything I wore made me feel disgusting. I lied and said I was too tired to go. Now I'm sitting with these thoughts and feelings of pure, unbridled shame.

I don't know what to do lately. If I had my Vyvanse, the one thing that helped control impulsive eating, I'd be fine. But I've tried to stop taking it because it's so expensive and hard to get into a psychiatrist for and it got to be too much of a hassle with the stimulant shortage. But I regret it. I'm so mad at myself for taking advantage of having it for so long, even though I didn't even know how bad it would be without.

I have no choice but to take this one step at a time.

I'm going to try and stop drinking again before anything else. That's really when my weight shot up.

[setaripendragon]

Vibe Check - Part 3

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 Ianto finally figures out this psychic thing, and Jack has some Feelings about it.

“This is fascinating,” Mote says, some three months into Ianto’s sessions with them.

He’s finally, barely, starting to get a feel for projecting. It really isn’t something that’s easy to describe or explain, somewhere between instinct and intent, but he’s slowly managed to feel his way through the difference of his self when he’s being intimate with Jack and the rest of the time. He can’t quite control it, yet, exactly, but he feels less… something. Or maybe it’s more something. Like his own skin isn’t quite the limit of himself anymore.

“Mm?” Ianto prompts, more focused on trying to find that sensation of openness again.

“Well, it’s very rare to see an adult with absolutely no psychic experience,” Mote explains. “And yet, your progression isn’t quite the same as a young child’s would be, learning this from the cradle. Some things seem to come easier to you, while others are obviously much more difficult. Fascinating.”

Ianto’s curiosity is roused. “Which things?”

“Well, you’re much better than a child would be at recognising and responding to other people’s psychic signatures, even if you don’t always realise that’s what you’re doing,” Mote begins.

“That could simply be having more practise,” Ianto points out. “I’ve been around Jack for… four years now.”

“Hm, yes, that could certainly be an influence,” Mote agrees. “But you definitely have more trouble with… I wouldn’t say projecting, you’re getting the hang of that about as quickly as I expected, but your control of that projection is…”

Ianto grimaces. “Not good,” he agrees ruefully.

“I think that’s the problem,” Mote tells him gently. Ianto gives up trying to… de-armour himself, and stares at them. “You have an expectation of control, where a child would simply…”

“Flail about until they hit on what they wanted?” Ianto suggests, remembering his niece and nephew learning how their bodies worked, how to make their little arms and legs do what they wanted them to. It involved a lot of trial and error.

“Yes,” Mote agrees with a laugh. “Also, you’re clearly… not used to intimacy with strangers.”

Ianto has a horrible suspicion that the word they’d wanted to use was ‘intimidated’. He knows himself well enough to know that he is a very reserved person even for the twenty-first century. He doesn’t like people knowing him unless they’ve been thoroughly vetted and tested first. He figured out in the first week that it’s not a very conducive attitude to psychic communication.

He clears his throat. “No,” he agrees simply.

Mote studies him thoughtfully. Ianto’s grown used to the way they look at him when they’re trying to work out what the next step should be, so he endures the scrutiny. He also tries, not very successfully, to let them see at least the parts of himself he thinks they ought to.

“Perhaps, then, we ought to try a different angle on this,” they suggest finally. “You mentioned one of your motives was to allow others to better understand your relationship with Jack,” they prompt, and Ianto nods. “Well, instead of trying to show me what you are, do you think you can show me what he is to you.”

Ianto takes a breath, and… It’s not exactly easy, but it’s definitely easier. He wants to show Jack off. It’s not quite possessive, but the fact that Jack wants him, wants him enough to make him the cornerstone of his own sex life is heady; something he very much wants to gloat about. It’s a sort of mine, but also the soft awe of watching a wild animal at rest, fully content with the knowledge that it simply cannot be possessed, along with a slightly voyeuristic sense of enjoyment at Jack’s… Jack-ness. Ianto is not an open person, and he doesn’t particularly want to be, but it’s beautiful on Jack. Ianto loves him for it, loves it for him. He wants Jack to be happy, and he’s never happier than when he’s surrounded by people, hip-deep in companionship. Quite literally, more often than not.

And then he sort of bundles all of that feeling up, and drapes it over himself like a cloak. The clothing analogy has been both hindrance and help in figuring out how to make this work, but right now it’s useful. He layers up the same way he’d put on a suit, arranging the pieces in the right order to build the perception of himself that he wants others to see. It takes a while to get it right, but Mote is patient with him, and after perhaps twenty minutes, Ianto lets himself settle.

Mote is beaming at him when he refocuses on them. “Well done,” they say, fiercely pleased.

The moment Ianto stops focusing, of course, the signature starts to unravel, but Ianto knows by now that that’s only to be expected. He’s just not practised enough for it to become habit, automatic, something he can do without thinking. He’ll get there, though.

“That’s a solid signature,” Mote declares, and Ianto feels a thrill of pride. “So, your homework this time is going to be maintaining it,” they inform him, and Ianto nods. “Don’t worry too much about it fading when you’re not focusing on it, but when you notice, take some time to put it back together.” They pause, and then give Ianto a stern look. “If you notice any strain, headaches, or fatigue, let yourself rest.”

Ianto accepts that with slightly mulish grace. He’s not very good at pacing himself, at not working towards his goals at every opportunity, and Mote has absolutely noticed that. However, he does understand that, just like his more physical muscles, he can strain his mind if he pushes himself too hard, and continuing to work like that will only do him harm in the long run.

Still, for now, he spends the rest of his session meticulously patching up his vibes every time they start to slip out of his control, because he kind of wants to show off when Jack comes to pick him up. He made progress today, and he wants Jack to know.

He’s expecting delight, pride, and possibly some congratulatory sex somewhere semi-public. He’s not expecting Jack to look around from the holo-poster he was looking at while he waited for Ianto to finish up and flush pink the moment he spots him.

Ianto doesn’t think he’s ever seen Jack blush before.

His heart gives a delighted little flutter, and he has to bite the inside of his lip to keep from grinning far too broadly. “Jack?” he prompts gently, holding out a hand.

Jack nearly trips in his eagerness to take it, and he’s grinning fit to power half a solar system by the time they get their fingers interlaced. “Look at you,” he says after a long moment, sounding half cheeky, and half awed. His free hand comes up to cup Ianto’s cheek, thumb caressing the arch of his cheek, the side of his eye. “I had no idea…” Jack trails off, apparently unsure how to finish that sentence.

Ianto gives him a look for that. “Really? Not a one?” he challenges, because he doesn’t think he’s ever been particularly subtle about how he feels about Jack, despite his best efforts.

Jack shakes his head on a slightly self-deprecating laugh. “I put the pieces I did have together all wrong, it seems,” he says with a shrug. “I thought you were putting up with my wandering, not… this.”

“Ah,” Ianto says, and then wrinkles his nose. “I may have tried to give you that impression,” he admits. “Not… on purpose, exactly, but…” He doesn’t know how to articulate the difference between Jack’s wandering and Jack wandering.

“Ianto,” Jack says, very softly, and the status quo is restored when Ianto’s cheeks flush with heat at his tone. “I will always come back to you.”

Apparently, he doesn’t need to articulate shit. He reaches up and drags Jack down into a kiss, because a declaration like that deserves a reward or several. Jack kisses him back enthusiastically, and the next time Ianto surfaces for air, he’s pinned up against the wall where the holo-poster used to be; it flickered out the moment Jack pushed Ianto up against it.

“Not sure we should be doing this right in front of Mote’s place,” Ianto murmurs, even as Jack’s mouth finds his pulse.

Jack laughs into his skin. “No,” he agrees ruefully, and he stops moving, although he doesn’t actually move away. “They’re very professional.” Ianto hums an agreement, and leans into Jack when he turns their closeness into a proper hug, tucking his face into the join of Ianto’s neck and shoulder. “Do it again?” Jack asks, so quiet Ianto almost doesn’t hear him, so quiet he could pretend he hadn’t if he wanted to. He doesn’t want to, but it still takes him a long moment to work out what Jack means.

Then he realises that his vibes have slipped. He hasn’t closed himself back up, exactly, but… Ianto thinks he’s being ‘grabby’ at the moment, as Jack would say. He’s projecting nothing so much as his urge to press his fingerprints into every inch of Jack like fossils into bedrock.

Ianto takes a breath, and tries to remember how the vibes had felt. What he puts together isn’t quite the same, he thinks, maybe, but it’s got the same components. Jack, at the center of his universe, and Ianto doesn’t care how many other people are drawn to that light just like he is, so long as he can leave a mark on Jack in turn.

Jack makes an incoherent noise against his skin, holding him tighter.

[somebodys-nuisance]

Loid (Twilight) x Yor's Reverse Love Story

My absolute favorite thing about Spy x Family is watching what a relationship would look like if it was formed in reverse, with the parts that are often the most difficult that, that some couples never quite successfully solidify, being created/acted upon FIRST, due to uniqueness of their situation.

The very first aspect of their relationship they've been forming is Domesticity, which I believe, is the absolute hardest part of a long term relationship to cultivate, simply because it is so mundane and (if you're coming at it from the wrong perspective) quite boring. Things like who handles which tasks in the household, divvying up chores, how to support each other and be understanding of the life skill areas they might personally struggle in, etc etc.

In creating their family unit, these difficult choices, which can often be ego-bruising and patience testing, are the first ones these two need to make. Meanwhile, the two of them barely know each other, which means, their first impressions of each other are assessing each other's strengths and weaknesses in life maintenance, which can often be some of the most embarrassing aspects to reveal to another (Yor's struggles with cooking, Loid's emotional unavailability in regards to Anya, etc...)

This creates a uniquely firm foundation for the trust and understanding necessary to cultivate the other layers of a romantic relationship. They have already gone through the pruning/adjusting process that most couples won't go through until potentially 10 years into a relationship.

The next layer, which they've only just begun to foster, is the Friendship layer. Domesticity can look a lot like coworkers getting used to each other's working styles until you mix some Friendship in there to smooth things out. Now, Friendship can technically come before the layer under it, but in this situation, where any layers that explicitly read as romantic are absolutely O-U-T, this was inevitably going to appear as the second layer. This is where you start to actively seek out the company of your partner, finding fun things to do that you could technically do with any close person in your life. Situations where discussing how much you lovey-dove each other or bumping certain body parts together aren't part of the fun. Talking to one another for fun, going on excursions, seeing something that reminds you of them and then and wanting to show it to them later, etc.

This layer is the newest one, at least in the anime. The one they've just started developing, where they've begun going on "dates" (really hang outs) without Anya involved, started confiding in each other beyond household upkeep, just beginning to enjoy one another. Again, many relationships may actually BEGIN with this layer, but just as many never quite gain this layer at all, only engaging with each other under the pretenses of the other three layers.

SO, with all that said, the last two layers they will develop, will be Romance and, the one most fiction writers are waiting for, Attraction, with Attraction usually being the first layer.

I do actually think we've seen some moments where the Romance layer has started forming. Moments where they stare in awe at each other, where they tell each other how much what they've done means to them, quite a few of those more positive aspects of it. But, the most noticeable element has been the most negative element that comes with the Romance layer, and that is JEALOUSY. I'm sure we will see more examples of this aspect of that layer, since it's much easier to hide the positive aspects as "just being nice" but romantic jealousy is hard to define any other way.

As for the Attraction layer, does that mean I don't believe Twilight and Yor are attracted to each other? Of course not! But, this is the only layer that both of them are consciously and actively trying to suppress, which is one of the factors allowing the process to happen in reverse, actually. They're both master pretenders, but (I guess, luckily) they're also both entirely inexperienced in how love actually works, making them unaware that these other non-sexual feelings they're allowing themselves to develop will only make the suppression of their Attraction harder as time goes on.

Anyway, that was a long-winded way to say how interesting this concept is! It's also extremely informative, in my opinion, to other people interested in a long term, committed, monogamous relationship. It helps to romanticize the less "romantic" aspects of those relationships, glorifying the mundane, and providing a great blueprint for the more difficult aspects of these kinds of relationships.

