#like he really did all that that’s wild

[edenfenixblogs]

This is truly art because it elicits an emotional reaction. It’s a good example of art, because the emotion it elicits from me is extremely complex.

It reminds me of people with whom I’ve drifted apart for a variety of reasons in recent and more distant seasons of my life. I feel sorrow and nostalgia but also hope and love. And in some cases, disgust, which is reflected well in somewhat rotted appearance of the center.

It reminds me of the fragility of human connection in its thin, papery dried petals.

It makes me laugh in its simplicity and meme-like format. The modernity of the presentation with the timelessness of flowers with the inescapable past-tense of the dried and dead aspect is genuinely a little heartbreaking and very thought provoking. It reminds me that the things I’m feeling when I look at this are as ancient as they are present.

I feel guilt about how it makes me miss some people I wish I’d kept in touch with more. I feel shame and rage at how it makes me think of people I miss, because my memory recalls how it felt when things were good with them, despite knowing how toxic things had become by the end. I’m envious of that bit of memory that gets to remain Peter Pan in Never Neverland—never having to confront its future which is now my past. That part gets to be oblivious of the things that eroded trust and love enough to make that person a stranger.

It reminds me of non-human creatures I miss and yearn for—childhood pets, a beautiful hummingbird that used to linger outside my window, the wild creatures I saw on my drive through the country in fourth grade but that aren’t native to my area or anywhere I have lived, the fly to whom my preschool classmate gave a name and insisted was now a part of our friend group because she loved every living thing… The fly is long gone. But our friendship remains between that classmate and I. She is now my oldest friend, and her children are the age we were when we met.

It reminds me of lifeless objects and ideas filled with nostalgia—the orange VHS tapes of 1990s Nickelodeon movies, the smell of the fake raspberries in a spoon I used to feed my baby doll, the intoxicating scent of sunscreen and wet chlorine on my skin during summer days at the community pool, and the golden gold ball bookmark I would purposefully steal from my great grandfather’s books, making him lose his place. He always made a great show of being annoyed, because he really did lose his place. But he couldn’t stop smiling because I was a mastermind and my giggles infected him. I’ve lost him long ago. Sometimes my bookmarks fall out of my books at the most inconvenient times, and in my soul I know he is behind it and cackling from heaven. I listen mostly to audiobooks now and sometimes I feel myself drifting off to sleep when I listen to them in bed. But I always catch myself and turn the audio off and switch to podcasts. And I send a small silent prayer upwards to him “Not today, Grandpa. But I love you, too.”

I’m a writer. I’m good with words. I think words can be art. But I love visual art. I love that I can look at this image and see all of that. And that someone else can see an entirely different essay of inner monologue when they look at it.

There is a lie that struggle makes good art. But that’s not true. People with something to say make good art. These next few years will be hard. And your priority must be to take care of yourself and survive. But if you have things to say, whether through words or other art, please know that taking the time to say them is important. It’s important you release those thoughts and ideas, even if you don’t know how to articulate them in words. And it’s important you know that people like me are listening.

I love you. Thanks for the art.

[starlit-writer]

in sickness and in health, ch. 1 - alpha!simon riley x omega!reader

ah, look at that. have some omegaverse angst inspired by this post here <3 if you want to understand more about my omegaverse au, you can look at my masterpost here, and it'll help explain all of the intricacies that may or may not be explained well enough in these short-form fics!

well, this turned out to be miles longer than i expected it to. there's not really a solid ending, so let me know if you want more! have so much fun getting your heart ripped out <3

word count: 4,764 chapter two masterlist ao3 link

Three years ago, you and Simon got married. It wasn’t anything flashy or big - fuck, how could it have been when you didn’t even love each other? But, military law forbade an unmated omega from joining the ranks, and Simon was seen as a wild-card alpha, too headstrong and violent, too hard to control. So, the brass laid out an ultimatum: mate, get married, or be discharged. Both you and Simon had worked too hard for too long to get where you were, so discharge was entirely off the table. There was no courting, no dates, and the wedding, if you could call it that, was little more than signing papers - three signatures on a thick piece of A4 government paper, one from you, one from Simon, and one from your witness, Captain John Price. You didn’t even exchange rings or vows. It took less than five minutes. 

After all was said and done, you and Simon went back to your lives. Sure, you were respectful to one another, and you spent one or two heats and ruts together, but you both maintained a distance away from each other. Neither of you were thrilled with the idea of being tied down, of being mated. The mating bond between you felt more like the neck of a too-tight sweater than it did a comfort, feeling each other’s emotions more of a chore than something you looked forward to. Sure, you worked well together, fluid and deadly like a well oiled M2 on the field. Always had. But there was a stark difference between working well together, and being mated.

So that’s how you ended up here. You had lost twenty pounds. Your skin was sallow and pale, your eyes sunken in. When you looked in the mirror, you could count your ribs, the knobs of your spine, even when they were hidden under the bruises that bloomed across your sickly skin.

You had thrown yourself into work, and when there was no work, you were challenging any living thing to go for a round with you on the sparring mat. But, you were weak; the bond sickness sapped all of your energy and strength faster than you could ever hope to replenish it. Your scent, which was once a warm and spicy caramelized vanilla, now smelled like sugar burnt to the bottom of a pot - acrid and rotted. You were dying, and you knew it. But your pride was far too great to ever go crawling back to Simon, the very man who caused the sickness to infiltrate every cell of your being. It had been months of this torture. Simon, your alpha, had all but abandoned you. You had been without his touch, his scent, anything and everything that the very base instincts of your omega craved from its mate for far too long. It didn't matter to your omega that this marriage, this mating bond was nothing more than a way to keep both you and Simon in the service. Instincts couldn't be fought with fact, and now you were reaping the consequences of the neglect of the bond. You had thought bond sickness was a myth, a fear-mongering tactic to keep alphas in line. However, you were now aware that there was far more truth than you could have ever imagined to that story that is told. 

You had seen the concerned looks of your team as they watched you haunt the halls of the base like a spectre. Soap had started to bring you chocolates and drinks, anything in hopes to get you to eat. Gaz took a different approach, always being the one to take you up on your sparring requests, the beta knowing that at the very least he could be gentle with you while still giving you an outlet. The Captain had made sure to keep you off any truly strenuous missions and tasks, mainly relegating you to the medbay or to training recruits. If you were any stronger, you would be pissed, but right now you took it as a blessing. At least he hadn’t kicked you off the team for your weakness. But Simon? Simon was nowhere to be found. He continuously was the first volunteer for the most dangerous missions, keeping him away from base for weeks to months at a time. When he came back bloody and bruised, he would avoid the medbay like the plague, only coming in to get fixed up by another combat medic when he knew Soap or Gaz had forcefully pulled you away. If you two happened to be walking in the same hallway, Simon would duck out of your sight without even so much as a word. You had long since given up on running after him. 

So color yourself surprised when you were standing in front of the mirror in your bathroom and the screen of your phone lit up, a text from Simon blaring on the too-bright screen. You had every intention of ignoring it, but your pride was no match for the dying ache of your omega. 

Come to my quarters.

The text was simple. Demanding, even. And all it did was make you angry. 

You quickly tugged on a pair of sweats and forced a tank top over your bruised and feverish skin. You thought briefly for a moment about tugging a sweatshirt on over your mottled skin, but, fuck it, let him see all that he has done to you. Maybe he would give you the one blessing you had hoped for over the last few months of neglect, and finally sever the bond between you. 

You trudged through the hallways of the base, every soldier you passed giving you a wide berth. You were certain you looked like death froze over, and the rage-filled expression set over your brows and your lips certainly did not help. When you reached his door, you didn’t even bother to knock. You just shoved your copy of the key in the door and slammed the door open. 

Simon barely even looked up from where he was lounging on the bed. His shirt was off, a rare sight, even for you, but even more shocking was the fact that he wasn’t wearing his mask.  He didn’t look much better than you - his once-bronzed skin paled, his own scars raised and reddened, and he had a poorly bandaged bullet wound wrapped, the white medical wrapping blossoming with a red mark. Pulled stitches, definitely. 

“Close the door,” came the rough demand as his arms lazily opened in an invitation to lay with him. “And c’mere.”

You, in all of your rage, just stood stockstill in the still-open doorway. Even as your omega side cried to jump into his arms and let his scent and his touch wash away all the pain, you refused with a defiant jut of your chin. You didn’t know why he had called you here, and the only thing your mind could conjure up is that Price, or Laswell, or fuck, even Soap, had sat him down and forced him to do this. And you wanted nothing to do with this or with him if he actually was not trying to change.

“I don’t want your pity. And I sure as hell don’t want your affection just because Price told you that you had to fix me,” you replied, your voice shaking with weakness and pain, even as you tried your damndest to keep it steady, strong. 

Simon growled, the sound of an alpha not used to not getting his way, as he rolled onto his side to look at you more squarely. His arms were still open, but you could see the way his muscles clenched, his own anger rising. “It ain’t about pity. It’s about basic biology,” he bit out, the words short and angry. 

That made you laugh, the sound short and sardonic before it morphs into a cough that shakes your entire, frail being. You brought a shaking hand up to wipe your lips before you fixed him with a glare hard enough to freeze an ocean. “Basic biology?" you mocked. “Yeah, for sure. But it’s also basic biology to not let bond sickness even be a worry for your omega, but looks like you fucked that one right up, didn’t you!?”

Your words made something in Simon snap. Your rage, the vitriol, clenched his hands into fists as he quickly swung his powerful legs over the edge of the bed, crossing the space between you in the space between one of your breaths and the next. He was in your face now, just enough space between you to not be pressing completely against you. You averted your gaze, knowing that if you didn’t, you might continue yelling at him, or worse. 

“Look at me,” he ordered, using the same tone he does on the battlefield. His hands are still clenched into fists, but they are shaking. Why?

That tone made your eyes harden, the instincts of a hard-bred soldier kicking in. Even through the fraying of your bond, your sickness, you knew that voice. You listened when given an order. You allowed your head to loll back to look up at him, but your expression was still set in that same hard glare. You weren’t on a battlefield. You were on base, far away from the acrid explosions and hot gunpowder. How dare he pretend otherwise? “Why?” you bit back in response. “This isn’t some tactical decision, Simon. Don’t treat me like one of your fuckin’ rookies.” 

He took a sharp breath through his teeth, obviously trying to control himself. He knew you were weak, the bond sickness taking so much more from you than it ever did him. But your defiance, your spirit despite the bond sickness was making his alpha go crazy. Even with you glaring up at him, he stared down at you with fierce eyes as his hands gripped your hips, shoving you out of the doorway and pressing you against the wall right beside it. Taking one hand off of your hip, he shut the door with a resounding click before his grip, and his attention came back entirely to you. “I ain’t treatin’ you like a goddamned rookie,” he growled out, his cold brown gaze entirely focused on your own broken one as one hand slams into the wall by your head. Even through your rage, he can see it. Feel it. He had broken you. And that knowledge caused his alpha to writhe in pain. “I’m treatin’ ya like my fuckin’ omega.” 

As he caged you in, growled those words at you, your own expression hardened. Your lips curled up to reveal your smaller omega fangs, a low growl of your own reverberating from your chest as your hands clenched into fists. It’s hard to ignore the sheer size difference between the two of you as he towers over you, his head dipped low to keep your attention. However, that did nothing to stop your rage, in fact, it increased it tenfold. 

“Oh, right. I forgot. Being your omega means less than being one of your rookies, silly me.”

You knew the second the words left your mouth that you just opened a Pandora’s box. You saw it in the way his eyes instantaneously darkened, in the way his hand left the wall before you could even blink, his fingers crushing your jaw between them in a bruising grip, forcing your head back against the wall as he brought his face ever closer to yours. However, as his face got closer, you could see the glint of something else in his eyes. Triumph. His alpha was revelling in watching you snap and get fiery again. It was a victory, in his mind, to see you able to be so angry after the bond sickness had taken so much from you. “Watch it, sweetheart,” he muttered, his voice low and gruff. “I know that attitude of yours will always be there, but careful.”

His words sent another wave of anger through you, and as he forced your head back, you jerked your neck, snapping your teeth at him, your small omega fangs glinting in the low light of his quarters. It was a clear message. Fuck the bond sickness, he had no right to touch you right now. You did not forgive him, and he has to work to even begin to earn that, and if he won’t? You would dissolve the bond without him, whether or not it risked your life. 

“Don’t sweetheart me,” you growled out, glaring up at him even as the bruising grip of his fingers squished your cheeks together, slurring your words. “Not after everything.”

His alpha instincts flared again, the desire to force you into accepting his help clear as his eyes flashed in irritation at your anger. He pressed you further into the wall, his body now flush against yours as he snarled right back. “Then do something about it,” he challenged. “Get mad. Fight me. Let it all out. But, you’re not leaving this room until you let me fix this.”

As much as you hated it, hearing Simon’s permission gave you the ability to let it all out. No matter how much you wanted to pretend that you were unaffected by him, the knowledge that he wanted you to fight, wanted to fix this broken bond between you, allowed you to finally and truly get all of the anger out, and maybe, just maybe, give the bond a chance to heal. 

And so you did. Your body jerked against his, your sallow cheeks flushing red as you bared your omega fangs and growled at him again. Your eyes held the faintest spark of life, a far cry from what they used to have, but there’s something there now. 

When Simon saw that spark, the faintest hint of his omega coming back, he chuckled gruffly, his eyes glinting with a possessive heat. 

“Yes, spitfire. I want you t’ fight me. Hit me, scream, yell at me, tell me how shit of an alpha I’ve been. I don’t care. Just don’t. Hold. Back.” 

As soon as the words left his mouth, the dam inside of you broke. Months worth of anger, agony, grief, pain, and aching sadness flooded your veins like a hot, volatile drug. It felt like a living, breathing thing as the emotions curled around your lungs, your muscles, your heart. Tears pushed at your lash line, the aching pain making itself known through the rage. 

You held his cold brown gaze for a moment, your eyes searching his. When all you saw in return was steely determination, you did the only thing you could think of. Before he could even move out of the way, you shut your eyes and cranked your head back as far as it would go, and drove your forehead straight into his nose. It wasn’t nearly hard enough to break it, but definitely hard enough to hurt and make the blood start flowing. 

He staggered back from you, his hands coming up to cup his nose, but the alpha was far from angry. In fact, he was grinning, the blood pouring from his nose coating his lips and teeth. A low growl of approval rumbled from his chest as he stared at you, approval glinting in his eyes. “Good girl,” he muttered lowly, the praise slipping through so naturally. 

As his praise washed over you, you felt your stomach flip. It shouldn’t feel that good. Not after the months and months of neglect so bad that you were literally dying. But, you couldn’t help the small ember of warmth that bloomed through your chest as that muttered praise of good girl flowed through your veins like a warm blanket settling over you. 

But, you were still angry. And hurt. And countless other emotions that you couldn’t even begin to name, all just culminating into a neverending ache. And as you saw the blood marring the plush flesh of his lower lip, something inside of you snapped. 

He had made his worst mistake. He had let go of you, and now you could truly fight. 

You crouched down, using your smaller stature and power legs to kick your leg out, and you swept it across the ground, knocking the much-bigger alpha off of his feet. You watched as his massive frame hit the ground, shaking the walls, a bloom of satisfaction erupting in your chest. Adrenaline was pumping through your veins now, the only thing allowing you to move, and before he had the chance to become reoriented, you were on top of him, straddling his hips as you punched at his chest. Your tears of anguish were falling freely now, sobs breaking free with your yells. 

“You have broken me! Broken! I used to be so strong, so happy, and you destroyed that! Ripped it away from me! All because you were too fucking caught up in your own shit, your own fucking fear, that you couldn’t even be half of the alpha you needed to be!”

Simon grunted in pain as his back collided with the cold, hard tile of his quarters, his hands automatically coming up to grab at your hips. Not to shove you off, no, but to keep you on top of him. He knew he deserved this. Every punch, every pointed word, every tear. It was his penance for all of the pain and agony he had put you through, even if it was ripping his heart to absolute shreds. 

“I know, I know,” he growled softly, his voice thick with regret. “I know I did.”

You shook your head, tears and snot flying from the force. You were so angry, so hurt, but the adrenaline was quickly running its course, leaving behind only bone-deep exhaustion and pain. Your punches slowly weakened, until you were barely able to lift your hands. Instead, they came to rest on his bare chest, your omega claws digging sharply into the thick muscle that covered his chest, one of your hands digging directly over his heart, needing him to feel a fraction of the agony that coursed through your own. 

“Don’t you agree with me! Don’t you dare! Gods, you do this to me for months, and you… you have nothing to say for yourself!? I tried! Tried to be a good spouse, a good omega! I tried to give you your space, to be unobtrusive, even though that killed my omega! And all I fuckin’ got in return is this fucking bond sickness that is killing me! Tearing me apart from the inside out!” 

His body shuddered as your claws dug into his chest, his skin breaking under the tiny points. It hurt in every way that it could, but the tiny pinpricks of blood that welled around your claws were nothing compared to how he had hurt you. He knew that he deserved this, every inch of your wrath, of your anger, and the pain it brought for him. It was the least he could do - to bear this for you. But, Gods, it didn’t stop your words from tearing into his heart in a way your claws couldn’t even begin to touch. 

