#listen i want to be besties with him and i should be allowed to be

[twstjam]

Really bad Malleyuu doodles but it's literally just me married to Malleus

I would be a very eepy queen. This isn't even a reference to the Sleeping Beauty theme I am just a very eepy guy. Biar Valley is doomed.

[crescenthistory]

I have the cutest idea. How about prompt b 3 with regulus black. Kinda Sunshine x grumpy, where reader is so openly in love with regulus and is just enjoying that even when regulus doesn’t seem to be returning their feelings (or at least not outwardly saying it). Just reader who is absolutely soft and understanding with Regulus.

😬😊 Hope you have a great day!

i genuinely had so much fun writing this, the request and dynamic fits perfectly with little reggie. thanks darling<3 i hope your day was great as well

Prompt: B.3 "You occupy my every thought"

Words: 2.6k

Warnings: not proofread, reggie is mentally unwell and a bit insecure, hinting at the black brothers drama, reader is very emotionally open and secure (good for you), friends-but-kinda-more dynamic going on, reader is bestie with the marauders

Regulus was not sure how or when it started.

Perhaps it was that day in the library when you strolled right up to him, breaking the sacred silence of the space with your bright voice, oblivious to the withering stares of Madam Pince and the other students. You sat down beside him, uninvited, and started chattering as though you had known him for years, as though the wall he meticulously kept around himself simply didn’t exist.

“You’re a good listener, did you know that?” you had said cheerfully after several minutes of mostly unreciprocated conversation. “We should sit together more often.”

Regulus hadn’t known what to say, so he didn’t say anything at all. He had merely given a curt nod, lips pressed into a thin line, and waited for you to get bored.

You never did.

Perhaps it only truly solidified when he was trying to read his book in the Slytherin common room while Barty, Evan and Dorcas did everything in their power to distract him, until you skipped in, plopping down beside him and asking him about his book with genuine interest. His friends were all shocked to see him actually give you an answer, albeit short, and most important of all not pushing you away. He allowed you to sit there and read over his shoulder, smiling dreamily at him, and shot the others a few dirty looks as they snickered. The feeling in his chest that he still can’t quite place, began to bloom in his chest then, and it has yet to let go.

Nevertheless, somehow you became a fixture in his life. You sat beside him in the library, during meals, and even in the quiet corners of the castle where he had once gone to find solitude, and now oddly didn’t mind sharing with you. There was always a smile on your face and a knowing look in your eyes, that remained trained on him, even when in the company of his or your friends. You never demanded conversation; in fact, there were days where you spoke little and just kept him company, respecting his occasional genuine need for silence as much as you successfully challenged it when you knew it was a facade. It baffled him, but he couldn’t say he disliked it. Far from it.

It took a while to get used to, and Regulus was not sure if he ever could entirely. He had grown up with everyone wanting something from him – his parents wanted the perfect heir after Sirius left, his friends wanted chaos, his brother wanted his trust. He dealt with it all by aiming for perfection, for control and precision, but he knew it was crushing him. Then, you – you had never once asked anything of him. You were just there one day, and you never left.

The habit of it all did start to settle and he found himself allowing you further and further in. A friendship formed, perhaps something more as well, and he revelled in it, even as the shame of doing so grew deep within him. The certainty that it was not forever was clear in his heart, but the way you looked at him, the way you spoke without a care in the world, made him think that maybe he could let himself enjoy this one thing while it lasted. 

He began making space for you in his everyday life, part subconsciously, waiting for you outside your classrooms, saving you a seat wherever he was, seeking you out and allowing you to seek him. It was unspoken, yet you picked up on it so easily, so beautifully, making him feel a twinge of safety that he ached to chase. As Barty often teased him, you had become attached at the hip.

Which is one of the main reasons why he ended up on the floor of the Gryffindor common room, leaning against the edge of a sofa with a novel in his hands – because you wanted to spend time with your friends, and where you are, he went.

Unfortunately, though, your friends were primarily Regulus’ brother and his fellow troublemakers.

The common room was loud, filled with the usual banter and shouting, much less controlled than that in Slytherin. While you had long grown accustomed to the buzz of energy in the air, finding comfort in it, you knew the same was not the case for Regulus, so you had a hand playing with the curls at the back of his head as you sat leaning on the sofa’s armrest.

He wasn’t part of the lively conversation about Quidditch plays – though you knew he actually had several strong opinions on this very topic – nor was he trying to laugh along with Sirius’ absurd stories. He was there, present, yet apart from it all, seemingly chewing on a thousand thoughts. You ached to save him from them, but for now you settled on looking happily down with him and enjoying the feeling of his hair between your fingers.

“Oi, sweetheart!” James all but shouted as he threw a tiny piece of crumpled up paper at you, trying to gain your attention. Regulus didn’t look up from his book, but his ears quirked up. “I was talking to you!”

“Oh, sorry Jamie,” you said and Regulus had to fight his smile at the dreamy sound in your voice. “Was distracted.”

“I can see that.” James looked pointedly between you and Regulus. You didn’t dignify his hinting with a response.

“What was it you were saying?”

“Just asking you about your take on the story Siri just told… which I’m now seeing you didn’t even listen to.” Before you could reply, Sirius cut in.

"How do you do it?" Sirius's voice was a mix of bewilderment and amusement. "Regulus barely tolerates people, and yet, there you are, right beside him, like it's the most natural thing in the world."

At that, Regulus had to look up, giving his brother a levelling glare for the unwanted attention. You only smiled in response, glancing at Regulus and his tense posture, hand in his hair never slowing. "There's nothing to it," you had said simply. "He’s not hard to understand once you take the time. It is the most natural thing in the world."

Sirius looked like he wanted to say more, eyes boring into both you and Regulus, whose face was angled back down into his book but whose attention was anywhere but – but before he could, Lily intervened, steering the conversation towards some drama she just learned from Slughorn.

You looked down at Regulus, reading his body language like the book he clearly was not, and in one languid movement slid down from your seat to plop beside him on the floor. He looked over at you, expression unreadable, and you beamed at him. 

The others carried on without much notice, except for Sirius who still had half an eye on you, raising a brow at your changed position from where he was draped over the armchair across the room. He glanced between you and his younger brother, visibly trying to figure out what the dynamic between you really was and what that meant for how he viewed you two. You paid it no mind, instead attentively zeroing in on Regulus and his mood.

You tucked your legs underneath you, leaning slightly closer to him. “You doing okay? You’ve been a bit quiet today,” you said softly, keeping your voice low enough so that the others wouldn’t hear.

Regulus’ eyes flickered toward you briefly, then over to the fire burning not far away from you, book forgotten in his lap. “I’m always quiet.”

“True,” you conceded with a grin, not deterred by his exterior attitude. “But this is the extra-brooding kind of quiet. The kind where your forehead does that little frowny thing.” You gestured to your own forehead, mimicking his usual frown.

He let out a short breath – something that was almost, but not quite, a laugh. 

“There it is!” you teased gently. 

Regulus shot you a look, one that others often labelled annoyance, but you could clearly tell was a form of confused entertainment. It seemed to ask you all the questions he would never say out loud. You had seen that look a lot, more than you could count, but it never stopped you from being your usual sunny self around him. If anything, it only made you want to stay closer.

“You don’t have to sit beside me, I’m fine,” he muttered after a moment, his voice so low it almost got lost in the noise of the room.

You shrugged and remained seated. “I know, but I want to.”

Silence settled between you two for a minute. It wasn’t uncomfortable, though; it never was. Despite how different you were, there was an odd sense of understanding that always seemed to hover between you. You could fill the space with chatter, or sit quietly, and somehow it was always okay. 

Though, as the life bustled around you, you noticed how his left leg was unruly and how he had not flipped a page in his book since you sat down – and you knew Regulus was a fast reader.

After a while, you gave him another soft nudge. “Wanna get some air?”

Regulus hesitated, glancing at you like he wasn’t sure if you were serious, but when you kept his gaze, he eventually nodded, internally grumbling about how he had just thought how some air would be nice. You smiled and stood up, extending a hand to him. He gave in and took it. You led him out of the common room, keeping his hand in yours, winding through the corridors until you found a quiet nook just outside by the Black Lake, far enough from the castle to escape the noise but close enough that you could still hear the faint murmur of the wind over the water.

You plopped down on the soft grass and patted the spot next to you. In your newfound privacy, Regulus didn’t hesitate to sit down beside you, his arms resting on his knees as he stared out at the lake.

You took a deep, loud breath, night air clearing through your lungs, and it inspired him to do the same, much to your liking.

“Better?” you asked, drawing your knees up to your chest, resting your chin on them as you looked at him expectantly.

He didn’t answer right away, his gaze distant. The moonlight reflected off the water, casting a soft glow over both of you, and for a moment, you let the silence linger.

“Why do you do this?” Regulus finally asked, his voice low but tinged with something you had not heard before – something vulnerable.

“Do what?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“Follow me around,” he clarified, his eyes finally meeting yours. “Why do you bother with me? You could be with any of them.” He gestured vaguely back toward the castle where your friends were. “They’re fun, and loud, and… like you.”

The way he said it, like he was utterly convinced that you should be with people more like you, made your heart ache. You knew what he was trying to do – push you away, not with anger but with insecurity. He did this sometimes when his own thoughts became too heavy, you had seen it. 

“Yeah, they’re fun,” you said lightly, keeping your tone easy. “But so are you. I like spending time with you, so I want to be here. With you.”

Regulus’ brow furrowed, and you could see the gears turning in his head. He didn’t get it. You wanted to tell him he didn’t need to, he just had to accept it, but you knew he was not quite ready for that.

“I don’t–” He exhaled sharply, frustration creeping into his voice. “I don’t understand why you chose me.”

You laugh a little at that, and he tries to ignore how it makes his heart race. “You say it like there was some grand plan and thoughtful process. I just spoke to you and found out I really like speaking to you, so I continued. I don’t know Reggie, I just like you. There doesn’t need to be any more to it than that.”

He stared at you silently, clearly trying to digest your words. This was the first time he challenged you about your friendship directly, before he had only hinted that maybe you shouldn’t run around with the likes of me, to which you had simply disagreed.

You smiled at him softly, wanting to guide him through what he was feeling. You leaned back on your hands as you looked up at the stars. “You want to know the truth?”

He didn’t respond, but you knew he was listening.

“You occupy my every thought, Regulus,” you said, your voice quiet but firm. “So it’s only fitting you occupy my personal space as well. Even when I’m laughing with James, teasing Sirius, or debating something with Remus… I’m always thinking about you.”

Regulus’s mouth was slightly agape as he stared at you, and you had to fight a giggle at how flabbergasted he seemed – now was not the time.

He blinked, his confusion deepening. “Why?”

You tilted your head slightly. “Because you’re you, you’re Regulus. You don’t need to see it, because I do. I like the way you’re quiet but notice everything. I like the way you actually listen when I talk. I like the way you’re thoughtful, even if you try to hide it behind that whole grumpy façade.” You reached out, nudging his knee with your foot. “I like you, Regulus. Just as you are.”

He stared at you, utterly perplexed, like he couldn’t comprehend why someone like you, someone oh so lovely and lively, would be drawn to him of all people. But you just told him he didn’t need to get it – you got it for the both of you.

“I don’t get it,” he muttered, shaking his head. “You could have anyone. Someone who’s better at… this.” He gestured vaguely between you two.

You leaned closer to him, keeping your eyes on his. “Maybe. But I don’t want anyone else.”

Regulus let out a quiet, almost involuntary laugh, as if the mere concept was funny to him, and you grinned, feeling like you’d just won some kind of secret victory.

“You’re a bit ridiculous, you know that?” There was no bite in his voice. In fact, the shine in his eyes almost looked… relieved. Like he was starting to believe you.

You scooted a little closer, closing the gap between you two, placing a tentative hand on his elbow “Yeah, but that doesn’t make it any less true.” You felt some of the tension melt off of him as he leaned into the feeling of your shoulder against his. 

For a while, neither of you spoke, just sitting there by the lake, stars twinkling overhead. And though Regulus didn’t say it, you could feel the shift in him – something was softening, letting go.

After a long stretch of silence, he finally spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re… different.”

“Good different?” you asked, smiling softly.

He hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. Good different.”

You beamed, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “Good. Though you better get used to it, because I’m not going anywhere.”

Regulus had a small, almost imperceptible smile on his lips. When he spoke next, it was so quiet that you almost didn’t hear him, but you did – and flowers bloomed in your chest. 

“I’m glad.”

[picturejasper20]

Another thing about Steven Universe as character (and the series) that has been mischaracterized over the course of the years and the source of a good chunk of discourse online is the relationship that Steven has with the Diamonds.

A lot of videos, posts and memes have spread around the idea that Steven went to Homeworld in the final arc of the series because he wanted to ¨be besties¨ with the Diamonds, when what happens in the actual show is very different.

In the episode "Legs from Here to Homeworld"-which takes place after the episode ¨Reunited¨ that Blue and Yellow Diamond find out that Rose Quartz was in fact Pink Diamond- Steven shows to Blue and Yellow one of the corrupted gems (Centipeetle) and helds them accountable for making a lot of gems end up this way and orders them to fix the mess they caused.

Steven: ¨Do it again! It was working!¨ Yellow Diamond: ¨How long do you expect us to hold her together?¨ Steven: ¨I don’t know. Forever! You did this! So you have to do something!¨

Seeing they need White Diamond to fix the corrupted gems, Steven thinks of going to gem Homeworld to see if he can talk to White about the corrupted gems and convince her to come to Earth and help them.

That's the main reason Steven goes to Homeworld- he doesn't like the Diamonds nor wants to be friends with them- he just wants to see if White Diamond can listen to him and help to heal the corrupted gems.

He is aware that the Diamonds listen to him because he himself is a Diamond-Pink Diamond. So he goes along with this little game pretending to be Pink thinking that way White Diamond and the others will listen to him. He believes that maybe as ¨Pink¨ he can make them see the errors of their ways and stop this mini war conflict that he has been caught on in the last few years.

Others have made more detailed analysis about this in the past, that a good part of this arc has a huge trans/queer metaphor for Steven's character- where he keeps being refered to and imposed an identity he doesn't see himself as. He gets called by the Diamonds and other homeworld gems as ¨Pink Diamond¨ and refered to as ¨She¨, when he often corrects and clarifies that he prefers to be called ¨Steven¨.

The final showdown against White Diamond is about this: White keeps trying to play mind games with Steven, making him believe that Pink/Rose is still alive in him and he is in fact Pink/Rose. Because Steven doesn't know this for certain, it proves to be effective for a while, making him feel very confused.

White believes that she is perfect in every way- it is what all her identity is about. She is obsessed with her own perfection so much that she doesn't allow herself to think that she has flaws nor she can't be wrong about something- and because she thinks she has to be perfect, that means that she is right about Pink Diamond still existing inside Steven.