[kyrodo]

I am not autistic in the sense that I can't understand or be sensitive to social cues. But I have difficulty formulating responses and reactions to social stimuli. My mind is not very creative when I am in social settings, often reusing the same responses like "nice" all the time. It isn't fluid to me. My banter is not dynamic and fluid when I have to use words, at least verbally. And in text it often takes me around 10-15 minutes to type a single message that isn't a 1-3 word response. I don't respond well to constant teasing unless it feels significantly lighthearted.

And yet I've had desires to be in competitive environments like fighting games and league. Often being at least halfway decent but not wanting to step further into online play or ranked. Because I do know someone is happy when they win and it isn't me and I feel defeat and a bit sad when I lose, so much so that I don't try. Especially when people start rubbing in the fact that they won, then I really don't want to play.

And yet that is the expectation and culture of pvp overall. A culture that I was content orbiting around in muted aram matches. But it applies to everything socially. I am not like Red when it comes to everything needing to be by the book except social environments to some degree, because I lack the fluidity of someone that can crack jokes beyond easy puns, or make impressions of character voices IRL and sound funny. I can't do that. It is physically against my very nature, too expressive, too not boring, too animated that I can only really get close to that kind of interaction when I'm doing my animal noises.

Because I simply do not have the energy. I am hard shelled like a turtle, at least normally. The mmd dances similarly express fluid movements that I would not be able to make so smoothly even if I practiced them. I am not fluid in anything. I am solid like a rock. Heavily staying in comfort zones as often as possible, to limit the amount of times I do anything embarrassing. Keeping a jacket on when it's barely cold just to stay at comfortable temperatures, etc. Whether it's temperature, situations, social banter etc, I cannot take risks, and every time I do failure is crippling and stops me from ever wanting to try again. I do not like being exposed. The only exception is online in my personal posts, where I feel distant enough from any kind of reaction that I can write about anything and post it. When I was in my spiral, I jumped out of my element as much as I possibly could because it limits me, it keeps me from making friends that I can keep in constant contact with without relying on Red or another social hub to take care of that for me.

I am the type to close the window when I feel any kind of cold draft or wind because I don't like being exposed to outside elements. But this is true figuratively as well in every possible way. And the worst kind of environment I can be in is one where people recognize that my attempts to interact are so incredibly rare, but they will still hurt me for even trying with absolute impunity.

It would be simpler if feelings were never a part of our interaction, because what serves me may not serve someone else. All these things I was hoping for makes my life easier and happier but not necessarily yours. Having you as a social hub, having the possibility to attend furry conversations and meets again or do game nights with or just hang out with in general. Having someone to play games with. I hoped for so much through you and I failed to make that dream a reality because I pushed for it too hard. So much so that I fell hard for you to motivate myself to make it happen, out of a naive desperation to replace everything I was losing, the friends I was leaving behind.

And I can't put it anymore plainly really. I'm on the verge of tears just writing this and hearing myself say it in my head. But you knew. You all knew and all you did was point and laugh and watch me hit the pavement. I'm sure there were kinder approaches than some of the things I wrote, the insults, the dissing, the poetic expressions, but my hopes were what drove all of it even if it drove me into the ground. And the fact that you failed to recognize that until it was too late no matter how hard I tried to make that clear, you treated me like ass, in ways that my stupid insults cannot compete. Even if you weren't meant to be my answer, there were kinder ways to abandon me too.

Enternode, Lawrence, Vera, all the cheap ways I took emotionally to try to heal the wound you left behind and somehow I'm still damaged. Even with Choskey by my side now nothing will ever heal the way you hurt me. Even Kay's argument with me, which I'm sure Vera would've been more than happy to shutdown, is nothing in comparison. No one in my life has ever truly been my enemy until you. No one has ever hurt me so personally and so unforgivably like you. And the fact that I chose to still let that go is a miracle and a statement. A statement of my spirit, of who I am, of how much better a person I am than you will ever be. I don't have the nicest words for people whenever I'm mad about something but my actions have their limits. In your world, your only limit is when someone dies.

And what kind of idiot sympathizes with the very person they are actively trying to hurt. Who can't figure out whether to hurt me or support me. There's something deeply wrong with you if you have to go that far against someone and realize what you were doing was wrong. There's something deeply wrong with your entire system of judgements, assumptions, and engagement. And I hope you realize that. I hope you never hurt anyone again. Stop deflecting blame, stop being irresponsible and unaccountable, because you have every right to be ashamed of yourselves. Other than the stalking and the ranting, I at least kept some level of honor. You have absolutely nothing. The only time you did anything right was when you finally left me alone, but not without attempts to continue what you started. It's funny how you'll recognize my story about being bullied in highschool with a meme but every possible action you take are the actions of a bully. You never want the cycle of abuse to end. Because your happiness is always at the expense of another. You get off on having someone to hurt. But it won't be me ever again.

The only time you express anything remotely polite or tactful is when you're lying through your teeth. And how could I forget that? How does one truly move on when the wounds go so deep, when the will to hurt is so blatant and thinly veiled? When you're only just nice enough to keep me from walking away right away? So you can keep going. Keep sending malicious memes my way, making cheap jabs at every tiny thing that happens in my life so you could at least pretend I deserved any of it. You know how much rejection hurts me so you kept trying to see how many times you could get me to jump off the same cliff, and for what? What the actual fuck is wrong with you?

So let's fast forward to today. I am a better person, but not in the sense that I was never a good person. But in the sense that my emotions aside from trauma are controlled, that the repercussions of me being mad about something and posting online about it are at least cohesive and easy to follow along, and the words I use I at least know enough about to avoid problems. That I developed a code to make sure people like you never target me, and even if they were to they wouldn't be able to make it look even remotely good. I can rely on Red when I need to, he wants me to anyway as that was apparently what angered him the most about the incident. I just wish the damage hadn't already been done. But I have an approach to poly now. It is going successfully now. I am not reacting to every little thing on the Internet just because it "sounds mean". I have my boundaries, I have my code, and I have clarity.

Love can make it seem like it would be difficult to imagine life without someone. But at this point in your case that would be a sick joke at best. There isn't a single positive thing you would have brought into my life that wouldn't have been disproportionately outweighed by the negatives. You are legitimately shitty, and I don't even have to sensationalize or exaggerate any of it cause your actions speak so loudly for themselves that even I'd have trouble talking over it. I'll take being immature depressed and old, but at least I don't jack off to trying to fuck up someone's life, not even after all the times you rejected me or broke my heart. I never did anything like you. Like I said before, you are nothing more than a mistake, and I can say that because I would never pull off what you did to anyone. Especially not when you should have known better. You didn't even stop to verify if I was bad or not when you started spying on me, you just wanted me to know you were harassing me. And that is incredibly stupid and sad. What the hell does someone have to do to get through to you that doesn't involve you being a total fuckup? But I guess seeing is believing asshole. The only thing you never expected was that it was all real. And that is the stupidest thing I've ever had to deal with.

I'm sure everyone gets their list of crazy exes, but you didn't even fucking try to not make the list. No it was like you were specifically trying to hit #1. Well good fucking job. I walk away knowing even through all the stupid hopeful and flip floppy bullshit I was doing I never did anything like you. And even funnier is that if I wanted to I could take snapshots of my real life, videos too and be fine. I could prove everything I said my life was like because I'm not fake like you. I'm more than happy to so everyone who didn't have the direct feed will know exactly who you were fighting against. The worst mistake you made was when you made me your target. If you thought you could get away with that without anyone knowing any better, you were super fucking wrong. I suggest you manage your beehive better or you'll keep losing friends asshole.

Perhaps the most ironic thing about all of this is socially I didn't get ruined by you at all. But from your side you had everything to lose. And no amount of bullshit can cover what you did. You sacrificed everything to get back at me and you most likely paid the price. My stories add up, yours fucking don't. There's nothing stupider than realizing what you were doing was a bad idea, and going through with it anyway. You are a total dipshit. You made being a fuckup a super power.

I almost wish I could have seen the other side of this so I could figure out how you were able to justify it and keep going, or see how you managed to keep any of your followers or friends afterwards, cause holy fuck. What goes through the mind of someone who thought any of this was a good idea? What drives someone to go this far into enacting and ensuring the extent of their cruelty is known? The words I say out of anger can be harsh but they are still words. Words were enough to make you fall this far into being a total sack of shit. Not even verbal words, no, text on a fucking screen. I don't even have the social energy to say all this out loud and you fucked up. You weren't even good at it either, you kept getting everything wrong or temporarily sympathizing with me and it was really fucking pathetic.

With you, the closer you get to reality the harder it is for you to operate, and you made the worst possible mistake. I get stronger the clearer my words are. And I am stronger than I have ever been. It is much harder for you to attack me when I am not trying to wrap my words in some kind of subtext, when I am not adopting your idiotic forms of miscommunication. When I think back on the roadmap of our interactions, it is crystal clear how much weaker you became when things escalated into my daily life. And while my heart was still at your mercy back then that I was still considering overlooking all of it, it certainly isn't now.

To this day I haven't looked back. Regardless of how immensely curious I became, my eyes are shut to you forever. Because I know you'll find a way to make me regret it. You always have. I head canon'd us as Mae and Gregg at the beginning as one of the many things that made me feel some kind of connection to you. It was mainly just color scheme, but we couldn't be any further from that dynamic. Even though I was always quick to pop off on Twitter or FA with a rant, you're type of anger doesn't stop there. And everyone you had watching me in order to make a joke out of me, I will make sure that you answer to them. I will make sure that your atrocities are known, that everyone sees you for who you really are, that not a single thing you say will suffice to cover your asses. The truth lives on, your falsehoods won't.

You put yourself in a position where no matter how you villainize me, you are fucked. And you will have to live with that. There's a point where oops my bad doesn't cut it anymore and when I have to rub every detail I already posted before you chose to peak in in your face a second time that's way passed that point a thousand times over. And I shouldn't have had to at all. What kind of fucked up universe do you live in? When does your distrust stop? When will you learn that what I say goes cause history certainly seems to back me up every fucking time. No one ever has to go this far to prove anything unless someone is deliberately being an asshole. The real question is how the ever living fuck did you screw up that badly? You tried to punch an incoming train and got completely wrecked. You used every last tool at your disposal and got completely wrecked cause you didn't fucking listen. You don't accept anything above a metaphor or a cheap meme as communication and you got wrecked. All the poetic justice in the world will never properly describe your failure, in responsible action, in communication, in conduct, in trust. Every last detail about your fuck up is so undeniably stupid, and pointless that to this day I still struggle to figure out how you managed to get to that point.

You can downplay your actions as much as you want. It's the white thing to do after all. Logic after all only has meaning when it serves you. Your role in our entire interaction in a nutshell. Everyone gets to hear what I have to say unimpeded by you, uncontrolled, unmanipulated and you can't do shit about it anymore. You should have thought about that before you crossed the line.

I remember when you used to express sadness whenever I chose to leave you alone. Take a look at Choskey's timeline on Twitter and the fact that we're going strong after a few months now with Red aware of us, and fuck off. I can't fix your problems, I can't fix the way you shut down everything and still expect me to come crawling back. Or how negatively you react whenever I want to talk about feelings or ask for any kind of clarity from you. Maybe if you actually understood the laws causality as a result of your own actions things would make way more sense. You have always been the main bottleneck of our interaction and everything goes so much smoother when you're not there because you've always been the problem. You want want want until it's at your doorstep and then you're done with me every single time and now I'm done with you.

What makes my love with Choskey successful is willingness to actually discuss things with each other, even thoughts and feelings when we're pessimistic or negative. And I am patient with him even during those moments because you wouldn't do the same for me. It's not like everyone has to be perfect or anything especially in early adulthood but you can also choose not to be a fucking moron.

[melodygordon]

My Story

I’m Melody and I’m a traditional painter learning digital painting. I’ve loved art my whole life and was one of the ‘art kids’ growing up. I didn’t think I could draw good enough to get into art school, so I briefly stopped drawing and painting to pursue writing in college, another passion. I developed an aptitude for writing, but I never stopped thinking about art or dreaming about what could have been if I’d never stopped.