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” he repeated, his words thick with the guilt that was threatening to choke him. “And I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry.”

His apology broke what little strength you had left. The bond between you was fraying, seconds away from snapping completely, and you had never felt more lost. A sob broke free from your lips, the force of the sound causing your body to lurch forward. But, Simon was there. For once, he was there. His chest caught your head, your tears wetting his skin almost instantaneously as your claws scratched down his torso, leaving thin, raised red lines down his scarred skin. 

He hissed softly in response to the pain, but he made no attempt to move, to shy away from it. You had completely given up on your ego, your omega so desperate for your alpha, no matter what he had done. But, you were still so hurt, your omega so wounded that you had no idea how you were going to come back from this. 

“Just… just tell me why. Why did you do this? Why did you treat me like this?” you sobbed out into his chest, your sour, distressed omega pheromones wafting around him like a shroud of despair. 

His alpha writhed in pain at your scent. It was wrong, so, so wrong, but he had done this. His neglect, his apathy, had taken his once strong, ferocious omega and reduced her down to this. He had never seen you like this. And he never wanted to again. He could feel the bond between you slipping between his fingers like shards of glass digging into his very being, and fear rose to take its place. He wrapped his arms around you, cradling your tiny, trembling form against him, his nose burying into your hair as he pressed a featherlight, shaking kiss into it. He swallowed harshly against the lump in his throat, his heart clenching in fear. In pain. In anger at himself. “I was a coward, love.” 

You sobbed harder against his chest at his admission, shaking your head jerkily. Your body felt like it was freezing and burning up at the same time, as the frayed edges of the bond dug into you like poisonous thorns. You could feel your mind shattering, your heart stuttering as the bond sickness continued to take hold. You were dying, and you knew it. But at this point, you would almost take death over the amount of pain you were in. “That’s not a good excuse,” came your shaking reply, the words thick with tears and agony, but they were strong with conviction. “Tell me why, Simon. Tell me why, or break the godsdamned bond.” 

The words that left your lips felt like they were suffocating the alpha. Break the bond. His arms tightened around you until you were completely pressed against him, and he could feel every shudder, every quiver in your weakening body. A low growl rumbles from his chest, the sound full of pain but also a desperate desire to comfort. He had to try - to even attempt to explain, even if he wasn’t sure it would do anything. But the thought of losing you without even trying made his heart shatter, his alpha howl in protest. 

“Because I was afraid,” he murmured, his voice thick with regret and honesty as his knuckles ran across the knobs of your spine. That caused him more pain than you would ever know, feeling how you had atrophied from his neglect. How his dismissal, his abandonment had caused his once strong, beautiful omega, to waste away before his very eyes. “Afraid of getting caught up in you, in this. Of loving you, of giving you part of my heart. I didn’t know how to keep you safe. I didn’t think I was worthy of having something like that, like you. I still don’t.” 

“Then break the bond,” you whimpered out, the pain of the bond sickness, of your own emotions, and what little of Simon’s you could still feel through the barest threads of the bond ricocheting through your body, reduced you to little more than a husk lying on top of Simon. Your heart was shattering along with the bond, the broken edges of each splintering in a way that made it hard for you to breathe. Your breath pushed and pulled achingly slowly through your chapped lips like broken glass, just another thing ripping your very being apart. 

“If you can’t do this… I’ll… I’ll figure it out. The brass’ll let me stay, at least for a little bit. But, I can’t… I can’t keep doin’ this. ‘M not asking for love. ‘M not asking to be a real marriage, but I can’t be apart of a bond where ‘m not… where ‘m not bein’ taken care of. I can’t.” 

Your words were slurring, little more than a broken and pain-filled whimper against his broad chest, and Simon could practically hear the way his heart shatters beneath you. He did this. He did this. And yet, the selfish part of him couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, no matter how much pain he had put you through. The alpha snarled as he wrapped his arms around your ever-weakening frame impossibly tighter, as if he was afraid that if he didn’t hold you tight enough, you’d slip away from him forever. 

“No, baby, no,” he replied softly, but the words were filled with a growl of conviction, of promise. “I was stupid. I was so stupid, and I hurt you. Let me… let me fix this, okay? Please, baby. Lemme fix you. Just for right now.” 

Simon was begging. You didn’t know if you had ever heard him beg before, but here he was, begging you to allow him the chance to fix you. Your exhausted, wounded omega perked up a bit at his conviction, but you couldn’t help but feel like this was far too little, far too late. “I… I don’t know, Simon. How can you… how can you fix this?” 

The pained gasps between your words drove a stake of fear through Simon’s heart, his alpha whimpering painfully. He swallowed harshly against the ever-growing lump in his throat, as he knew that he had to be the pillar of strength. If he broke right now, there was no hope for you. His lips brushed against the top of your head as he inhaled your sour, rotted scent in despair, his hands running up and down your back in a vain attempt to soothe you. 

“Let me… let me have a chance,” the alpha, your alpha, pleaded. “Please baby, let me fix this. I’ll do better, I promise. Gods, I’ll do anything. Just… just let me get you better,  baby, please. And then, if you still want to break the bond, we can, okay? Just… I can’t lose you. I can’t let you die. Not like this. Never like this.”

You felt, more than heard, his words wash over you. You could feel your body failing, the bond sickness taking what little was left of you. Even with Simon’s touch, with his promises, you had a brief moment of clarity where you just knew that this still might be it, that the bond had been strained too far, the cavernous distance between the two of you still too great, that this bond sickness might still kill you, despite his promises to fix you. 

You were so tired. So, so tired. The pain is too much, your eyelids too heavy, and it felt like what was left of your shattered heart wasn’t pumping nearly enough oxygen through your veins. You were teetering on the edge, and all you wanted to do was sleep. 

“Just… just let me sleep. In here. With you. Please?” you mumbled, the words soft and slurred. Any fight, any pride you had just a few minutes ago was long gone, and if you were going to die, your omega wanted it to be right here, in your alpha’s arms, taken peacefully in your sleep. “I need… just, please, Si.” 

Simon’s resolve shattered at the nickname that fell past your lips. He instantly sat up, gathering your frail, fragile body in his arms as he nodded, his own tears finally breaking free. 

His fault. All his fault. Always his fault. 

He quickly stood up, your body light (too light, too light) in his arms as he carried you to his bed. He was terrified. He could feel how slow your heartbeat was, how weak your body was, how slurred your words were. He shushed you softly, gently, but the sound warbled against his own tears. 

“Shhh, shhh, baby. I got you. I got you. Just… just sleep, okay? I’ll be right here. Right here. Never leavin’ your side again. I promise. I’ll be right here when you wake up. Just sleep.” 

He gingerly laid you on the bed, surrounding you with blankets and pillows, anything he could find that was drenched in his alpha scent, before his body came to blanket you. He couldn’t lose you. And he will keep his promise, even as his own silent tears fell down around your now-unconscious face. What’s that old saying? Oh, right. You never know what you have until it’s gone.

[solarsturniolo]

𝕾𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: in which Matt is failing his classes and at risk of having to repeat the semester, and his tutor is the reason behind it.

𝕯𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗: This is a collaborative story that me and another person started on, but I am in charge of it now :) All characters in this story are of age. None of the characters are minors.

𝖂𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: cursing / smut / switch!matt / switch!fem reader / male masturbation / wet dreams / use of good boy / virgin!matt / p in v / oral (fem receiving) / oral (male receiving) / overstimulation / breeding kink / praise kink / mommy kink / scenes mentioning anxiety

𝖂𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝕮𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 3,700

Previous parts: Intro / One / Two /

He tossed and turned that night, unable to get the dream out of his head. It had all felt so real. He could smell her perfume, waves of vanilla surrounding him as he laid at her mercy. He could feel her touch, her soft fingers running along his skin, a trail of goosebumps following close behind, warmth encompassing him. He could hear her voice, soft praises and coos of adoration falling from her lips, her tone warm and sweet, flowing like maple syrup dripping from a stack of pancakes. He could taste her lips as she kissed him, her cherry chapstick driving him wild as he nipped at her bottom lip. He could see her electrifying gaze as they locked eyes, his orgasm rushing through his body like a lightning bolt striking a tree. It felt so real…

He tried to fall asleep again, really he did. He wanted to fall asleep again. He wanted to drift back into the heavenly dream he had previously found himself in. He prayed to whatever higher power would listen to him, begging to be transported back into his dream. After twenty minutes of tossing and turning, peeking over at his alarm clock, groaning in annoyance, and repeating the cycle, Matt found himself sitting up in his bed. He grabbed his phone from his nightstand, unplugging it from the charger that was barely holding itself together after years of use. He tried to distract himself, hoping that the incessant scrolling and non-stimulating content would lull him to sleep. Unfortunately, he wasn’t that lucky. Even after scrolling through and switching between apps, Matt only found himself wide awake, annoyed, and horny.

Undeniably, uncontrollably, unbelievably horny. 

Matt opened the Safari app on his phone, clicking the address bar. The all too familiar website popped up without him even needing to type anything, a clear sign that he had made this search far too many times. Matt made a mental note to clear his search history as he clicked on the site, waiting impatiently for it to load. 

He scrolled through page after page, briefly glimpsing at the exaggerated titles to each video, none of which captured his interest. He let out a frustrated grunt, his dick straining against the cotton fabric of his boxers. He wanted nothing more than to jerk off, to get rid of the incessant throbbing so that he could just sleep, but unfortunately for Matt, he was picky with the porn he watched. Chris made fun of him for it, but he didn’t care. Seeing a woman bent over on some AirBnB couch getting the shit railed out of her, filling the empty disconnected atmosphere with obnoxious sounds, feigning the one thing he truly craved; he just couldn’t bring himself to watch something so meaningless, nonetheless enjoy it. Nothing about it was appealing to him. It wasn’t real. He wanted something real. 

But he had no idea how he felt about actual sex. He’d kissed a few times, but never with tongue and nothing past that. The furthest he had ever gotten was the time he made out with a girl in ninth grade and creamed his pants when she straddled his lap.  Matt was always insecure about his inexperience, afraid that when the time finally came, he would disappoint. This was brand new territory for him…and it was all her fault.

His gaze flickered to the top of his phone, reading the time that was displayed on the screen. “Holy shit,” he muttered. It was much too late in the night for him to still be awake, and yet here he was, pulling on a pair of faded flannel pyjama pants before shuffling over to the door. His fingertips grazed over the handle, unlocking the door and slowly pushing it open. Matt looked down the dark hallway, and once he was sure everyone was asleep, he carefully tiptoed over to the stairs. 

Each step had Matt tensing up, the old wooden floorboards groaning and squeaking under the weight of his feet. He cringed at a particularly loud step, even pausing for a moment to ensure he hadn’t woken anyone up. After another painfully long three minutes, Matt finally reached the bottom of the steps and made a beeline for the kitchen. In seconds he found himself standing in front of Nick’s bedroom door, and Matt raised his hand to knock but he hesitated. He leaned closer, his ear ghosting over the old faded wood. The muffled sound of the tv could be heard, along with Nick’s agitated remarks. “Are you fucking kidding me? You don’t fucking deserve her and now you’re getting her voted off!?” Matt smiled to himself. Once he was sure that his brother was awake and not murmuring nonsense in his sleep, he knocked on the door.

“God fucking- Yeah! Come in!.”

 He opened the door to see the room bathed in lavender LED light, the television playing whatever show Nick had suddenly found interest in. Tonight, it just so happened to be one of those ridiculous dating reality TV shows. Nick sat in his bed, his back propped against pillows, legs stretched out and arms crossed over his stomach. He turned his head the second the door opened, half expecting Mary Lou to come lecture him for being too loud, but he relaxed upon seeing his brother in the doorway. “Jesus, you can’t sleep either?” Nick huffed. “Get in here.”

Matt furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, until he saw Chris’s head poke up from the other side of the bed. He was sitting on the floor, for whatever reason, and he flashed a cheesy grin when he saw his brother standing in the doorway. 

“Why are you on the floor.”

“Wow, nice to see you too Matthew,” Chris rolled his eyes. “Nice of you to show your face at-“ he held up his arm, looking at his bare wrist. “Two thirty in the morning.” 

“Ignore him,” Nick mumbled, rolling his eyes and grabbing the remote controller from his nightstand to pause his show. “He’s annoyed because Nate left him hanging-“

Chris huffed, an inaudible response following as he turned back around and sunk back down onto the floor. The other two shared a look of irritation at the sound of Chris typing on his phone, the younger of the trio completely unbothered by the incessant clicking. Rolling his eyes, Nick looked at Matt expectantly. “Well?” 

Matt sighed, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him. He sulked over to Nick’s bed, collapsing onto the empty side as his brother moved over to make space for him. Matt wriggled under Nick’s blankets, keeping his face buried in the pillow. 

“What’s wrong,” Nick said, his tone changing the question to a demand. 

The keyboard sounds paused for a moment. “Yeah, your vibe is like…weird,” Chris added. He langered up from the ground and sat on the edge of his brother’s mattress. “You didn’t talk to us like all afternoon.” 

Matt sighed, questioning if he should say anything at all. But his brothers were his sanctuary. He always told them everything. It was eating him up inside, keeping this from them. He wasn’t good at keeping secrets, especially from the two people that could always read him like a book. He wanted to tell them everything; his grades, the tutoring, her. 

He decided to take one life crisis at a time. 

 “...There’s a girl,” He started. 

Nick shrieked. Chris looked at Nick, punching him in the upper arm as a proud smile formed on his face. “I fucking told you, you owe me lunch tomorrow.” 

Matt looked up from the pillow, furrowing his eyebrows yet again. “You knew?”

“Well no shit,” Chris laughed. “You? Willingly going to the library? I put the pieces together,” he smirked. “So what were you doing in the library with this girl?” he teased. 

Matt felt his face flush with heat, shooting a glare in Chris’s direction. “Nothing you’re thinking, pervert. We…” he trailed off. I can’t tell them I'm failing. I just can’t do it. “We were going over a project for English. That’s it.”

“Do we know her?” Nick asked as he opened instagram up on his phone. He wasn’t disinterested, but he knew how his brother was. Matt got embarrassed easily, so on the rare occasion that Nick did want to know more, he also knew that he had to be mindful of his reactions. Nonchalance was his best bet.

Matt huffed. Chris’s eyes widened and his smile grew. “No fucking way.”

“Chris-“

“Still?! It’s been four years, man!”

Nick looked back and forth between the two, confused by their exchange. Matt groaned, flopping back down face first into the pillow. “Matt liked this girl in our grade back when we started high school, but couldn’t grow the nuts to ask her out,” Chris filled Nick in. “We had her in our woodshop class last year and it was like I was partners with a brick wall,” Chris laughed, only making Matt all the more embarrassed. “I didn’t think you still liked her.”

“Shut up,” he groaned. 

Nick finally decided to chime in, dropping his phone onto his chest. “Wait a second, it’s not that girl from your weird baking class was it?” 

Matt’s face grew even more red, if that was even possible. “Nick, shut up-“

Now it was Chris’s turn to tilt his head quizzically, brow furrowed, looking at Nick expectantly for some context. “Baking class? The fuck-“

“Introduction to culinary,” Matt corrected them, hiding his face with the palms of his hands. 

“You were probably at practice or something,” Nick dismissed his younger brother with a wave of his hand before continuing. “Matt’s cooking class had some weird competition thing after school, me and mom went to it-“

“Nick, shut the fuck up,” Matt warned his brother, though his threat was open ended and held no real weight to it. He rolled onto his side, his back facing his brothers.

“Matt made this god awful chicken parmesan, but mom pretended to like it-“

Matt huffed, crossing his arms over his chest now. “It wasn’t that bad-“ he defended, remembering the way his mother cupped his face and kissed his forehead in the middle of the classroom, praising him for his hard work, all the while his brother discretely tossed his plate into the garbage bin out of sight. 

“Anyways, we all got to try everyone’s food and this girl made the BEST fucking coconut cream pie. Chris, it was actually unreal how fucking good it was-“

“Nick I swear to fuck-“

Chris smiled in amusement, criss-crossing his legs as he indulged himself in Nick’s story telling. It was rare for Chris to remain quiet like this, but at the expense of his brother’s ego, he remained engaged and attentive. Matt groaned, realizing there was no way to stop his brother from telling this embarrassingly awful story. He yanked the pillow out from behind his head, letting his head fall back onto the mattress before pulling the pillow over his face, wanting nothing more than to suffocate himself right then and there. 

“This motherfucker tries the pie, looks her dead in the eyes, and tells her he likes her cream-“

Matt flinched at the ferocity of Chris’s laughter thundering throughout the room, echoes of it bouncing off of the walls. The sound was followed by countless shushes from Nick, beckoning their brother to keep his voice down. “Mom and dad are sleeping you idiot,” Nick hissed, smacking Chris on the arm. Usually, Chris would retaliate and hit him back, but he was far too entertained by the story to even care about the sting he felt on his bicep. 

“You told her-“ he cut himself off, laughing again. Matt groaned and rolled over onto his back, pressing the pillow into his face with more force. Maybe if I press down hard enough, I’ll suffocate myself. “You told her you liked her cream?” Chris managed to force out between giggles. 