The reality proves her wrong when she takes out Steven's gem and everyone sees that the gem part turns into Steven. As a way of metaphor to a trans allegory and self love, Steven sees that he has always been himself and he shouldn't let other people define what his identity should be, that only him should decide that.

So, in a way, the Diamonds Days arc is intended to be seen as a metaphor to a LGBT+ kid/teenager standing up against their relatives, grandmothers or aunts in this case- and prove them wrong about their identity, that they are what they are and their family can't change that.

Okay, so Steven proves the Diamonds that they are wrong, they change their minds and they help with healing the corrupted gems by the end of ¨Change Your Mind¨.

Does this means Steven becomes friends with them after this?

Well... no

In Steven Universe The Movie, during the song sequence ¨Lets Us Adore You¨ the Diamonds beg Steven to stay with them a bit longer because they miss having Pink around, Steven is seen very uncomfortable around them and wants to get out as quickly as possible to return to Earth.

He sees them as somewhat allies and tries to persuade them in different ways to improve the current situation on Homeworld but he doesn't seem to like them much and doesn't enjoy being around them even if they aren't acting antagonistic towards him anymore.

He has a similar reaction when they come to Earth near the end of the movie. He is very done with them and says that they staying to leave on Earth isn't a good idea on the long run. Instead he shows Spinel to them and Spinel sees this as an opportunity to make a new friend again.

Well, about SU Future? How does Steven feel about them in that series?

In Future is where Steven begins to show real strong PTSD trauma symptoms (something he has had for a while except it wasn't nearly as strong). He knows that he has a problem most of the show but he avoids going to ask the Diamonds for help because he just feels very uncomfortable around them and it reminds him of traumatic experiences he had with them in Diamonds Days arc.

He doesn't go to them until after he accidentally shatters Jasper in ¨Fragments¨ and sees himself as a monster because of this. He separates himself from the rest of the crystal gems, feeling like he is as terrible as the Diamonds were. In ¨Homeworld Bound¨ he interacts with the three Diamonds, asking them for any way they can help him with his powers.

Most of the episode he feels frustrated because A) He can't find a solution to his problem and B) Sees that the Diamonds and Spinel are doing pretty well and he has been getting worse. It makes him get more and more angry the more time he spends in there.

The scene that leaves pretty clear how he feels about them, specially White, is when he talks to White. As shown in the gif above, when White touches Steven near where his gem is, Steven pushes her hand off from him, clearly being reminded of the time White ripped his gem off him in ¨Change Your Mind¨.

White uses her powers so Steven can talk to own self. This leads to an iconic scene that Steven gets angry at himself and White. He has a very strong intrusive thought of crashing White's gem into a pillar for what she put him through. He gets shocked for this and makes him run away scared as result.

This scene leaves clear that Steven has a lot of buried resentment for what the Diamonds did to him, mainly White. Being around them reminds him of his trauma, it makes him deeply uncomfortable and he would rather avoid them as much as possible.

The Diamonds get concerned about Steven and show up during the events of ¨I Am My Monster¨ when Steven transforms into gem like monster. The Diamonds and Spinel blame themselves for Steven feeling this way because of their past actions. White feels it is her fault because of how she hurt Pink Diamond and this brought problems to Steven.

They help with calming Steven down and him returning to his human form. Now there is some argument to be said about why they took part of this hug aside from using their powers to help the gems. I have talked more about this in here but i think it is to represent Steven accepting himself as being part Diamond and maybe forgiving, realizing that he isn't an ¨irredeemable monster¨ because of what he did, that way he stops seeing himself as one and goes back to his normal form.

After this, it is a bit unclear where Steven stands his opinion on his relationship with the Diamonds. I would assume that it is probably not much different than it was before. He still doesn't like them and probably doesn't want to be around them even after all that happened.

In short: Steven sees the Diamonds as allies and post the events of ¨Change Your Mind¨ he shows to be uncomfortable being around them, he doesn't seem to like them and mostly prefers to avoid them. He is glad that they are changing their ways for the better but he would prefer to not interact with them if he doesn't have to due to his own trauma.

The Diamonds regret how they have hurt Steven (and Pink) and care about Steven but he thinks it is better for him to have a distant relationship with them for the reasons i discussed. They can still improve and make amends for everything they did and Steven doesn't have to feel forced to have a relationship with them if he doesn't want to.

There are other things that could be discussed, about how the Diamonds Days arcs should have been longer or how the Diamonds needed more screen time- However, the point of this post is talk about people have mischaracterized Steven's relationship with the Diamonds, saying Steven is best friends with them when in reality he doesn't like them and spends most of Future series avoiding them.

[jolalibrary]

meet me in the city where we won't sleep

javier peña x f!reader | main masterlist

summary: home: a place where we feel most comfortable, loved, and protected — where we most feel at home. except javi, who has returned from colombia and feels his home is living miles away.

childhood besties!javi x f!reader

wordcount: 9k (i'm so sorry)

warnings: childhood best friend!javi. flirting. 18+ - although just a little smutty with fingers. brief mention of drunkenness years ago. emotions (ugh) and feelings (yuk) and idiots who just don't wanna confess things but really should. javi calls you flor and you call him a pineapple. alternating times.

an: originally started for april showers, it's taken me an age to get this done because i wanted it to be perfect. i really hope it is. the biggest thank you to @thetriumphantpanda who read all of this and gave me a gold star. it would have stayed in my drafts if not for you. thank you to @rhoorl for checking my spanish.

It would have been cliche to say he fell for you in a field of bluebonnets—your dress white, face glum, hands ripping up blooms from the soil that you clutched in your hand.

Lost, aimless, both in the blue of the petals and in your thoughts as you continued to yank stems up and bring bunches to your nose, unaware of him watching from the tree. His legs swung, and a smile slid into one cheek as the leaves rustled above in the warm breeze.

It took a while before you noticed him, practically half a field’s worth in your hands, hands wound around them as your dress swished at your ankles.

“What do you want, Piña?”

He supposed, for kids, that was an insult.

“What you doing in my field, Flor?”

Javi didn’t know your name then. Now he struggled to go a minute without thinking it.

Sitting still hadn’t seemed a possibility in the days since he’d been back.

And then, that’s all he’d done for the last eight hours before he was greeted by rain.

It’s relentless, an onslaught that blurs the world into a watery haze. The kind that soaks through every layer of clothing like a challenge; the type that drips from everything, making pools in the streets and turning them into dark mirrors, reflecting the grey and full clouds from above.

Not that Javi cares.

If anything, he likes it. Finds it cleansing, like the world is being washed clean, even if he knows how untrue that actually is as his eyes follow a bead rushes across the glass of the cab.

The driver has been mumbling about the weather for the entire journey—a thing he’s barely listened to since he’d recommended waiting for a break in the weather. It was likely they just didn’t wish to drop him where he’d described, rather hoping Javi would opt for someplace warmer, most likely smokier, so that he could call it a day too.

Javi doesn't do that now—smoking, that is.

Hasn’t done since he left that apartment that never felt like his, in a city that he’d spent years in that never felt like home. Threw them in the trashcan before his Pop had picked him up, craved and wanted all the way through dinner. He’d done it once, he’d do it again.

When the cab screeches to a halt, he pays, steps out (bag in hand) and spots the phone booth all in one fluid motion. It’s barely lit, front weathered by time and neglect. Smirk curling into his cheek as he remembers you telling him about it—that on cloudless days you can see it, likes to make stories about it as you enjoy a meal-for-one or crunches down cereal.

It hadn’t been a thing he’d thought much about.

Then, it was all he had thought about.

Standing there, making a story that could become real. A gesture, kind and deserving of someone who had put up with his shit since they were children. You’d always liked those big moments in the movies—his eyes glancing over at you, finding yours big, wide and shimmering with tears that wish to glide down your cheek.

Although, that had been well over a decade ago—the two of you had remained in touch, close, or as much as he could allow. Your visit to Colombia had still felt like the sunniest day, a bright spot in a sea of dark; a day that coloured his world in shades he hadn’t known existed, that dulled the moment he’d had to bid farewell at the airport.

It hadn’t been safe for you to do another, pleading in fact to not risk it. A thing, he suspects, is not a thing he’s been easily forgiven for.

He supposes it’s why he hasn’t told you he was coming. The flight had been booked, bag packed—fingers tapping, soul hoping you wouldn’t turn him away once he’d gotten here. To the phone box over the bridge from your place—the one obscured from view by the downpour that seemed never-ending.

Because, as soon as two weeks had racked up at him being home, he found himself itching to move, to be somewhere other than surrounded by fields and the watchful stare of his Pop. Parental worry a hard thing to hide from in a home washed in memories.

Sliding open the door, cramming himself into the booth, Javi had no concern about remembering your number. It was burned into him, etched into him with a blunt tool—almost studied, committed to memory while he ticked over godfathers and the weight of right and wrong.

He remembers when you’d changed it, when your voice informed him of the move, the chance—all excited tone, a pitch closer to a squeak than your voice: no more roommates, just me, myself and I.

He also remembers the ember inside of him pleased that Tom joined the underserving list, slid under Mia and Rich as you informed him you were single again.

Sliding quarters in, finger punching the numbers—he hopes you’re home. A niggling feeling threatens to unwind inside of him as the tone drills into his skull—attempts to drown out the rain rapping against the glass booth he’s standing in.

“Hello?”

“Flor?”

It kisses his ear, your snort. Light. Sweet. “Javier Piña, what do you want?”

You sound like you did in Colombia. Having half-expected the crackle meeting his ear to be down to the distance, rather than your shoddy home phone.

Pressing the receiver to his head, a smile there—desperate to flow out across his lips and exhausted face, he moves it back. “Tal vez te extrañé.”

“Mierda. I don’t believe you.”

Even amidst the noise of passing cars and the relentless drumming of raindrops, he catches the melody of your laughter—a symphony of joy that unravels a part of his soul. It releases it, unlocks it, beckons it to be free—metaphorically makes him release his shoulders, and take a breath. The part of him hidden away, floods back through him—no longer fearful of being taken, clawed or wormed from him as he handed other parts of himself to the job, the task, the goal.

Not you, though. Javi would never surrender you.

A pocket of sunshine he’d kept close to him like your chicken-scratch letters and your tipsy phone calls when he’d caught you coming in after a night with friends.

“Where are you, Piña?”

Wiping his mouth with his thumb, he pauses. Traces his index along the hair growing above his lip, glancing out through the rain-smeared glass, the one cracked in places. Not sure if any of the lights on the other side are hers, but lingering on each just in case.

“In a phone booth on a bridge…”

He hears you swallow, loud, almost difficult.

“…right across from your place.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Smirking, teeth nibbling at his bottom lip. “Are you lying to me?”

Smirking, he stares out again. “No.”

Because he couldn’t, not if he tried. Not just because you see through it, but because it wounds him to do so. Picks at him, and makes him bleed in ways that don’t ruin him in scarlet.

“Give me five minutes.”

The call ends before he can get in a bye.

The receiver placed back, bag straps cutting into his palms again as he exits, the heavens lashing against him as he slowly walks. Taking his time. Nervousness bubbling like a broth inside of him with each step, coming up to the top curve of the bridge, trying to look up, spot you—

Then he does.

Running, coat billowing behind—flapping in the wind as it breaks out over your face: that smile. The one that lit fires inside of him, the one first doing so at the time his bedroom at home had its last lick of paint, it now peeling, cracked.

Dropping his bag, Javi isn’t sure whether to brace or not—taking three more steps forward before you collide with him. Arms around him, chest to chest, your wet cheek sliding past his as your soaked clothes marry to his.

It would be odd to say it felt like home hugging you, but it does. It feels right, safe—a piece completing him as he digs his chin into your head.

“You smell the same,” you muffle into his chest.

Javi smiles, knowing the bottle on his dresser is the one from his younger years. Sun-ruined and likely faded, yet managing to linger on his skin enough to cause recollection.

Pushing past lilies, excusing himself through swarms of bodies adorned in black fabric, Javi found you sitting cross-legged between two tall stands of flowers.

Your eyes were puffy—red, swollen—and your dress was as black as his suit; your fingers were balled around a single lily and a scrunched-up tissue, the skirt of your dress skated over your bent knees.

“What d-do you want, Piña?”

But it didn’t land with the tone he had come to know.

Instead, he extended a hand you thankfully took, pulling you up from the ground before he opened his arms—letting you move in, slot yourself between them as they enveloped you close.

Letting his best friend fall apart at the back of the church, your sobs vibrated against his bones and his chin rested on your head as he whispered he had you, over and over again.

A thing you repaid when his mother passed a few years later.

Talking had always been a skill—unless he had to discuss feelings.

It wasn’t that it was easy to lie, or that he found the idea of feeling difficult—if anything, it was as though he felt too much. Guilt. Affection. Righteousness. Protection. Each one a little harder to carry, to wear.

More so around you. The walls had to be tighter, or they’d crumble into ruin, the dust spilling all his secrets before he’d confess whatever wasn’t already written over his face. But, you don’t needle him—instead, you make him a plate from leftovers, tell him about some gossip your mom had informed you of, until you offer him your shower, your sofa and bid him goodnight.

“You’ll be here in the morning?”

“Not going anywhere.”

Lingering in the doorway to your bedroom, fingers playing the piano on the wood. “You’ve said that before.”

He knows he has.

It rises up in him like a storm, whipping around his organs, making his chest tighten as he lies down in comfort but stares up at the unfamiliar. He can hear the rain, how it pitters and patters—how it likely streams down the windows behind your curtains.

He should find it odd that he'd rather fall asleep here, than in his bed back where he grew up. A strange solace in the unknown here, a quiet surrender to the whispers he usually has to hear when the night comes.

But, they're not here.

At some stage, he must sleep, before he wakes to the scent of coffee and soft sunshine. His ears catch the sound of you calling in sick—a cough, a put-on voice, one all removed when you throw a throw cushion at him and ask him what he wants for breakfast.

That’s how he finds his knee kissing yours under the small table as your spoon scoops cereal before letting it drop back into the bowl. Just like when you were kids. Just like when you were all excitable, too in a rush to sit for a moment, stomach likely fluttering with agitation.

“You keep staring.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Flor.”

The thing is, you’re not wrong.

Each time he has a second, he lingers—gazes. Metaphorically pinching himself as he forgoes digging a nail into his skin under the cuff of his shirt, just to make sure he isn’t dreaming. A thing he finds he’s doing now, after a night of laughing until you couldn’t keep your eyes open and a full day of exploring, you walk a little ahead before spinning on your heel to smile at him.

“I have to show you my favourite place—before you go.”

He hates that there’s an end date on this. Bought himself a few days of normal, before returning to something that feels anything but.

Scratching his jaw, brows raised and eyes wide. “You’ve replaced our spot?”