After several years in journalism and web development, I had brief stints in web design and graphic design. I suffered in media because of my introverted personality and I never found a job in tech so my much-wanted career change didn’t materialize. And I was still too afraid to pursue art fully.

I’d been reading more about mental health, learning more about my challenges and the challenges of others, and soon I was as fascinated with that as much as I was by art.

My personal mental health journey led me to a Clinical Mental Health Counseling master’s program. Despite thinking counseling was maybe my calling, after trying it out for a year and a half, it wasn’t for me. When I enjoyed creating the PowerPoint slideshow for my research more than the actual research, it became obvious that my calling was still calling.

Even as a graduate school student and eventual dropout, I was never far from art, instead I found it easier to be in the periphery than to follow it straight on. The creative side of me was living off crumbs. All the writing I did and graphics I made occasionally as a hobby did nothing more than scratch an itch.

The most obvious choice was right in front of me. I’d always fought one of my biggest fears – becoming a ‘starving artist’ – by looking for those interests I thought would be safer. But avoiding risk doesn’t mean you’re safe and it certainly doesn’t mean you’ll be happy.

After leaving graduate school and finding a regular job, my hunger to be an artist again only grew. I saw art everywhere. I was obsessed with colors and light. I wanted to start again but I was still scared.

Somehow, I’d ended up in the worst place a person with a creative soul could be: in a gray cubicle on a telephone. I was working as a cog in a machine for 40 hours a week.

I was still following my favorite artists, watching my favorite animation, researching art programs, going to galleries, and regretting all the paths I didn’t take that would have led me to where I’d always dreamed of going.

This was all before the pandemic. Once the world changed, I thought more and more about the future, since it seemed to be in danger of disappearing right in front of our eyes. I had visions of myself at a big canvas on an easel in a home studio, painting beautiful pictures, and sharing them with the world. I daydreamed about pencils and paintbrushes again. I wandered down the traditional art aisles in craft stores. I looked at other artists with deep seated jealousy.

2020 was a hard year that led into an even harder one. I was so lost. By late summer/early fall of 2021, one question emerged: what do you really want to do with your life?

Like so many people, I had experienced profound losses, unexpected deaths, and I was wading through grief that was thick as mud. I couldn’t stop thinking about what comes next.

Life felt more fragile than it had ever felt and simply appreciating art wasn’t enough. I wanted to be submerged in it. I wanted my life to be fully immersed. I’d tried all the other safe, appropriate things in life. I’d done as I was told. I had my big girl job and my own home and more time than I’d ever had before.

So why not go all out? I was finally ready to get out of my own way.

I bought some cheap sketchbooks and I did Inktober, unofficially. I finished the month with 30 ugly drawings. But there were a couple I liked. I knew I had to made bad art before I could make good art. I wanted to get the ugly out of my system. There were so many pretty pictures inside of me, I was eager to regain the skills to get them out of me.

For Christmas I got a big box of art supplies. I inked a drawing with a pen and a metallic marker that same day and I loved it. I took a picture and sent it to my mom. I had no shame or fear. I was back.

In January 2022, I rededicated myself to my artistic practice and began calling myself an artist again. I got the grief out on the page first and shared it and I’ve been drawing, painting, and sharing consistently ever sense. I stopped feeling jealous and lost, as I was able to express myself fully again and the fulfillment I got from that expression was all the proof I needed to know I was living my purpose.

I’ll be sharing what I know and what I’ve learned here in pictures and words. If you got this far, thank you for reading.

TL;DR – My name is Melody and I’m a traditional painter learning how to do digital painting. I quit art and then I came back. My much short introduction is here.

[doomdays]

aaron melts into the touch -- much easier than he'd imagine, given the way all of this is still new to him, to them. in his life time, every time he'd fallen in love, it had been with men who were friends first -- so this, experiencing this spark that he chooses not to ignore, catches him off guard, but it's welcome, too.

( the only thing we can control is when we say 'yes.' )

aaron's grin only grows at the excitement he receives from waylon, instantly relieved that he hadn't overstepped. he knew he wouldn't, but every small step feels like such a big one at this point that he's still adjusting ( though now, he can't wait to get back to gracie, tell her about the smile that they both were able to give the man before him. )

❝ i imagine she learned that one from me. i never liked returning home after a trip away without something to give her. and, oh, she'd take anything, whether it was a stuffed animal, or, well--- ❞ he starts to chuckle, ❝  -- a pretty rock i found when we came up short, ❞ he adds, giving him an almost childlike shrug. he's always done his best, not just to raise her right or to keep her safe, but to make sure she truly gets to live in this world.

aaron is comforted by the hand on his arm, warmth running through his body as he's reminded --- they'd feel this way without the gift, too, just by the presence of one another, and that's something special he won't take for granted. it's written across his features -- his happiness, his comfort, his hope.

as he watches him put the bracelet on immediately, he wishes gracie was here to see this, and the thought spirals quickly: the three of them, together, where would that go? maybe he's getting ahead of himself, but he likes to think it would work out, that maybe, they could make a family together. sometimes, he forgets how fast he can fall in love. ❝  you could make anything look good, waylon, but i do have to say, and ignore my bias here, but this might be your best look yet, ❞ he says as his grin grows, both out of joy that waylon likes it and of appreciation that he's entertaining it to begin with, because there's nothing more important to aaron than his daughter, so it makes him feel good to see him take such pride in it.

the way his cheeks warm remind him again of how new all of this is, but he's learning to take comfort in that, to allow it to relax him. ❝  well, not to steal my daughter's thunder, but i like to think i'm just as good. ❞   his eyes meet waylon's, and he stops for a moment, simply taking him in and enjoying his presence. ❝  it feels good to see you. i appreciate every word of every one of your letters, but nothing compares to being here with you, ❞ he admits.  

it feels like a dream. aaron walks towards him in the golden haze of the afternoon sun, the smell of spring in the air; in a passing glance, it almost seems like a scene from another life: families gathered in shops and restaurants, celebrating the shifting seasons, adolescent laughter ringing clearly as children chase one another down the street, chided softly by parents just as cheerful — finally free from a system intended to separate them. waylon feels that same elation, but most of what amasses in his chest, heart fluttering, stems from the man moving ever-closer, causing his breath catching in his throat.

it releases finally at the contact, a soft exhale into aaron as waylon falls into the hug, a hand resting against his waist — bold, but brief, lingering as aaron withdraws, and waylon's not quite able to stop himself from looking just slightly disappointed.

“i never doubted you for a second.” his expression brightens, however, as his eyes land on the gift, mouth half-open in a crooked smile; an eager hand reaches, careful with the paper — he decides immediately to preserve it as best he can, a delicate finger probing the seam to loosen it as he giggles, a bright, youthful noise. “oh, you're raisin' her right. my momma thought it was always important to show up with a present.” but aaron's presence would have been enough; waylon says as much with the way he looks up, cradling gracie's box in one hand while the other comes to land on aaron's arm, featherlight, but almost a confirmation — that this is real. that he's here.

there's a certain intimacy in the exchanging of letters; something romantic in the waiting. waylon's been careful never too push for more than that, content in whatever it is that they might have there — but he can't deny his hope that it can exist beyond paper, too.

he recenters his attention on the present, finishing the unboxing as the thought circles in his mind; when the bright colors catch his eye, he grins, cheek dimpling. waylon's quick to slide the bracelet onto his wrist, sincere in the action. “i think it suits me well. don't you?” he flicks his wrist, modeling playfully for aaron. “dunno which is the better gift — the bracelet, or seein' you.”

[rnisa]

Beyond Birthday Headcanons

Hi all, just some little Headcanons. Some are general HCs, other are x reader. As much as I love DN, there are too many empty gaps that just weren't filled, leaving so many questions unanswered. These are personal headcanons, you don't have to like them or agree with any - it's purely for my own enjoyment. NOTHING here is factual.

★BB left Wammy's when he was roughly 18. Up until then, he acted as a big brother figure for most of the children. Many looked at him as such, but he was quickly forgotten any time L was brought into the picture.

★ An obvious one, but A's sui'cide hurt him deeply. I don't think BB ever really liked being at Wammy's in the first place. He stayed as long as he did because it provided him certain comforts such as shelter and access to information, food, etc. Basically, it was just easier, and he stayed until he aged out of it. But he never liked the concept of being raised to succeed L. He hated what it did to A. However, he figured as long as he's there, he mind as well make the most of it - explaining the "taking L to the extreme" thing.

★ To add to the above, A's death was the final tipping point, what made him snap. He saw Wammy's as a sick institution rather than a goal.

★At a young age as a kid, he made comments, alluding to him having the Shinigami eyes. Of course he didn't have a name for what he was experiencing, but he asked about, "those numbers floating over your head". I think many adults passed it off as his imagination, but many of the other children found him creepy. Eventually, he stopped bringing it up once he caught on that it wasn't normal. Pretty sure he figured out what his eyes did when he lost both of his parents. He swore he would never love anyone as much as he loved them.

★ I do believe that BB was wrongfully medicated at some points in his life (given medication for things he didn't have, etc.) not out of malice intentionally, just...wrong diagnosis and negligence.

★ I think BB could have been saved. I am deliberately going against the canon here but, I honestly disagree with the ending that, "he was arrested and got killed by Kira in prison". Maybe it's wishful thinking but I could see L taking pity on him, and at least getting him help, hope for reforming him. Perhaps just as he's making significant process, he gets shanked by Kira, but still...I don't think L would have simply thrown his ass in jail and be done with it. Personally, I think L does feel sorrow over A's sui'cide, and is horrified at what BB became. L blames himself in a way. L wanted to save him.

★ ..Then again B could have just gone, "fuck your help I'd rather be in prison and rot," ...

★ After Wammy's house, we know he ends up in America somehow, and L was searching for him. He can't have been much younger than L. I refuse to believe they never...met? I think they did meet at a certain point, perhaps when they were very very small. B's imitation is based on what he thinks L would have grown as into adulthood - to the extreme, of course.

★ I don't think he was ever the type to harm other or animals as a child, but I do think he had a knack for starting fires and causing general mischief. It was always well thought-out, carefully planned mischief, that was the main cause for worry. He loved watching gruesome slasher and horror films way too young and was very desensitized very early on.

★ Didn't have a really healthy upbringing. I feel that he was close with one of his parents and they did their best but had a multitude of issues and were ultimately unequipped to raise a child. Love isn't enough when you're raising a whole person.

★ I think he could fall in love easily, but he himself thinks he is incapable of loving. He cannot imagine anyone possibly loving him, I think. At least romantically. He has his situation and his grand plan thought out too well and meticulously to really consider it, but I think he would love to flirt (poorly) and toy with people teasingly because he's turned on when people find him disgusting, or off-putting. I think someone reciprocating his advances would throw him off in a really funny way, but he's great at improv so he'll manage. Just a lot of tension building up until something happens.

★ This might sound weird but I can see him (coincidentally and unwillingly) falling for someone who was destined to die shortly after his sui'cide attempt. Oh god that's even worse imagine his heartbreak when he survives/is caught by Naomi and then his S/O dies not too long after. Oof.

★ His love is a bit obsessive but I can't see him...hurting someone he truly loves. Physically.

Feel free to ask for more...but this is long enough? If you agree or disagree with anything feel free to add on!

[boldlyvoid]

Spencer and fem!reader have been together for a decade, married for five. They got married right after the Justin Mills episode, she proposed cause she almost lost him. He proposed to her once he got out and she had no idea he was going to. Anyway I got off on a tangent sorry I have ADHD. But anyway so part of Spencer was scared she’d leave him while he was in prison, which of course she never would. Not only because they have a three year old daughter. She of course doesn’t, and they’re both there to greet him when he’s released eighty-four days later. She’d been using porn to pleasure herself while he was gone, but it wasn’t nearly the same. He’s been so pent up that he jumps her the second they get back to his apartment. Needless to say, she wasn’t expecting him to be even more dominant when he got out of prison than he had started to be when he went in.

so i changed it up a bit, she hasn't had an orgasm since he left. she's so touch starved becasue she cant even hold his hand at visiting hours and they both can't help but fuck the second she tell's him they're bringing him home.

word count: 1.4K

cw: unprotected sex, dirty talk, daddy kink, dom!spencer, wall fucking, public sex, creampies, talk of pregnancy, touch starved reader and spencer, canon typical violence, references to PTSD, (I hope I got it all)

She’s anxiously tapping her foot, she’s been awake for 48 hours now, she hasn’t seen her daughter in just as long, and her husband even longer.