“No-“ Matt grunted, closing his eyes tightly as he felt the pillow being snatched from his grasp. “I told her I really liked her cream.”

This, of course, causes another fit of giggles to rise from Chris’s chest. Tears flooded his eyes as he leaned forward, doing everything within his power to keep his volume at a decent level. Nick rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t contain the toothy grin that snuck its way onto his face. “You guys suck,” Matt grumbled. “This is like middle school humor, grow up,” he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest once again. He tried to push the memory out of his mind, but it crept up on him and lingered, like a monster in the shadows. Her fingers grazing past his as she handed him a plate, her gaze locking with his as he eagerly tasted her homemade dessert, the words escaping him faster than he could even think.

Chris sniffled, grasping his shirt collar as he found himself finally settling after his laughing fit. He laid himself between his brothers, wrapping an arm over the front of Matt’s shoulders. “I love you, man. You crack me up,” he grinned, another string of giggles threatening to escape him as he replayed the moment in his head again. 

“I can’t ask her out, not after that-“ Matt mumbled, carefully uncrossing his arms so as to not disturb his brother’s comfortable resting position. He’d never admit it, but he quite enjoyed his brothers being touchy with him. Something about it made him feel safe and connected with them. It felt like home. 

“Maybe she found it flattering,” Nick suggested. “She probably knew you were talking about the pie-“

“Or were you?” Chris smirked, raising an eyebrow at Matt. 

In a swift motion, Matt walloped Chris in the bicep, shooting him a look that made Chris shiver. “Alright dude, my bad.”

Matt looked over at Nick, desperation clear in his eyes. “What the fuck do I do, man? I can barely fucking focus during our study sessions,” he sighed. 

Nick’s eyebrows furrowed. “I thought you were working on a project?”

Matt felt his heart drop, his mouth going dry. Fuck. He needed to lie, and he needed to do it fast. “Same thing, you know what I meant,” he mumbled. He pushed Chris’s arm off of his upper chest, rolling his eyes when Chris moved his arm right back to where it had been seconds prior. 

Nick dismissed Matt’s previous statement, not thinking too much of his slip up. “Tell her she’s pretty and ask her out. She is pretty, right?”

Matt’s eyes closed, his chest falling with a deep exhale. All he could think about was her. Her smile, her eyes, her laugh, her voice…Once he had started to feel his dick stiffen in his pyjama pants, he opened his eyes once more, staring at the ceiling. “I can’t even find the words, man.”

“Then it should be easy. Can we be done here? I’m trying to see who’s gonna get voted off next,” Nick mumbled, leaning back against the headboard of his bed, his focus shifting back to the television on his dresser. 

X O X O X O

Matt hadn't gotten much sleep that night. He watched with heavy eyes as the numbers on his alarm clock changed; every sixty seconds felt like an hour. His head spun, his imagination driving him crazy with fake scenario after fake scenario, conversations that would never happen, touches they would never share. His heart felt heavy. Matt huffed, rolling over onto his other side.  He winced, his hand moving to relieve the ache between his legs. Never in his life did Matt feel as sexually frustrated as he did now. Even when he went through puberty, it was never like this. The desire burning in him was a flame so ancient, yet so ripe at the same time. Foreign, yet familiar. A primal hunger for physical connection, a thirst for release. Diseased with lust. It felt wrong to feel this way, to crave any piece of her. Hell, he hardly knew her. But God, it felt so right at the same time. To crave her, to need her, to have her all to himself. It was enthralling. Perpetual. Addicting. 

The only downside to it was the sneaking around. He hated lying to his brothers, it made his stomach flip and his palms sweat, but he was far too embarrassed and ashamed to admit what was really going on. To admit that if he wasn’t nearly doomed to repeat senior year, she would have never even looked his way. 

Although it wasn’t ideal, being in this tutoring program gave him a newfound purpose. And, yes, there was a possibility that the program itself wasn’t the only aspect that had Matt leaping out of bed in the morning. 

It was strange. He had never spent so long trying to get ready in the mornings before school. Usually he’d throw on the nearest pair of sweats and whatever hoodie he had laying around in his room. But now it was different. He wanted to look good; he wanted to look good for her. He felt ridiculous, to say the least. Outfit after outfit, pulled on and quickly discarded into a pile on the floor. Matt huffed, going to his dresser and opting on a pair of cargo pants instead of his usual sweatpants. 

It would be worth noting that February in Somerville Massachusetts is cold. Very fucking cold. By deciding on the cargos, Matt was also sacrificing his comfort and warmth…but if she would even notice or say anything, it would be worth it. And so, Matt snatched a purple crewneck from his closet and turned, shutting the door with his heel as he pulled it on over his head. He finished off the outfit with his air forces that were falling apart at the seams and, before he left his bedroom, he went back to his dresser, opening the top drawer. He dug around through the plethora of socks, his fingers brushing over the cold glass bottle buried beneath them. 

He didn’t usually wear cologne. He couldn’t even remember how he had gotten this bottle in his possession. But none of that mattered to him now. All that mattered was making the best impression that he could. He was mindful; only one spritz on the neck and one on his wrists. He buried the bottle back into his sock drawer before rushing to his full length mirror. He fixed his necklace, ensuring that the clasp was at the back of his neck. Matt ran his fingers through his hair, fluffing it and fixing it, huffing in annoyance as it fell right back into place. Once he was satisfied with his look, he grabbed his favorite coat from where it hung on the back of his desk chair and snatched his backpack from the corner of the room. He closed his bedroom door behind him as he left, flicking the light to his room off, and began his descent to the kitchen where his brothers were already waiting. He pulled his coat on, taking the last step down the staircase. Matt rounded the corner, passing the family room and finally stepping foot into the kitchen.

Nick’s gaze was locked on his phone, though he still managed to greet Matt. “Do you have a fucking herd of elephants up in your room?” He mumbled. 

Matt’s face reddened. “Huh?”

“You-” Nick looked up, and immediately his brow furrowed with suspicion. “It’s nine degrees out and you chose today to not wear sweatpants?” He questioned. 

Chris looked over his shoulder from where he sat at the island, shoulders hunched, his mouth full of toast. He didn’t bother waiting to swallow his food before speaking, though that came as a shock to neither of his brothers. “The fuck…you’re gonna turn into an ice cube.” Chris’s eyes widened as he took his phone out of his jacket pocket. “Wait, now I wanna listen to Ice Cube-“

Matt pointed at Chris languidly. “Not happening, I’m getting aux.”

Chris huffed, dropping his phone face down onto the countertop. “Fuck you,” he mumbled under his breath, shoveling the remaining piece of toast into his mouth. Matt shuffled over to the fridge, eyeing the contents inside. His stomach growled, but nothing seemed appetizing. He checked the pantry next, snatching a granola bar and a bag of mini muffins, stuffing them into his coat pocket. He closed the pantry door with gentle intent. His brow furrowed at the feeling of his phone vibrating in his pocket, but once he pulled it out and checked the notification, his heart leapt into his throat. Matt’s ears glowed a bright red, his palms beginning to sweat as he typed his password in and opened Snapchat. 

Snapchat // New Message 

no tutoring today, extra curricular stuff (groan). keep working on your essay and i’ll check it tmrw :) 

Matt stared at the message, his heart sinking in his chest. All of the effort he put into his appearance today was for nothing. He exhaled, leaning against the wall as he thought of what to say. Something nonchalant, something cool…anything that didn’t scream desperation. 

Oh ok.

He had to admit, he was disappointed. He had really been looking forward to seeing her again. He thought for a moment before he opened his Snapchat again, clicking back into the chat. 

Yk I’m free after school if your still up for it.

He stared at the message for a long time; so long that her bitmoji had popped up in the bottom left corner, peeking out over the text bar. ‘Jesus Matt,’ he thought to himself. ‘For once in your life, grow some fucking balls.’

He clicked the send button and, with just as much haste, he fled the chat and locked his phone, shoving it back into his pocket. “If you’re not in the car in five minutes I’m leaving without you,” Matt announced, walking past Nick towards the stairs, making his way down to the mudroom to leave. Nick lifted his head again, looking towards the staircase with a furrowed brow.

“Are you fucking wearing cologne?!”

𖥔‧₊˚ ⊹ Tags 𖥔‧₊˚ ⊹

@flowerxbunnie @megamett44-lover @xtravrgnoliveoil @mattsturnswife @sturniolofan4lifee @soursturniolo @sturnioz @luverboychris @meerkatzthings @soupuurr @gemofthenight @hi-7-hi @blahbel668 @mattspleasure @sturnybabes @jjmaybankswifes-blog @sturniolosreads @bernardsleftbootycheek @egirlshit @nonamegirlxsturniolo @chrizz333 @sturniolopowers @mattsleftnipple03 @worldlxvlys @hearts4chriss @janiellasblog @creamoncreamoncream2 @meg-sturniolo @ellie-luvsfics @lustfulslxt @braindead4l @ghostlythinggoingaround @taekwite @querenciasturniolo @m4ttslvr @mqttittude @bewtyschooldropout @lovesturni0l0s @zebonos @h3arts4harry @riowritesitall @freshloveforthefit @esioleren @colorthecosmos444 @mbbsgf @kitkatbar1275 @fratbrochrisgf @sturnslutz @mattscoquette @wurlibydominicfike

[revelboo]

"...can u give it back?" GIRL THIS ISNT A GAME OF CATCH what is HAPPENING

READER GET UR SHIT TOGETHER WE GOTTA LOCK IN

Reader have some self respect challenge level failed hheheheaaaaa

You guys crack me up, but accurate I feel like

I should retroactively go back and add the 18+ warning to the first chapter of everything. I keep seeing new folks stumbling on the start of a fic out in the wilds of Tumblr and just slowly liking chapter by chapter. And I can’t help but watch in horrified fascination, because I know they’re going to run into smut eventually

Everything Is Alright Pt 116

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• "And there's the sire," Megatron growls as your shoulder creep up to your ears hearing the thud of peds running in the hall. And you really just want to hide inside Soundwave's cassette compartment and not deal with any of this, because this isn't your fault but you're sure the fallout is still going to be your problem to deal with. Why are aliens so weird? Can't make yourself look at Megatron or Soundwave. And then there's Starscream bursting through the door, denta bared and looking half mad until his optics find you. You catch a glimpse of the absolutely feral look on Megatron's face as Star rushes for you, hands out in demand that Soundwave hand you over. You really liked it better when Megatron looked shellshocked, just staring at nothing. Because right now? You imagine that's how a serial killer would look as he holds a still beating heart. "Starscream," Megatron says and the fine hair at your nape lifts as you try to decide whether you want to be in Star's hands for this or not.

• "Are you okay, little one?" Watching you cringe down into Soundwave's hands and refuse to look at him, he glares at Megatron. Suspecting the warlord's been trying to turn you against him again, but he can't not reach for you. Servo's feathering over you as you turn an almost pleading look toward Megatron. "What happened?" What had Megatron done to you? Wants to ask if it was the spark, but not with the warlord right there. Grinning at him. Wings lifting slightly when that expression really registers. Because he's seen it before, when he'd first been introduced to Megatron. Splattered in someone else's energon and grinning just like that. And he notices the resigned set of Soundwave's shoulders. Knows that Megatron knows about the spark and he grits his denta.

• "Neither of you thought to tell me that our little pet was sparked?" Megatron asks, voice low and reasonable. And dangerous. Soundwave cups his hands around you, head lifting as he and Starscream both turn to face the warlord, his spark constricting at that 'was.' Fear thrumming through him as the Seeker's wings drop sharply and you still won't look at them. Had you lost the spark after all? He's aware of Megatron lifting the arm with the cannon attached to point a servo at you in his hands, but he can't tear his optics from you. Because you look upset, but not that upset. You look like you think you're in trouble somehow.

• "Was." Starscream repeats and his raspy voice has a dangerous edge you recognize. That's the tone he uses right before he does something stupid. "What did you do?" He's staring at Megatron, denta bared. Wincing as his turbines begin humming, you grab at his servos when he starts to pull away and he looks down at you, those red optics cold with fury. And your breath catches, wanting to let go instead of making yourself hang on to him. Hate when he looks at you like that and just knowing Megatron is going to make things worse on purpose. It’s like neither of them can help it when they’re anywhere near each other.

• "I tried to save our pet," Megatron growls, servo shifting to point at Starscream. "After you severed Soundwave's bond. And our dear little pet repaid me by gifting me your spark." And as infuriating as all of this is, the look of abject horror on Starscream's face almost makes up for it. He's aware of Soundwave just looking down at you in disbelief when you hide your face in your hands. "I suppose it's mine, now. Good to know how fully you trust me, pet. Enough to fully bond to me."

• Tearing his optics from Megatron to stare at you only to find you hiding your face still lets him know Megatron's telling the truth. That Megatron has somehow stolen this from him and you. Stolen his future. Pulling air sharply through his vents as his head lifts to that stupid, smug grin, Starscream lunges for Megatron with a snarl aware of you yelling at him to stop.

Previous

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[bakerstreet-and-beyond]

Hey please be careful in sharing things like this because a number of these things folks are claiming you can't search/get flagged since the Ban you very much still can search and or were things that were already being flagged for review BEFORE the 19th ...

Like- did we all forget talking about this over a year ago when there was a decrease in Pro-Palestine content due to outside suppression on the app or when real time Lives of fighting in Ukraine were being taken down? There's a reason why people on TikTok were using 🍉 and 🌻 instead of the flag or actually naming the countries.

Also the majority of negative comments being flagged about these awful people is because it contains the word "Fuck" which on Tumblr y'all've been dunking on how on TikTok you couldn't/can't say, "Fuck" "Kill" "Sex" "Die" etc in comments and descriptions for YEARS... Literally if you put those words in as tags, descriptions, captions or comments you get flagged; We've known this for A WHILE.

They took 170 MILLION users offline and then back, some issues people are reporting are literally growing pains of putting the servers in weird limbo life support after taking them down (technically the app is STILL banned) like the Live Feature needing about 24hrs to come back online and quality being nuked.

Certain users are missing or aren't uploading anymore because they deleted the app not because they are "Banned", which still since the app itself IS STILL technically banned, you can't re-download in the app store currently. We all thought it was the end and some actually deleted their accounts the day of because of how sure folks thought it was over.

Also the primary editing software people use for TikTok, Capcut, isn't back either because of this purgatory the app is in so people can't even make the videos they normally make too.

Under the cut here the actual results when you type in those terms into TikTok search and what I saw for Lives literally 48 hours ago

When Lives Feature came back on literally the first Live I got on my FYP was for a MLK Day parade and it was someone zooming in on a sign a little girl was holding that said "This is the Kings day, NOT his" followed by the next Live got was a gentleman walking around his neighborhood speaking in Spanish about how he's been up all morning checking out suspicious trucks in his neighborhood worried that they may be undercover ICE vans. Next Live I saw was someone talking about how no one can see her live and yet there was 5,000 people watching 🧍🏻the next video I literally got was a Luigi Update; unfortunately I didn't realize I should've taken screenshots of all this but also,

I'm in the US and not using a VPN, here are my results for the following as of 1/22/25:

The Radio Station only comes up as a banner at the top suggesting the account but, all the results are tho what you'd expect

These videos also are still here,

And this is what you get for searching "Fascism"

And our boi is still very much here

I hit my photo limit, but I implore you to type those terms in that supposedly have "no results anymore" and see they very much do and or realize that some things have already been removed well before the 19th

I really think letting us purposely spread that the app is now overly censored and the Meta buyout rumours is a tactic to further divide us. I really think, right now at least, the only thing they had to do was put "Thank You Donald Trump" in the return message, without having to actually change anything else, and then let folks go wild with the accusations, rumors, and conspiracies so then we all turn on the app ourselves and thus we won't cry about it being gone or that it gives us some falsely created moral high ground for deleting it/not using it anymore/etc and again will keep us more divided than together.

Literally this is destabilization tactics our government uses on other countries and it's own communities...

Thankfully there are creators on there who are also pointing this out as well as, just look at the comments on this post and you will see that others are saying, again in the US without a VPN you can still search these things in the post above.

It doesn't excuse the other fuckery definitely happening by any means but, they are letting us destroy ourselves and the 3rd space we created where we were the most united we've been on a platform in a while. They know how to push our buttons and we're all being played.

Already seeing people on tiktok saying “I still hate trump but he ate with this one” like … babes … you just got propagandized … that’s literally exactly what he created this situation in the hopes you would say …

[barrenclan]

"Sunlight here and Shadows there" has a lot of wonderful parts (Honeys kits! Seven Silvers! Sky's gender journey!) but I wanted to thank you for Meadow in particular. Warrior cats is well known for being ableist, but there's a lot that's undiscussed about how that connects to the clan views about how outsiders (especially housecats) are "weak, lazy, and spoiled" for choosing to live an "easy" life.

But Meadow being able to decide to pursue a life with less pain means a lot to me. I love how he loves his family and they love him but they can't really... Help him. Living in the wild is realistically possible, but it's not what Meadow needs. Obviously he misses his family and they miss him, but like the rest of the kits, his epilogue is about what he specifically needs. Being with humans is a life that lets him feel comfortable, safe, and happy, and it's so nice seeing a story where he's not seen as bad for wanting it.