Rolling your eyes, you take his hand—fingers slotting, palm pressing against his. For a moment, a reflex, he thinks of pulling away. Thinking of what else sat as perfectly in his palm as you—a thing that took, but never gave. A thing that he held more than he had ever held a woman.

“My favourite place here.”

He expects a lot of things, maybe flowers, maybe a bar, but he finds himself inside a bookshop. One with floor-to-ceiling shelves, dark wood, the large window letting in light that barely reaches the back. He supposes it’s good they have a chandelier, one that sparkles, shines—like it’s as well maintained as the shelves.

“Books?”

“Books.”

Your finger prodding into him, facing him, body fully twisted. That smile there, the one which slides into one of your cheeks and makes his eyes flick from it to your eyes and then back.

It’s there when you turn on your heel down an aisle, it remaining when he follows—when he hovers close, so easily able to pin you, cage you in between his palms.

“Which do you recommend?”

Shooting him a look, you trail your finger over spines, over the shelf they sit on. “Didn't know you could read?”

“Funny.”

Grinning, you pull on one, handing it to him. His eyes take it in, the cover, the name, the author.

“I think you’ll like the characters,” you explain, eyes lighting up as you lean. “They're flawed but resilient.”

Chewing his cheek, he swallows. Listening, hearing you read the blurb after you lift the book in his hands so you can read it, word for word as he focuses on you. Noticing the way your eyes shine when talking about something you love, the way one of your hands begins to move as you describe the plot, and the characters. Realising, that he could listen to you talk about anything all day.

“You should read it,” you suggest, as he flips through the pages. Having never been much of a reader, time being a factor, his job has been the reason.

“Alright,” he nods, tucking the book under his arm. “I'll read it.”

Your smile brightens even more if that's possible.

“Chucho is gonna be so shocked when I tell him you bought a book.”

Frowning, he follows you, leading him down another aisle. “You talk to my pop?”

Shrugging, like it’s nothing. Like the words that are about to tumble out of your mouth don’t matter like they won’t stitch themselves to him and make him feel like pulling you to his chest.

“I check in—make sure he’s okay. Done it weekly since you left the first time.”

His face falls, descends slowly. He feels it—watches you take it in as yours slowly mirrors him. And, even if he’s been thinking it, it bubbling at the back of his throat, he finds himself unable to stuff it back down—to shove it between other regrets and unsaid words.

“I’ve really missed you.”

Each word lands, your eyes widening as your nose does a little twitch as they do, before you whisper, resting against the edge of a bookcase, “I’ve missed you too.”

Sat on the rock, the sound of a car door slamming disturbed the peace. Not needing to look, knowing that gait, that little kick of the ground as you stopped in front of him.

Hand shielding your eyes from the sun, flower tucked behind your ear.

“Hello, Flor.”

“Piña. Heard you were cursing Laredo.”

Smirking, you sat next to him, nudging him over. The two perched on a rock overlooking part of the city—as his head turned but his eyes stared at you from the corner of them.

“I give it a month and someone else will do something bad enough that people cross the street.”

Swallowing, he exhaled. “Thanks.”

“Did you love her?”

Turning his head, staring at you—eyes flicking from yours to a place on your face he shouldn’t look. “Not enough to marry her.”

“Then you did the right thing.”

A thing he only believed when your hand slid over his, hooking your little finger over his.

“It’s because you’re in love with me, isn’t it?”

Snorting, head shaking, your words washed back over him and he broke into a laugh. “Shut up, Flor.”

Nudging him, taking the flower from your hair and handing it to him. “It’s okay if you do, I know I’m a catch.”

He's embarrassed that it isn't until the second day that Javi finds the chance to really admire your place.

How it’s exactly what he imagined. So very you, all cosy, muted, with spots of colour. Plants and throw cushions, blankets and wicker baskets stuffed with things he suspects you have no recollection of.

What catches his eyes are the photographs, the memories frozen in time around your walls and on shelves. His eyes sweep over them, in a trance still from the scent of your perfume mixing with vanilla from a lit candle.

Each time he sweeps his sight over, he spots new things, remembering brief conversations, smirking to himself until his eyes land on a frame that makes his mouth part and his heart clench.

Him and you; you and him. Sunglasses far too big for your face, staring up at him as he beams at the camera. The backdrop of his ranch, his home, the one he so often left behind like it hadn’t mattered.

Done it weekly since you left the first time.

The words roll around his head now. All metal and round, bouncing against other thoughts, trying to dig his heels into the present and not wonder about what kind of calls you make—whether they’d be about him, whether you’d confess things you’d never admit to him.

Your clanging around is what pulls him to the present. The bangs of cupboards and pans clattering as he stares at it—as he notices how different his build is, how many years have passed. The occasional cursing from you is a rather nice anchor that keeps him in the present.

“Flor?” He waits until he hears you hum. “Order in again, I’ll pay.”

It’s here within the hour.

A favourite, you had told him. A quick apology that you’ll be messier than last night, that you’re dying of hunger. He reminds you he doesn’t care. Not as you slide the triangle slice out, the tip kissing your chin before it’s absorbed by your mouth, sauce lingering on your lips—dust from the crust resting on your nose.

He’s not sure what’s better, the taste of the pizza or the sight of watching you. Having the chance to watch you.

“So I have to ask.”

Grumbling, he pulls at the topping on his slice. “Here we fucking go.”

“Did you like the tie I sent you?”

Half-scowling, swallowing the mouthful of pizza—recalling the box on his desk, atop files and paperwork with a note attached: One down, three to go. Written in that same handwriting he could spot in a lineup—the one he had wished there and then would be etched into him, a mark left, a thing he could brush his thumb over when his heart ached and he felt lost.

“I was disappointed not to see you photographed in it.”

“You knew damn well I wasn’t going to wear a fucking pineapple tie to a press conference.”

Pouting, you smirk. Picking at another slice, staring up at him from the floor, all cross-legged. “Thought you might have for me.”

It’s there, ebbing—words that feel far more intimate than they should—crystallising, burning upon his tongue.

I’d do anything for you.

It’s there, unwritten, pulsating and breathing in the space between you and him, existing, never diminished. Memories where it’s been all but similar rising like lava, singeing him, threatening to burn away the walls he throws up for the sake of friendship.

Because he knows what people think. Saw it hung in his pop’s eyes at his Tia’s wedding when you came as a guest, an uninvited plus one that was welcomed like you were already part of the family. Heard it, in the wind between the grass before he’d left the first time, a farewell outdoor thing, your parents crestfallen, as though they’d assumed—like he imagined a lot of them—the two of you would have figured it out by now.

Watching you stand, hand outstretched for his plate, you take it with a smile. A shout of two options for drinks, an unsurprising one chosen by him—it bubbling in the glass when you hand it to him, settling in beside him.

“Not sure I told you, but you have a nice couch.”

“Most expensive thing in this place—probably better than my own bed,” you smirk, sipping your drink. Head rolling towards him, brows raised, eyes that bit wider. “So, are you okay?”

You’re the only one who could ask and get a reply, he supposes. Those same words were said to him a handful of times, down the phone from Murphy, over the table from Pop, even on aisles of the supermarket when he’d been staring between brands he hadn’t heard of.

“I gave you a day to tell me, and since you won’t, I’m gonna ask. Are you okay, Javier Peña?” you continue, body shifting, thigh pressing against his—heat radiating from between yours to his. “Because you’re methodical. You’re not… get on a plane and fly to a different city just because.”

“You not happy I’m here?”

Grinning, all teeth—it reaching and hanging in your eyes. “Los más felices. But, are you?”

Yes. It’s all he thinks.

Chewing his tongue, his eyes drop to his soda because he’s unsure how to say that. Not as he watches the bubbles float up and burst—the song that had been playing coming to a stop, allowing the rain to play an interval against your windows.

It doesn’t make sense, in some ways: how he’s kept you—been able to keep you close. Somehow not ruined you, twisted this thing between the two of you, made it rot, sullied it with disappointment and selfishness.

“I am now,” he replies.

Good, you breathe. Letting it sit, simmer. Paper over any cracks as your eyes sparkle and remain fixed on him, tracing him as though not completely sure he’s real.

That is, until you grab the remote, excitedly telling him about the night of television they have ahead of them. A blanket, at some stage, finds itself over him, you nestling into his side—like when they were teens before the world became a problem and narcos were all he hunted.

For a while, you catch him up, explain plots and characters. Then, you fall silent, brows crinkled in concentration. His eyes slide to the side to watch, to spot the little things you do as she settles in closer, brings your legs up, and rests almost all of yourself against him.

Between one show and another, he feels the rhythm of your breathing change, your body relaxing further against him. He glances down and finds your eyes closed, features soft and serene in sleep. Realisation dawns on him—you’ve fallen asleep. His heart does a slow tumble in his chest, a wave of warmth spreading through him. All of a sudden aware of the gentle weight of you against his side, the way your hand is loosely holding onto him. He watches, just for a moment, taking in the sight of you, so peaceful and trusting in your sleep. This moment is so intimate, so precious, he wants to freeze it in time.

What else is a guy like you gonna do…

This, he thinks. Looking at you, asleep, peaceful—curled into his side, fingers around his forearm.

Smiling, he takes the remote from your fingers, turning the volume down as he gets more comfortable—pressing a soft kiss to your hairline.

He carried a single red rose down the side of your house—nudging open the window the rest of the way, climbing in like he had done years ago.

He didn’t need eyes, didn’t fancy having to explain to his parents how he could do that to that nice girl and her family. Javi had faced enough judgement, enough stares.

The only eyes he wanted were staring at him, remaining so as he stepped close and handed you the flower with the thorns picked free. “Come with me.”

Sighing, eyes averting, you swallowed loudly in the thick quietness. “You don’t want that. Your best friend following you.”

Eyes flicking up to meet his, you took another deep breath. Fingers flexed at your side, weight shifting from one foot to the other before you exhaled—louder than before.

“I don’t want to follow you, best friend.”

Then don’t be just that, he thought, thumb swiping over the tips of his fingers as he hovered, waited. Then he took a step closer, and another. The gap closed, becoming shorter and shorter—

“What are you doing, Piña?”

“Kissing you.”

Lips pursing, trying not to smirk, you took the rose and put it on your dresser. “Don’t feel your lips on mine, Javier.”

And then he kissed you, his fingers clutching at your jaw—body pressed against yours, tasting your whine, your moan.

He felt your fingers clutch at his shirt as he told you to be quiet.

Laid you on your bed of flowers, knees digging into stitched roses and sunflowers, as you arched off the bed when his fingers slid between your thighs—like he wished he’d done a handful of times before now.

He’s not sure of the time when he wakes, but it’s dark.

A contentedness in his bones that doesn’t fade as he begins to blink, as he takes in his surroundings and remembers where he is. Feeling you, warm, pressed as close against him as humanly possible. Able to see the outline of you, before his eyes manage to paint the rest, how his knee has slotted between your legs—bodies a mess of limbs that takes him back to years ago.

Javi notices how the television is switched off as you try to move, to wiggle and escape. His shirt discarded, the cool air misting over him, pebbling his skin as he slides his arm around you, pinning you tighter to him.

Brain all addled with dreams and sleep, as his awakening state tries to remind him what he’s doing.

What door he’s trying to open all over again.

“Javi…”

Not Piña, Peña or Javier. Javi, all soft and whispery, like honey dripping into his ear as he turns his head to find your stare in the dark. Somehow finding it shimmering, fixed, more than awake.

Then you whisper his name again, and it’s heavenly, a piece of it anyway. A sound he realises he’s missed more than he cares to find words to describe as he hears you push out a breath—fingers finding his arm, stroking, sliding their warmth up and down the muscle of his arm as he swallows.

It’s slow, hand cupping your cheek as he shifts his body, and finds yours moves with him. The beginning of a partner dance, one it feels you’ve both practised in small spaces but never actually have as he slides his lips over yours. Moulds them to yours. Tasting faint mint on your tongue when you deepen it—when you pay attention, listen, taking each cue you give him from the movement of your mouth to the way your hands grasp at him to come closer.

A whimper tries to break through, to escape through messy kisses and tangled bodies, but it vibrates through him. Makes him shudder with how much he wants you, moving your knee, hooking it over his hip as he slots his waist between your thighs and you gasp at the feel of him flush against you.

Practically whine.

Nose brushing your cheek, palm flat, fingers spreading out over your hip as he feels you roll your body into him, he smiles—breathy, teeth nipping at his bottom lip. “Forgot how soft you are.”

You hum, head-turning, mouth latching itself back to his.

“Forgot how good of a kisser you are.”

Snorting, he lightly bites your lower lip. “Best remind you then.”

“Best do,” you whisper, pulling him by his hair back to your mouth.

You write a poem against his lips, signing it with your tongue against his as his fingers snake under the band of your sleep shorts, tasting your moan, your hiss and whimper when he touches you like he’s wanted to since he landed back in the States.

When two fingers slide slowly inside of you, curling, the sound of his name is like a fucking sin he wants to be draped in, wrapped in, even dressed in. Him seeking, searching, finding that spot that has your legs opening for him, nails scraping against his scalp.

“More, Javi. Please—”

“You’re so tight, Flor,” he croons, burying the words in your neck, the tip of his tongue swiping over your collarbone as you grab a handful of his hair. “Feel so good around my fingers.”

Your hips writhe, roll them against his hand, gasping. Making a mess, dripping, practically gushing over his hand, as he fights pulling his hand free and getting a taste.

“Be better—dios mio—around your cock—”

Smirking, teeth nipping at your neck, “I remember.”

Head lifting, thankful the night sky is clear, that the moon is draping you in a slither of milky light so he’s able to see your eyes flutter shut. Able to witness what his fingers do to you, the effects of their teasing and the languid movements as he finds that angle, the one which makes you grind against his palm, and has your chest heaving.

He moans your name against your tongue, drinking down a blend of pleases falling from your swollen lips as he plunges deeper, walls squeezing him.

There he thinks, lips pressing kisses to your shoulder, as you dig your nails further into his scalp, tensing, bearing down on him to the point he hopes you’ll leave a mark, leave a cut, a signature of this moment he can run his fingers over.

“Kiss me,” you gasp, all wrapped in desperation as you pull at his shoulder.

His mouth only just pressing to yours when your cry buries against his tongue, when you flutter and arch as he continues to work you through it. His name breaks through messy kisses, it escaping effortlessly like it doesn’t wish to be buried anymore.

You don’t let him pull away, hooking one leg around him. Watching, not able to take your eyes from him as he retracts his hand—as he licks your pleasure from his fingers and you stare with a twinkle in your eye.

“You best fuck me now.”

Smirking, a low laugh escaping. “Yeah? Want me that bad, Flor?”