84 days to be exact.

She feels like she’s going to explode, she misses him so intensely and if he doesn’t come home now, she might never see him again. His mother is missing, he stabbed himself to stay safe in prison, he might not come home. again.

In the 10 years that she’s been with Spencer, he’s almost died 3 times. she thought that was the extent of her worry for her husband's safety... then he went missing, then he was arrested in Mexico and now he’s in prison fighting for his life.

She has her head in her hands, curled into a ball on the briefing room sofa, trying desperately to get her mind to stop saying he’s dead, they’re going to kill him, you’re too late. Over and over and over, the thoughts are so intense she almost doesn’t hear Emily call in and tell them to go get him.

It’s time to bring him home.

She stands faster than before. Faster than when they found the cemetery. Faster than when he almost coded in the ambulance from the anthrax he was exposed to. The only time it rivals is when the doctors came out and said they stopped the bleeding, 2 weeks before they eloped, 9 weeks into a pregnancy they were trying to hide from the team.

She always finds herself rushing to his side, fearing the worst but never has she been this close to the edge. She’s on the plane with JJ, Luke and Penelope faster than she’s ever moved before. Leg still bouncing as she sits, trying her best to stay awake, but her adrenaline is making her dizzy.

“Y/N,” JJ whispers from across the table, “he’s okay.”

“I know,” she whispers back. “That’s not why I’m nervous.”

“Why are you?”

She turns and sees Penelope and Luke arguing in the back, flirting way too much to eavesdrop, she takes a deep breath.

“I haven’t touched him in 3 months,” she whispers. “You guys may not think he’s a touchy person, but I haven’t slept. I don’t know how to sleep without him beside me. I haven’t had a real hug in forever…” a tear falls down her cheek.

She shakes her head, it’s been so unbelievably hard to be separated from him and she’s kept her composure this long. “I haven’t even been able to touch myself.”

She’s ashamed but JJ doesn’t budge, she simply tilts her head to the side in sympathy, “oh honey, he might be really distant, you have to prepare for him to continue to not touch you, or he might not leave your side and drive your crazy. I’m not sure how he’ll react but I know it’s not going to be easy.”

She nods, releasing a shaky breath and pretending that it’s not making her more anxious, “I know.” She finally breaks, sobbing and hiding her face behind her hands. “I’m sorry.”

JJ gets up and moves around the table, rubbing her hand over her back and shushing her, “you can tell him. You can go in and have a few minutes alone with him, Penelope and I will wait in the hallway.”

“I just want a hug,” she whispers, “I’m not going to fuck my husband in a prison.”

“Bundy did it,” Luke replies from the back of the plane because of course, they were listening in. “Plus, I don’t think he’s going to be comfortable enough to do that yet, I think his mind is on saving his mother.”

“Exactly,” Y/N rationalizes it, even if all she can picture is him bending her over that table that she wasn’t allowed to cross.

Sometimes the prison was so intimidating for her that she felt like she wasn’t even allowed to look at him. It was easier for her to send letters, they corresponded regularly. She knew everything, on a level the team didn’t, she knew just how hurt he was in there and she was already preparing for his recovery.

She has a binder in her purse, it has every resource he’ll ever need. Random information pamphlets for him to read on the way home and his sponsor's number. She got it from the VA, taking a special trip with Luke to ask the men there what they wish they had when they came home from Afghanistan, how they coped with PTSD and what they wish their partners knew beforehand. She’s as prepared as she could be.

But nothing prepares her for the look on his face when she opens the door. The guard steps aside and JJ closes the door as soon as Y/N is safely inside the room with him, she just cries.

“Is my mom okay?” He panic, “who’s watching Elly?”

“Spence,” she walks up to him, “we’re taking you home.”

“What?” His face drops, he turns as white as a ghost like he’s hallucinating and doesn’t believe what he hears.

She simply nods and throws her arms around him, holding him tighter than ever before, he holds her just as tight. She can’t breathe, he’s holding her too tight and then he’s picking her up and sitting her on the table, kissing her neck and down her shirt and she can’t help herself from leaning back and attempting to unbutton his jeans.

He pushes her skirt up and pulls her panties to the side, roughly kissing her as she stokes him a few times before wrapping her legs around him and bringing him inside. His beard is longer than it’s ever been, scratching at her skin as he explores her, she can’t believe they’re actually doing this but it feels too good for her to even say a single word.

“God, I’ve missed your sweet cunt,” he grunts in her ear, picking her up and turning them. He presses her against the brick wall, holding her with a strength he’s never had before, and fucking into her with intent.

“I haven’t cum in 90 days,” she says between pants, wanting him to praise her.

“So that’s why you’re such a desperate slut? I’ve made you into a whore over the last 10 years, haven’t I?”

“Yes sir,” she replies on instinct, they’ve tried having him be more dominating but it never really worked out in their favour… this however, this is more than that.

This is primal.

He bites her shoulder, over her shirt and making the fabric wet, grunting as he fucks her, he’s like an animal. It’s incredibly hot, she’s so deprived she almost cums but she holds off, “please?” She begs, wanting his permission for the first time in months.

“Please what?”

“Please can I cum?” she cries, actually tears fall down her cheeks from the frustration, months of anticipation bursting at the seams, “please, daddy?”

“Ugh,” he lays his forehead on her shoulder and fucks into her harder, rubbing her clit with his thumb. “Cum baby, come on daddy’s cock, you depraved little whore.”

She tosses her head back against the wall, it’s going to hurt later but her orgasm is so intense she barely even feels real. She’s floating there as she grips his shoulders and her legs hold him close to her. He stills as he cums, filling her up, they both sigh at the same time.

Sliding to the floor, she’s still wrapped around him, cock inside her as they hold each other. Faces buried in the other's neck, they try to come down but all they can do is run their hands over each other's bodies, appreciating the fact they’re allowed to hold one another in this stupid room again, no one is going to yell at her for holding his hand or passing him a bracelet from their kid.

They hear a knock on the window and that’s their queue to get presentable again. She feels a little gross, but this is the closest she’s felt to him in forever. Carrying a part of him inside of her was her favourite thing in the world, all she could hope for was another little one to be the glorious result of this terrible situation.

[pandas-pandemonium]

Yandere! Sentient! Twst - Player considers deleting the game due to glitches (Dorm Leaders)

A/N: Thought I'd combine these three asks since they're all quite similar in nature.

"[Name], I really think you should just delete that game off your phone."

The sternness in your partner's voice stunned you. They had mentioned the game acting strange at times, but this was the first time they had confronted you on this issue. Confused, you spoke up.

"Is this about the weird glitches again, [S/O]?" you asked.

"Yes, this is about those weird glitches. I swear, this isn't some simple bug or anything. This is another thing entirely. A game character doesn't curse at you just for opening the app. Shouldn't it be some welcome line or something?"

You frowned.

"I've never heard anything like that..." you said.

They sighed and shook their head. "It only happens when I open the app when you ask me to help you login."

You felt a chill run down your back.

"There's...no way, right?" you said, as you slowly unlocked your phone, immediately clicking on the application. You had to see it for your own, even though deep down you knew [s/o] was right. The game had been acting strange. Comments that were way too specific, the occasional glitching when you switched out a character for another.

With wary eyes you glanced at the opening screen; one more check, one more log in and if anything weird happens again, you will have to delete it. Sentimentality and story progress be damned. You could always watch videos on YouTube anyway.

Riddle

Livid. Riddle would be absolutely livid to hear the suggestion of you deleting the game.

"How DARE they! How insolent! They think know so much better, now do they?!"

Storming around, Riddle would be figuring out how to "chop off" your significant other's head. He won't have it!

He's put up with the fact that you're in a relationship because he convinced himself it wouldn't last long, but now this is the last straw.

"They're trying to cut me off from [Name]! For that, they WILL pay!"

But first, he has to make sure things run smoothly.

You won't delete the game if nothing odd happens...

With that, [s/o] will just look like a liar. How awful!

Once Riddle's calmed down, he will start creating a plan to cut your s/o out of your life, forever.

"I simply will not tolerate a rule breaker, and it so happens, Rule #444 states that "the heads of liars must be chopped off by midnight". That's really too bad, isn't it, [s/o's name]?"

Leona

What's this? You're actually listening to your partner and now you want to delete the game?

He would love to see you try

Sure, he could sit back and pretend that the game is all fine and dandy so that you'll think your partner was lying and being petty, but that's boring, even if it is the easier way

You forget, he's the dorm leader of Savannaclaw; known for his drive to do what it takes to get his way

Don't you remember his plan from Chapter 2?

How offensive. [s/o name] is definitely taking way too much of your time if you managed to forget his role in the story

"You want to delete the app, do you? Then try it, herbivore. I'm sure you love what I've done to your phone."

Leona is smart, dangerously so. Whoever knew Savannaclaw's dorm leader was so well-versed with game code?

Azul

What?! You're going to delete the game?!

Panic surges through Azul as he combs through various alternate plans; it's okay, he's considered this possibility before

All he needs to do is craft a perfect plan to keep you from deleting the application, and to get that pesky human away from you!

It should be simple enough, but his fear clouds his judgment

Right, right! He has to address the immediate concern; that you were going to delete if you sensed something amiss again in the app

That's simple enough.

As long as he plays by the rules and keeps to the "character" the game developers originally intended, he'll be able to delay you, just by a few days

With a practiced smile, and lines that fit perfectly to script, he laughs to himself quietly;

Yes, you seem to be confused for nothing is out of place!

He may have to keep up this constricting act for now, but his plan has to be perfect if he's going to capture you.

Kalim

Oh, the poor boy

He's panicking! His mind is all over the place the moment he heard your words!

Thankfully Jamil is there to set him straight

"Act normal" Jamil instructed him.

Easier said than done, especially when it comes to someone as jumpy and excitable as Kalim

Kalim tries not to laugh a little too loudly or make remarks that shouldn't be in his lines, but it's so hard!

He wants to yell out, "You can't! You can't leave me!"

But his fear of you realizing that the game is no longer working as it should overpowers his desire to call out to you

It's so hard...

Maybe tomorrow he can tell you how he feels! You're sure to have calmed down by then!

Vil

Really now?

You were going to delete the game all because someone told you to? You're willing to sacrifice all that hard work raising his everyone's cards and throw them all away?

Preposterous!

He will not let even your finger touch the uninstall button! Ever.

Gaining sentience was a dream come true!

He too, had been working behind the scenes to find ways to bring you into this world.

Your lover? You mean that useless potato scrap that thinks they know better?

They mean nothing to Vil. After all, surely you would choose a queen over some peasant?

Idia

Strangely enough, he's not too worried.

Seriously, gaining Fourth Wall breaking sentience was like something out of an anime or a game!

This is his realm! You can't possibly do anything to it when he's tampered so much with the game code!

Try it!

You'll find your game uninstallable and registered as a default application for your phone!

Idia feels a little too proud of himself for forseeing this possibility. He's never been so prepared in his life!

"Hihihi, it's all in place! So what if the game continues glitching? You can't do anything about it! Hihihi, who would have thought even some shut-in nobody freak like me can do cool things!"

But right- he almost forgot about your partner...

How annoying. Game code he can deal with, but some irl person? No way...

"Ahh, what a pain... I need to hurry up with the program...then maybe you can leave that dumb normie behind..."

Malleus

You want to delete the game because it's acting weird, you say?

Malleus is disappointed; he was hoping he could enjoy your presence and watching you go about your daily life for a little longer.

It's alright though, he just has to speed things up a bit!

He could care less about you deleting the game;

With Lilia's help, he's found a way to creep in to your phone and has since been existing as an undetectable character within several other applications.

A little longer and he's completely certain his magic will be able to transport into your world.