"Maybe it's not all that bad to leave your past behind" Indeed.

Thank you so much! Warriors is very focused on that ideal of "punishing yourself out of nobility/loyalty/etc" and while it can be good to have those traits, that idea that it's automatically worth more than your own body and health is much, much worse. The books? Turns out? Kinda bad.

I did honestly consider making all the cats at live with a human or at least around humans, but eventually I decided it probably isn't something these skittish cats would go for, or that people wouldn't split up a gang of a dozen cats.

[morgana-larkin]

Hii! I just want to say, I really enjoy your style of writing!!

And also perhaps request :)

I’ve been thinking about the Party ep from S3. Maybe reader attends with Melissa, and ends up having to take care of a drunk Mel, could be fluffy or smutty whichever hehe.

I am thinking though established relationship, either wife or girlfriend :))

Hopefully you like this concept and can put your own twist on it!

Thank you 🥰

Hello! I can’t believe I’ve gotten 3 prompts for this specific episode and I love all the different ideas! Here’s your request! Not edited in the slightest and I hope you like it!

My Lovely Fiancé

Warnings: smut, mommy kink, breast kink, strap on

Words: 3.2k

“So tonight, I’m your protector? Making sure you don’t do anything stupid while drunk.” You ask her while you sit on her desk and she nods.

“You know I can do crazy things when I’m drunk.”

“Like propose to me?” You ask and she smiles.

“That was only stupid because I wanted to ask you the right way.”

“And you did, and now we're getting married next summer.”

“Who knew that my miracle would be a woman.” Melissa tells you and you wrap your arms around her. She gets in between your legs and kisses you.

“And who knew that Melissa Schemmenti would be soft when in love.”

“Zip it you.” She says and then kisses you again.

“Lovebirds, I’m closing the school in 15 minutes.” Mr Johnson says and you pull away from each other.

“We should go, we gotta get ready.” You tell her and you both walk out of the school and to Melissa’s car.

You both get home and change into your outfits for Janine’s party.

“Barb wants to get there an hour early as we know Janine will need help.” Melissa tells you and you nod.

“Well you can go early but I’ll be there a little late.” You tell her and she tilts her head at you.

“And why are you going to be late?”

“I have to go pick up my outfit from the tailor, remember? It’s been ready for 2 days but I haven’t been able to pick it up yet.”

“Ok, I have to go, Barb is almost here to pick me up.” She says after checking her phone. “She was going to drive us but I guess I’ll meet you there.” She says and gives you a kiss.

“I’ll see you there, I love you.” You tell her.

“I love you too.” She says and then you both go downstairs. You head to you and Melissa’s car just as Barb pulls up.

“Aren’t you coming to the party dear?” Barb asks as Melissa walks to the car.

“I gotta go get my outfit from the tailors but I’ll be there as soon as I can.” You tell her. “Keep an eye on my wild fiance until I get there.” You tell her and she nods.

“You know I can hear you.” Melissa complains and you smile.

“I know.” You say and then get in the car and drive to get your outfit.

You pull up to the party about 30 minutes late and knock on the door to see Mr. Johnson blocking it.

“Mr. Johnson let me in.” You tell him.

“Do I know you?” He asks.

“Do you want me to punch you in the face? Melissa taught me how to do it properly.” You tell him and then he moves out of the way. “Thank you.” You walk in as the party looks to be in full swing and you look around for Melissa or even Barb. You run into Janine who looks to be stressed out. “Hey Janine.”

“Hey, Y/n.”

“Something wrong?”

“Everything is wrong, nothing is going right.” She says and you look at her confused.

“Alright, I’ll leave you alone to whatever crisis is happening with you, do you know where Melissa is?” You ask her.

“She’s in the middle of the dance floor with Barb.” She tells you and you nod.

“Thanks, your party looks great.” You tell her and then walk to the dancefloor. You see Melissa and Barb dancing and you go to walk up to them. “Melissa!” You yell over the music and she turns to look at you.

“Heeeyyy! You made it!” She slurs out and gives you a dramatic hug.

“Holy crap, how drunk are you?”

“I’m not drunk, just happy that you’re here.” She says happily and you smile at her.

“You’re clearly drunk…and apparently so is Barb.” You add as you look to see Barb dancing without shoes on.

“Dance with me, my lovely wife.” She says and grabs both your hands. “I can’t wait to permanently make you my lovely wife. Let’s get married right now!” She says and you widen your eyes.

“No, I’m not marrying you when you’re drunk.” You tell her and she pouts.

“I’m not drunk on alcohol though, I’m drunk in love with you.” She says very close to your face and you smell the alcohol on her breath.

“How about I get us both drinks?” You offer and walk to the kitchen.

“I’m too sober for this.” You say and roll your eyes. “Here Melissa, your favourite beer.” You tell her and hand it to her.

“I have the best fiance in the world!” She shouts out and takes a sip.

You and Melissa start dancing with each other and you keep having to stabilise her as her coordination isn’t the best when drunk. Then the lights go out and the music stops playing and you hear a lot of ‘boos’ from everyone.

“Y/n?” You hear Melissa ask and you turn on your phone flashlight.

“I’m right here Mel.” You say with a smile and she giggles.

“It’s like we’re in an eclipse.” She whispers and you laugh.

“Ya it does.” You tell her and you mess up her hair a bit and she gives you a glare. She then leans forward and captures your lips with hers. Melissa puts her hands in your hair while you wrap your arms around her neck.

“Ah! I’m blinded by the light!” You hear Barb say and pull away. You quickly realise your phone flashlight was pointed right at her eyes.

“Sorry Barb.” You tell her.

The lights suddenly come back on and the dj gets the music ready and they start the music again.

“Come on Y/n, let’s dance!” She says and starts dancing. She then suddenly pulls you in closer to her and takes control of the dance. She spins you around so your back is pressed up against her front and she wraps her arms around your waist. She then leans in close to your ear so only you can hear her. “With you pressed up against me like this, I just want to pound into you with the strap until you can’t walk.” She says and you lose your balance for a second and Melissa notices. “I think you want that too.” She adds.

“Melissa, you’re drunk and not thinking straight.” You tell her.

“Thinking straight is for straight people.” She tells you and you giggle.

“That’s true, and we’re not straight.” You say with a smile.

She’s about to reply back but then you see Janine start to dance and people backing up to form a circle.

“GO JANINE! GO JANINE!” People chant and you and Melissa join in.

An hour later, everyone starts leaving and Barb calls Gerald to come pick her up. You and Melissa wait until Barb is picked up and then you lead Melissa to the car to drive you both home.

“You know I had a lot of fun tonight!” She says quite loudly and you giggle.

“And you’re gonna feel like shit tomorrow.” You tell her and she laughs.

“You know I haven’t forgotten about wanting to pound into you until you can’t walk.” She says and you glance at her quickly before turning your attention back to the road.

“Play on your phone.” You tell her and she does take her phone out.

You get back home and you help Melissa as she stumbles back into the house.

“Let’s get you upstairs and to bed.” You tell her and she hums.

“Want me already?” She asks and she gets closer to your ear.

“We need to get you upstairs before you pass out.” You tell her and she scoffs.

“Schemmenti’s don’t pass out because of a bit of alcohol.” She slurs out and you shake your head at her.

“You didn’t have a bit of alcohol though, you had a lot.” You tell her as you make it to the bedroom. You drop her onto the bed and then you take her blazer and shirt off.

“Seems like you want me since you’re undressing me.” She says and then you take her bra off and put a pj shirt on her. “What the fuck? What’s with the shirt?” She complains as she tries to take it off. You then push her gently and she falls back on the bed. You then take her shoes, leather pants and underwear off. You try and put some shorts on her but she moves her legs, making it harder so you decide to just ditch the shorts.

You tuck her in and then you go and get ready for bed yourself. Once you come back out of the bathroom, you see her already asleep and you roll your eyes and then climb into bed. Once you get in, she unconsciously moves closer to you and you wrap an arm around her before you fall asleep.

Melissa wakes up first as the sun is in her eyes and she whines. “Y/n?” She calls out and you wake up but don’t open your eyes. “Y/n where are you?” She calls out again.

“I’m right behind you genius, my arm is around you.” You tell her and she grabs hold of your hand. She then gets a notification on her phone and she grabs it to see a calendar note.

“Y/n?” She starts.

“Ya?”

“Why is there a reminder on my phone that says pound into Y/n with strap?” She asks you and you open your eyes and look at her phone.

“When the hell did you… you must have put that in there in the car when I kept denying your advances.” You tell her and you laugh.

“You were able to deny me?” She asks and you nod. “And how hard was I trying?”

“Honestly? Not as hard as I thought you would.” You tell her and she turns around to face you.

“Why don’t I have shorts on?” She asks and you chuckle.

“You kept kicking your legs when I tried to put them on so I gave up.” You tell her.

“And why do you have shorts on?” She asks and you look at her.

“Because I didn’t get plastered last night. I had one drink when I got there and nothing else.” You say and she hums.

“I think you should take the shorts off.” She says with a deeper voice and you look at her eyes and see how dark they are, her normal green is now gone.

“And why’s that?” You ask with a smile.

“Because you’re on my to do list today.” She says and she takes her shirt off. Melissa knew that you can’t deny it when she’s fully naked, or if she’s topless, as her boobs are too perfect for you to say no to.

“You're using my weakness against me.” You tell her and move closer to her and she winks at you. She leans forward and kisses you and doesn’t pull away until you moan. You start to move down to suck on her nipples but she stops you and you look at her.

“You can’t touch them unless you take your clothes off.” She tells you and you quickly take your pj shirt and shorts off. “That’s better. As cute as you are with my shirt and your little shorts on, I much prefer you without anything on.” She says and she tilts your chin and places a kiss on your lips. “Now be a good girl and suck my tits really well.” She says and you happily move your body down and put a nipple in your mouth.

You start sucking and swirling your tongue all over and she’s spewing out moans and gasps. It doesn’t take long until you move your hand down and start circling your clit, turned on by the noises she’s making and sucking on her tit. It isn’t until you’re sucking on the other one that she notices you touching yourself. She pushes you off of her nipple and grabs the hand that you’re touching yourself with, and you let out a whine.

“I think you’re being bad, touching yourself without my permission.” She tells you and you look up at her. “Without mommy’s permission.” She adds and you try to suck on her nipples again but she stops you.

“I’m sorry mommy, let me please you.” You plead and she smiles.

“I know how you’re going to do that.” She tells you and then she goes into the nightstand and pulls out the strap and the dildo. “I’m going to put this on with some lube, and then you’re going to ride it.” She tells you and you nod.

You watch as she puts the strap on and then puts the dildo on it, she grabs the lube and puts a good amount on it. She lays down on her back and instructs you to start riding it. You get up and straddle her lap, you go up a bit and she aligns the dildo with your entrance. You slowly sink down on it, feel as it slowly fills you up, stretching you out. It isn’t until you’re halfway down that you realise that she grabbed the biggest one and it’s filling you up nicely, stretching you out a good amount, especially since you haven’t used the biggest one in 2 months.

“It’s big.” You whine out and she grabs your hips, helping you slide down all the way.

“I know, I want to watch as your pussy just swallows up the entire thing, like the little whore that you are.” She says and that just makes you wetter. You take the whole thing as she bottoms out and then you take a second before you start moving your hips. “That’s it, keep going until you come all over it.” She says and you whimper before you move faster. “If you come like a good girl then I’ll reward you by pounding it into you.” She says. “The way I know you like.” She adds and you suck in a breath at imagining that.

Melissa made sure to position the dildo exactly where it will rub against her clit, knowing how you’ll ride it as she’s gotten you to do it before. She decides to tease you more. She brings a hand down to her pussy, under the strap, and she covers two fingers in her wetness. She then brings them close to you and instructs you to suck on them. You put them in your mouth and you immediately taste her in your mouth, making you move faster and getting you to want to come even faster than before. Melissa watches as you suck her fingers and feels them in your mouth and how your tongue is licking them clean. She really should have thought that through as it’s teasing her more than you. She decides to fuck it and grabs your hips, she pulls you off the strap and you’re looking at her confused.

“Don’t give me that look, you look and feel so good, I can’t wait any longer.” She tells you and she gets you on your hands and knees before she slams the dildo in your entrance and you gasp out. She doesn’t start off slow, she starts pounding into you and you start gasping and moaning right away and that makes her smile. “You like that baby, don’t you? When I’m a bit rough with you, isn’t that right?” She asks you and you whimper. “Use words my love.”

“Yes Melissa, I like it when you’re rough with me.” You tell her and she stops and bends down to your ear.

“When I’m making you feel good, I’m not Melissa, remember baby?”

“Mommy.” You say and she smiles before she sits back up and continues slamming the dildo into you. She watches as you just take the dildo, all of it, all at once and she moans out.

“I just love watching you take all of me, all I give you.” She tells you and she stumbles a little as her orgasm is building. “Oh god baby, do you feel it building, your orgasm?” She asks and you nod.

“Yes mommy, I’m getting close.” You tell her and she grabs your hips to stabilise herself.

“That’s good baby, mommy is getting close as well.” She tells you and you can tell as she’s getting messy, stumbling a bit.

“Make me come mommy.” You whimper out and she moans out.

“Oh god, I love it when you beg.” She says and she sees your legs start to shake. She can hear your breathing get heavier and she has to move harder so she knows you’re clenching around the dildo. “Come baby, let me hear you.” She says and you take a few breaths before you come with a moan. Melissa comes a few seconds after and she holds onto you for stability. She gently pulls out of you but it still has you whimper as it’s big and you’re still coming down from your high. “I know baby, shh.” She says and then she’s out of you fully and she takes it off. “Come here.” She says as she lays down and you join here, and she wraps you protectively in her arms.

“You sure got over your hangover quickly.” You say after a few seconds and she laughs.

“Well my lovely fiancé needed me to make her feel good. I still have a headache though.” She tells you and you look up at her.

“You know you said something last night.” You say and she hums.

“I bet I said a lot of things last night. What stupid thing did I say now?” She asks.

“It wasn’t stupid actually, it was nice.” You say and she looks at you. “You called me your lovely wife and said we should get married right now.” You tell her and she smiles.

“Well I do think about just going to city hall and getting married but this is your first wedding and if you want a wedding then you’ll have a wedding.” She tells you and you kiss her.

“Really?” You ask and she nods.

“I asked you to marry me a month ago because I wanted to spend the rest of my days making you happy and seeing that smile of yours.” She tells you and you can’t help but smile at her words. “That’s the smile I’m talking about.” She says and boops your nose.

“I know next year we’re getting married but if you want to start calling me your wife then you can.” You tell her.

“Really?”

“Ya, I mean you’re going to be calling me that for the rest of our lives, why not start now?” You tell her and her smile grows.

“Ok, my lovely wife.” She tells you and gives you a kiss.

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta

@imaginesmultifandoms

@idonothingalldays-blog

@sexysapphicshopowner

@dvrkhcld

@lilfartbox1

@ricejucie

@unicorniusfallapatorius

@a-queen-and-her-throne

@sleep-deprived-athlete

@og-kxsh-420

@sasheemo

@midnight-lestrange

@dashbag-art

@morgananyx

@schmentisgf

@cblanchetts

@that-october-night

@schemmentigfs

Let me know if you want to be added!

[nhlclover]

THE ALCHEMY RYAN LEONARD

pairing: fem!reader x ryan leonard

summary: you find a brief moment to celebrate usa's world juniors win with ryan.

warnings: a kiss, mentions of drinking if you stare hard enough

wc: 1.12k

notes: based on 'the alchemy' by taylor swift. i borrowed some of their dialogue from taylor and travis when he won the superbowl lol

The crowd roared to life as you watched Teddy slip the puck between the goalie's legs, sealing USA’s fate. Your section in the stands, filled with red, white, and blue, erupted in chaos. Flags waved, strangers embraced, and the players on the ice flung themselves into each other’s arms, collapsing into a pile of triumphant disbelief. Around you, Ryan’s family whooped and cheered, his mom hugging you so tightly it almost hurt. The other families were just as exuberant, crying, laughing, high-fiving—caught up in the magic of a moment their boys had dreamed about for years.

Your eyes found Ryan in the chaos on the ice, wrapped up in a hug with the goal scorer himself. He had ripped his helmet off, his hair wild and sweat-soaked, his grin splitting his face in half. You watched as the celebration continued down on the ice, as the boys were presented with their medals and then the trophy.

When the fanfare wrapped up, you joined the spectators slowly making their way out of the stands. Eventually, you parted with Ryan's family and the rest of the crowd, deciding to meet them later for a private celebration. You couldn’t resist the pull to head down toward the tunnels, wanting just a glimpse of Ryan before the night spiralled into press conferences and parties. The labyrinthine halls of the arena were buzzing with activity — staff rushing by, reporters setting up, and muffled music echoing from deeper within.

As you approached the locker room, the thumping bass grew louder, paired with whoops and laughter. You paused just outside the door, your hand hovering near the handle. The music inside was deafening, a mix of victory chants and celebratory anthems. You could hear Ryan’s voice among them, loud and carefree, shouting along with his teammates.