Lifting onto your elbows, he waits for a taunt, a tease—something that’ll bring him down a peg or two. What he finds, instead, is your fingers slowly crawling up his bare chest, around his neck, your chin tilted up.

“I need you, Javi. Need you to fuck me.”

“Yeah?”

“And then I wanna get on top,” you whisper, dragging each syllable out, “and fuck you until the sun comes up.”

“Murphy is a nice guy.”

Eyes narrowing, he shot you a glare—watching as you shimmied your jacket from your shoulders. Bare arms, bare legs—except for the thin tank and shorts adorning your body—that had him thinking un-best friend things.

“You jealous, Piña?”

“Of a married guy? Fuck no.”

Grinning, you moved closer—boxing him in. Staring into his eyes, in a way that made him feel like he was being seen, read, and admired all at once. “Is that because you left a bite mark on my hip?”

Tracing his fingers along your neck, he felt himself smile. That flutter in his chest again, the one which had appeared one day when the two of you were teens and hadn’t gone away since.

“Ask me to stay,” you whispered, hands on either side of him—all boxed in. “Ask me, Javi.”

Running his tongue over the front of his teeth, he raised a hand, knuckles brushing over your cheek. Wanting nothing more. A week gone too quickly. Already feeling the pressure slip back over his muscles, seeping into his bones. But he knew. He pictured it, the things he had nightmares over—even when you were far away, never mind when you were asleep in the room next to his.

“Too dangerous.”

“That it? I can learn—”

“No.”

“No?”

He stared. Thought of the things he had done. The people he had already let down. The things he had let happen to people who deserved far better. It layering, and layering, and layering and—

Nodding, disappointment spread, before it was washed over in acceptance. “What’re we eating?”

When he wakes, he expects to find you dressed in corporate and apologising in a voice that’s accompanied by a pout at the foot of your bed. The place the two of you found yourself on at 4 am.

Instead, you fake another performance. Earn an Oscar over the phone before switching to the excitable one you present to him when you sit at the foot of the bed.

There’s something there. It hangs in your eyes. A secret, a thing shifted and dislodged now your mask has slipped from the few hours of sleep and the ruining of your sheets.

But he doesn’t ask, because if he does, he fears he’d tell you things in return. Alter the way you see him. Change it, taint it. Practically ruin the man you think he went to be and the one he's returned as.

It'll hurt him if you look at him with disgust. You’ve burnt him after all, left him winded, air knocked from his lungs each time he’s laughed. All but imprinted into his mind, a thing never filed but rather pinned up and forever there, like artwork on a fridge.

“Wanna get a coffee?”

Hands pulling on a pair of jeans, buttoning them as he sees the peaks of your nipples through your white tee. And he knows your face is bare and you're dressed in clothes you just pulled out without thought—yet, you are, as always, the prettiest damn thing he’s ever seen.

A thing he thinks when he showers.

When he smiles as he scrubs the shampoo into his hair, feels the soreness at parts from where your nails had dug in. He doesn't stop beaming when he smears his palm across the glass, takes in his appearance as you open the door, a towel hung low on his hips, eyes dropping down.

“Now who's staring, hermosa.”

“Don’t be a work of art to be admired then.”

He dresses in record time, your hand swinging beside his, so within reach, so easy to grab. But he doesn’t.

None of last night mentioned, even if he knows he’s left bruises on your inner thighs from keeping them apart; even if you've left scratch marks on his shoulders from when you sunk down on him, head thrown back, jaw elongated as he rolled your nipples between his fingers.

Javi doesn't even mention it when he hears you gasp at the taste of your coffee, a noise similar to when he'd licked a stripe up your pussy, when he tasted both you and him.

It was just like in Colombia.

A thing buried, hidden underneath other topics the two of you don’t discuss. Dead parents and a town you both ran from. A thing he almost wants to change, correct, but then you stop outside a flower shop.

The sign battered, peeling. Hidden between two nicer shops, yet the scent made his nose twitch.

“You should buy me flowers.”

“Should I?”

Smirking, teeth biting your lip. “Por lo de anoche.”

Head shaking, he finds himself following anyway. Unable to stop his eyes from falling to the back pocket you shove your phone in, hand reaching, palm pressing to the globe of your ass as he hears the muffled sound of a giggle—

“Piña.”

“Flor,” he whispers, practically breathes it against your neck.

The bubble expands, knowing at some point it’ll pop. Too happy, he thinks. Too settled for a man who has a solo flight back. It’s why he drops his hand, lets you move further in, watching as you scan over already-made bouquets for one he knows you won’t find.

Because they don’t know you. Not like him. There’s not years between you and this shop—this place.

His fingers lightly roll over a stem, staring at the flower, before he has pulled it free from the bucket, and then another, and then another. Not at all a florist—or someone artistic enough to make a bunch—but a person who at least knows you. Knows that in each of the pre-made bundles there’s a flower you dislike, one that’ll remind you of something, someone.

“Here.”

You blink, eyes widening as they move from the bunch in his hand to his face. “Javi…”

“There your—”

“Favourites,” you finish, eye narrowing, lips still parted. “You remembered all my favourites?”

Shrugging, aware of how close he is to real—to something that could shatter, break. A thing he’ll do, just give it time. Feeling it wrap its tendrils around his chest, around his heart, squeezing and squeezing until your hand slips in his. Palm to palm, fingers finding their way between his slowly, cautiously, your eyes not leaving his face as you do.

“Didn’t know my pussy was good enough for flowers, Piña,” you comment, voice low, a smirk there.

“You deserve more than flowers.”

“I’m that good?”

Shaking his head, hand still in yours, he presses a kiss to your forehead, swallowing. “Siempre has sido.”

“Hello?”

He heard the hiccup, the slur of his name as he smirked against the phone—finger and thumb massaging his forehead as he heard you hiccup again. “Flor?”

“Piña, did you know that I miss you?”

Adjusting the tie around his neck, staring down at the pineapples—the box open, atop a bunch of files, in the office he should have been thankful for. “You sound like you’ve had a good night.”

You howled, the laugh all high-pitched. “Maybe I have—maybe I haven’t. What I do know is that I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“No. I love you.”

Smirking, thumb tracing an outline of one of the pineapples. “You’re drunk.”

“Still love you.”

Swallowing, he let out a heavy exhale.

“You doing okay, mi Piña?”

He wasn’t sure how to answer, how to respond. Head tilting back in his office chair, the ice melted in his whiskey and the hour so late he wondered why you were still up as you extended his nickname out into as many syllables as you could.

“I am now—okay, I mean.”

It needs to be left alone.

He knows it. Reminds himself of it when it rears its head at every second he doesn't. Because, it doesn't need to be needled, or picked at until it bled.

But, Javi picks at it all the same when you avoid his question again.

His hand slides over his face, index finger tracing a line down his nose as he waits until your laugh fades. Your fork twists the spaghetti round and round, and when it falls, it simply lands on the table between the two of you—the air tinged with the scent of dinner and the flowers from the shop.

“When were you going to tell me you hate your job?”

Your smile shrinks, like the sunlight being muted by the night. Spine straightening, chin lifting. The walls coming down both literally and figuratively, seeing you prepare for war when he’s army-less and unafraid.

“Si significo algo para ti, no lo hagas.”

He snorts, resting on his arm, letting the sheets fall to his waist. Because of course, he cares, and of course, he wants to do this. Balling up the hand beside his hip, seeing the murkiness in your eyes, the joy snuffed out and hidden, as though the hatchets were coming down to protect against his storm.

Javi says your name, softly, honeyed—delicately drip-feeding the air each letter until it’s out there existing.

One by one, it happens. Your eyes avert, chin dipping down; your tongue drags across the front of your teeth and then your arms fold. “I hate my job. Happy? I wanted it so bad—and now I have it, I hate it. I hate going in, I hate doing it. I can’t tell anyone that because it’s all I wanted.”

“It’s okay.”

Snorting, fake smile sketching across your face as your eyes harden to the point they’re brittle. “It isn’t. I left. I turned my back and got as far out of there as I could, and now I’m stuck.”

It breaks him a little.

Seeing it then, the many shards inside of you that you’re trying to keep whole. The pieces that are so worn and tired from doing their best to fit, but struggling to do so.

It’s why he protests that you’re not. He tries to rationalise and says the same words he knows you’d say to him if he called—if he had told you the truth about everything when he was over there. He tries to add kindness to his words as you continue to stare at him like you wish your bed would swallow him whole.

“—You’re saying this like I didn’t say the same thing to you, and you went and did another five years.”

“That’s different.”

“Why?” you spit, standing now, finger pointing and nose flared. “Because your job means more?—”

“No, because I’m a fucking idiot, Flor. You’re not.”

You mutter under your breath, curse him—a blend of poisonous Spanglish that has the heel of his palm pressing against his forehead.

Because it’s like last time.

The words surge up inside of him—except you’re both older now, both carrying more pain and hurt from a world that continues to pile on when bones are already struggling. Walls threw up, keeping him out in all the same ways—except now his mess is also between your thighs, and you aren’t half as good at hiding how his words hurt you.

“Come home with me.”

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

Folding your arms, your head shaking. “I can stick it out—work my way up, it’ll get better—”

“You know it won’t. Know how well that went for me.”

Then you scoff. It blended with razors and sharpened to injure. “No, I don’t. Because you don’t talk about what happened.”

“You read about it.”

“But that’s not your story, Javi. That’s theirs.”

For a moment, he sees it. How hollow you look, how weak, sad and broken. So he repeats it, the request, the offer. Come home with me. But the door shuts, locks, a bolt thrown over.

And everything, all of it, splinters; it doing so before your mouth even opens and he sees what his request has done.

“I’m not coming home just because you’ve decided you want to play happy fucking families, Peña. The world doesn’t stop turning just because you’ve decided to run away, and it doesn’t begin turning again because you’ve come home and decided what you want.”

“That isn’t—”

“You left. You left me.”

“—Flor—”

“—and I asked you to let me stay—when I knew you were hurting. I asked and you said no—”

He whispers your name, broken—like it shatters the moment it greets the air.

“—I wasn’t good enough then. So why am I now?”

Shaking his head, legs flung from under your sheets, he stands—aware he’s half-naked, aware this isn’t the time as you step back.

You shake your head, tears dangling, resistant to fall. “I bet you’re not even staying.”

“I am—”

Head tilting, a crystal tear falling down your cheek, you scoff. Loud. Brutal. “Have you even unpacked? Or did you just get on a plane here?”

Swallowing, Javi rolls his jaw. Fingers flexing at his side, staring, urging himself to find words as his tongue thickens in his mouth. Because he’s staying, he’s staying, he’s staying—

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Flor—”

“Save it.”

The door of your bedroom slamming behind you is the final sound that echoes out between you both.

It was different.

Hearing you cry down the phone—than when the two of you were younger.

When your first love broke your heart and he lay beside you on sheets covered in stitched flowers. Your head turned to him, the bedroom door open, as you teased your lip between your teeth. The tears had dried, but the rest had still been there, written in markers across your face as you sighed, staring, waiting for him to answer. “What do you want, Piña?” you’d asked, and he’d swallowed that he wanted to punch them.

Now, though, there were miles between the two of you. Distance far more than there had ever been—cities, a whole country.

“I’ll be home soon—can visit you.”

He heard you laugh, it hanging, echoing. “Yeah, yeah.”

“I mean it.”

“You mean a lot of things, Javi.”

“Flor—”

“I wish you'd never kissed me.”

It's a whisper, the way he said your name. It cracked, snapping as it left his tongue.

“I should go shower, early morning and all that.”

He asked you to stay and he heard you sigh.

“What do you want, Piña?”

Swallowing, Javi tapped his fist on the desk—tiredness having crept over him, the last ditch at doing right in Colombia suspended over him. Tell me I’m doing good, that it's worth losing you, Flor. “Have a good day, Flor.”

It’s weeks.

Eight weeks and four days to be exact.

At some point, it becomes less of a want to get in touch and more of a need not to. Your number is always there on his fingers, but his digits never dialling it when his Pop nips out to go to the store, and he’s left alone with his thoughts and memories in a house stuffed full of them.

Javi doesn’t expect anything else.

Having woke that next morning to find a note attached to the book he had bought: Had to go to work. Have a safe flight. Speak soon—a thing he both hoped and prayed for, even as he nursed a drink on the short flight and chain-smoked at the airport before he did the drive home.

Home.

A thing it felt even less of when he arrived this final time. Pulling his truck into its place, dust swirled and kicked up around him. Staring at the house that hasn’t changed much, just the paint thinning, the sun-dyeing it.

Each day that ticks by, he thinks of you. Each week that’s collected, he fights with himself when he’s sat alone at the dining table about flying back out and apologising.

Because he knows what he did.

Did the same thing back then—assumed and foolishly acted as though your wants never mattered. But they do matter. A thing he rehearses in his head when he’s feeding the animals; a thing he runs over when he’s repairing a door here or a fence there.

One week adds up, then another, and another.

If his Pop thinks things, he doesn’t share them. Just shakes his head occasionally, not asking what is wrong, likely knowing. Suspecting he wears it like the rest of his shame, brightly coloured and decorated in bright lights.

A fool’s outfit, he thinks. A thing he is, a thing he knows. It carved into him at this point. Scratched into the skin and muscle, yet everyone else sees the word hero.

It’s eight weeks and four days when the door of the party opens, the sun streaming in—illuminating the back of a person in a dress adorned with flowers. It takes a second, the condensation on his beer dripping down his wrist as he stares, trying to place the shape and the style of the hair. Not wanting to imagine, not wanting to jump ahead of himself until he hears your mom say your name, all excitable—practically a shriek.

He’s not prepared.

Yet, it’s out of habit he moves.

Like the two of you are magnets, that realised they were supposed to be a pair. The music doesn’t quiet, and the room doesn’t hold its breath, but Javi does—and he suspects you do too.

Just as time comes to a slow stop—the hand in his watch takes an age to flick to the next second as his heart hammers into his ribs. Staring, fingers itching to reach out and ensure you’re not something he’s fabricated, not a mirage from wanting so badly and convincing himself he’d never have it.

“Hi.”

“Hello, Piña.”

It weighs heavy then—clots on his tongue. Almost shapes itself into bile and rests horridly against his tongue as he follows you around, hand close to reaching out to place on your lower back, but stops when he remembers where he is.

Home.

A thing it all of a sudden feels like when you turn your head, lift your chin and stare at him—eyes full of forgiveness, and understanding. “We should talk, right?”

Right, he thinks. Trying to stop the twist in his chest from tightening, trying to stop the dread from filling him and drowning from within. Conversations never go well. A thing he thinks over, and over as his hand strokes over his face, following, one foot after the other, until the warm sun kisses his skin and he finds himself leaning against the side of the building.

“I didn’t come for you.”

He says nothing, not sure if there are any to say.