How exciting!

When he does, he hopes you will celebrate with him as well.

If you won't invite him to your world... well, he'll just have to invite himself, wouldn't he?

[after-witch]

Title: A Gift [Yandere Sesshoumaru x Reader]

Title: A Gift [Yandere Sesshoumaru x Reader]

Synopsis: Your demon lord captor presents you with an unusual and unexpected gift.

Word Count: 2200ish

notes: yandere, kidnapped,  blood/violence

Your captor seems unusually on edge--he has been since this morning, when he soundlessly bid the group to pack up camp and began trekking further into the forest much swifter than usual. You don't know why. He wouldn't tell you, even if you dared to ask. So you didn't ask, and merely helped Rin roll up your supplies in a pack, ignoring the way the growing tension in the air made your skin prickle.

You don't know much of anything lately, except the feeling of the ground under your feet as you relentlessly walk from place to place, bound to go where he goes. Being carried on the strange demon beast is no longer a terrifying prospect but a welcome reprieve from the endless marching. You’d walked more in the past months than you ever had in your entire life; you’d lived in a small village, never roaming very far out of fear of animals and bandits and other unknown dangers. 

One of those dangers, as it turned out, had been the demon lord Sesshoumaru.

You don't know why you were taken. You don't know why he refuses to let you leave, why he demanded that you join his group, his company, whatever it can be called.  

You do know that you fight in what little ways that you can. Which, you admit, aren't many. You pack up deliberately slow, hoping to earn the rare annoyed look that breaks his normally impassive visage. You used to deliberately slow down when you knew he was in a hurry, dragging your legs or feigning a limp. Though once he caught on to your trick, he'd quietly suggested that he simply carry you from then on, and you'd dropped the act.

There is one concession you will never make, no matter what he says. Your biggest weapon against him. You refuse to call him my lord, as he commanded. As Jaken routinely harps on about. As even Rin, in a light, easy way, wonders why you won't. (But there is so much the child doesn't know, and doesn't understand, about your situation.)

Today, you are almost tempted to address him--no lord, of course--to ask if something is wrong. The tension is eating at you, and if the nervous glances of Jaken are anything to go by, you're not the only one who notices it. Perhaps there's something or someone that you can't see, another demon, detectable only by scent. Perhaps he's thinking about his brother, a subject you've only learned about in snatches of conversation, though you learned enough to know that you should never bring him up.

You're tempted to ask, but you don't. Instead you try to take in the scenery around you, walking quietly and pretending for a moment that you're alone. You're walking in the middle of the group, as you usually do; Sesshoumaru ahead of you, Jaken, Rin and the beast behind. This is probably to discourage you from running--not that you've tried to run in a long time. Getting recaptured, losing the thrill of hope in your heart when you think you just might make it this time, is incredibly tiring.

Your feet are often tired, too, but you truthfully you have enjoyed seeing more of the world, more than you would have ever seen near your village. If only it was under different circumstances. You've learned over the months that happiness needs to be taken wherever it can, or else you would simply give in to despair. 

A flower species you've never seen, a stunning ray of sunshine through the leaves of the trees, a glimpse of an animal not native to your village. You catalog these things in your mind and think about them at night, counting off the times your heart has been made lighter by them.

So you look around in the hopes of adding new memories to your catalog. Only there isn't much new to add. If anything, you've seen all of these things before. But maybe that's not such a bad thing. Your gaze lingers on a particular bush dotted with bright pink flowers, just like the ones you used to pick, and you half-close your eyes, pretending that you're taking a break from former daily errands; your mother often scolded you when you returned home with a basket full of flowers, but she never hesitated to tie them into your hair or lay them on her  table as delicately as a treasure.

The daydream is made easier by the fact that these space is full of old things, old things you once knew. Even that patch of trees is remarkably similar to the ones you knew all your life, trees where you would sometimes be sent to collect bark; and that large rock, it even has the same markings, the same drawings carved in by children in some older generation. A small pond up ahead has the same pebble path, painstakingly laid by the elders for easy fishing grounds.

Oh.

Your legs feel heavy as lead and you stop, suddenly. Jaken yells something behind you about your sudden halt, but you can't make out the exact words. They don't matter, anyway.

That's why he's so on edge. That's why you've been so on edge.

The old things are not just familiar: they're exact. You're near your old village. You know these plants, these trees, the grass beneath your feet. No wonder he's tense, no wonder he's been keeping a breakneck pace since the morning. He wants to get away from this place--does he think you'll try to run back? You're not that stupid, he could kill your entire village in moments if he wanted to. And he might, if you tried to seek shelter there.

The realization weighs you down, even as Rin runs up to you and lightly takes your hand. She tugs you along, and you're gently jerked from your heavy realization until your legs continue to move, barely from their own free will. You glance forward and see that Sesshoumaru is watching, his head tilted back--to see what you would do, you think.

Rin lets go of your hand and runs on ahead, practically skipping past Sesshoumaru in a sudden sprint of childish speed, gaily ignoring Jaken's squawk of protest. Jaken knows better than to break the implied status quo--keep you in the middle--so he grumbles and maintains his slower pace.

But Rin doesn't get all that far ahead of Sesshoumaru before she, too, stops in her tracks.

"Look," she says, lifting her arm and pointing down past the trees, towards what you know will be a view of your village.

You resist the urge to sprint after her, to bridge the gap between you and catch a hill's-eye view of your village that you used to take in almost daily during your errands. You force your feet to remain steady, one-two, one-two--when Sesshoumaru suddenly pivots, and turns towards an opposite path, away from the village and away from the view.

"This way," he says.

"But. Lord Sesshoumaru--" Rin doesn't get a chance to finish when Sesshoumaru begins walking. She merely looks back towards the village with an odd expression, before running to catch up with him.

But you weren't going to be turned away so easily. You deserved a look at your village, didn't you? Just a glance at your former home? He stole your freedom, your life, he couldn't possibly begrudge you a look. 

So you keep your feet walking, quiet and nonchalant, intent on getting as far as the clearing where you know you'll be able to see the familiar buildings, the public square where festivals were held,  your own home, small and unassuming as it is. Glancing at them again might give you an image to hold onto, something you can think about before bed.

"Come on!" Jaken has pressed on ahead of you, and he's waving at you with the horrid staff he always carries. "Don't be so slow!" He swoops his staff towards Rin and Sesshoumaru, who is now standing still, staring at you. It's unusual. The entire day has been unusual. He doesn't normally bother with something as mundane as waiting--it's up to you, to Rin, to Jaken, to follow and catch up if need be. But he's waiting for you. As if he does begrudge you so much as a look.

"I just--" you start to say, inhaling a deep breath to gather your nerves.

It's then, with this deep breath, that you smell the smoke. It's then that you look up and see it, grey and thick, wafting above the trees, a detail you'd missed in your anxious haste to catch a even glimpse of your former home.

It's then that you push past Jaken, ignoring his protest, and reach the spot where Rin had stopped in her tracks.

Your village--what is left of it--is on fire. Hot, smoking buildings, crumbling and destroyed. You can see dark, red pools of blood--bodies. It was a fresh attack.

In an instant, you take off, barreling down familiar paths that you still know like the back of your hand. You hear your captor say your name, you hear the sound of twigs breaking as he moves to follow you, but you can think of nothing but your home, your family, and what might be left of them. 

You reach the village in precious little time, and it feels like walking into a nightmare. Hot air seems to simmer around you from the flames lingering inside buildings, the granary, even the market. The stench of death--blood and fire--makes you gag, and you cover your mouth with your hands. An unidentifiable body, burnt beyond humanity, is curled up against what used to be a home.

The sight propels you through the ruined streets, stepping over blood and remnants of belongings and bodies, until you reach your family’s home. Or what remains. The doorway is open, missing its door, and you cautiously peer inside the humble home that used to be all you knew.

You drop to your knees at the sight of your parents and your little brother, dead on the ground. You crawl towards them and your knees become wet with their blood. You reach out and feel the soft cheek of your mother, a cheek you'd kissed so many times as a child. It's still warm. 

You feel the weighty presence of Sesshoumaru behind you and turn around, getting shakily off your knees. He’s standing in the doorway, watching you.

You feel dizzy. You feel sick. From the smoke, from the sights, from the realization that your entire family--your entire world--has been lost.

It's then that you remember his sword. That you remember the story Rin gleefully told you around the fire, about how he'd saved her from death with it. About what it could do, if it was wielded.

You hesitantly step towards him, mind reeling. "They're dead,” you say, as if he can't tell from their lifeless, bloody bodies. "Can you... are they still..." Your voice is hoarse and hurting.

His face is impassive, but he doesn't tell you to leave. He continues to stand in the doorway, staring. You look at him, and then at his sword.

Without hesitation, you get back down on your knees and bow low, ignoring the smell of blood beneath you.

"Please," you say. "Please, my lord Sesshoumaru. Can you save them?"

You don't look up--you can't, out of fear that he'll reject you, your former pride no longer a concern with your families lifeless bodies within arm's reach--but you hear a short, quiet intake of breath in response. You keep yourself still, thoughts racing with memories and empty, fervent prayers without words.

"Go." His voice is low and commanding. "Jaken and Rin are waiting in the clearing."

Your legs seem to obey his command without question, pushing you off the floor and out of your ruined home as you make your way back through the village. You pick up your pace, wanting to wipe away the memory of seeing villagers you knew--villagers who carried you on their backs when you were a child, children you played with, the market women who gave you extra treats--dead on the ground. You don't stop running until you see Rin and Jaken up ahead, Rin looking at you with concern and Jaken--well, you already know you'll hear about your transgression for miles and miles.

When you reach the top of the hill, you spin around and stare at the far-away, ruined building that was your home.

Ages seem to pass before you suddenly see Sesshoumaru emerge from the opened doorway. He walks with no hesitation away from the village, not even glancing at the bodies or ruined buildings around him. He'll be here soon enough. But... was it too late? Did he save them? Did he leave them where they lay? You can feel your family's blood drying on your clothes.

And then, in the ruined doorway--your mother, your father, and your brother peering out cautiously after the demon who'd just saved them. You clap your hand over your mouth to avoid crying out, to avoid calling out. Mercy, mercy, mercy. It's a mercy that you know could never be given twice. They're alive.  They'll start over somewhere else and make a new life, somewhere safe, no doubt. Tears flow freely and for the first time in ages, they are not bitter, painful tears, but tears of relief. 

You stare at the small figures of your family, watch them disappear back into your home and emerge with cloth sacks strapped to their backs, until they walk down the ruined streets and are blocked from your view. As if on cue, Sesshoumaru walks into view of the clearing. Rin waves, cheerfully; Jaken splutters out ignored questions about what he was doing down there, anyway. 

You watch him with tear-filled eyes, eyes that for once are not glaring or hate-filled. He gives you half a glance--did he nod at you? or did you imagine it?--and then looks away, continuing wordlessly down the path he'd taken before you saw your village.

"We're leaving," he says. And you follow.

[misstyless]

as someone who shipped sambucky since civil war, I feel like I have to recommend the best pre-tfatws sambucky fics I've read on ao3

double back by flowermasters

Sam gets stuck in a time loop. In 1943.

Things could be worse, but they could certainly be better.

quick time by flowermasters

He’s never bought Sam a drink in any of the other loops—all ten of them, now. Maybe he should’ve tried that earlier.

Companion to double back.

Thanks by TheHedgehogSong

He opens the door to find Sam standing on the other side. "Me and the others are going to watch some movies in the living area if you're interested." Sam says by way of greeting.

"Steve ask you to keep an eye on me?"

"Yep." Sam replies simply. "So if you could come and sit with us it would make my job a lot easier."

"You're so charming." Bucky deadpans and Sam smiles at him.

"Hey when I'm putting on the charm you'll know." Sam says and jerks his head in the direction of the living area. "Come on, otherwise Clint will start the movie without us and if I miss the start I'm going to be pissed." With that Sam walks away. Bucky watches him for a moment before trailing after him – he guesses there's worst ways to spend the day.