You hesitated, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. This was his moment, winning gold as captain of the team. Did you really want to interrupt? The thought of stepping inside and breaking the magic of their celebration made you falter. It would be better if you caught up with him later when things had calmed down.

You turned to leave, only to catch Teddy coming around the corner, still in partial gear and clearly riding the high of the win.

“Y/n!” Teddy’s voice boomed, and before you could react, he had scooped you into a bear hug, his gear still cold and damp from the ice.

You laughed, feeling your feet touch the ground once again. “Congratulations, Teddy!” you laughed. “It was pretty incredible. You even had Canadian fans on their feet.”

Teddy beamed at the praise, running a hand through his damp hair. “Yeah, I’ll probably never shut up about that one,” he joked. Then his expression shifted, more mischievous. “Hey, you should come in. Ryan would love to see you right now.”

You hesitated, glancing toward the door. “I don’t want to get in the way.”

“Get in the way?” Teddy snorted. “Trust me, you walking in there will be the highlight of his night. And that’s saying something, considering we just won gold.”

Before you could overthink it, Teddy had slung an arm around your shoulder and was guiding you toward the locker room. The second the door opened, a wave of noise hit you — shouting, laughter, music. The air was thick with triumph and joy, the kind of euphoria that only comes from achieving something extraordinary.

Your eyes widened at the scene. The boys were a chaotic mess, still half in their gear, some holding beers, others swinging their medals around like trophies in themselves. And then you spotted Ryan.

He was at the center of it all, being hoisted up on the shoulders of his teammates, the gold medal around his neck gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lights. The guys around him chanted for him, their voices hoarse as they celebrated their leader.

“CAPTAIN! CAPTAIN! CAPTAIN!”

Your heart swelled at the sight of him, so unapologetically happy. He deserved every second of this. When they finally let him down, he stumbled slightly, laughing as his teammates patted his back and messed up his hair. Then, as if sensing you somehow, his eyes darted toward the door.

The second he saw you, his expression shifted. His grin widened, and he broke into a sprint, dodging teammates and abandoned gear until he reached you. Before you could even speak, he had his arms around you, lifting you off your feet and spinning you in a circle.

“Thank you for coming baby,” he said into your ear so only you could hear, despite the prying eyes of his teammates. “You’re the best. The absolute best.”

He held you tightly against his heaving chest, holding you as if he couldn’t believe you were quite real. He pulled back, only slightly, brushing his lips against yours. You kissed him back, and not a quick peck — the kind of kiss made the room disappear and time stand still. The noise around you faded, and all you could feel was him.

The jeers and whistling from his teammates broke into your little moment, you burying your head in Ryan’s shoulder as he told the boys to pipe down. “Save it for later, Cap!” Cole hollered, earning a loud chorus of cheers.

Ryan leaned his head down to you, his breath warm and uneven against your ear. He chuckled, his voice low and full of affection. “They're the worst,” he murmured, though you could hear his grin as he spoke, betraying his fondness for his teammates.

His hand slid down to take yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles, which made you pull your head back out of his shoulder. He lifted your hand to his lips, kissing the back of it softly, a gesture so tender it made your chest ache. “I’ve got to handle the press and celebrate with the guys for a bit,” he said, his voice apologetic. “But I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

You nodded, smiling up at him. “Of course. I’ll be with your family in the meantime.”

He hesitated for just a beat, as if reluctant to let go. “I love you,” he said, his voice steady and full of certainty, even amidst the chaos around you.

Your heart swelled. “I love you too,” you replied, squeezing his hand before letting him go.

Ryan lingered for a moment longer, his eyes holding yours as if committing this moment to memory. Then, with one last grin, he turned and disappeared back into the locker room chaos. You watched him go, your cheeks aching from smiling so much. As you made your way back through the winding halls toward the stands, the distant sounds of celebration faded into the background.

[ruewritesoccasionally]

Lessons in Obsession | Terry Richmond

Pairing: Dark!Professor!Terry x Dark!Student!Black!Reader

Warnings: Dark themes and smut 18+, obsessive behaviour, stalking, manipulation, tension, power dynamics, references to other sexual acts, teasing, degradation kink (if you squint) } everything is consensual but read at your own risk !

Summary: Lessons in Obsession follows a uni student whose innocent admiration for her professor, Terry, morphs into an all-consuming obsession but she's in for a surprise.

Word Count: 3.9K

a/n: okay i went a little wild with this one and unintentionally made it lowkey a thriller 🤭...something about dark!terry just hits but also i really wanted to see the reader crazy this time

The first time she noticed him, it wasn’t his sharp jawline or the way his voice rumbled through the lecture hall that caught her attention. It was something smaller, something more insignificant—a fleeting moment, really. He’d complimented her paper, a simple “Well done, solid work,” as he handed it back with a faint, approving smile. That was all it took.

She’d sat in the third row that day, blending into the sea of students, but in that moment, she felt seen. Not just noticed, but recognised, as though the hours she’d poured into her research had been worth something. His gaze lingered for half a second longer than it should have, or at least she thought it had. That was the moment her harmless admiration started to shift into something... darker.

By the next lecture, she’d made subtle adjustments. Arriving earlier, sitting closer to the front, ensuring her outfit was neat but understated—just enough for him to notice if he looked. And he did. She watched his eyes sweep over the room, landing on her briefly before continuing his scan. Her chest tightened, satisfaction unfurling within her like a bloom. He was paying attention.

From then on, her routine became calculated. She was always the first one there, slipping into her usual seat before anyone else arrived. A notebook rested behind her laptop, a perfect cover for her real intentions. While others scrambled to open their notes or chatted idly, she observed. Every flick of his wrist, every adjustment of his glasses, the way his brow furrowed when he lost his train of thought—it was all committed to memory, scribbled hastily into her private pages.

She told herself it was innocent at first. Just curiosity. He was an intriguing man, after all—intelligent, confident, effortlessly commanding. But as the days turned into weeks, her observations grew more intimate. She noticed how he favoured navy suits and brown loafers, how he drank his coffee black but occasionally indulged in a splash of cream. She tracked the times he left the building, the direction he walked, the car he drove.

By the third week, she knew the rhythm of his day better than her own. He parked in the same spot each morning, near the oak tree at the back of the lot. He stopped by the gym on Tuesdays and Thursdays, finishing just in time to grab a quick dinner before heading home. She even discovered his preferred brand of deodorant, catching a faint trace of it when he walked past her desk during a group discussion.

Her obsession didn’t feel wrong. It felt... natural. Like she was simply gathering pieces of a puzzle only she was meant to solve. And he made it so easy.

When he returned another marked paper with the note “Excellent insight” scrawled at the top, she’d felt the thrill shoot through her veins. She told herself it was his fault, really. The way he encouraged her, the way he looked at her like she was the only one in the room who truly understood. He’d lit the match—she was just fanning the flame.

And then came the moment that sealed everything.

A casual compliment, thrown out mid-discussion: “I can always count on you to ask the right questions.” It was nothing, really—just another piece of professional praise. But to her, it was gospel. Proof that she wasn’t imagining it. Proof that she wasn’t just another face in the crowd.

From then on, she didn’t just observe—she planned.

She had always prided herself on her precision, her ability to stay undetected even as her obsession simmered to a boil. The first few weeks were pure indulgence—watching, cataloguing, fantasising. But eventually, that wasn’t enough. Admiration alone couldn’t scratch the itch that had grown unbearable. She wanted more. Needed more.

The plan came to her slowly, like a puzzle clicking into place. It started with something small—an intentional "mistake." She had read the assignment prompt a dozen times and could recite it by heart, but she submitted a paper that was just the slightest bit off-topic. Not enough to raise suspicion, but enough for him to notice. Enough to warrant a conversation.

When he handed it back, there was a crease between his brows, a rare crack in his calm. His sharp grey-green eyes swept over her in quiet assessment, and she almost squirmed under their weight. “This isn’t like you,” he said, his tone curious rather than chastising. “You usually have such a firm grasp on the material. Are you all right?”

She had feigned confusion perfectly, tilting her head and furrowing her brow like she hadn’t a clue what he meant. “I thought I was following the prompt,” she’d murmured, her voice low and unsure, laced with just enough vulnerability to draw him in. “I... I’m sorry if I misunderstood.”

He paused, studying her carefully, his gaze steady, searching, and for a brief, electric moment, she thought he might be onto her. But then he nodded, his voice softening. “No need to apologise. These things happen. How about we go over it together? I want to make sure you’re on the right track.”

Bingo.

She had known where he lived long before the meeting was scheduled.

It wasn’t hard to figure out. He wasn’t exactly secretive about his habits—early morning gym sessions at the fitness centre across town, groceries from the upscale shop three blocks from campus, the quiet little bungalow tucked away at the end of a cul-de-sac. She had seen him there once, unloading bags from his car, his low-cut black hair catching the golden evening light.

She had followed him home that day, her car creeping at just the right distance, her heart hammering against her ribs with each turn he took. By the time he pulled into his driveway, her palms were sweaty against the steering wheel, but the thrill had been unlike anything she’d ever felt. Watching him carry his life inside that house had felt... intimate. Like she had crossed some invisible line, though the rush of it outweighed any guilt she might have felt.

And then she had waited. Sat parked just beyond the bend, her eyes glued to the faint glow of light spilling from his windows. She counted how many steps he took to reach his front door, memorised the way he rolled his shoulders as he unlocked it. She watched the faint flicker of a screen—television or computer, she couldn’t tell—and made a note of the exact time the lights went off.

That night, she hadn’t slept. The image of him—so unaware, so vulnerable—played on a loop in her mind. She pictured him in bed, the steady rise and fall of his chest as he slept. Did he sleep on his back? His side? Did he keep the windows cracked open for fresh air? Did his sheets smell like him?

She knew she was losing control, but the thought of stopping never even crossed her mind.

Now, as she stood at his front door, that same thrill coursed through her veins, but it was darker this time. He had invited her into his world, unknowingly stepping into the web she had so carefully spun.

She had dressed with care—nothing too obvious, but enough to draw his eye. A fitted jacket that hugged her curves, an off-the-shoulder top that hinted at the lace of her bra, jeans that clung to her thighs just right. Beneath it all, her favourite matching lingerie. Soft, sheer, and black—a small, twisted part of her had hoped he’d see it. Her scent lingered subtly in the air, a soft floral undertone she knew he’d notice when she stepped close.

When he opened the door, his gaze swept over her briefly, his expression unreadable. But there it was—that flicker of recognition. Her chest tightened. “Come on in,” he said, stepping aside to let her pass. His voice was as calm and steady as always, but there was something in his tone—a weight, a tension—that made her heart race.

The office was neatly organised, books lining the walls, a sturdy desk in the centre. He gestured for her to sit, pulling a chair next to hers as he spread her assignment out on the desk. “Let’s start here,” he said, his tone patient as ever. He pointed to a line of text, explaining where she’d gone wrong, but she barely heard him.

She wasn’t looking at the paper. She was looking at him—at the way his hands moved, strong and deliberate, at the way his tongue darted out to wet his lips before he spoke, at the faint shadow of stubble along his jawline. Her mind wandered, imagining those hands gripping her waist, those lips brushing her skin, that sharp look darkening with desire.

Her breathing quickened, her thighs pressing together as she fought to keep her composure. The tension in the room shifted, almost silent at first, but she felt it like a live wire crackling in the air.

He paused mid-sentence, his stormy eyes lifting to meet hers, and for a moment, the world stilled.

“Are you even listening?” he asked, his voice low, almost teasing.

She tilted her head, feigning innocence as her lips curled into a soft smile. “Actually, Professor,” she said, leaning forward just slightly, “it’s a little warm in here, don’t you think?”

The corner of his mouth twitched, almost imperceptibly, and then, to her surprise, he leaned back in his chair, setting the paper down. “Is that so?” he murmured, his tone unreadable, though she could swear she saw the faintest glimmer of something darker in his eyes.

She leaned forward, emboldened by his lack of resistance, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “Maybe you should... loosen up a bit.

Her gaze locked on his as her jacket slid from her shoulders and pooled on the chair behind her. The fitted top she wore clung to her curves, the delicate lace of her bra peeking out just enough to tempt.

Terry’s eyes flickered, briefly taking in the sight, but his expression remained unreadable, calm as ever. It should have unnerved her, the lack of visible reaction, but she told herself this was progress. She was finally breaking through his wall of professionalism. Encouraged by his lack of protest, she leaned in further, her fingers brushing lightly against the desk as she closed some of the distance between them. Her pulse thundered in her ears, but she felt inspirit, her confidence bolstered by the way he didn’t pull away, didn’t reprimand her for overstepping.

Instead, he let her.

He let her reach out, let her fingertips graze his wrist as she tried to gauge his reaction. She thought she saw the muscles in his jaw tighten, but he didn’t move, didn’t pull away. It was thrilling, intoxicating, the idea that she might finally have him in the palm of her hand.

When he didn’t stop her, she leaned closer still, her lips parting slightly as her courage reached its peak. She let her hand slide just a little higher, brushing over the cuff of his shirt as her breath mingled with his, their faces close enough now that she could see the faint flecks of amber in his irises.

And still, he let her.

It wasn’t until she dared to press her lips against his—soft, testing, an invitation—that she thought she felt him falter. A low hum rumbled in his throat, almost inaudible, and for a moment, she thought she’d won.

But then he tilted his head, just slightly, and though he kissed her back with equal softness, there was something unnervingly controlled about it—something that made her question things for an entirely different reason.

The air between them thickened, charged with a sensual tension that felt almost surreal. Her fingers curled against his forearm, and he didn’t stop her. Instead, he let her deepen the kiss, let her pour every ounce of her desire and audacity into it.

She took the opportunity to push further, her confidence blooming as she climbed onto his lap, her thighs brushing against his.

But that’s when it happened.

His hands caught her waist, stopping her in her tracks with a firm but unhurried grip. He leaned back just slightly, and a low, dark chuckle escaped his lips, rich and full of something she couldn’t quite place.

And just like that, his entire demeanour shifted.

For a moment, he didn’t move, his gaze locked on hers. Then, slowly, a dark chuckle rumbled from his chest, low and rich, sending a shiver down her spine.

For a fleeting moment, she thought she had him. The charged silence hung thick between them, the weight of her audacity filling the room as she leaned closer, her lips parting slightly, her confidence swelling.

He hadn’t stopped her until that point.

His calm was unnerving, but she mistook it for hesitation. Perhaps he was struggling to reconcile his professionalism with the pull of desire she was certain she saw flash in his stormy green-grey eyes. She thrived on that uncertainty, on the possibility that she had thrown him off balance.

“You’re quiet, Professor,” she murmured, her voice a mix of sweet innocence and teasing allure. Her fingertips grazed the edge of the desk, creeping ever so slightly toward him. “Cat got your tongue?”

It was then—when his lips curved into the faintest smirk—that she realised she’d miscalculated.

“Not quite,” he said, his voice low and deliberate, slicing through the tension like a blade.

Her confidence wavered as he leaned back in his chair, the casualness of his movements at odds with the sudden weight in his gaze. That smirk deepened, dark and knowing, and it felt like the room had shifted—like the power she thought she held had been ripped from her hands without her even noticing.

“You think you’ve been clever, don’t you?” he asked, tilting his head slightly as he studied her. His tone was almost amused, but there was something beneath it—something sharper, darker.

Her heart thudded painfully against her ribs, her breath catching in her throat. “I... I don’t know what you mean,” she managed, though the words felt weak, flimsy in the charged space between them.

“Oh, I think you do.” His gaze dropped to her hands, still resting on the desk, and he let out a soft chuckle. “Let’s not pretend, sweetheart. You’ve been playing your little games for weeks now, haven’t you?”

She froze, her blood turning cold even as her skin burned with embarrassment.

“I have to say,” he continued, leaning forward now, his elbows resting on the desk as he closed the distance between them. “You had me almost convinced. The shy, studious act? It’s impressive. Convincing. But I’ve been around long enough to recognise obsession when I see it.”

Her mouth opened, but no words came out.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?” he asked, his voice soft but cutting. “The way you’re always first in, always last out? The way your eyes never leave me during lectures? How you scribble in that little notebook of yours like your life depends on it?” He chuckled again, the sound low and unsettling. “I’d almost feel flattered if it weren’t so... obvious.”

Her head spun, a mix of panic and exhilaration coursing through her. She wanted to deny it, to fight back, but his eyes held her captive, pinning her in place with their steady, unrelenting weight.

“And then there’s the gym,” he said, his tone taking on a darker edge. “That was a nice touch, by the way. Following me there. Taking your little pictures. Did you think I didn’t see you, lurking behind the machines, pretending to stretch? Did you really think I took my shirt off in the same spot every night because it was convenient?”

Her stomach dropped.

“No, sweetheart,” he said, his smirk widening as he leaned even closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “I did it for you. Had to make sure you got some good material to play with yourself to later. I could still smell it on you the next day, you know.”

She gasped, her face burning with humiliation and arousal in equal measure.

“Oh, don’t look so shocked,” he said, his tone mockingly sweet. “You thought you were being clever, didn’t you? All your little schemes and games. But here’s the thing, darling—you’re not the only one who knows how to play.”