“I quit. Moved back a week and a bit ago—” your hand comes up to halt him, half-pleading with a tilt and a raise of your eyes. “—and I needed to find things for me, first.”

Folding his arms, he stretches his legs, lets himself elongate, and tries to fill his lungs with air.

“Because I’d have resented you for being right.” Your chin dips, eyes following. “A thing I would do, because you, Javier Peña, know me. And sometimes I really hate that.”

Exhaling, he finds you do the same. Head tilting, lips rolling as you take him in, trace him with your eyes as though you can't quite believe he's real.

“Did you know that every person I’ve been with, it gets to a point where I think ‘Fuck, Javi wouldn’t do this to me’?” Meeting his gaze, you exhale. “And then, no matter how much I felt for them, it goes.”

“Flor…”

Swallowing, you offer the smallest smile. “It’s never gone for you, though. Not when you left. Not when you came back, and left again. Not eight weeks ago when I should have asked you to stay.”

Tongue sticking, flat against the roof his mouth, he grabs your hand—holds it. Runs his thumb over the knuckles as you avert your eyes.

“I live in Laredo now, further north. Did you know I’m so good at what I do, people seek me out?” you say, beaming, letting him pull you closer. “Think they’d have cloned me if I’d asked for it.”

Dragging his knuckles down your cheek, he’s unable to stop the way it flares up in him—that joy, that ember of happiness—when you smile.

“Because I don’t think I find the idea of being yours that terrible—”

“That so?”

Shaking your head, fingers playing with the buttons on his shirt, he watches your smile falter—just for a moment. “Don’t do this, if you’re going to up and leave again, Javi. Because I’d have died happily not telling you what I feel for you.”

“Not doing it again to you.”

“Okay. Then,” you sigh, sliding your arms around his neck, his hands finding a home on your waist. “Well, I guess I should tell you that I really like your moustache.”

“Just really like?” he teases, swaying you as you purse your lips together.

“Fine. I love it.”

Smiling, walking you back until your back meets the wooden railings. “I love that you love it.”

Rolling your eyes, forehead meeting his chest, he feels the laugh roll through you. Rumbling.

“You owe me flowers.”

Snorting, he rests his chin on your head. “I’ll buy you a field, Flor.”

“That’s a good start.”

Thought so, he thinks. Wrapping his arms around you, keeping your head against him, rocking you, like he's wished to do so many times before now.

Home now feeling right.

[skipper1331]

you wish you were me // Leah Williamson

a/n: inspired by this iconic performance

Your friend group was out in the local bar, celebrating a birthday. Your mate had just turned 26 and in her eyes, every birthday was there to celebrate it, so that‘s what you did.

You had a lovely dinner at her favourite restaurant and were now down for some drinks.

So here you were in a bar between the smell of alcohol and sweat, playing a card game.

"Wanna spice things up?" your best friend asked with a mischief grin.

"Tell me" the birthday girl replied, very interested in what your bestie had to say.

"Don‘t even listen to her" you argued when the suggestion came that who ever would lose the next card game had to do karaoke, "and the winner is allowed to choose the song"

But there was no point in arguing because everyone was loving the idea.

-

"Oh come on" you huffed as you lost while the other girls cheered.

"This will be fun" your best friend laughed as she ordered some more shots. You surely would need them. You couldn’t go on stage as sober as you were right now.

Drowning the next two rounds of shots, you stood up, the winner whispering the choice of song in your ear, so it‘d be a surprise for everyone.

Thankfully, it wasn‘t an awfully long song nor even a proper song. It was 'You wish you were me' by Trish which she sang in the series 'Austin and Ally'

I can deal with that, you thought, I wont see most of these people after this anyway.

Walking towards the karaoke guy, your best friend talked to him, your nerves on a rise. So many eyes looked at you.

your friends cheered, "Go girl!!" enjoying themselves very much while you were about to run. You hated being the centre of attention.

Fuck it

"You‘ve got this" y/bsf/n said, handing you the microphone, walking back to where your friends sat.

Weirdly when the music started playing you felt relaxed, in that moment the motto “yolo” was all that mattered.

"I‘m so much better than youuu" confidence starting to rise, "I’m a ten, you‘re a two" signaling with your hands your words.

"I‘m a queen, you‘re a fool" you pointed a random person in the bar who was a blonde girl, her friends cheering and gasping loudly before they started laughing.

"I‘m a throne, you’re a stool" you walked and danced on the stage, not caring at all, "you‘ll never be this cool"

"No-Ooh"

"I sing to you on this stage"

"I‘m at the top of my game"

"I‘m a star and you‘re lame"

once again you pointed at the blonde girl.

You grabbed some coins out of your pocket, "I‘m cash and you‘re change" dropping them on the floor.

"You‘ll never have my fame" you sang

not knowing that the blonde woman was actually someone fame, someone who had captained her country to the European championship and winning the trophy.

"So-Ooh"

"You wish you were me"

"Got everything you need"

"Got no time for jealousy"

"I, I"

Slowly the song came to an end, "Yeah, you wish you were me" being the last sentence before you did a mic drop and hit a pose.

The whole bar started to cheer, happily amused by the performance.

Quickly though, you picked up the mic, embarrassed about the move, sincerely apologizing to karaoke guy before you hurried back to your friends.

"That was awesome!" the birthday girl yelled, "best birthday ever!" hugging you.

And just as that the night continued.

"You have an admirer" your best friend whispered, nodding her head in the direction of the blonde who you‘d pointed at the whole time.

"I think she‘s about to kill me" you brushed her off, taking a sip of your drink.

"No, look at her, she‘s been eyeing you all night. Go talk to her!"

"What? No. Do you want a drink? I want one" you changed the subject, already getting up.

"Your glass is half full"

"No it‘s not" and with that you left.

Pah! As if the blonde woman was seriously not thinking about killing you yet you had to admit, she was gorgeous. Maybe you should apologize-?

You were about to order another drink when someone next to you beat you to it, "put whatever she wants on my tab, please" the person said, that person being the blonde woman, "that was quite a performance, aye?"

"Oh no, you don’t have to-" you tried, happy to pay for you own drink or maybe pay for hers (?) - you didn’t know.

"I want to. I’m Leah, Leah Williamson and you are?" she smiled, her smile so genuinely that maybe, just maybe she didn‘t want to kill you.

-

"Aye, Mrs Williamson, you wanna sing a song for me?" Leah mocked, pulling you into her grasp.

"Baby! I apologized for that already several times" you whined, the defender peppering kisses to your cheek.

"What can i say? If it wasn't for the song, I wouldn't be able to call you my wife today"

[toomiieimagiines]

hihihi

uhm so am i allowed to request again (i don’t wanna spam) 😭😭🙏

and if i am can u pls do a rui x hopeless romantic best friend reader (i’m totally normal about best friends to lovers lmfao)

so like the reader is always yapping about hot guys and it’s a little angsty at first because rui is thinking to himself ‘why did i have to fall inlove with someone that won’t ever choose me’ and then one day a hot guy comes up to reader and asks her out, reader is about to say yes but then she realises that she barely knew him and there was someone (rui) who had been by her side since day one and she figures out who she really loves (RUIII) so she rejects him and when rui asks why she just hugs him and says ‘because your the one i really want’ mwah mwah i feel like such a genius (i really hope this made sense lmao be prepared for a million bestie-> lovers and angst-> fluff rui requests 😼)

thank youyoyoyoyoyuuu!!

hi guys! i’m so so incredibly sorry for how inactive i have been! unfortunately, the fanfic writer curse caught up to me, and i’ve had considerably bad things happen to me! ToT

i had developed a really bad addiction after a recent episode - which may be why i’ve loved to write my characters so miserable, but they get a happy ending in the end - and have recently relapsed after a couple months. i’ve also been struggling with a lot of things, like being bullied again, pressure from theater, classes, autism, parental issues, memory of past trauma, having no friends, things like that. i’ve just been having a really hard time, so writing has been super difficult for me. i’m currently having some of the worst mental health in my life, and am un-recovering from other things i’ve had in the past too, after seeing the results of my recovery. sorry if this triggered anybody, i just needed to get this off my chest, and felt also that i should explain where i have been. you all supporting me has kept me going, and i hope you enjoy this one too! LETS END THE PITY PARTY!!!

in other - not so depressing news - here you guys go!! sorry for OOCness, obviously this is a more dramatic approach to a story! happy ending, j tried to write the inner narration differently for how you two were feeling at the time.. and ty once again for such a great idea, mama ^3^

“I don’t think I could stand to be where you don’t see me.”

If he has to sit here and listen to this one more time, he thinks he’ll go insane.

Rui Kamishiro loves you. He truly does. You’re his best friend, his partner in crime, his-

Never mind.

Rui loves you, but he absolutely HATES your taste in guys, and it’s driving him nuts. Nodding and agreeing can only get him so far before he wants to rip his own hair out, and tonight is no exception.

“I give up! All boys are dumb, I don’t need them!” You lament, resting your chin in your hands. It’s the same song and dance over and over. You swear off boys, you get attention, you get sucked in, and he has to pick up the pieces when it inevitably fails. How many times has he thought about how much better he would treat you now? He doesn’t know. He’d be a classical lover, he’d never speak to you the way those stupid unprincipled high school boys do.

Gross. That’s his best friend, why’d he think that? And when did he start being so self confident? He really outta look at himself in the mirror. What an egomaniac he’s turning out to be.

He shakes his head.

“You do know I’m still a boy, right?” He prods, trying to cheer you up. He knows this situation well, and he knows exactly how to make you feel better. Again he’d pull you out of this, and again he’d watch you fall in love.

He wishes you could be happy. He wishes you weren’t in love with being in love. You’re too pure for true love, love is disgusting, depraved, and unkind. You’re not anything like that.

“I know, I know, but you’re the only good one!” You point, words self-assured. “I don’t need a boyfriend, you do everything boyfriendy for me anyway!”

Ouch. Thanks a lot, that’s exactly what he needed to hear right now. He’s not gonna dwell on that last bit for now, he’ll wait until he’s home. Then he can- he doesn’t know. Cry, or something juvenile like that.

“So I’m back-up-boyfriend?” He masks himself in jest, smiling teasingly at you.

“Eh, maybe,” you snicker, “you’d definitely be cute if you weren’t my friend.”

He turns to his school work sharply, trying to mask his complete and utter despair. Ugh, why does he have to be so dramatic? His own personality makes his skin crawl with disgust and hatred, and that only makes him cringe more. He could think about how obnoxious he is all day. Maybe he should use that go home and cry pass early. He pretends to check the time, as if that isn’t all he’s been doing.

“It’s getting late, after this problem I should get going.” He mutters, scribbling some random numbers into his notebook. You yawn in response, being broken out of absentmindedly scrolling through your phone.

“Ugh, I wish you didn’t have to go!” You drape an arm over his torso, trying to hold him in. He smiles fondly, wrestling to get you off of him.

“I’d have to walk home in the dark then, do you want that?” He knows you’d never let him, and he sees it immediately.

Your face looks knowing, and you let him go right away. It amuses him at first, but quickly fills him with overwhelming pity. You’re so kindhearted it makes him sick. You shouldn’t worry about someone like him, it’s bad for your health.

“Would you like me to walk home with you?!” You shoot up, the idea of him not being safe running through your head. Maybe he should’ve kept his mouth shut. How emasculating! He’s not a helpless young girl! He’s just as manly as those boys who you long for, he’s not a puppy to be walked!

God, is jealously turning him into a bigot? He shakes his head once again, this time not just to clear his thoughts. He’s absolutely not letting you walk him home, it’d be mortifying. He takes your attention belly up, you should have a break. Maybe some time to yourself for a change? God, Rui, get a grip.

“I’m fine, I don’t want you out late by yourself either,” he assures, looking at you in haste.

“Ah. You have a point.”

“I always do.” He means more to that, and he wishes he could tell you. He wants you to see that even he knows what he’s talking about. He needs you to see him, just for once. Not as a best friend, or backup boyfriend, just as a regular one. As a lover who dances in the rain, or ties your shoes

He needs to stop. He shouldn’t think about you like that. It’s lecherous.

You two exchange goodbyes, giving him a long hug (much to his horror). He hates how feverish it is it hold you like this, it makes him feel guilty. His body gets hot, his cheeks flare up, his throat feels tight- it makes him feel like a pervert, even if his thoughts are the farthest thing from lewd.

He feels that everything he thinks about you is repulsive, though.

“Be safe”’s and “See you later”’s are passed between you two, and he walks down your front steps, now completely alone. His eyes scan the damp pavement, seeing the golden hues from the sky light the boring rock. That’s how he feels about you, he decides. You’re the sun, and he’s the pavement. He humors himself by thinking that your suitors are the clouds, stopping you from shining your light for him so he can grow weeds in the cracks of his soul. That’s what these feelings are. Weeds.

He wants to live life beautifully with you, he decides. He wants to tie your shoes, he wants to twirl you as you dance.

He wishes he could be the moon. Something of consequence- of importance, but he’s just the pavement. Not the earth, not the stars, not the clouds, or rain, he’s just a man made monster who destroys nature - you - and is walked over by people who do matter.

He should quit being this way, he grumbles, it doesn’t do anybody any good to be so flowery. He’s too girly- too weak. Maybe that’s why you don’t like him. If you’re willing to date anything that moves other than him, that must mean he’s on a completely new level, huh?

That’s what dreaming gets you, Rui. Crushed dreams and embarrassment.

He lets out a pitiful sigh, kicking a pebble with his shoe. He sees a worm in a lawn which reminds him of himself, he sees a couple shopping for a new game which reminds him of you, he sees a convenience store which reminds him that he’s hungry-

His life can be so mundane sometimes, what a drag.

He’s about to reach his front door, when he steps into a puddle. It feels like an appropriate representation of his life right now. A sense of disgraceful hilarity washes over him, and he begins to laugh. He laughs a while, he laughs as he takes his shoes off, he laughs as he peels his button up down, and he laughs as he lays in his bed. How dramatic he could be some times!

He falls asleep quickly. He has a dream about being on stage and forgetting his lines.

He wakes up with a thud, he fell out of bed. How embarrassing. He decides to check his phone.

Weirdo: RUII

Weirdo: wanna hang w me 2day?? u don’t have dance time right??

Weirdo: gonna kill you. WAKE UP

Me: I’m awake, sorry!

Weirdo: finally sleeping beauty

Weirdo: wanna get a snack? i’m simply starved…

Me: When?

Weirdo: an hr maybe…

Me: Okay :) I’ll tell you when I leave.

Weirdo: kay!!

He really doesn’t feel like being social today, but he’d never pass up an opportunity to see you. He’s an obscene degenerate when it comes to you, pouncing on your attention like a sick dog. It’s mortifyingly pathetic.