Marriage Counseling for the Inept and Oblivious by ToriCeratops

Or: How Steve Rogers likes to play matchmaker for his infuriating best friends.

my love language is annoying the shit out of you by desastrista

There's a lot of nuances of human romance that Vision doesn't understand, but he thinks he can see what is developing between Sam and Bucky. Even if no one else does.

semi-cataclysmic events by wilsonsnest

It took time travel for Steve to figure his shit out, so Bucky doesn’t think he’s doing too bad.

feat. Old!Steve, Cap!Sam and Pining!Bucky

Flesh And Bones by asgardianthot

in a world where people bond with their soulmates through physical pain, living in the same compound makes the search much easier (or it should, if they weren't so damn stubborn)

When I'm With You (i'm who i want to be) by theappleppielifestyle

Threat, his mind says, but Sam Wilson makes him feel the opposite a threat makes him feel, like he's safer than he has been in seventy years.

Honey, Til I Die You'll Have Me Too by Ithinkwehaveanemergency

Five of Bucky's Friday nights in the months following the battle of Upstate New York.

“You stayed for me?” Sam's voice is a whisper. His eyes are more open and vulnerable than Bucky has ever seen.

“Eh.” Bucky smirks, trying to escape the heaviness of the conversation. “Mostly didn't wanna go back to an era where I wasn't an honorary citizen of Wakanda. God, I love that place .”

three words that became hard to say by suzukiblu

“I wanna step out with Wilson,” Bucky says, audibly traumatized. Steve blinks again, and lowers the shield.

“Uh,” he says. “Come again?”

I just couldn't say it out loud. by ashers_kiss

“Are you flirting with me?”

“Yes?” Bucky tries.

Are you both courting? by daredeviltrash

Gamora and Mantis asks bird boy and metal arm guy if they're dating. hilarity and sad stuff ensues.

farmhouse by Tazmaster

"You know, I think I'd want a farmhouse."

"A what?" Sam turns to look at him, slightly annoyed. This was the first thing Bucky has said in the past hour and a half they've been cramped in this god forsaken car. He had a knack for impulsively voicing his dumb thoughts at the worst times, but whenever you wanted to know what was actually going on in that head of his, he'd never say.

They were staking out the front gate of a large mansion, very much not a farmhouse. It was mind numbingly boring, being stuck in a beetle with absolutely nothing else to do than stare at the gaudy gates of some rich asshole.

"A farmhouse," Bucky repeats nonchalantly, "If we ever get out of this business, or you know, live long enough to retire maybe--- I want a farmhouse. With a lot of animals."

---

Bucky keeps talking about a farmhouse and it drives Sam crazy, that is until he finally asks why.

These Walls are Shakin' with My Heartbeat by Ithinkwehaveanemergency

“Well now I need to know.” Sam rolls his eyes. “Please, enlighten me. Explain why an eighteen year old is so invested in our non-existent sexual relationship.”

“She’s almost twenty. You were at her nineteenth birthday party.” Bucky frowns at Sam, disappointed.

Or

Sam tries to process Shuri's inappropriate suggestion that he should have sex with Bucky, and Bucky won't stop eating his fucking pizza.

6PM/8PM by captainafroelf

Sam gets a call from a world away.

If I'm the Last One Standing, I Would Want to Watch it Burn With You by Ithinkwehaveanemergency

Just before the final fight in Infinity War, Sam and Bucky have a moment.

Or

My canon compliant explanation for why Sam and Bucky are so cozy and content with what happened in Endgame.

Just an illusion by Llixale

Bucky and Sam are back from the Soul stone, unaware that they shared more than the experience of being snapped.

The Simple Life by through_shadows_falling

One year since the Accords, and Steve asks Sam to check up on Bucky in Wakanda. Sam agrees, but the man he finds is the not the man he expected...though that's not exactly a bad thing.

Bucky is a peaceful goat farmer who enjoys the simple life, and who happens to be attractive as hell.

Sam is so freaking screwed.

Takes place between Civil War and Infinity War Part 1.

Alone, With You by cruxcantare

Sam's pretty sure they're dead. Bucky disagrees. But whatever this is, it isn't living.

warm blood (feels good, i can't control it anymore) by notcaycepollard

Sam's just chilling watching TV one evening when Bucky comes in and stares at him silently for a minute or two before sitting down on the couch. He's pretty close to Sam.

Okay, he's really close to Sam. Like, Sam would be using the word 'cuddling' if it wasn't so bizarre.

"What," he says, carefully not looking at Bucky, and Bucky huffs a sigh.

"Steve's not here," he says as if it's obvious. "Don't make it weird. Just- shut up."

Unexpected Houseguest by faeryn

When Sam comes across Bucky in the strangest of places, his first instincts are to run, and to call Steve. He does neither, and in doing so manages to form a strange bond with the Soviet assassin who once tried to kill him. Bucky is broken, a shell of his former self, and Sam wants nothing more than to help return him to himself. But can he maintain a respectable and responsible distance from the man, despite how Bucky draws him in, in order to help him? Or will he falter, and shatter all the progress he has made by giving in to his own desires?

The Multiverse of the Falcon and the Winter Soldier by OhHelloFandoms123

Sam and Bucky find themselves trapped in alternate realities of their lives due to Dr Strange, they have to find out how to get back to their reality.

or

“How come in every fucking universe we’re married?” Sam said, looking around the place, raising his arms in anger and confusion.

“I’m not sure, maybe it’s trying to tell us something.” Bucky replied, shuffling his feet, looking at the ground.

a couple more fics that I remembered later

[youryanderedaddy]

Love Fuel

Summary: You were Jason’s first love before you broke his heart and rejected him. It’s all your fault that he can’t move on.

Tw: female reader, obsessive behavior, incel behavior, nice guy behavior, self - hatred, threats of non-con, implied non - con, implied masturbation, bullying based on appearance (not reader), deregatory language, kidnapping, misogyny, generalizations, stalking

this is a hot mess but its 1 am and i am tired, ik that incels are bad irl (obviously), but this is fiction and I kinda wanted to explore the dynamic and shit. 

Everyone used to call him JJ or The-Big-Jay back in high school. Well, most of the time his classmates weren’t really calling out to him or even talking to him, the names were whispered behind his back, after he had just passed the hallway, or on bad days - right to his face. The jocks, these dumb motherfuckers, would beat him up, mock him for whatever stupid reasons they had chosen to use as an excuse to torment the smaller and weaker. The popular girls would giggle like brainless bimbos as Kyle or Brad or any other football player stole his glasses or continuously punched him in the guts until he threw up all over the floor. Even the nerds, the kids at the bottom of the school hierarchy, messed with Jason from time to time when they wanted to feel the oh - so desired rush of power they so rarely managed to experience. 

Looking back, Jason could see why his classmates hated him so much - he was everything that society deemed as wrong and unattractive. He was thin, pale, “scrawny” as the others called him, on the shorter side, and on top of that the teen was terribly shy and introverted, never having the guts to stand up to his bullies or even tell someone about the abuse. The male spent most of his free time at home, playing hours upon hours of video games, watching anime and reading books he was simply too young to understand or look critically at. As he grew older, the man began to view the world as it trully was - a dark, miserable place that ate up sore losers like him. Men were primitive and foolish, which somehow managed to soften their faults. Women, on the other hand, were  calculative and manipulative, greedy and sinful. His whole life they had done nothing but reject him when he needed love and support the most. Of course, there were many other reason why the brunette detested the weaker sex. In his eyes women were evil two - faced sluts, showing off their bodies yet acting innocent and hurt once someone finally decided to use them for the only thing they were actually good for.

But you Jason hated the most. You reminded him that no matter how much he hated the outside world, he would always hate himself the most. He had to admit you were pretty, painfully so, with a perfect little body to match your looks and a sweet sugary smile that almost deceived him years ago. As much as the man regretted his weakness, he had fallen right into your trap at the time.

You weren’t the most popular girl, but you had your fair share of friends, all nice and loyal like puppies. You weren’t the smartest either, but unlike the other stupid giggling sluts you always tried to do your best. You were beautiful just like them but you were actually kind to the pathetic bullied kid no one else bothered to acknowledge even existed outside of being a punching bag. You always asked him whether he was alright and often took him to the infirmary when he looked paler and sicker than usual. You talked to him as if he was a normal human being and despite the initial doubt, Jason appreciated it. 

It was the last day of your senior year when the teen finally gained the courage to confess. He was shaking the whole time and by the end of his little speech there were small tears in the corner of his eye. You were the first girl the male cared about, the first one to show him kindness, to offer him friendship without asking for something in return. You were the only one who could make him feel deserving of love, worthy of affection. And then you took it all away in a matter of seconds.

“I am sorry, bud.” You had said that day after giving him a  half - hearted hug and an apologetic smile, that started to seem more and more like a mocking grin the longer the teen started at you. “I already have a boyfriend, but I am really flattered. I am sure that you will find a lovely girl once you start college.” You had added quickly, cheerfully, rubbing the salt all over his wounds, honey dripping from your plump red lips. He had wanted to kiss them, bruise them, bite them until your stupid lying mouth was filled with blood. Obviously you didn’t have a boyfriend or he would have known by now, he stalked your social media religiously after all. Even if you had one, he probably treated you like shit. And how could you even suggest him finding another woman? As if he wanted any of the stupid money - grabbing sluts out there. As if some of them could replace you.

The boy was too furious to form a proper response besides “Fuck you, bitch”. His cheeks turned red and he didn’t realise that the bitter words had escaped his lips before he could stop them, then his legs took him far away from that shithole of a school. He didn’t manage to see your reaction before running away but it didn’t matter anymore. You were just like the others. 

***

That day Jason swore to show you just how small and insignificant you had made him feel. He wanted to see you crumble, cry and beg for forgiveness, desperate for his love but never good enough to get it. The man formed a plan to change himself and come back for you once he had erased each and every trace of his past. The brunette came to terms with his terrible social anxiety and decided that he needed to gain social abilities more than anything. That’s why, as much as he dreamt of working from home as a boring programmer with an even more boring, but flexible working schelude, the male chose to study something that involved a lot more human interactions. The next step was to hit the gym for the first time and get a monthly subscription. It wasn’t hard to see that females nowadays liked brain - dead athletes with defined jawline and cheekbones, toned chests and strong muscled bodies, so if he wanted to impress you, he had to look his best. It wasn’t easy at first - it felt like everyone in the fitness salon had their eyes on his weak frame, laughing and pointing their fingers at his imperfections, but things gradually got better as time went on. The trainings became easier to get through and from time to time they even helped the man forget about his loneliness and nihilism. 

Jason soon returned to his old habbit of spending hours looking through your accounts - Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, he knew all of your usernames, each post, every picture and text. He couldn’t believe how much of a desperate attention whore you had become over the years. The male remembered you in your long brown skirts, cozy sweatshirts and pure-white shirts, all the gray buttons closed to the very top, blushing, laughing, smiling like the adorable Goody-two-shoes you were. Now you were smirking seductively in every photo, overconfident and vibrant, flaunting your tits for every man to see and wearing tight little dresses that barelly covered your ass combined with heels so high and sharp they could be used as a weapon. You were such a stupid slut it was disgusting, and he couldn’t stop himself from jerking off every single time he saw your pretty little face on the screen. He wanted to cum down your throat so badly it was ridiculous, and even after knowing that you had probably already had hundreds of cocks shoved deep inside your pussy, the brunette still wished to see you split open on his, taking his lenght like a good little cocksleeve. 

***

The moment when he could see you again finally came. How many years had passed since graduation - five, ten, fifthteen? It hardly mattered. Jason was successful, at last. The male had his own business that was doing surprisingly well, there were some guys from the gym he could call friends and the best thing, he looked absolutely unrecognizable. There was nothing left of the tiny scrawny kid with quiet voice that everyone stepped over, he was now replaced by a strong capable man, determined to get what was rightfully his and his alone.