She tried to speak, to say something, anything, but the words wouldn’t come. Her throat felt tight, her mind racing as he reached out, his fingers brushing over hers on the desk. The touch was light, almost gentle, but it sent a jolt of electricity through her, a silent reminder of just how out of her depth she was.

“You’re not nearly as covert as you think,” he continued, his voice low and laced with dark amusement. “But I’ll give you credit where it’s due. You’ve been entertaining. All those nights sitting in your car outside my house, thinking I didn’t notice. The way you memorised my schedule, my habits. The effort you put into dressing just right, spraying that little perfume of yours.”

He leaned back again, his smirk never wavering as he looked her over, his gaze sharp and assessing. “But here’s the thing, sweetheart. You were never in control. You thought you were pulling the strings, but you were dancing to my tune the whole time.”

Her breath hitched, her body trembling as his words sank in. She had been so careful, so meticulous, and yet...

He stood then, his presence towering and commanding, and she felt the shift in the air—the moment where the dynamic between them changed irreversibly.

“Now,” he said, his voice calm but carrying an edge that sent a shiver down her spine. “Why don’t you show me what all that planning and fantasising was really about? Let’s see if you can live up to your little fantasies, hm?”

Her heart pounded, a mix of fear and desire flooding her veins as she realised there was no going back. He had seen through her from the start, had played along, letting her think she was in control. And now, he was ready to show her just how wrong she had been.

And she couldn’t wait.

The room felt heavy now, thickened by the desire, the air electric as her breathing quickened under his unrelenting gaze. She couldn’t bring herself to pull away, even as he smirked, his thumb lazily brushing the curve of her hip. It was unnervingly intimate, as though he had all the time in the world, his calmness only serving to highlight her spiralling frenzy.

"Come on," Terry murmured, his voice low, almost coaxing. "You’ve been dying for this moment. Show me how far you’re willing to go, sweetheart."

Her breath hitched, heat pooling between her thighs as his words cut through her like a blade. She didn’t care about the implications, didn’t care about the sudden shift in control. She was too far gone now.

Her lips parted, trembling, and she confessed, “I’ve watched you.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but the weight of her admission hung heavy between them.

“Watched me?” he echoed, a dark chuckle slipping past his lips. “That’s a bit vague, don’t you think? Be specific, baby. I want to hear it all.”

Her cheeks burned, but there was no escaping the command in his tone. “After the gym,” she murmured. “Every night, I—I watched you through the window. I saw how you took your shirt off, how you—”

“Let me guess,” he interrupted, his voice like velvet, laced with mockery. “You touched yourself while you watched, didn’t you? Sat there in the dark like a good little voyeur, pretending I didn’t know you were there.”

She swallowed hard, shame and arousal warring within her. But it didn’t matter anymore. He already knew. “Yes,” she admitted, her voice breaking slightly. “I did.”

Terry’s smirk widened, his hands tightening on her hips as he pulled her closer. “And you thought I didn’t notice?” he asked, his voice soft but dripping with condescension. “Sweetheart, I was putting on a show for you. Every. Single. Time.”

Her eyes widened, her pulse hammering in her ears as he leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “I can smell the desperation and arousal. Almost pathetic.”

A whimper escaped her lips, and he pulled back, his gaze dark and unforgiving as he studied her. “Go on,” he urged. “Confess the rest.”

The words spilled out of her in a breathless rush, each admission dragging her deeper into his control. She told him about the photos she’d taken, the times she’d followed him, the nights she’d sat outside his house just to feel close to him.

And he listened, calm and calculated, his smirk never faltering. “That’s quite the imagination you have,” he remarked. “Bet you thought you were the one pulling the strings, didn’t you?”

Her nails dug into his shoulders, her frustration mounting as he toyed with her. “You’re enjoying this,” she accused, her voice trembling.

“Oh, I’m more than enjoying it,” he replied, his tone dangerously low. “I’m giving you exactly what you’ve been begging for, aren’t I? Don’t waste it.”

The next moments were a blur of heat and sensation as he flipped her onto her back, his movements slow but purposeful, like he had all the time in the world. His hands mapped every inch of her, his touch teasing and relentless as he brought her to the edge over and over again, only to pull her back at the last second.

“You thought you could come here and take control?” he taunted, his fingers curling inside her just right, dragging a shattered moan from her lips. “No, sweetheart. This is my game. And you? You’re just a willing pawn.”

She surprised him then, her nails raking down his back as she arched into him, her teeth grazing his jaw in a show of defiance. “Maybe I want you to lose control,” she whispered, her voice thick with desperation.

He chuckled darkly, his grip tightening on her thighs as he pinned her down, his crazed eyes locking onto hers. “Oh, you don’t want that,” he warned, his voice low and dangerous. “You couldn’t handle it.”

The sequences after were just as intense, his dominance absolute as he unravelled her piece by piece. His words were filthy, his movements calculated to drive her mad, and she could do nothing but cling to him, her mind and body overwhelmed by the onslaught.

When it was over, when they lay tangled together in the aftermath, her body still trembling from the force of it all, Terry’s calm demeanour remained unshaken.

He leaned on one elbow, his gaze steady as he traced a finger along her collarbone. “You thought you were the one watching me, didn’t you?” he murmured, his voice soft but laced with a chilling edge. “Sweetheart, I’ve had my eyes on you from the very beginning.”

The weight of his words settled over her, and for the first time, she realised just how deeply she’d been outplayed.

And as he pressed one last lingering kiss to her lips, a dark smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, she couldn’t help but wonder—had she ever really been in control?

taglist: @writingsbytee @venusincleo

comments and reblogs are appreciated as well as feedback, i hope you liked it 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

[ethtyn]

LET'S GO OUT WITH A BANG 🚦

taglist:

@ashiyn @single-malt-scotch @goodtimeswithetho @pebbltree @crabbunch @catmaidetho @amethyst-allium @stitchthesewords

sooooo ermm i guess i get to talk about this piece now YIPPEE

i am one of those people who's constantly trying to figure out what their own art style looks like LMFAO. i take frequent breaks from art due to mental health shit so it feels like every time i come back i'm trying to find my footing again.

that being said, i had a lot of caffeine yesterday and started this on a whim and it ended up being something i'm incredibly proud of. i think it helps that i've been redrawing old emotes for a friend's twitch channel, so figuring out which brushes i like right now was really helpful, and i ended up using my personal emote palette like...a lot. that pink in Etho's eye, the purple used for shading, most of the browns are all used in my own emotes. it's wild how much having colours already picked out streamlines things!

Etho is the one i started with, of course, and ended up being one that i went back to re-draw after i'd done...three? or four? more, because the sizing wasn't right and i wasn't happy with the posing. i still wish i could have conveyed him dipping his chin into his coat fluff a little better, but oh well. i thought of the little detail of him looking at Martyn's drawing at the last second (#ethtyn4life) and it made me laugh so i did it. points to you if you caught that!

Joel was the second - life!Joel has always been fey in my head, especially after that season when he just went batshit insane the second he turned red. can't explain it, that's just how it be. i tried to give him an air of subtle menace about him but i think he just looks sleepy 💀 i'd like to do these as individual, larger pieces at some point, so maybe i can work on that more then.

Grian was the third - he reminds me of a Lost Boy here and that wasn't intentional but the Lost Boys always kind of freaked me out and life!Grian's kinda freaky so i think it fits. his little smirk is so creepy and i love him.

i don't remember who i did next after this so we'll just go in order pfft

Bdubs is SO CUTE look at him. one of the few where i couldn't make a menacing expression work, and honestly with how good his profile turned out i barely mind. i did that side profile with no reference, y'all, idk what kind of crack i was on last night. what the hell. this was about the point where i started wanting to do little lore doodles for everybody so i added the clock face - i think it clashes with the red background but what can you do.

CLEOOOOOO CLEO CLEO. i LOVED drawing them, i think their design is one of my favourites of the bunch. her hair has always been snakes in my head and AGAIN i drew those with no reference, can you fucking believe that. i loved the little detail of some of the snakes poking at the people next to her, they're so cute hehe. also Cleo has freckles now, i'm so sorry but i don't make the rules. someone complimented the teeth in the reblogs and THANK YOU!! they're not quite anatomically correct but fuck it we ball and they look cool as hell anyway.

Martyn is so smug, i love him. points if you caught that he's looking at Cleo bc Double Life, i wanted to do something a lil different with him than just another straight up symmetry tool drawing and i think it fits. he is so eye-searing tho sir please tone it down.

Lizzie is fey just like her husband, and also she is smol. i don't think it's conveyed as well as i'd like here but i also didn't want her to look like a straight-up child so i did what i could. she is So Scary with those vacant blue eyes oh my god. and drawing her hair was sooooo fun i love long hair ahh

with Gem i basically smoothed out a rough design sketch i posted awhile back and i'm so proud of the little head cock she's got going on, she looks so cool. also her hair?? idk how i did that. i love her swoopy bangs so much.

Pearl is moth. Pearl will always be Moth. so she got lil antennae and big buggy eyes. drawing that hood was so satisfying, i used to try and draw Raven Teen Titans in high school and could never get the hood to look right so seeing this one come out perfectly was sooooo good. and of course had to include a teensy moon.

that's all i've got, i think - i feel myself crashing LMFAO. maybe at some point i'll come back and say more but here's this for now!

[slaytheday12]

you being a famous actress and walker gets caught saving edits of you

Caught in 4K

Being a famous actress at 16 was equal parts thrilling and exhausting. You loved acting, loved the magic of bringing stories to life, but the constant attention that came with it? That was something you were still getting used to. The interviews, the photoshoots, the premieres it was all a whirlwind.

But what you hadn’t expected was for Walker Scobell yes, the star of the Percy Jackson series and everyone’s favorite funny guy to get caught in the chaos of your fame.

It started innocently enough. You’d met Walker briefly at a comic-con event a few months ago. You were there promoting your latest film, and he was there hyping up his role as Percy. You were both part of a panel featuring young Hollywood stars, and you hit it off almost immediately. Walker’s goofy humor paired with his genuine kindness made him easy to talk to, and by the end of the day, you’d exchanged numbers.

Since then, you’d kept in casual contact—mostly lighthearted texts and the occasional comment on each other’s Instagram posts. You liked him. Maybe more than you were willing to admit. But with both of your schedules, it was hard to imagine anything more than a friendship.

That was, until one fateful Saturday afternoon when Walker decided to go live on Instagram.

You weren’t watching at first. You were curled up on your couch, scrolling through TikTok and eating a bowl of cereal. But then your phone buzzed with notifications. And kept buzzing.

The texts from your friends were frantic:

Erick: OMG ARE YOU SEEING THIS? Lydia: HAHAHAHAHA THIS IS ICONIC. CHECK TWITTER.

Confused, you opened Twitter and immediately saw your name trending. Clicking the hashtag, you were greeted with a flood of screenshots and screen recordings. Apparently, during Walker’s livestream, he’d been scrolling through his tabs, trying to show his fans a funny meme. But instead of a meme, he’d accidentally revealed his camera roll.

And there, for all the world to see, were saved edits of you. The internet had exploded.

“WALKER SCOBELL SAVING Y/N EDITS??? I’M SCREAMING.” “Not him being just like us 🥹😭.” “We lost him.”

You couldn’t stop laughing as you scrolled through the memes and reactions. It was embarrassing for him, sure, but also kind of… sweet? He’d always been one of your biggest supporters, hyping you up in interviews and talking about how talented you were. But saving edits? That was next-level fan behavior.

Your phone buzzed again. A text from Walker.

Walker: So… uh… about my camera roll. You: Oh, you mean the part where the entire internet found out you’re my biggest fan? Yeah, I saw it. 😂 Walker: In my defense, those edits were really well-done. You: Sure, sure. It had nothing to do with me being in them, right? 😉 Walker: …Okay, fine. Maybe I think you’re cool. And talented. And pretty.

Your heart skipped a beat. You tried to play it cool, though.

You: Walker Scobell, are you flirting with me? Walker: Is it working? You: …Maybe.

The conversation continued, playful and teasing, but there was an undercurrent of something real beneath the banter.

Later that night, Walker posted a follow-up story on Instagram, addressing the incident.

“So, yeah, I got caught saving edits of Y/N. And, honestly? I regret nothing. She’s awesome, okay? If you were me, wouldn’t you save those edits too?”

The fans went wild. The comments were full of people shipping you two, demanding you date, and creating even more edits.

What the fans didn’t know was that Walker had texted you again after his post.

Walker: So… dinner sometime? You: Only if you promise to make your own edits of me next time. Walker: Deal.

What started as an embarrassing moment turned into something far more exciting. Maybe the internet had caught Walker in 4K, but for once, you were glad they did.

A/N: HI

Tags: @izzystylinson, @sophand4n4, @kaiwrites092

[artaxlivs]

I can't help myself - when art is this gorgeous, it needs a little story to go with it:

"Hey Stevie?" Eddie sing-songed as he crowded into Steve's personal space like a gremlin. He was always in Steve's space and Steve was starting to think it was on purpose. Like Eddie knew just how aware of him that Steve actually was. That every time Eddie's breath brushed against Steve's skin, Steve had to tense up to avoid a full body a shiver.

"Yes?" Steve asked warily, crossing his arms across his chest to keep himself from doing something that would give him away.

"How do you feel about Billy Joel?"

Stalling out from where he'd been hurriedly building a brick wall around his heart so Eddie wouldn't break it, Steve kind of sagged in confusion, "Huh?" Eddie waggled his eyebrows which didn't really help even if it was adorable so Steve clarified, "Like Piano Man? That Billy Joel?"

Standing up straight and pulling himself out of Steve's space, Eddie looked a little dumbfounded, and Steve would know because dumbfounded was his natural state of being around Eddie, "You like Piano Man?"

Steve scoffed, rolling his eyes, "It's Piano Man." When Eddie's expression didn't change, Steve said, annoyed or exasperated - possibly both, "It's like you think I live under a rock."

Eddie grinned. Steve's attention was immediately focused. He knew that grin. That was Eddie's I've-got-something-up-my-sleeve grin. The one that had almost gotten them arrested by Hop last week when Eddie had convinced Steve to climb the fence at the high school to swim in the pool since he still couldn't swim in his own. That grin was dangerous.

Before Steve could ask though, Eddie flounced away, curls bouncing, hands flapping, sneakers squeaking as he skipped across the tile and out of Steve's front door. "Not a rock, just the other side of town!" He said as he spun in a circle. Then over his shoulder, he promised - or possibly threatened, "See you tonight, big boy!"

Corroded Coffin was just settling in on the little platform stage when Steve and Robin pushed through the small crowd at The Hideout and elbowed their way to the front. Robin actually looked like she belonged there with her hair teased and the Dio shirt she'd stolen from Eddie tucked into her high waisted jeans. Steve had just thrown on a clean polo shirt and spent too long on his hair. No one was going to believe it if he tried to fit in anyway.

"Hey all you fuckers!" Eddie yelled into the mic as he surveyed the crowd and adjusted his guitar across his body. He was wearing ripped jeans ad his battle vest with no shirt. Just his necklaces dangling in the smattering of chest hair there.

He let out a wild scream as Gareth knocked his drumsticks together to count them in.

God, Eddie was so sexy and so weird. Steve had no idea how those two things went together but they did and as it turned out, sexy and weird worked for him.

Halfway through the first song, Robin was screaming and jumping around with all the other metal heads but Steve just stood there. He was stuck still, watching Eddie lean back as he ripped through guitar solo before bending forward again and almost kissing the microphone as he pressed his mouth to it and sang lyrics that Steve couldn't even really decipher. It didn't matter though, the words. It was the presence. It was Eddie's whole persona, weird and sexy, silly and sweet, all somehow still coming across even through the terrible noise of heavy metal.

"Hopefully you'll all recognize this next one. I sullied it up a little for you guys but at it's core, it's still just a song about a boy," Eddie winked at Steve and something warm sort of uncoiled in his belly. He couldn't move, couldn't stop watching as Eddie's talented fingers danced across the chords and another screaming heavy metal song filled the air around Steve.

Uptown boy He's been living in his uptown world I bet he's never had a backstreet guy I bet his momma never told him why

Billy Joel, Eddie Munson style. It was loud and chaotic, an explosion of guitar solos and drums. But because Steve already knew the lyrics, he could actually understand the words. And the pronouns that had been changed.

"Holy shit! Stevie, is he singing to you?" Robin yelled, far too close to his ear. "Are you the Uptown Boy in this song?" She shook him by the shoulder but Steve couldn't look away from Eddie. Eddie, who hadn't looked away from Steve. Eventually she gave up, throwing her hands up and dancing away into the crowd.

He'll say I'm not so tough Just because I'm in love with an Uptown boy

Okay. Okay.

Tucking his hair behind his ear, Steve looked up at Eddie through his lashes. He pointed to his own chest and mouthed, "me?"

Letting go of his guitar, Eddie grabbed the mic in one hand and twirled a lock of his frizzy curls in the other. He pulled the mic close, lips hidden behind it and sang quietly, "You know I'm in love with an uptown boy, my uptown boy." When he pulled away from the mic, he tucked the lock of hair across his mouth shyly but Steve could still see his smile lines on one side.

Okay. Okay.