He gets dressed, throwing on a boring striped sweater. It’s getting colder outside recently, and he’s always ran cold anyway. His hands are shaky and nervous as he brushes his teeth, the anxiousness to see you making his body jittery. He considers breakfast, but quickly shuts the idea down. He doesn’t want to be stressed out - at least more than he already is - when he sees you. Twitchy hands lock his door, and he gets a few feet away before he double checks that he did, in fact, lock it. Pull yourself together, Rui! He screams at himself.

The walk is just as unexciting as he expected, albeit a bit chilly. He’s feeling thankful for the sweater. The breeze runs its hands through his hair, and he’s reminded that winter is coming. He always liked Autumn flowers the best, hibiscus flowers are pretty too, he supposes. It’s nice to have the warmth of the sun soothing his cold hands during summer, for sure.

He trips over a rock on the way, and his pants get wet on the knees. Khaki blends into an ugly brown, and he sighs. How unlucky, would anything go right for him today?

Turns out it will, you look really good today.

You great him at the door, practically buzzing with eagerness. It makes him smile, knowing that you do, in fact, want to see him. Or at least are acting like it. You’re a good friend to him, he’s lucky to have you.

“Rui!” You hug him as a greeting, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist. His heart soothes, eyes closing in relaxation. Problems feel obscure and distant when you two are like this, despite his reluctance last night. He can forget about corrupt feelings - or misguided love- and he can just be your best friend. Despite his apprehension to be cared for, he is flattered that you, at least, seem to like him.

“Hey.” He breaths you in, his voice soft. He hopes you don’t notice, it’s embarrassing.

“Hey!” You reply, pulling away. “Big things planned, Rui!”

“What big things?” He asks, amused. “Big things” for you were junk food and shopping.

“Big things! It’s a surprise!” You put your shoes on, and he can’t help but feel jealous as he watches your hands tie them dutifully. He sighs, stretching. He decides to make it a challenge to act normal the whole day. No weird thoughts are going to beguile his mind, he promises himself.

You lock your front door, twisting the knob to make sure that it did, in fact, lock. This fills him with a child-like sense of delight, maybe you two really were similar.

Nah, not possible. You’re too pure - too perfect. Ugh, Rui, no more stupid thoughts.

He watches you check the time, make a face at a nearby bird, and cover your cheeks with your hands. You suddenly perk up, wrapping your arms around him.

“Warm me up, will ya?” You scowl at the cool air, grip tightening. He gulps. It’s weird he reacts like this, considering you two have done things like this all the time. It’s normal, so why does he have to be such a creep? His arms wrap around yours, running his hands up and down to create heat.

“Should’ve worn a jacket,” he chides, “wouldn’t be cold, y’know?” His voice is so casual, like everything is totally fine. It is fine. Fine, fine, fine.

“Gotta look good. I’m on the hunt, obviously,” you joke. It isn’t funny to him, but he lets out a laugh.

“You’re hopeless.”

You two stop at a convenience store first, and you all but sprint to the drinks. He had this ritual down to a science. You grab two different color slushies, and he grabs whatever odd snack catches your collective stomachs eye today. Today the two of you decide to split a cookie, and walk to the counter. The cashier gives you a smirk, and he averts his eyes.

“This it?” The boy cocks his head, and you get the memo. You immediately jump on the opportunity.

“Mhm!” You wink, resting your chin in your hands while leaning against the counter. In all honestly, he wasn’t even that cute. At least, that’s what Rui kept telling himself.

“Don’t worry about it, than. I got you guys,” he waves you off. Score! You think, but he adds. “If I can get your number.” Rui feels like falling into the floor, how awkward! You just scribble it onto a stray receipt, winking.

“Thank you! You’re the sweetest!!” You singsong, skipping along with Rui following suite. You immediately burst into laughter, throwing a fake punch at Rui. “What a weirdo! Like I’d call him over what, 1000 yen?! I don’t even know him, yuck!”

So you did have some sense, he feels like letting out a sigh of relief. You hold your hands out.

“Which one do you want? I got your favorite!!” You look so proud, and he wants to laugh. His “favorite” isn’t actually his favorite, but he’d never tell you that.

The lie started one day in middle school, when the two of you suddenly had a weird craving for slushies. When you picked them out, you had gotten a red one and a blue one, and asked him what he wanted. While he really didn’t like red, he knew you liked blue, so he said red. Now for the past four years, you’ve always ended up getting him a red one, thinking it was his favorite. He’ll deal with it for you. Seeing your blue tongue stick out with brain freeze is better than any sugary drink anyway.

“Red, duh.” He scoffs playfully, taking a sip of it. The taste doesn’t really bother him all that much anymore. It reminds him of you.

You always let him divide the snacks, thinking he gives himself the bigger half. He never does, but he eats slower so you think he did. You skip along, enjoying it.

“Y’know, this isn’t bad. Wish they had the brownie, though. That never does us wrong.” God, don’t make him think of the ‘crack brownies’ - as you two call them. Those are great, and he likes them, so you never miss an opportunity to shove them down his throat.

“Don’t complain. Remember the egg roll incident?” He points, laughing at the memory. You two steer clear of that section now, having gotten sick.

“Ugh, I haven’t thought about that in a while! I’m never eating an egg roll again after that day! Ugh,” you gag.

Moments of silly memories like this make him feel like he’s known you forever. He can’t even remember a moment where he hasn’t loved you.

“Where’re we going now, commander?” He salutes, following the trail of sunshine you left behind.

“Where ever the wind blows us, kind sir!” You salute back, pushing him along. Your constant checks of your phone don’t go unnoticed by him, and he fights the urge to roll his eyes.

“Who’re you texting? Don’t tell me it’s that guy.” He tries to sound casual, knocking his shoulder against yours playfully.

“‘M not a total idiot, I’ll have you know!” You huff, holding your phone to your chest. “It’s just somebody we went to school with a while back, ‘m seeing if I can pull the moves.”

“Do I know him?”

“Dunno, never saw you two talking, so maybe not. He was in my english class, remember, the only class we didn’t have together?”

“Ah.”

You two walk in silence, except for when he yanks you back from the collar so you don’t walk into oncoming traffic, which amuses you greatly. You two soon arrive at the small mall, and he tails you as you run with excitement. You two browse everything, constantly pointing out cute plushies, or interesting keychains.

“Rui, look! Look!” You shake him, pointing to the back of somebody’s head inconspicuously. “Wait don’t yet- Okay, now! He’s turning around! That’s the guy! What a coincidence we see him here, right? Do you recognize him?”

Ha. Yeah, he knows this guy. He definitely knows him. He’s the one who would trip him during passing periods, he’s the one who left flowers on his desk. They make eye contact, and it’s like all of his growth left his body. He’s just the same freak from middle school, he’s still thirteen.

He shudders at the guys smirk, sensing that he definitely knows that Rui knows him. He jogs over to the two of you, and Rui already knows what’s about to happen, due to the lopsided smile on your face.

Damnit, this is the first time he doesn’t think he can act like it’s okay.

“Oh wow, what a coincidence! Must be fate we run into each other like this, ehe…” You giggle awkwardly, a dumb expression gracing your face. It’s painful seeing you that way for anybody other than him, and he looks away awkwardly.

“Must be.” He answers, swaggering closer towards you. Rui thanks whatever God above because - despite his current situation - at least this asshole didn’t go to highschool with you guys.

He looks down at his shoes, and tries to shuffle away, knowing this jackass is about to say something. He’s quickly stopped.

“Who’s this, huh? Feel like a recognize him from somewhere…” He trails off, smirking through his nose as he turns his attention to him. “Have we met before?”

“This is Kamishiro Rui, he’s my friend! He went to middle school with us, remember?” You happily answer for him.

Ha, friend? What happened to back-up boyfriend? He’s a little hurt, to be honest.

He feels bitter, it’s unbecoming- God, he doesn’t care. He should feel bad for getting so angry over it, it’s not like you belong to him. He’s such a freak, getting attached to you like this.

He starts to pick at his fingers, then he plays with a loose string on his sweater. You two continue to chat like nothings wrong, and he keeps thinking. It’s something he’s gotten good at recently.

He stops feeling bad about himself for a second- a split second where he resents you, and wishes his pain upon you. Wants you to know what it’s like to be so disgustingly, guiltily, revoltingly obsessed with someone. In this split second, he can’t even find it in himself to feel guilty about it, which is unlike him. He wishes you felt love like this, that you were as psychotic about it.

But this doesn’t last long, because he remembers that he loves you more than anything. He’s lucky to be your friend. You’re a great friend, you’re an amazing person, you’re the sun, the sun, the sun.

He’s the pavement, he has to remember.

“I’m- I’ll leave you to it, y’know? Fabric store.” He stutters, choking on his voice. You don’t even notice, waving him off.

You do, however, remember to press his shoulder, uttering an absentminded “Okay, Rui, bye,” and he remembers again how perfect you are for doing it subconsciously. He lets himself feel the touch, long after he’s walked away. He deserves it after the trouble he’s reliving.

When he makes it to the fabric store - which he really didn’t need anything from, Nene had gotten some the other day - he can’t help himself from wishing he could just go home. Malls were always overwhelming already, and now his saving grace has the attention of another man. He walks through aisles, but realizes that he now has to buy something.

‘Least he knows that social cue, he laughs bitterly, running his hands across his face in frustration. He’s so ridiculous.

Meanwhile, you were chatting up a storm. It was your first time talking in person since middle school, after all! You feel giddy for a while, but it cuts abruptly. You feel a strange sense of urgency, something’s missing.

Oh, your best friend.

But where had he gone? You’re sure he was just here. You smile apologetically at the cute boy, putting on your best performance.

“Oh, I better go get my friend now. I don’t like walking home when it’s late. Was nice seein’ you, let’s hang out soon, ‘kay?” You singsong, stepping closer. You want to give yourself a pat on the back, you’re so cute.

He rolls his eyes, and you’re hit with a wave of uneasiness. That noise he made sounds strangely dismissive, he’s not the kind of guy to be a jerk though, you must be hearing things-

“Leave ‘im. Between you and me, he was a total freak in middle school. Probably is now, too. Probably likes you or somethin’, total nutcase.” His voice sounds so casual, like it’s not the douchiest thing you’ve heard all day.

You let other men walk all over you, sure. You let them cheat on you, lie, whatever. But you’re not about to stand here and insult Rui. He’s the only untouched thing in your life - the only person who isn’t cruel. He’s so gangly and awkward, but in the best way. You could live a million times and not be able to deserve him, at least you think so. He’s so unusual, and that’s what you love most about him. Little things like not liking loud lights, or liking the red slushies the best, make your heart buzzy with familiarity. He’s the one constant in your life.

You’ve been awfully worried about him recently, though. His particularly (as you like to call it) has gone to the an extreme, and it’s been a battle getting him to eat real food. You’re not blind, you see the way he’s been spacing out, or tapping a little too much. You just thought he’d been overwhelmed. He worries you to death sometimes, but despite all of his own struggles, he always seems to not care about it, deciding to always be there for you instead. Ah, he’s just such an amazing guy - no, not guy, he’s not anything like those other boys you talk to. He’d never insult someone like that. He’s not just a guy, he’s like your person.

Yeah, he’s definitely your person.

Your heart sputters at the thought, and you feel something you’ve never really felt before - save for hugs between the two of you that lasted just a second too long, or words a little too romantic. The feeling makes your mind fuzzy, and your heart hurt terribly with something you could only place as homesickness.

Oh.

“I,” you begin, backing away. “Yeah, I’m sorry but I’ll really be going now-“

“What? C’mon I was just messing with you, even though having guy friend’s kinda weird.” He rolls his eyes.

“Yeah whatever, I’ll call you back,” you say dismissively.

You’re totally lying, you laugh, you’re not calling him back.

He didn’t seem to like that.

“Damn, can’t even joke around with you people. Whatever, weirdo, sorry I insulted your little boyfriend.” The change in tone amuses you.

Yeah, good riddance, pal.

You turn away, walking through the mall with pace. It takes a while, but you spot him watching a pet stores aquarium.

He’s a funny one.

You wave your hands, trying to get his attention. He swallows, knowing that it’s probably to ask him if it’s cool to walk home by himself. Emotions are stupid, and ironically, you both think that at the same time.

“Rui! Rui! Hey c’mon, let’s go home, yeah?” You smile, face feeling warm. It’s a different feeling from when you usually talk to him. He looks at you, a little shocked. He had assumed you were smiling wide because you set up a date, so he turns his head.

“Where is he, huh?” He looks away, back to the fish tank. You shift in place, was he mad at you? You’re a little irritated at the mention of the guy, though, and huff.

“Don’t worry about that. Seems like I only attract douchebags, so I decided to go.” You explain, poking his shoulder. “Hey,” you start, “let’s just walk home, I wanna talk to you about something.” The idea makes you feel dizzy, but you’ll have to illustrate your feelings one day.

You can leave out the “I think I’m in love with you” part, you think.

The two of you walk in an excruciating silence, staring down at the reflection of the setting sun in the puddles. His heart tightens, remembering his earlier comparison. Even now, you’re so perfect. Even if he’s frustrated with you - despite you turning down the guy in the end (he doesn’t know why, he wanted to ask) - even if he’s ready to scream, and cry, and ask you what it is he did for you to be so turned off by him, he still thinks you’re the most heavenly, divine person to ever grace his view. He wants to be where you see him, he wants to be in your orbit.

“You’re like the sun-“ He blurts out, immediately regretting it. He didn’t mean to say that, God, he’s so fucking stupid. He sees you stop walking, smiling that same stupid, dopey, lopsided smile that he’s always so jealous of-

Oh. It’s for him.

He chokes, stopping to meet you eye-to-eye. You look up at him too, laughing giddily.

“What does that mean?”

He sputters, stepping away. “N-no it’s nothing- It was stupid anyway so-“

“No, tell me!” You urge, laughing a little harder. “What if it was something bad, ‘nd you were making fun of me? That’s not nice, Rui!”

“I- Hey-“ His voice goes a touch higher, a defensive tone rising. “That’s not-“

“Then tell me.”

“It’s just,” he breaths, trying to word it in the least creepy way possible. How does convey the fact that he sees you as a divine presence, that he sees himself as a worthless creature compared to you, without sounding like he’s hopelessly possessed by love for you? “I just- you’re so amazing,” he starts, “I thought of this stupid thing the other day when I was walking home - you know how I am - and well, I just thought of you when the sun reflected off the pavement - since it rained, y’know? - and well, it just- Sorry, it was dumb-“ He rambles, covering his face in anguish.

Nobody’s ever put that much thought into you. Sure, you’ve received a few ‘You’re so gorgeous’’s, where you’ve had to wonder where they learnt such a “big word”, but never something as poetic as that. The usual Rui-ratic explanation endeared you to him even more. You look at him, the smile never leaving. He’s just… so Rui. His stupid striped sweater, his half up hair - that you’d begged him to grow out - his eyes, whatever. Everything about him you treasure, and little do you know he cherished you even that more intensely.