It wasn’t hard to find you since the brunette knew everything about you - where your job was, what time you finished, how long it took you to go home and what path you took. You lived alone and worked as a barista in a small local cafe even now that you had finished your studies in your dream faculty. Turns out the princess wasn’t so great and smart after all, having to resort to working a minimal - wage job day and night just to be able to pay her rent. Jason was absolutely delighted though, he loved your stupid dead - end job and your endless struggles to survive in the materialistic world honestly and fairly without selling yourself like a common whore. On one hand the male was happy that you had clung onto your last bit of innocence and on the other your pitiful lifestyle gave him the chance to snatch you away much easier. And that’s exactly what he did.

 ***

You woke up confused just like he had expected, bombarding him with questions, asking him who he was was, begging him to let you go, to at least explain what’s happening. You were so dumb, but God, you were still so pretty, if not prettier than before. You cried so beautifully when Jason told you you belonged to him now and you cried even more when he slammed his cold rough lips over yours in a deep wet kiss. You whimpered and whined while the male sucked on your lower lip and bit down, good, he wanted it to hurt. The stalker couldn’t wait to be inside you, he couldn’t hold back anymore. 

He climbed on top of you and pinned your wrists to the floor before tying them up with delicate red rope and tightening it. It wasn’t like the man was scared of you slipping away and hurting him, you were too weak and tiny to stand a chance against his years of power - lifting and muscle - training anyways, he just wanted you to be as uncomfortable and squirmish as possible. Your tormentor wished for you to be in worse pain than he had been during his youthful years, and he knew exactly what to do. Next thing you knew Jason had ripped your dress apart, leaving you vulnerable and exposed in just your plain old panties and bra. Cold shivers ran down your spine when the chilly air hit your naked flesh and you finally realized there wasn’t getting away from this. You had to stay there, limbs bound together, unable to move or fight back, the stranger’s hands caressing your neck before moving dangerously close to your clothed breasts. You felt so sick you were going to throw up for sure if your abductor didn’t step back so you decided to use your last resort.

“Jason, please stop!” You screamed out of the blue, forcing the brunette to freeze instantly at the use of his birth name. You had already called him a pervert and a psycho which didn’t seem to faze him, but the name clearly caught him off guard. This only seemed to prove your theory further - the man really was your former classmate, despite the only similarity between them being the dark distant look in his eyes. “I beg you, don’t hurt me!” You continued, hoping to at least buy yourself more time before the assault took place. 

He gulped loudly and stared at your quivering form. The impossible had happened, you had recognized him and now together with fear, there was also pity in your gaze, the one emotion your captor absolutely despised. You used to be the only one who pitied him, and even now that he was bigger, better and stronger than before, you still had the guts to pity him. It drove him insane but any attempt to hurt or touch you was fruitless now - your soft skin was suddenly burning his fingers like hellfire. 

“You must be thinking that I am a monster.” Jason started out dryly, chuckling bitterly, humorlessly even. He clenched his fists unconsciously and brought them to the floor in a fit of rage, missing your head by mere inches. Your heart was beating like crazy and you only hoped the mandman couldn’t hear it. “A freak.” The man spat out the word like it was a curse and for a split second his eyes softened before turning into two spinning torches. “Right?” You were sure that if looks could kill, his would have you dead by the end of the night so you quickly nodded your head no.

“You are lying to me again, pretty girl.” The brunette replied feisty, "pretty” rolling off his tongue like an insult. Then he broke into hoarse maniac laugher and lowered his head so his face leveled up with yours, so close you could feel his warm breath on your tear - stained cheek. “When I am done with you, you wouldn’t be so pretty anymore, darling.” Your captor growled and attacked your neck, sinking his teeth deep into the flesh. “You will see exaclty how ugly my love is.”

[mystic-sky]

|✨Part 1✨| |✨Part 2 ✨| of the Friends with Benefits Series.

Your relationship with Suguru started off somewhat unexpectedly. A new semester romance, however it was unwanted after dealing with Satoru Gojo just last year. You tried not to blame yourself for the situation unraveling the way it did. You did your best to make Satoru comfortable with you- at least you thought you did.

He cut you off as soon as you made your feelings apparent. You wondered if he somehow did it for your own good, or maybe there was something deeper that went along with it. No matter, you remained optimistic. You were young, and bound to make mistakes. This was just a story to tell your children about in the future if you ever felt it was necessary.

But back to Suguru, who had wiggled his way into your life somehow. He wasn’t a random guy actually. More like a familiar face you’d seen in a few of your classes because you both were in the same major. Just so recently, he decided to talk to you.

You weren’t expecting to hit it off with him so easily. He was sort of scary looking, which led you not to engage with him in the first place. He never tried talking to you before 5 months ago. And neither did you, considering you thought he was so handsome he’d break your heart too somehow.

His arms were sleeved with tattoos that would bridge at his chest. The tattoos would sometimes peak out of his wide collared shirts if he chose to wear one that day. He had a thing for wearing these huge ear gauges that had his favorite anime on them. Though, you never noticed until you sat close enough to him to see the designs. It was a rainy day, and both of you ended up sitting beside each other in your sociology course in the back of the classroom. You were both late, having come in just after the other.

It was weird seeing him this close. He never did come late to any class you’d ever been in with him. Even if you wanted to sit with him, like Satoru, he never had any available seats beside him. He didn’t disturb you until the lecture ended, commenting on one of your anime themed mechanical pencils. That sparked your first conversation with him, and he wasn’t shy to ask you out for coffee right after.

He’s been keen on you since, and you just barely give him the time of day in the beginning. You were just cautious, after the whole Satoru situation. Suguru was fine with whatever you wanted the situation between you both to be. But you will admit, the conversations he’d keep you up with at night made it hard to not fall in love with him.

He’d take you out to dinner, study with you, and sleep with you from time to time since the sexual attraction between you was hard to deny. You think your favorite thing about messing around with Suguru was how he’d always pick your brain after sex with manga theories and better endings than the canonically debuted ones. He was a really good cook, and you often challenged him to make your favorite dishes. They were excuses to invite you over to his place, so he gladly took each one with merit. It was friends with benefits but with far much more substance to hold onto.

He never poked you about getting serious. Whatever you both had was still young at barely 5 months. He could tell you’d been going through something mostly because of how you sexed him. Sometimes you were the dominant one- you’d throw him on the bed and bounce yourself on his length until your knees were far too tired to go on. Other times, he’d steal the show from you, showing you just exactly what he was capable of.

He spread you onto the desk in his bedroom, face deep into your folds. He also loved to spoil you, like Satoru, but you did your best not to think of him when you both were together. Suguru had so much more hair to grab, considering his tongue work was so good it scared you.

“Be a good kitten and cum for me.” He said between sucks on your clit. You often couldn’t think, and that was a good thing. He numbed you in plenty of ways, he knew he had been helping you get over something. He had been doing the same thing but you could care less.

“Actually, I changed my mind.” He tore his mouth from your steaming sex, wiping his chin. You gasp as he lifts you up off the desk, holding your body without leaning against anything for support. You felt weightless, feeling his length prod at your entrance. You tried to hold back a giggle as he smiled smugly at you.

“You ready?” His eyes were sincere, asking for your consent again as he was aching to sink you onto himself.

You nod, feeling a bit nervous. “Stuff like this is about balance. Start flailing around again and I’ll drop you.” He teased. Your hands found some of his hair again, tugging on it a bit.

“Just fuck me.” You roll your eyes as he slams his length into you, making you cry out and clutch your arms around him. His large hands firmly grasp underneath your thighs, using the way your ass recoiled against his thighs to keep a steady rhythm. He’s immersed in the way your broken moans pour into his ear, fueling his stamina. He’s a stickler for teasing you the entire time, praising you for taking his length so well.

“Such a good kitten, you’re taking it so well.”

It was the third time he’d ever held you up to fuck you. After letting go of the fear of him dropping you it became incredibly easy to focus on the pleasure.

“You’re gonna cum aren’t you? Don’t worry about the carpet baby, make a mess for me.”

He knew how to mix things up the way you needed. On your rough days he’d sex you slowly, more passionately and generously. If you were happy and feeling frisky he’d fuck you accordingly. He was pretty good at reading your body just after the first few fucks you had. You hated comparing the two men, but it did happen from time to time when you were in solitude, plagued by your own self-deprecating thoughts every now and then.

It was weird how they emanated each other’s personalities in certain ways. And then you found out that they used to be good friends in high school until something happened. You never poked Suguru about it, since he’d seem to get irritated when you were around groups of friends and Satoru’s name was mentioned. You did your best to be satisfied with what you had. He was handsome, smart, and possibly wanted to be your boyfriend in due time.

But you couldn’t help but think about Satoru. Not only was your experience with him a wild one, but he was fucking everywhere. It’s always like this for you. It’s not until you’re trying to avoid someone do you begin seeing them absolutely everywhere.

You stared at Satoru over Suguru’s shoulder, poking your cheek with your tongue. The audacity he had, showing up in the cafe where you both first met while you and Suguru were on a routine study date. Well, it was a hotspot for a lot of students, so who are you to say he can’t come in here.

“I think I’m overworking myself today, we can go eat now.” Your mood change was evident to Suguru, but he couldn’t put his finger on why at first. He watched you get up and pack your things before shortly following.

As you tossed your bag over your shoulders, he took hold of one of your hands, squeezing firmly. He pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze.

“Is it something I can cheer you up from when we get back to my place?” Suguru was a bit smug about it, and also painfully intuitive about your emotions even though you’d been close for such a short time. Your cheeks went red, eyes burning holes through the floor.

“It’s nothing, really. Let’s just get out of here.” You manage to look back at him, just barely glancing at Satoru who probably had been looking in this direction. Suguru pressed another kiss to your forehead, wrapping his arm around you and leading you out the cafe. He nearly touched shoulders with Satoru and his own dame, smirking just loudly enough for him to hear.

Suguru wasn’t dumb, finally having noticed your energy change just a few moments after Satoru Gojo entered the cafe. This was your favorite place, and he hated how someone could ever ruin that for you. He felt urged to do something about it- with or without your consent. He doesn’t poke you about it until you’re in the car.

“Random question, but do you know Satoru Gojo?”

The question like a pin in your spine, making you visibly un-slouch in the drivers seat. He doesn’t look at you, feeling that would make it easier for you to talk. You take this the wrong way, and feel even more tense.

“I do, we were a thing at one point.” You manage not to stutter. You had no idea why you felt scared or touchy about the subject- you shouldn’t be. His entire vibe had changed, and he didn’t have his usual grin peaking at the corners of his lips.

“Oh,” he says simply. The longest ten seconds of silence reign throughout the vehicle. You’re anxious to turn on the radio, anything to rid the first bit of awkwardness the two of you had ever shared.

“He’s an asshole, isn’t he?” He randomly chuckles heartily, somewhat calming you.

“Yeah,” you’re exhaling properly now, “he really is.”

“We were best friends for about four years. I know him like the back of my hand. Granted, he’s probably changed a lot since high school.”

“But you’re both so-

“Different?” He chuckled. “Yeah, I know.”

“If he was an asshole then, he’s multiplied tenfold.” You roll your eyes. “You both don’t talk anymore?”

You knew they didn’t, but you took the opportunity to ask anyway.

“Nah, he’s a slimy bastard. I hope karma turns him rotten.” You’d never seen Suguru scowl before. He must really hate him, you thought. Still, what a small world; first Satoru and now his ex best friend.

“You still talk to him?” He pokes again. His tone is just barely playful. God, you changed your mind. You didn’t want to talk about this anymore.

“No, we don’t talk anymore. It ended pretty badly.” You say simply. You also decided not tell Suguru that the both of you messed around just before you started messing with him.

“Sorry about that. If we were friends sooner I’d have told you about him.” Suguru is apologizing for something you weren’t entirely ignorant about in the first place. You knew what you were getting into.

Satoru never tried to convince you the situation was anything other than what it was— until the end. The sweet things he started saying to you during those final months often echoed in your head- like he meant all of it.

The sex developed into something that it shouldn’t have. Sex that passionate should be forbidden if you aren’t already in love. And the things he said to you the last time he dropped you off didn’t make it any better. You wanted to slap his stupid, pretty face.

“I’m over it now.”