Steve stepped up close enough to the stage that the toes of his clean white sneakers touched it. The platform was about a foot higher than the floor and Eddie met him there, right at the edge, bare sweaty chest heaving with exertion.

Reaching up, Steve grabbed the lapels of Eddie's battle vest and pulled him down, "Guess this makes you my downtown boy," and he kissed him. It was like something out of a movie. The music played on. The screams from the crowd behind him faded into the background. The loudest thing in the room was the echoing thud of Steve's own heart and the little whimper that Eddie let out when Steve slipped his tongue past Eddie's lips to lick inside his mouth.

When Steve pulled away, mouth curving up into a satisfied smile, Eddie made a little grunt of protest and pulled him back. He kissed Steve long enough that the tempo of the music changed and Eddie suddenly let go and shouted, "Oh shit! I'm the lead singer! I'm supposed to be singing!"

Grabbing Steve's collar, Eddie swooped back in and dropped one more quick kiss on Steve's lips and then he nearly knocked over the mic stand in his haste to get back to it.

Weird, sexy gremlin.

Sometimes you do have to stomp on your music taste to properly serenade your crush (the uptown girl boy)

[lostintransist]

The Boys' Home | Part 5

Part 1 | AO3

The suit, respirator, goggles, gloves combo had you sweating like the devil in church. This wouldn’t necessarily be a problem, except your in-ear headphones were overheating and not responding to your taps to change the song. Somehow you had been stuck on the same song for damn near forty minutes. It was a good song, don’t get it twisted, but if it didn’t require leaving the house and pulling off all the gear to change the song you would have done it on the third repeat.

With the last of the lathe and plaster removed and swept from the room, you detach the chute from the window. Carefully you strip off the protective gear, clothes soaked with sweat beneath them. The next thing you do is pull your headphones out and pause your music. Sliding between the layers of plastic keeping the dust from invading the house you make your way outside to breathe fresh air.

The boys were all at Lydia Fisher’s house as her grandchildren had finally arrived for the summer stay. You had already confirmed with Lydia that the pizza delivery you were paying for would arrive at five and she would send the boys home at seven. They would absolutely all need a bath before bed.

When you open the front door all of your focus is on laying out the gear to dry over the porch railing. The respirator and the goggles go down easily, the suit gives a wet sound when you snap it to straighten out all the wrinkles. That done you look up and nearly have a heart attack.

“Jesus and a chicken!” Your hand ends up on your chest as you heave in breaths.

Where you had expected empty space stood three of your neighbors, all watching you with various expressions of quandary.

“Why a chicken?” Kyle asked as he shoved one hand into his pocket.

Your brows pull together. “I don’t know, that is what came out of my mouth in a moment of shock.”

He gives a look of acknowledgment and glances at his counterparts.

“Did you guys need something? I’ve been upstairs stripping a bedroom to get insulation and new walls put up.” You brush your hands down your shirt, now quite aware that even in the moist heat your pits, under boob, and groin had yet to dry.

“Wanted to see if there were any neighborhood events we should be aware of,” Johnny spoke up, moseying up to the porch railing and hanging over it to talk to you.

You leaned against the main post, folding your arms as you thought.

“Nothing formal, but every third weekend a few families get together over at my place and we grill and let the kids run wild.” You direct your answers to the group but look mostly at Johnny.

Simon and Kyle step closer, like wolves you had watched on nature documentaries. When they close in you snap your gaze to Kyle and then to Simon. It gets trapped on Simon, the dark pitch of his eyes pulling you in like tar that swallowed ice-age animals whole.

“You need anything, bonnie?”

The hum of question you give is distracted. Turning your face away from Simon, it takes extra effort to drag your gaze to Johnny. Blinking a few times to clear your mind you process what you heard.

“Mmm, don’t think so. Unless you guys can sheet rock and mud a bedroom in under a day?”

Johnny grinned and Kyle chuckled, Simon let out a small huff that could be construed as a laugh.

“Can’t say we know how yet, but we will by the time we are done fixing up our own house,” Kyle smirks up at you.

“Been meaning to ask you about that. Are you all together or just really good friends?” They share a look and you go on, bulldozing past any awkwardness creeping up your body like kudzu. “I only ask because folks around here will talk and if I can head off the rumors your time here will be easier. Lord only knows why I’m their favorite subject.”

“Na, we work together. Military stuff and we find it easier to feel safe when we know there is someone who can watch our back as we rest,” Johnny gives a small smile to the gaps between the porch slats.

Nodding as if you understand, you most assuredly do not, you tuck that information away for your next run-in with any of the town gossips, Cherrie and Marline. They would be after you like hens after a chick when they found out you were now living next door two four presumably eligible, and decidedly, attractive bachelors.

‘What about your everlasting soul? Living so close to such men might tempt you into sin.’ They would always whisper the word sin as if one woman’s boy hadn’t been born out of wedlock and the other hadn’t been caught having an affair ten years back. One of these days you would remind the two of them of what Jesus actually called a sin, and it wasn’t ‘treating your neighbor as yourself’.

“Where are your boys today?” Simon speaks up now, everyone turning to look at him as he stares straight at you.

“They are at the Fisher’s. Lydia’s grandchildren have arrived and we have a standing agreement to timeshare the children until school starts back up,” you grin wide thinking about your boys. “I don’t know if you’ve met them yet, they live in the opposite direction from my house.”

Your former pastor had commented on it once. You didn’t go to church anymore, for too many damn reasons to recall or recount but Pastor Harry had been a good man and reminded you that there were people in the world who practiced what they preached.

“I know you never wanted to be a mom, but those boys? I can see the love you have for them written all over your face when you talk about them. I’m real proud of you for taking them in and fighting for them,” he laid a hand on your shoulder with a gentle squeeze.

The quiet comfort and confidence Pastor Harry had given you that day had fueled you for weeks and helped you swat away the nastier comments lobbed your way from parents of your students, the administration, and even the cashier at the local stop and rob.

Looking back to the men standing in the heat of the day you make a decision.

“Why don’t y’all take a seat and I’ll grab us all some sweet tea and ice pops.” Turning around without waiting for an answer you let the screen door slam shut behind you.

When you return the only seat available is next to Simon on the porch swing. Passing each man a refreshment you settle into the cushion and try to toe the swing into motion. When nothing happens you glance at Simon who is staring at your nice glass with something akin to mistrust in his eyes.

“You don’t have to drink it but can you at least lift your feet so I can rock the swing?” The single brow lift seems to do the trick.

“This is delicious!” Johnny cries as he stares down at his glass. “Never got the appeal of hot tea but this? I will miss this when we go back to work.”

The swing begins a soft back-and-forth movement. Glancing down you see Simon’s boot flat on the porch; his thigh bunches and releases in time with the movement.

“What do you think Kyle?” Sipping at your own tea you watch him for an answer.

“Might need this recipe for my mum, to be frank.” He looks down at his glass with a mixture of pleased concern written across his face.

“Be happy to send you with a recipe card.” You can’t wipe the smile from your face. Your front porch didn’t get as much use as you would like, they were the first visitors to use it this year.

Kyle and Johnny chat with you for nearly a half hour before by the winding down of the conversation the men stand in tandem. They all trail into the house to deposit their glasses in the sink before saying their goodbyes and rounding the house for the trail that would lead them back to their own home.

Placing your cup in the sink next to theirs you are surprised to see three empty glasses and a bone-dry sink. Seems the quiet man had sipped at his drink after all.

You would need to be sure to offer it again. Best to be sure if he liked it or if his mother had taught him it would be rude to reject an offer of a refreshment. Neither said anything bad about a person but it would help future interactions to know what your neighbors liked.

Boys Masterlist | Masterlist

@leahnicole1219 @harperstyles @sigynxlokiwifelover @fluffysmiko

[hai7ani]

mmmm no super great ideas for you but im craving for virgin!rindou and single mom reader… aaaaaauhagghg.

collection

慢一點，久一點，真一點。

Rindou initiates the talk first.

It happens on a game of WNRS in your living room, takeout boxes long forgotten on the coffee table. The TV is playing a movie you're sure neither of you are really watching, yet you still want to pretend that you are.

You've been giggling at him for the past hour. He's a pretty funny guy, you think. Doesn't have as big of an ego you thought guys like him would have.

He's a nerd who's always so observant and nice. He's nice to you, your son, the ladies living in your apartment complex who always needs help switching light bulbs because they're too old for that now. One time behind doors Yuzuha's said that she'd smash if he weren't such a loser all the time.

(You think he is, too.

But it's what that makes him so... fuckable.

You think it's bad that you keep having these thoughts, knowing that you're most probably leading him on.

You're not ready yet.

But your heart still thumps weirdly when he comes to visit with warm food and occasionally new toys that you can tell he's had a hard time picking for your boy 一 because he's somehow always one colour off, or one category away.

When he bought Hot Wheels, the kid's already moved on to playing Legos. And when he gifted an expensive Star Wars set that he saved up for, the little shit just has to be in his Mommy phase.)

He gets embarrassed easily and you can just tell he's a virgin with the way he treats porn magazines that Yuzuha has somehow gotten her hands on, stuffed behind cabinets so that Shou doesn't find them. Neither of you let her know that she's been exposed, but it's more fun this way.

He's just a guy. Genuine, very smart despite what he says. Not book smart, but he reads up on things a lot. A bit clumsy at times, but he's still responsive than most men.

He's easy to talk to. Easy to know.

Easy to一

"What's a compliment you wished you received more frequently? Oh, dang. I gotta think about this." He flips the card around, throwing his head back onto the couch.

And yet again一

"Do you wanna go first?"

What are guys like him?

"I wish more people told me I was pretty."

Your response came to you naturally. It poured like waterfall, thorny chain tightening around your heart, squeezing your flesh tight, and you busy yourself with a loose thread on your blanket.

Rindou only stares at you from the other end of the couch. Almost like a deadpan, but not really. His violets pierce through your soul, dissecting you up one by one. You don't make eye contact even when you can hear the silent screams for you to look at him.

"You're kidding."

"What? It's true."

"No. I mean, no one tells you that all the time?"

You crack a smile, glancing up to take just one quick look. He's still as handsome as ever, boyish features much more prominent under the yellow light illuminating the room.

Soft nose, pretty doe eyes. Cracked lips pink from the Malatang you love eating. Veiny hands 一 one thick, desirable finger twirling around the drawstring of his pants 一 that draws you in so close you can't help but go wild at the sight.

"What, you think I'm pretty?"

He doesn't cough like you'd expected him to. Doesn't get embarrassed or act any more like a classic, textbook virgin at your poke.

"Yeah. You're pretty." His voice gets softer with every syllable. Dodgy eyes looking away with each word.

You don't respond at that, but you can't lie that his compliment did make you feel something swirling on the inside. Something blooming in your tummy from the way his eyes look into your own.

It's true 一 you haven't been told for your looks as much as you've always wanted. You're hot, you're sexy, sure 一 but you haven't been pretty to them. You've always hoped that they could see past your body 一 to see you for who you are on the inside.

"You're一" He shifts in his seat, suddenly feeling a little too hot, heart beating a little too fast in his chest. "You're pretty, okay. You always spend too much time in the mirror but I think you're fine just like this."

You purse your lips, listening.

"You're... Shit, I'm一"

You understand him when he throws his pillow to the side to run fingers through his hair. He's not always good with words, hasn't always been. But he still tries, and you like that about him.

He always puts in effort.

"You're pretty, like music. There's no boundaries, no... box. You can be anything. It's cool."

You grin at that. "Really?"

A nod. "I can tell you that everyday from now on."

An awkward silence too heavy for any of you to handle covers the room like blanket too fast. The soft, anticipating smirk on his face drops when you shift in your seat, clicking your tongue. Fingers scratching at your brows, teeth biting into the corners of your lips.

"Rindou, I'm sorry if I have been leading you on, I一" You sigh. "I don't think I'm ready for一."

"No, wait一" He tries inching a hand towards you but you dodge. "I thought we一 Aren't we onto something here?"

Rindou feels pathetic. He feels as if he's reaching for something that seems close but is still so, so far away.

"No, I'm sorry. I'll pay you back for tonight's dinner. And I don't think you should come over so often anymore. I'll talk to Shou-chan, have him understand."

He lets out a breath too short, standing on his feet as if it'll help him figure you out better. "Why? Is it me?"

"I just don't think it's fair to you, okay? We should stop. I'm sorry."

"What isn't fair to me?"

You give him a look so sad that his heart hurts.

"You're gonna be dealing with a kid that's not yours. He's hyperactive and naughty before bed. He's picky with food and doesn't like taking showers. Worst of all you're gonna be dealing with me. I'm not easy. I'm difficult to manage, to handle, to一 You'll not like me anymore when you see it for yourself. Guys like you deserve better things."

Fuck.

Rindou scrunches his brows, face twisting into one of confusion, one that makes you seem crazy for saying what you said.

"Why do you say these things about yourself? Why do you say these things about him? He's just a kid, I'm not good with kids but I'm sure I can handle him out of all." He throws his hands up in the air a little. "And, seriously, guys like me? What am I like? Why do you assume that way about me? I'm not that kind of person. I don't like doing that."

You fight the tears threatening to fall. It hurts, to say the least.

"Like, why do you think I've been around for so long? I would've turned on my back long ago if you and Shou were so hard to love."

requests are open

[yeonniesblog]

Kuroo x reader x oikawa

Synopsis : After years spent by a certain setter along with a small toddler mending you heart, your life was a just like a blissful movie with a happy ending. But little did you know the person who gave you not only the worst years of your life but also the small ball of sunshine, decided to suddenly make a appearance in your fairytale when fate played a wild

reader's note : this is the last chapter, make sure to read it in order! Sorry for the angst hehe.

Part 1 : meeting you again | Part 2 : wouldn't you | Part 3 : broken promises | Part 4 : where it all went wrong | Part 5 : enough for now (current one)

“she is a fucking psycopath” kenma sighs, putting the car in reverse as he pulls up in his driveway, eyes fixated on the rear view as kuroo watches the irriated expression on his face.

“dude, chill I know you hate kizumi, but I might marry her” kuroo sips his coffee as he lets out a shallow grunt in annoyance too, what was he doing in life.

“no, just think about it, she specifically asked for the ring you bought to propose to y/n, when she knows you could afford to give her much expensive one right now, but, again I repeat. she asked specifically for that ring, only”

the black hair man groans at the explanation, he knows his friend has a point, but he is trying to gaslight himself into believing whatever kizumi explained to him. “i think she just likes it, she was the one who chose it too, all those years ago—” and before kuroo could finish his sentence, the half blonde cuts him off, swiftly taking out his phone from his pocket and muttering something to it “siri, how do you block people in real life”

“yeah, okay, this is a kuroo hate club, I get it” the man sighs, propping his head back on the headrest, closing his eyes. “honestly I know her behavior is weird, but I’m in a tight spot, my only left family is nagging me to marry her, and you know I could care less about marriage” he pauses taking a deep breath. “dad is legit emotionally blackmailing me, sitting at his stupid hospital bed probably faking his disease”

“they want you to marry, doesn't necessarily have to be her” kenma suggests, opening the seatbelt around him. “i cannot marry a stranger, kizumi is a better option, we have been dating on and off for one year” the rooster haired man replies, honestly he really wants to jump off a cliff, but he will suppress the impulsive urges.

“as a rebutal to that, one thing you said was right” kenma sighs finally looking at his friend, kuroo looks tired, or is aged that appropriate word. “her behavior is weird, it's like she has more attachment to y/n than you, she is insecure as fuck of her. you, me and her, we all know she won't ever level up to the place y/n has in your heart, so she trying to become her, its giving me chills” kenma shudders at that thought, physically gagging.

“do you think it's too late for me to get a therapist?” with that kuroo tetsuro groans one more time.

kuroo sits quietly, hands clasped, looking up with hesitant eyes as he watches you put your purse on the table, stoice face, yet so pretty.

he really meant it when he said you got more gorgeous over the years, there were few lines now adorning your face, mature and elegant glow.

even if he sometimes wonders if it would have been better if you both never met at all, if it would have been better if neither of you had to go through the heartbreak, but he knows,

if there was a spell to go back in time, to where he met you, he would do the same thing. he would make a silly chemistry joke and wait for you to laugh at it, not because it was funny, no it was because it was so bad you laughed at it, it was his fault wasn’t it?

to loose the most precious thing in his life, did you feel worse than him, it wasn't a question, nor a comparison, he wanted to know because he will never forget or forgive himself to give you so much pain over the year.

what did you name the kid? did oikawa tooru’ see how your son took the first steps, was he the one who got called father first, what's his favorite food, does he have a birth mark, does he like volleyball? is your son’ tastes similar to what is his? Just like how he saw the little kid adorning your homely baked goods, similar to what he himself used to do.

it pains him, physically pains him to know he wasn't there for anything, he wasn't there to make you food, hold your hair while you threw up during you morning sickness, not hold your hand while you went into labour, he wasn't part of any of it, six years sometimes means nothing and yet to him, now, it means everything, it means every important thing he lost.

“you don't know how much draining this is for me, to be talking to you, or as a matter of fact to talk about what happened, cause honestly you deserve nothing, not the explanation, not to meet me or ruko” you break the silence first, firmly sitting at your place.

and kuroo wishes he could repent on all the thing you said but the only thought in his mind is what you named your son “his name is ruko?”