“I think you’re the moon, Rui. Or maybe the earth, since I take care of you, hah!” You snicker, stepping closer to him. He takes a step back in return, and you grab his hands to make him stay put. His heart throbs, and he almost goes crashing down.

“I.. I don’t-“

You yank his hands, making him look back up at you. “Hey, Rui, I,” you look at him assuringly, “I wanna say something, and you can’t laugh okay?”

He holds his breath, so do you.

Fuck it, just tell him.

“I think I’m in love with you, Rui.” You gaze at him, the words shooting out faster than you can second guess them.

“I don’t-“ He breaks away, his fists balling up. You messed up, you think, you really, really messed up. “I’m not- I’m not going to- You can’t just say that because you got rejected. I- It wouldn’t be nice to- You don’t love me-“

“Rui,” you beg, grabbing his arm again, “holding hands on the way to school, cuddling while doing homework, knowing everything about eachother, these aren’t-“ You breath, “I’ve wanted somebody to love me for so long, Rui, and I was so blind to the fact that I was loved. But the love that I felt for you, - that I feel for you - Rui, isn’t the kind where I can be- where I can just be so- so normal about those things!” You monologue, saying whatever’s on your mind. You’re the rambling one now.

“I found myself comparing you to these piece-of-garbage dude’s I’m always with, wishing I could just date somebody like you instead! But now I realize that it is you-“

His heart falls into his gut, and he breaks free from you again. His hands move to his face, covering his eyes. His voice is broken and cracky as he begins to cry. “That was- you-“ He pulls you into a desperate embrace, arms holding you like you’ll disappear. “You shouldn’t, you’re wrong.” He sobs, “I’m- the way I love you is- You don’t understand, the way I feel isn’t normal I- My love is disgusting, and horrible, and depraved-“ He shakes, you rub his back. “You are so perfect compared to me, I’d never be able to- I love you so much, more than friends are supposed to, more than anyone’s supposed to at our age-“

“Rui, hey Rui please don’t cry.” You beg, smoothing out the ridges in his sweater. “I don’t- I don’t agree with that, and I can scream that at you, but I’m sure you won’t believe me. You’re not disgusting for feeling emotions different, Rui that’s what I love about you.”

“Stop- stop saying my name like that. It’s too hard to-“

“Rui, I love you. You don’t need to accept it, but I love you. More than being in love, more than being loved-“

“I love you, too,” his voice cracks, “that’s why I’m so scared. I don’t want to ruin a friendship that’s all I have, if this is just- I’m scared I’d lose you in any way, and I can’t live in a world where you don’t see me. I won’t. It’s sounds horrible but-“ He stops as you pull away from the hug, and wipes his face hastily. You put your pinky out, and his stomach drops again.

“C’mon, just like when we were kids. Pinky promise that no matter what, we’ll always see each other. That way you don’t need to worry anymore, y’know? I never break my kissy pinky promises, ever.”

Just like when you two were little.

He locks his with yours, just like you taught him all those years ago. He remembers your shared handshake for theater, he remembers your shared handshake for testing, and he remembers the song you two had to duet for choir - when you have forced him into it for a year. He holds everything of you so dear to his heart, you endear everything about him to you as well.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“I see you.”

“I see you, too.”

You two kiss your hands, then bring them down, still interlinked. You stare at him, and he stares back at you. In a moment of profound sincerity, you lean forward, and kiss him. It’s slow and gentle, and you unlock your hands half way through to hold his face, which he mirrors. His heart settles for the first time. You see him. He’s your moon, your earth, you’re his sun, his stars.

He’s suddenly alarmed by a quick pushing off of him, gasping out a “Rui!”

“I-“ he pants, wiping his mouth. “Hm?”

“we’re in the middle of a park!”

[cieloclercs]

what would you say (if i told you i love you)? — charles leclerc

PART: 7/7 (read part 6 here)

summary. in which childhood best friends blur the lines between what they’ve always known, and something more

warnings. angsty but with a lil catharsis at the end (yes it’s a happy ending i’m too weak to keep the angst up 😔) swearing as per, your bestie and charles SCHEMING, y/n being a teenyyy bit annoying but it’s fine she’s heartbroken we accept it 😚

pairing. charles leclerc x artsy!reader

face claim. tara michelle

author’s note. FINAL PART!! it’s been a long time coming (sorry about that sixth form’s been kicking my ass 😔) but thank you to everyone that has been interacting with this series! i love and appreciate you all sooooo much!! 🫶 anywaysss i hope you guys enjoy the finale of what would you say (if i told you i love you)? 💗

liked by charles_leclerc and 37,846 others

yourusername happier than ever 🩶

view all comments…

username me when i lie:

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username it’s so weird to me that everyone says she loved him like they confirmed anything? they were literally just friends 😑

username that may be so, but when two people look at each other the way y/n and charles do there’s NO WAY they’re just friends…

yourfriend you know there’s something called taking my advice maybe you should try it sometime 😃

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arthur_leclerc sure you are ☺️

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username PREACH

leclerc_pascale ma fille pour toujours / my girl forever 💗

yourusername 🫶

username hey y/n! if you are truly happy then i am so proud of you <3 but i know that sometimes say things to hide the pain they’re actually feeling. what i’m trying to say is please don’t think you need to act as if you’re doing great all the time! we all love and support you no matter what, and all we want is for you to be happy! 💗

yourusername i think this is the sweetest comment i’ve ever received?? 🥹 thank you so so much for your kind words and for checking in! i love you ❤️

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*yourusername liked this comment

charles_leclerc all i want is for you to be happy.

*charles_leclerc deleted this comment

username CHARLES WE SAW THAT

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username he really thought he could hide from us 🙄 rookie mistake

liked by formula1updates and 107,837 others

f1gossip BREAKING! Charles Leclerc and Y/F/N, best friend of Y/N Y/L/N spotted together in Monaco! Do we smell a backstabber? 👀

view all comments…

username YOU WHAT NOW

username THIS CAN’T BE HAPPENING

username i actually have no words.

username oh 😃

username guys it might not be what it looks like!! we don’t know the whole story

username well it looks pretty incriminating to me…

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username right all the fake y/n fans talking shit about y/f/n need to SHUT THE FUCK UP.

username LITERALLY the switch up is insane 🫠

username yes!! first of all no one knows the full story, and second y/f/n has been nothing BUT supportive of y/n throughout this whole situation! switching up on her now is really unfair ☹️

yourfriend this is unbelievable. f1gossip you have no right to post this without any understanding of the full story.

username yourfriend stop trying to play innocent we all now you’re a fake backstabbing skank 🤮

username username if you can’t think for yourself without trusting everything the TABLOIDS tell you then just do us all a favour and shut the fuck up 🥰

yourusername

seen by charles_leclerc and 21,673 others

responses:

yourfriend thank you, y/n

liked by formula1updates and 22,736 others

f1gossip Charles Leclerc spotted with a HUGE bouquet of flowers outside Y/N Y/L/N’s apartment in Monaco! Is reconciliation on the cards? 👀

view all comments…

username OH MY GOD IT’S FINALLY HAPPENING

username CODE RED 🚨🚨 THIS IS NOT A DRILL GUYS I REPEAT THIS IS NOT A DRILL

username charles i am PRAYING that you don’t fuck this up i need my otp back together 🙏🙏🙏

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username NOW THAT’S CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT

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username after all of what? a bouquet of flowers? he needs to try a bit harder than that 🙄

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username tbh if charles leclerc turned up at my door with flowers i’d melt. no matter how angry i was 🤷‍♀️

arthur_leclerc FINALLY

username ARTHUR 😭

username arthur bestie what are you doing here 😭

username he’s so us

username he stans charlesy/n just as much as we do 🫶

one week later…

liked by charles_leclerc and 647,937 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername i’d say i love you too ❤️‍🩹

view all comments…

charles_leclerc thank you for giving me a second chance, mon amour ❤️

yourusername always 💫💗

charles_leclerc i love you so so much

charles_leclerc i’m the luckiest man in the world

yourusername aw charlie 🥹

username such a SIMP

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username oh he IN LOVE in love 🫠

username hold up so everyone was talking shit about y/f/n but the whole time she was actually plotting to get charles and y/n back together… 😳

username yep…everyone say sorry and thank you y/f/n right now!

username sorry yourfriend and thank you for doing god’s work 😔🙏

yourfriend you’re welcome guys ☺️

arthur_leclerc DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW LONG I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS MOMENT

arthur_leclerc ELEVEN FUCKING YEARS

arthur_leclerc I DESERVE COMPENSATION FOR EVERY TIME I’VE HAD TO LISTEN TO YOU TWO PINE OVER EACH OTHER BUT NEVER DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT

yourusername way to expose us arth 😔

charles_leclerc sorry? 😃

username CRYING ARTHUR IS SO DONE WITH THEIR SHIT

username arthur is the true winner in this situation 😭

username bless his poor charlesy/n heart 😔

username yourusername charles_leclerc LOOK WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO THE POOR MAN. YOU’VE BROKEN HIM

joris_trouche it’s about damn time

yourusername ok lizzo

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username FINALLY

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username ok but did you NEED to put us through all that pain? 😅

username it’s called character building bestie! we survived the charlesy/n friendship breakup so now we can get through anything! 😃

username the first picture 🥹🥹

leclerc_pascale Ma belle future fille / my beautiful future daughter 💗😉

charles_leclerc maman 🤦‍♂️

arthur_leclerc just propose already you’ve been saying you want to marry her since you were sixteen

charles_leclerc ARTHUR

yourusername CRYING 😭

yourfriend ARTHUR YOU DID NOT 😭😭

username IM SCREAMING ARTHUR WHY WOULD YOU EXPOSE HIM LIKE THAT

username poor charles can’t say anything without arthur exposing him 😔

landonorris i better be invited to the wedding 😏

carlossainz55 me too! 😘

charles_leclerc absolutely not.

yourusername landonorris carlossainz55 ignore him! of course you’re invited 😃

scuderiaferrari Our favourite couple ❤️

yourusername 🥰🫶

username even ferrari’s a charlesy/n fan

scuderiaferrari username *Biggest fan 😉

lorenzotl congrats to my favourite sibling (and charles) 😚

yourusername love you enzo ☺️💕

charles_leclerc rude??? 😒

username i love how they left us in suspense for a whole week after that gossip post and only NOW decided to confirm it ☺️☺️

username ROLL THE DAMN CREDITS.

taglist: @cxcewg @incoherenciass @formula1mount @allywthsr @meabhcavanagh @driveswiftly13 @zzblooda @gaslysainz @be-your-coffee-pot @siovhanroy @hwienv @xoxozoedagyal @alireads27 @glow-ish @eviethetheatrefreak @nmw-am @buendiabebeta @laneyspaulding19 @imthebadguyyy @marialovesf1 @f1wintermoon13 @topaz125 @aundercover @sainzluvrr @sunny44 @justdreamersdream @lordperceval-16 @needtokeepfeelingsincheck @midnightappleade @remuslupinsbitch @taylorslovesswifties13 @raizelchrysanderoctavius @lillianacristina @lifeless-firefly @bbygrlllllll @405rry @1655clean @drthymby @ang-26 @dhe3reads @mishaandthebrits @caitdaniels @missenclod @lovely-blackinnon @smnthnclj @sofs16 @dark-night-sky-99 @c3leste888 @christcat @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @cixrosie

thank you all so much for the love on this series! i’m going to miss it 🥲

[nahoney22]

Hey bestie ❤️ Back again with another ask (and perhaps a bit of a challenge should you choose to do this 😏)

Could I request a lil bit of smut for f!reader x Tech in an established relationship please? Maybe the reader is having a hard time focusing on work and Tech devises a.... Solution 👀 involving rewards for good behavior and punishment for the opposite. Maybe include some spanking? 👀👀

Thanks love ❤️

Punishment and Reward*** 🌊

🫧 Pairings: Tech X Female Reader

word count: 1.9k

prompts: None

Summary: Finding it difficult to concentrate on the ships operations for you to pilot the Marauder, Tech hatches an idea that may help you focus more with some rewards.

warnings: NSFW, 18+ only. Fingering, dirty talk, explicit sexual content and language, spanking, sexual rewards and punishments, soft!dom Tech, sub!reader, established relationship, cum denial. Not proofread.

authors note: I love this idea bestie! Enjoy @arctrooper69 - hope this is okay!

"Still struggling with your research?" Tech's voice sliced through the silence of the cockpit as he stepped inside.

You sigh miserably. You were trying to keep yourself updated with the ship's manifest as well as learning all types of models of transportation, modifications… literally anything. All because you wanted to learn to fly the Marauder. Yet your boyfriend wanted you to learn everything there was to possibly know. But, if Omega can do it. Why can’t you?

“No Tech, I haven’t. I just can't seem to concentrate," you confessed with a grumble, tossing your datapad onto the control panel with a defeated thud.

“But there is nobody else here to distract you.” He states and although this was true, you just weren’t retaining enough information about, well, anything.

You lean your head back on the chair and close your eyes. “I know, I just can’t do it, Tech.” You mutter. “I’ll never be a pilot.”

Tech studied you for a moment before an intriguing idea crossed his mind. "What if I proposed a solution?" Although his suggestion may seem innocent to others, you saw the glint of desire flash in your boyfriends eyes.

You arched an eyebrow, intrigued by his offer. "I could quiz you on ship protocols," he proposed, his voice laced with a hint of excitement. "And in return, I could provide a reward for your efforts."

The notion of a reward piqued your interest, stirring a flicker of excitement within you. "I'm listening," you replied, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

As Tech approached you, his confidence radiated in his every movement. With gentle fingers, he lifted your chin, his eyes sparkling with anticipation behind his goggles. "Shall we commence?" he murmured, his voice sending a thrill through you.

Standing up, you allowed him to assist you in shedding your pants, a rush of excitement coursing through you at his touch. His gaze lingered on the red silk panties you wore, a smirk playing on his lips as he admired his favourite garment of yours.

"Now, assume the position," he instructed, his tone firm as he sits down and pats his lap.

Biting your lip, you complied, positioning yourself over his lap, feeling the warmth of his body beneath you. His arousal pressed against your stomach as Tech traced his fingers teasingly along the curve of the back of your thighs.

"We'll start with something simple, darling," he began, his voice thick with desire. "What is your approach to navigating in space?"

The question caught you off guard, puzzling you as you rake your mind for answers. “I-Is that an easy question?”

“Oh yes,” he purrs, admiring the view of your exposed rear, “if you wish to be a pilot, you must know this.”