Suguru pans his gaze to watch you nonchalantly staring out the window. He knew better than to ask anymore. He was more elated that you didn’t interact with him at all. He didn’t need Satoru painting a picture about him in your head before he could first.

What sucks the most about dating people you go to school with is how often you’d see them. Satoru was fucking everywhere. The local restaurants, the library, the cafe, and he’d registered for two of your classes this semester. He didn’t speak to you at all, but he was always just there. Perhaps he’d always been around but since you’d been involved with him you were more aware of his presence.

You were standing in line in the library, attempting to return some books. He entered the space, and walked up behind you, standing on the line and giving your space. You turn your body slightly, peering up at him. You thought to leave, but just because you resented him didn’t mean you were going to cower every time you had to be around him for a while. You let out a sigh as you tip toed to peer in front of yourself; at least the line was moving.

Both of you had made it to the front, talking to separate librarians beside one another. When they both got up from their seats to head towards the back, he spoke directly to you, without actually looking at you.

“(Name), word of advice— I’d steer clear of Getou Suguru if I were you.”

Anger poured over you; you did your best to keep your voice low and eyes forward when saying this.

“That’s the first thing you say to me after almost a year? Go fuck yourself.”

He bites back a witty response, poking his cheek with his tongue. “Whatever. Find out the hard way.”

“You’ve got a lot of nerve. Why the fuck are you telling me this?” You’re whisper-shouting, considering it’s a library.

“Because,” he turns to look at you, “I care about you.”

“What a load of shit.”

Satoru Gojo doesn’t care about anyone, you learned that the hard way.

He let out a sigh. He knew he had no right, but even if he couldn’t get you back, he wanted you to know what kind of guy you were seeing. He couldn’t say anything, he knew you wouldn’t listen. Not like this anyway. Both librarians returned, and gave you back your borrowing passes. You quickly departed, refusing to give Satoru another opportunity to speak to you. His words stuck with you on the way home. You didn’t have any reason to be afraid of Suguru, right?

Two months had passed since Satoru had “warned” you about Suguru. And nothing has happened to lead you to be cautious of him. Satoru hasn’t spoken to you either.

You’re sitting in the guidance counselor’s office as it’s the end of the semester once again. You typed away on your phone, telling Suguru you’d see him for dinner in a bit before throwing your head back and shutting your eyes. The heaviest sigh left your lungs, you were thankful the semester was nearing its end. You had quite enough of studying and needed to unwind.

You feel a presence on the end of your bench, making you open one eye. You see white tresses, and you catch the scent of familiar cologne.

Satoru doesn’t look at you, but he’s quite aware that he’s sitting beside you as well. You almost scoff, only crossing your arms and legs. Noticing the undone laces of your boots, you lean forward to tie it. Your loose bag on your shoulder which unfortunately wasn’t zipped, spilled small notebooks and pencils all over the floor. Spare change rolled across the walk way along with other items.

“Fuck...” you muttered. His head snapped towards you as you let out a sigh and bent down to pick up your things. Your phone that was your on your lap hit the ground as well. You saw his hand in the corner of your eye reaching down to help.

“I got it.” You say sternly, and shamelessly picking up your things. He retracts his hand, and instead gets up to pick up the items that were further away from you, ignoring your request not to help.

He sits back beside you, handful of change and pens. He holds it up towards you quietly while you attempt to fix your bag back to the way it was. You turn to look at him for what feels like the first time in forever, blue eyes pouring into your own (eye color) ones.

“I didn’t need you to do that.” You say, taking your things. You initially thought to take your things from him without a word. He went back to staring in front of himself, waiting to be called. You shifted uncomfortably, and fidgeted with your fingernails. You forced yourself into to pay attention to the soft music playing from the back of the office until he spoke.

“How have you been?”

For some odd reason though, you wanted him to say something to you. You had a lot of things to let off your chest considering the way things ended. You thought of giving him a piece of your mind right there in front of all the staff members, but you restrained yourself.

Instead, you found yourself saying “I’m doing great.”

“That’s good.” He says nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. He didn’t even sound sure of his own response. A few minutes of silence resumes after. You’re a bit startled when speaks again.

“I’m definitely out of line right now, but I’ve been wanting to talk to you about some things.”

“What could we possibly have to talk about?” A lot. You were bubbling over.

“There’s a lot of things, at least for me, that I’ve never really told you.” He’s looking at you now. “Can we talk somewhere quieter? Whenever you’ve got the free time, and only if you want to.”

He was offering closure to you a bit too late. Or maybe all this time you’d convinced yourself you’d moved on. You often found yourself replaying the morning he brought you home and all the things you should’ve said in that moment.

That’s not exactly moving on. Unfortunately, you also found yourself comparing him to Suguru more often then not. That’s not moving on either.

“Okay,” you said. “Later on today. Round 8pm.”

He looks thankful. Just as he spoke, your counselor called out to you to come into their office. You stand up, looking down at him.

“Cafe then?” He suggests.

“That’s fine. See you.” You shrugged. You didn’t care that much for the place. You heard him say goodbye as the door shut behind you.

You had half a mind to never speak to him ever again. Though both of you were using each other, he knowingly crossed a line, making you feel things for him in a situation where feelings weren’t supposed to be involved. And he never gave you a chance to truly address the situation. Now, almost a year later, he’s ready to speak to you on his own terms. You’d be sure to tell him you had no intentions of making amends with him. If you personally didn’t have interest in what he had to say, you wouldn’t bother gracing him with the ability to explain anything to you.

You would’ve made him suffer. He’s lucky you’re still a bit distraught about the situation. Any longer into your situation-ship with Suguru and Satoru wouldn’t even have the slightest chance at something like this.

Dinner with Suguru was transparent. He could tell something was on your mind but he didn’t pry much after his first attempt. The last time you both talked about Satoru he turned into a different person, and it didn’t sit right with you. You did your best to brush it off, assuming he was just protective over you. But Satoru’s warning in the library echoed in your subconscious more and more. Just what happened between them, and would it be okay for you to ask Suguru about it?

He wasn’t your boyfriend either, but you suppose he wanted to be? You hadn’t brought up the dating conversation in while and you probably wouldn’t until you situated the Satoru thing.

“You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” Suguru’s holding your face, brushing your hair out of your eyes. His smile is incredibly gentle and you feel guilty for keeping this from him.

Perhaps you should hold Suguru accountable too, for being so sweet to you like this. He informed you he wouldn’t up and leave unless you wanted him to and that he’d never say anything he didn’t mean. But after dealing with trauma from past relationships, affection like this was always perceived cautiously.

“I know,” you say, feeling his lips press against your forehead again. “It’s just not easy to talk about right now.”

“That’s alright,” he assures you. “I’m here whenever you’re ready.”

His lips connect with yours while his hands slide down your back. He feels you relax a bit, and that makes him smile. How could he possibly be a bad person?

“I’ll call you when I get home, okay?”

You nod, watching him part from you and get into his car. You never did come to understand how he could afford it; a black Mercedes Benz-Coupe. You assumed that and his nice apartment were inherited wealth from his parents.

You wave at him before going into the station. Luckily he had things to attend to, and you didn’t have to bother making up anything about tonight. It was just barely any of his business, right?

You had an idea of what to expect from Satoru when you got there. You were rehearsing things you wanted to say in your head, some of them incredibly mean. You wanted to hurt his feelings too, if you had it in you. It didn’t take you long to get to the cafe, and you’d arrived early, already finding Satoru in the very back, furthest away from people. You gripped your bag strap, before sitting across from him.

“Hey, you’re early.” He says surprised, looking up at you from his phone.

“You’re the early one.” You say, not even cracking a smile.

“How are you?”

“Same as earlier. What did you want to talk about?”

He’s visibly gulping, and you’ve never seen him this nervous. He places his phone face down on the table, turning the sound off. You cross your arms.

“Right,” he lets out a heavy sigh. “Where should I start?” He attempts to gather his thoughts, rubbing his sweaty palms on his jeans.

“I’m not the kind of guy who really addresses his feelings, if you couldn’t already tell at the time we, you know... I’ve been fucked over a lot. I don’t have a lot of actual friends, and I’m constantly aware that people cling to me for my money or looks.”

He never acted like his entourages bothered him per se, but you did notice that he never bothered being around people anymore when the two of you were a thing. You prompt him to continue with your eyes.

“The only best friend I’ve ever had used me until I realized what was going on and cut him off. The first girl I ever really loved chose him instead of me shortly afterwards. Obviously, it’s not a legitimate excuse to have treated you the way that I did, but I guess what I’m saying is that I’m cautious of people and have been for a long time now.”

“But I never tried to use you,” you interjected. You felt a bit insensitive for spitting it out like that, but he really did hurt you.

“I know, and I realized that a bit too late.” He sighs. “But more importantly, I realized that I didn’t talk about or convey my feelings correctly. I know I confused you a lot, and you didn’t deserve that at all.” He tried to keep eye contact with you when he spoke, but your lion like force was pretty strong.

“And when I dropped you off— I shouldn’t have said those things to you. You were so much more than a warm body to me. You were the first real friend I’ve had in a long time. Things got so cloudy for me since we were sleeping together. I didn’t know how to address it, and it freaked me out when you told me you wanted more. I should’ve been elated, but I suppose I didn’t want my heart broken again either.”

“So basically...” He breathed out, “I’m really sorry. I’ve got some messy emotions, things I’m gradually learning to deal with. I’m not making excuses for myself. It’s just I never did talk about myself much when we were a thing, so I wanted to tell you something at least, and apologize. I hated the way I left things. I know it’s long overdue for an apology but...”

“But?”

“I still have feelings for you. I never stopped. The more time passed, the harder it made it for me to apologize and tell you how I feel. And then I noticed you were going out with... him, so I thought it was too late. But I still wanted to try, I guess.”

He looked so awkward, you almost laughed. Apologies were definitely foreign to him. You could tell he meant it, but even so, he wouldn’t be getting a relationship out of you, if that’s want he wanted.

You let out a large sigh. For some weird reason all the angry things you wanted to say wouldn’t come out. You wanted to be angry at him but you just couldn’t. And your heart was swelling at the idea of him still having feelings for you. Did he really mean that?

“We’re not together. Not yet anyway— it’s complicated.” You crossed your legs and leant back in your seat. Suguru probably would’ve been your boyfriend already if you weren’t so stuck on Satoru.

“Oh,” he said quietly. You’d never seen him look so small, it was definitely out of character for him.

“I forgive you,” you lean forward, holding your head in your hands. All this time and you still had soft spot for him.

“Really?” He’s surprised. Your friends will be too after you tell them this story.

“You want me to take it back?” You’re pinching the bridge of your nose.

He chuckles nervously. “No ma’am.”

“Are you... doing okay though?” He probes after noticing the stress in your brows.

“I can’t stay mad at you. And I want to so bad. It’d make my life simpler. Now I’m conflicted.” You drag your fingers under your eyes, before smooshing your own face, stressfully so. He thought you were cute, but he felt bad being the source of your distraught-ness.

“So I take it you still have feelings for me?” His voice is regular now, and just barely his normal cocky tone.

You won’t even look at him. “I mean...”

How do you explain to him that the only reason you’re messing with someone right now, who just so happens to be his ex-best friend, is because you were trying to forget about him in the first place?

“I get it if you don’t.” He says. “It’s been a while.”

“I do.” It’s almost instinct for you to correct him. “That’s the problem.”

“Ah, I see.” He’s rubbing the back of his neck again. You wished you could start over with a clean slate. School and dating shouldn’t be this difficult.

Satoru thought to warn you again about Suguru in that moment, but he held his tongue. He didn’t want to make it seem as if he was badmouthing him so you could favor him more, he wanted you to lean towards him naturally, if possible.

Silence reigned throughout your little booth in the cafe. The sound of rain hitting the window screen made it easy not to talk so much. It also made it hard to see a certain black, long-haired male in his Mercedes Benz, parked just across the street.

Suguru threw his cigarette out the driver’s window, continuing to watch the both of you inside. He shook his head disappointedly before starting his car.

“And that reminds me,” you say, making Satoru swallow hard and shift in his seat.

“What was that nonsense two months prior, about Geto Suguru?”