“his name is oikawa saruko” you firmly state, a small smile tugging at you lips, you were proud your kid had a father like oikawa, cause you can't imagine anyone else being a better father than him.

tetsuro has never wanted to be in someone else's place as much as he wants to be oikawa now, he sighs at your words. “why didn't you tell me, I would get it if you wanted to get away from me, but don't you think I deserved to know the kid was mine?” his voice quivering as he asks you the question, a weird pang in his chest.

“i tried, I tried so many times” your voice quivers slightly “why do you think I asked for your opinion to have a kid?” that silents the man infront of you, his pupil dilated as he realizes how he explained it, and how it sounded like a definite ‘no” from his side.

“not to mention, even after that I was going to tell you, with my parents kuroo and you didn't show up” he relishes at how defeated he feels when you don't even call him by his first name, so the announcement when you called him was with your parents? his legs tenses up and he stops shaking them.

“i know I don't have any excuse but you know there was a storm that night—”

“yet you left me all alone in that storm, tetsuro” his heart breaks into million pieces, do you even know how much he just wants to pull you close and cry, stain your shirt with his tears of sorrow that he made a mistake and couldn't be in your presence and of joy because after years he was able to see you.

“i—y/n” he tries to put his hands over yours but you are swift to pull away, he knows a million reasons of why your reflex action was right, yet he can't help but feel his throat becoming dry “i’m sorry, I assumed you were with your parents, I had no idea, my phone was dead”

“how can you still lie to me?” your voice croaks, finally looking straight into his eyes, you really don't want to care for whatever his action was or what he did but you can't help but feel wronged.

“what do you mean lie?”

“so your phone was dead enough to not respond to my texts but it was working when you reposted on social media with your now girlfriend, her friends commenting how cute you both looked” you scoff pausing in disbelief “or should I say fiance”

“whatever are you sayi-” then it clicks, it suddenly clicks how kizumi’s friend has always shipped him with her, despite knowing he has a girlfriend, despite him saying he doesn't appreciate it, that it straight up makes him uncomfortable.

how kizumi knew, that your birthdate was his password to Instagram, he remembers her saying it was so cute, its laughable to think how dumb he has been, how could he not notice her intention. but he wishes you told him, he wishes he could have cleared off the last misunderstanding and if he could take it all back he would.

hell, he would never breath the same air as kizumi if he could go back in time and fix things. but he cannot, all he has is regret and all he can do his atone for his mistake, he was hoping you'd be kind enough to let him see his son, he hasn't been a great partner but he sure as heck wants to have some influence in your son’s life—

after all, it was a part of you and him, back then if he actually heard you were pregnant he'd probably be scared as shit, but he would still fight every odds to raise the kid you made, how could he ever resent a mini you, kuroo knows he has no right to feel wronged but all those years without the little guy or even acknowledgment of his existence makes feel burnt.

his lips shaky and he doesn't know if a explanation would even help at this point, nothing would change and even if kizumi was in wrong– so was he though. his mouth ran before he could know.

he looks up at her. “I know you don’t owe me anything, but there’s something you need to hear" your eyes held anger and he was scared of that, he wanted to scream please forgive me, over and over again in a chant but he knew he didn't deserve your forgiveness.

you crossed your arms, wary but patient. you had no idea how you still held on. but they say but they say old habits die hard, and even after six year you had the same patience for him, you wanted to laugh at yourself “Go on.”

“It was Kizumi,” he begins, voice low but firm. “She… she’s the reason things fell apart. She was jealous of you, of what we had. She deleted your texts that night—the ones you sent me about the announcement. She posted on my social media to make it look like I was with her. And she—”

"You didn't know?" your eyes widened and you had no idea how to feel after hearing that, conflicted feeling filled your lungs and the wall of resolve you have solidified getting cracks of doubt in them, but you remained firm.

“No,” Kuroo says quickly, his voice thick with regret. “I was blind, stupid, and I didn’t see what was happening. I let her control too much. I thought I could trust her. But I swear, if I’d known—” He stops, realizing that no matter what he says, it won’t erase the past.

you stare at him, your face unreadable, but there was turmoil behind your eyes “So, you’re saying it was all her fault?”

“No. No..no.” Kuroo says firmly, shaking his head. “It was my fault too. I let her into my life, I didn’t listen to you, and I didn’t fight for you when it mattered. That’s on me. I just… I need you to know that I didn’t abandon you on purpose.”

you exhale slowly, looking down at you cup, a closure huh? but what does that change ? you know oikawa is much more important to you now, nothing could change that, nothing could make you ever abandon the perfect family you have right now. “I believe you, Tetsuro. But that doesn’t change what happened. You weren’t there when I needed you, and I had to pick up the pieces alone. Oikawa was there. He’s been there for me and for Ruko.”

even if there is a shaky heartbeat you feel around your past lover you know it was not meant to be. there are so many things unsaid and there will be so many things which will be, you are a mom now and you could never be an careless one. and as much as tears were welling up in your eyes for what could have been, you won't risk anything for what it is now.

Kuroo swallows the lump in his throat. “I know. And I’m glad he’s been good to you both. I just… I missed so much, Y/N. I want to know him. I know I don’t deserve it, but I want to try.”

bonus scene

Kuroo sits on a bench, watching from a distance as you and Oikawa playing with your son, Ruko. The boy—his son, biologically—has Oikawa’s mannerisms but your smile. Kuroo’s chest tightens as he watches the little boy stumble, only for Oikawa to sweep him up, spinning him around while you laugh.

They look like a family. They are a family

Kuroo thinks to himself, maybe this could have been you both if he wasn't consumed by the thought that you both would also be horrible parents much like your families.

you notice him then, your gaze meeting his. There’s no anger in your eyes anymore, just a quiet understanding. you approach him cautiously, arms crossed. “You’re here,” you speak, trying to keep your tone neutral.

“I just wanted to see him,” Kuroo admits. “I won’t interfere much. I just… needed to see him.”

You sit beside him, keeping a respectful distance. “He’s happy, you know. Oikawa’s a good father. He loves Ruko like he’s his own.” and that breaks kuroo's heart, as much as he tries to look positively at this. He can't help but feel his heart become empty, can't help but wish to be where oikawa is right now in your life.

Kuroo nods, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I can see that. He’s a lucky kid.” you glance at him, your expression softening. “I know the truth now, about Kizumi. About what happened. I’m… sorry you were caught in that.”

“I’m sorry too,” Kuroo says, his voice breaking. He knows it's not enough but all he can do is regret it over and over again. “For everything. For not being there, for letting you down. I should’ve fought harder for us.” you look away, your gaze fixed on Oikawa and Ruko. “Maybe. But it’s too late now, Tetsuro. We’ve both moved on.” and he feels a bit happy, you used his first name, God he is so pathetic

“I know,” he whispers, his heart breaking all over again. “But I’ll never stop wishing I could go back and do it right.” and before you are able to say anything you notice a small figure approaching you, you feel at ease when you notice it's your son, oikawa stood a bit away, he felt protective over you both but he doesn't want to snatch away the closure you deserve, and he can't snatch away ruko from his biological dad. so he stays silent cause he knows ruko would pick him for sure, he loves the little guy to death after all.

“Ruko, this is… this is Tetsuro,” you say gently, getting up from the bench only to kneel beside your son.

The boy looks up, curious but cautious. “Hi,” he says softly, clutching his toy dinosaur.

Kuroo crouches down, his heart aching as he gets his first close look at his son. Ruko has Y/N’s eyes and his messy black hair. He smiles faintly. “Hey, buddy. That’s a cool dinosaur you’ve got there. What’s his name?”

“Cupcake,” Ruko replies, holding it up proudly.For a moment, Kuroo wants to giggle, pondering why a dinosaur would be named Cupcake, but he holds back, his lips twitching into a soft smile. “Cupcake, huh? That’s a pretty unique name. Why’d you pick it?”

Ruko beams, his small chest puffing up with excitement. “Well—it’s not weird, okay? It’s ’cause I love dinosaurs and I love Mom’s handmade cupcakes, so I mixed two favorite things at once!”

Kuroo freezes for a moment, his breath catching in his throat. Cupcakes. His gaze flickers briefly to you, you who look away, your expression unreadable. He remembers countless nights when he’d come over to your place, exhausted from work or practice, and the smell of your freshly baked cupcakes would make him feel like he was home. They were his favorite—a sweet, simple treat that reminded him of your warmth.

And now, their son shares that same love.“That’s… that’s actually genius,” Kuroo finally says, his voice hoarse with emotion. “Cupcake is the perfect name for a dinosaur. You’ve got great taste.”

Ruko grins proudly, going on to describe Cupcake’s many adventures and how he takes the toy everywhere. Kuroo listens intently, his heart clenching. There’s an ache beneath his chest—a mix of pride, love, and regret. He and Ruko have so much in common, and yet, this is the first time he’s learning it.

The realization stings, and he resents you a bit for that but it also fills him with a bittersweet joy. Ruko is bright, imaginative, and full of life. He’s a part of you and him—a reminder of what you both once had. And kuroo decides he can live with that. That's enough for now isn't it?

Finally ending this series, I get embarrassed whenever I reread it but it was my first series and it has been in my drafts for years. But here I ending, thank you for everyone who waited for this.

Here is the taglist (it's based on people who were waiting for it) : @reikashe @mikaela26sstuff @chita318 @mxrice @freddiemylovelg @glxar @amarinthe @rinsangel @captainchrisstan @gamacha @cheeseriz @pluviophilefangirl @bnha-bakusquad @asaitashi @lordmomourmomoness @missyasmim @macky-attoh @belle643 @on-crows-wings

[katerinaaqu]

You are the most welcome! As you see I care for these more than what's healthy hahaha!

Hehehe that is because I think especially for Athena people wanna translate one over the other. The word γλαύκος (glaukos) means "light blue" short of like a grayish blue or almost white blue. That is also used to express "shine" so people prefer to say "shiny eyed Athena" instead. Personally I do not think the one cancels the other. Now it is the OTHER meaning of her eyes that is more interesting. That the word γλαύκα (glauka) means "owl" so that could also be "owl-eyed Athena" or "with the eyes of an owl". That could also be "wise" or smart-eyed as well in one way. Again in my mind the one is not mutually exclusive of the other (unlike the word "xanthos" that is referring to colors of a general spectrum oftentimes, the word "glaukos" as grayish light blue can still be translated as "shiny" and the "owl" part could be descriptive of the way her eyes look as well. If that makes sense. As opposed again to another color; cyan, which means of course "very dark blue" but it also is used as a subsitute for "black" which was also used in ancient greek art as well. So when someone for example reads the text where Odysseus's beard is described as "cyan" obviously the logical assumption is that it is called "black" and not "blue" hahahaha but artists go wild on Poseidon who is also referred to "of cyan hair" As for the amazingly poetic form of "wine-colored sea" one only needs to look at a cup of wine to realize what that means;

(Yes that is my cup and yes I drink wine from ceramic cups because I think the taste fits better and yes I poured it for demonstration and not sorry! XD)

Anyways as you see the color and the texture especially when seen through a non-diaphanous cup is this black, dark color, the essence of no end to its depth. That is what the Greeks saw when out the sea; a black-deep color and Homer couldn't find a better word for it honestly! There even was a guy swimming out the sea in the rain and made a short reel on instagram or tiktok about it and man it really fitted! Oh no doubt for centuries indeed! Poetic words, the way they fit with the metric system and all!

He really did and man yeah people often forget right? Agamemnon was his brother and arguably a father figure given the heavy intrigue between their family members in particular Agamemnon and his twin brother Thyestes. The family was a mess and cursed through the line of Tandalus. Their family is an endless rouse of betrayal, incest, murder and even cannibalism and the cycle of violence didn't end there for Menelaus also suffered the disgrace of his wife running away with Paris, his only daughter Hermione sent to Clytemnestra for keeping but Clytemnestra also lost her own interest in all other of her children and family when Agamemnon was forced by the gods to sacrifice his own daughter Iphigenia. She neglected or straight out abused all her other children. In Euripides Orestes we even see Orestes, Menelaus own dear nephew, going mad, he killed Aegisthus and Clytemnestra and in the play by Euripides he even takes Hermione hostage before the very eyes of Menelaus, holding a sword at her throat and he even went to kill Helen as well. Yeah the family was not doing okay! Yup! Aegisthus was the son of Thyestes with his own daughter. Thyestes was furious because Atreus, the father to Agamemnon and Menelaus, conspired with Thyestes's wife and killed his children and fed them to Thyestes! Yeah I am not kidding. Thyestes found out and was furious! Thus the whole thing with his daughter. Aegisthus was nourished with hatred for the Atreides and exiled them. They found shelter in Sparta and Tyndareus where Tyndareus helped them to get Mycenae back. Agamemnon married Clytremnestra as an arrangement to seal the deal and Menelaus was of course one of the suitors of Helen. Aegisthus was sent away and basically he came back as a lover to Clytemnestra and as a help to the murder of Agamemnon and later he ruled Mycenae for a little while till Orestes came back and killed him. So yeah Menelaus had no real slack in his life either! I even made a random post about him and Odysseus:

So...point and case. I even made some random thoughts on how TRULY DEPRESSED Menelaus was you can see here:

Yup it does make sense doesn't it? The Homeric Poems are first and foremost two giant songs that were meant to be sung in public thus the repetitive lyrics (pretty much like refraign and couple nowadays) and the whole thematic here and there that takes into consideration people who arrive later and need to be pitched in the plot. Yes I believe people make the mistake to think that the homeric poems were somehow books or novels thus they do not like literary choices such as the ones above. But once you see it as a song, all becomes clear doesn't it?

I couldn't have said it better and you brought yet another beautiful example with Sherlock Holmes! Yes it oftentimes pains me that nowadays we read these contexts and immediately people assume "ha! Homoerotic themes!" or "ha! Gay!" while we can as you said, might as well lament on the fact that platonic relationships are not written as warmly anymore! As if being warm with someone means romance only! And I love it how indeed people assume that the past was just a cold and unfriendly place where people were afraid of their emotions and then Homer is there like "REALLY!?" Honestly I have seen more emotion pouring freely in these old stories than anything written nowadays that we claim that we learn to express emotions! And these ancient texts use the most beautiful language ever! I couldn't agree more! Which is why I try when I write my fanfictions and retellings to bring it back! Dunno it bothers me as much as it bothers you!

It is only mentioned in one or two parts in Odyssey so it is understandable. It is easily forgettable given that even Homer didn't elaborate more for that and we have more post-homeric sources talk on that but yup! Prophecies are thrown on the table here and there and even then there is some talk in regards to that and yes given the situation maybe that wouldn't do much indeed because as you said someone came to Telemachus, Athena herself and Telemachus KNEW in the end that it was a god that was advising him and still he had his douts. It was SUCH a depressive moment to him.

Oh absolutely the law of Xenia was the primary reason! In fact I had replied to someone a long time ago on that. You can see my reply here:

it is that as well as the combination of the fact that technically Telemachus was not yet the official ruler so the suitors, ironically, were in theory ODYSSEUS'S guests rather than his own. Plus I remind you that Telemachus was 20 years old. The suitors arrived when he was much younger, at the age of roughly 16 years old, maybe 17. Telemachus has no experience in warfare despite the fact that it was proven he was a capable warrior and he had no real authority. He couldn't do much and obviously he couldn't start murdering people in his own house no matter how much he often wished to. Odysseus arrived, a man baked well in violence and war, experienced war veteran and strong warrior and above all with the blessings of a goddess for it so that made the slaughter possible.

I couldn't have said it better! It was in one way the return of Odysseus (although arguably not his last trip unfortunately for him since he has to go to the mainland and fulfill the prophecy of Tiresias) but it certainly was the first for Telemachus and this parallel traveling I think as you brilliantly stated is a beautiful and sweet thing and the way they both met after the end of their journey as well, like meeting in the middle! Man it absolutely is worth the tears!

You are very sweet! Thank you!

Oh I understand and arguably tumblr is a jungle! I understand completely!

I am honored to hear that! If anything it is the greatest reward to hear that someone gets inspired so! ^_^ I honestly hope to engage with you in conversations in the future because you honestly show great sensitivity and deep will to understand! And explore on your own and form your opinions as well which is the most important part when you read the texts; be aware of their context, open your mind to other horizons and finally form your own thoughts and feelings on them! That is what alltime classics do!

Telemachus is so much stronger than me for real. Cause if I had traveled for days, by sea AND land, arrived at the palace of my father's friend and my mother's cousin to humbly ask if they know anything about my missing father and instead of just fucking telling me already, this mf started a monologue about how gay he is for my dad and about the time he captured a God that granted him wishes three, I'd already be telling him to Hurry The Fuck Up. IT'S BEEN TEN YEARS, I DON'T HAVE ALL DAY.

But if the same motherfucker then turned around and told me that he had known FOR YEARS NOW that my dad is trapped on an island AND THE MOTHERFUCKER DIDN'T TELL ANYONE!!!! NOT A SINGLE LETTER!!! I would have already strangled Menelaus with that fucking blond hair of his in front of his wife and children, unhelpful son of a bitch.