Taking a deep breath, you focused, determined to impress him. "Um... I would start by checking star charts," you ventured cautiously, feeling his approval in the subtle hum of encouragement for you to go on. "Then I'd check the onboard navigation systems, and if I were part of a unit, I'd maintain communication with mission control for precise navigation."

Tech's fingers continued their gentle exploration as he nodded approvingly. "Very good," he murmured, his voice sending chills over your body. "But let's make it a bit more challenging, shall we?”

“Do I not get a reward for that?” You ask curiously.

Your eagerness betrayed you, prompting a teasing response from Tech as he cupped your arse cheek. "You think you deserve a reward for answering such an easy question correctly?"

Your heart skipped a beat, a pang of embarrassment washing over you. "I... I just thought..."

Tech tsked softly, his hand offering a gentle caress across your bare flesh. "Well, since you provided a satisfactory answer," he conceded, "I suppose you've earned a small taste of your reward."

Anticipation surged through you as you waited, your gaze fixed on the floor beneath you. The sound of him moistening his fingers, sucking on them, sent a shiver of excitement down your spine. He pulled your panties aside and began to caress your folds, making you gasp. "T-Tech..." you whimpered, feeling his arousal pressing against your stomach harder.

He hummed in satisfaction, his touch sending waves of pleasure through you. "Now, for my next question," he murmured, his voice low and seductive, "How do you ensure the safety of the crew during re-entry and landing?"

Your mind struggled to focus, overwhelmed by the sensation of his fingers dancing over your sensitive flesh; slow and circular motions. How could you possibly concentrate with the delicious distraction of his touch on your pussy?

Pushing past the heated sensations, you forced out your answer with stuttered breaths. "I would closely monitor systems and environmental c-conditions during re-entry," you managed, your hips involuntarily bucking as you craved more of his touch, "and follow - oh fuck, ngh- procedures to ensure a safe landing."

"Well done, my darling girl," Tech praised, his voice warm and lustful. "That earns you another reward."

You moaned softly in anticipation, whimpering as you felt his soaked finger teasing your entrance before slowly pushing inside you. Your walls clenched around his digit as he skillfully manipulated you, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from your lips.

"It always fascinates me," he murmured, his voice dripping with desire, "how responsive you are to me even after I have claimed your cunt on several occasions."

"M-More, Tech, please..." you begged, your body burning with need.

"No, no. Not yet, darling," he teased, almost mocking you as his spare hand tangled in your hair, holding you in place. "You know the rules. More rewards come with correct answers. Now, let us move on to the third question."

Obeying his command, you awaited his next question, the heat between your legs intensifying with each passing moment.

"How do you ensure the integrity of the steering mechanism during maneuvers?" he prompted, his finger continuing its relentlessly slow rhythm inside you.

Your mind raced, struggling to recall the information. "I don't know, Tech," you groaned, frustration mounting.

But he refused to relent, applying a little more pressure with each passing second. "Think, darling. You know this. I explained this two rotations ago.”

Your pussy throbbed with need as memories flooded your mind, and with a surge of determination, you offered your response. "I would…I would conduct calibration checks and visual inspections," you managed, the words tumbling out as your arousal clouded your thoughts.

"What else?" he pressed, his finger curling inside you.

"I would m-monitor performance parameters during maneuvers," you gasped, the sensation overwhelming. "And conduct post-mission inspections to detect any anomalies."

“You are such a good girl, so clever. That is correct.” His praise had you moaning his name, blushing as he leaned over you and placed a kiss on the back of your head whilst he pressed a second finger inside you, filling you up one by one. Your body goes limp as he starts to pulsate in you, whispering words of praise as your heat squelched with every movement. “Stars, you are so wet my love. Let’s answer some more questions.”

As the questions continued, each correct answer earned you another finger, until you were completely stuffed with his digits. His relentless pace left you gasping for air, your body trembling with pleasure under his skilled ministrations.

But when you stumbled over the next question, Tech's patience wore thin. With a tut of disapproval, “You are taking too long to answer,” tech tuts at you, threatening to pull his fingers out from your sopping hole but he doesn’t. Instead, he lets go of your hair and spanks you. You squeak at the sudden sensation, arse cheek stinging. “That’s right, every time you take too long I will spank you.”

You bite your lip, almost drawing blood. “Who says that’s a bad thing?” Your teasing response earned you a raised eyebrow from Tech, and before you could protest, he withdrew his fingers completely, leaving you feeling empty and desperate for his touch. But, he doesn’t completely leave you gagging for a touch as he spanks you once more making you moan.

"No, no, Tech, please don't stop," you pleaded, the sudden loss of sensation leaving you feeling needy and vulnerable. You were on the brink

But Tech was firm. “Answer the question on the rayshields,” he commands, giving your left cheek another firm spank, “and then I may satisfy you again.”

You winced at the sting of another spank, yet finding it incredibly pleasurable at the same time. Your mind races to provide the correct response. But you couldn’t focus all too well when you see him stick his fingers on his tongue, licking your slick off with a soft moan. “You taste divine.” The sight sets your blood on fire and it spurred you on to give an answer.

Thankfully, he seemed satisfied with an answer you gave and after a tantalising pause, he slipped a single finger back inside you, drawing a whimper of relief from your lips.

As Tech's fingers worked tirelessly inside you after more correct answers, although you earned some light spanking in the process (he doesn’t need to know if your stalling was intentional or not) you were coaxed closer to the edge as you felt a wave of ecstasy building within you. Your body trembles that almost makes you feel delirious.

"Answer this simple question and I will let you cum. Would you like that, darling?"

You struggled to form coherent thoughts, the overwhelming sensation of pleasure clouding your mind. "Y-yes, ask me, please?" you pleaded, your voice trembling with need.

With a chuckle, Tech teased, "Do you deserve to cum?"

The desperation in your voice was palpable as you cried out, "Yes! Please let me cum. I've been good for you."

His laughter was low and husky as he praised you, his fingers curling inside you with renewed intensity. "Yes you have," he rasped, his breath hot against your ear. "You've been so good for me, darling. You deserve every moment of pleasure."

His words sent your blood on fire, his arm wrapping around your chest as he drew you closer, his fingers never relenting in their rhythm. The promise of release hung desperately close, driving you to the edge of madness as you yearned for the sweet release only he could provide.

"F-fuck, don't stop," you whimpered, your body trembling with anticipation. "I need it, Tech. I need to cum so badly."

With a final, expert twist of his thumb against your clit, the coil of tension within you snapped, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through every nerve ending. You cried out his name in a crescendo of ecstasy as waves of pleasure crashed over you, leaving you completely spent and breathless in his arms.

As you came down from the dizzying heights of pleasure, Tech's words washed over you like a soothing balm, his praise and adoration filling you with warmth and contentment. “You did so well for me, I told you, you could do it. You are so clever and beautiful.” Cradled against his chest, you felt a sense of utter bliss wash over you, knowing that you had pleased him.

He kisses your cheek softly. “See? Even with the hardest of distractions you did exceptionally well. You should be proud.”

You could only give a breathless laugh in reply, nestling your face into the crook of his neck as you came down from your high. Maybe you should find other ways to get some rewards from Tech in the future.

🌊 More Tech Works

🌊 Masterlist

🌊 Tags: @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @jesseeka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @lamiliani @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot @imalovernotahater @sithstrings @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @yunggoblin @photogirl894 @lulalovez @thiswitchloves9904

[eddiemunsons-missingnipple]

Listen hear me out you're with older eddie and everyone just assumes he's very rough and dominant but really he likes it when you slap his face and spit on him he practically begs for it while you ride him

Oh, I'm listening 😌 ya know anon you sound exactly like one of my besties...suspish🤨

Sub!Older!Eddie munson x fem!reader

I'm so sorry, btw this was also kind of rushed, so I hope you enjoy it. 18+ no minors

You don't know why everyone was a little intimated by your boyfriend. Maybe it was his choice of clothing or music. Maybe it was the faded scar on his eyebrow from a bar fight. Maybe it's because his face always had a scowl, and he never seemed to crack a smile until you're around.

Everyone in town seems to think he's this mean and rough person, but that's the farthest thing from the truth. Eddie's not like what the others would describe him to be. He's soft-spoken, gentle, and incredibly smart.

They also would assume he dominated you in the bedroom as well. You heard the gossip around town, and the little comments made your way as you passed by. Mainly from men with nothing better to do. Truth be told, it's the complete opposite for you both. If they only knew he is practically on his knees every night begging you to degrade him.

Eddie was a dominant person in every aspect of his life except when it came to sex. That's when he let you have complete control and use him, however you wanted. Even if that meant only getting yourself off and leaving him to finish the rest himself.

He loved it when you mock him if cums too early. He wants to be overestimulated to the point where it's becoming painful. He wants you to spit on him and cuff him to his bed. He loved it when you collar him and used your paddle.

At the beginning of the relationship, your sex life was amazing, but you always felt like he wasn't satisfied enough. You could tell he wanted to confess something but was too afraid. Then, one day, he blurted it right out. You didn't know if he meant to say it or if he was just too caught up in the moment.

"Slap me." He grunts out causing you to pause for a moment as you're bounced on his cock. You wondered if you heard him correctly at first until he said it again. His voice came out strained and desperate. His eyes look up into yours, pleading for you to do it.

You hesitated just at first, not knowing how hard you should slap him. You pulled your hand back and gave his cheek a firm light tap. The slap wasn't hard, but it was enough to leave his cheek a little pink.

"Y-yeah, again, just a little harder, baby, please." He bites down on his lower lip and thrusts upwards allowing his cock to hit that sweet spot on your walls. He thrusted up again harder, squeezing your hips tighter when he feels the sting of your hand against his face.

He feels like he could cum right now having you fulfill a fantasy he's kept to himself for so long. A small whimper left his mouth when he felt you clench around him. You both were breathing heavy in eachothers face, mouths parted slightly.

You never thought you would be into something like this. Seeing Eddie a complete mess underneath of made you wish he'd ask to do this much sooner. There was still some guilt on your part. What if you end up hurting him?

"Eddie, I don't want to hurt you." You confessed pausing your movements once more.

"It's okay if it's too much, and I want you to stop. I'll just shout Ozzy or some shit. " He insisted desperately.

You shook your head, "Okay, promise me you will?"

"I promise, sweetheart." He reassured, patting your thighs for you to continue riding him.

He laid back against his pillow with a big grin plastered on his face. You giggle a little as you proceeded to move up and down on his cock. Eddie helped by gripping your hips and lifting you up and back down on his hard length. His fingers dug firmly into your plush skin.

"Fuck, slap me again." He whined.

You tried to gain your composure long enough to do as he asked. His cock hitting deeper inside you making it hard to focus. Your thighs begin to tremble and burn. You pull your hand back again, slapping him right across his cheek. He threw his head to the side, moaning in response as tears leaked from the corner of his eyes.

He looks back up at you in awe as you move up and down on his hard length. His cheeks an angry shade of red now. The same cheeks you like to pepper with kisses early in the mornings before work. You can't deny you don't love this. That having him at your complete mercy didn't turn you on more.

It didn't take long before he was cuming deep inside you. As a matter of fact, he had been trying to his best to hold it when you began slapping him the first few times. He ended up cuming before you, which embarrassed him a little.

Eddie felt bad for doing so, especially after you indulged in his secret fantasy. You decided quickly as a punishment to try to make him cum as many times as he could. You wanted him sore but begging you not to stop. You had him filling you up with cum over and over again. Turning him into nothing but a whimpering mess as he came for the fourth time.

After that night, you both quickly moved on from slapping to cuffing him to his headboard. Eddie would asked to be blind folded and gagged while a vibrator was strapped to his cock. He wanted to be called names.

You'd make him cum over and over until he had tears streaming down his face. Until his mind would go all foggy and he couldn't put together a cohesive sentence. His cock being so sore afterwards that even the cool air would cause him to wince a little.

What you both loved to the most was how close this brought the two of you together. You loved taking care of him and washing his hair. Making sure he was okay and if he needed anything. He always just wanted to cuddle afterward. Which you happily obliged every single time until he was softly snoring in your ear.

[walpu]

walp walp hear me out

remember that trailblazer scene with firefly and how she just just gets stabby stabbed by the creature (memory zone meme i think)

and + Aventurine having access to the 'real' dreamscape, combine that with bodyguard! reader who will go through hell and back to make sure Aventurine will. Live.

reader follows aven during the entirety of the Penacony quest, including when Black Swan teleports the both of them to the real memory zone. (also, does anyone else feel like bodyguard! reader and Trailblazer would be besties... no, just me?)

now, keep in mind, Aven and reader have a... complicated bond. IPC workers here and there say their dating, the Trailblazer has straightup asked if they would just get a room (you get their vibe, you can go along with the secret assassin! bodyguard! reader req i sent in)

a little bit more insight on their dynamic (again, going with the assassin reader thing, its already known between the two atp, so this can be set after that period), Aven wants to love reader, wants to hold them close, and wants their affection, but dammit, he just cant bring himself to. Not when he's sure he'll just hurt everyone that comes close to him (his sister, cough cough)

and reader has the same mindset, they love Aven, as a boss, as that annoying but endearing friend, and perhaps as more. But they have blood, the lives of people that they've unlawfully taken, not to mention, they are 100% sure Aven would never love a person who killed just for monetary income.

now, here's where the real show starts. There's also another assassin (seriously, Duke Inferno should save his manpower) following reader and Aven. Safe to say, only one is making it out alive. How the assassin followed the two of them? No fucking clue, but somehow it does.

After i assume beating the living shit out of hordes of memory zone monsters, the assassin appears, and just when Aventurine's unsuspecting?? Boom, goes in for the kill.

Yeah, too bad. Aven's not dying. But reader is! Yeah, in a act of (cliche) protection, reader allowed themselves to be the one to suffer from the attack. (Bonus if they get decapitated, or just stabbed like how Trailblazer was by Cocolia). Aven will never forget the way that he just- watched reader's body fall, the light just gone from their eyes.

Anyways, he doesn't even get to hold their body. You just- poof into bubbles like Firefly did. The last thing he has left of his beloved bodyguard? Just a simple red earring, matching the one he wore. Nothing left.

Okay, im also going to cope here that the whole shitshow with Aven and Acheron did not happen, he returns to the room that reader had, and he just... stands there. He takes in the way that half of the room was messy, half of it was untouched. So much like them, unpredictable and just had a touch of the weirdness he loved so damn much.

(Bonus if you want a happy scenario, reader's alive and well, afterall, dying in the dreamscape doesn't kill anyone. Reader is probably smiling very awkwardly while they stare at a teary eyed Aventurine, then they make out /hj)

yay another rant, i had this idea for days, the decapitation part may or may not have been plaguing me (should i be concerned), anyways, thanks for listening to my word vomit, stay safe and stay healthy <33

feel like falling on my knees and begging to forgive me for taking so long this spring doesn't let me breath istg. I've got this request before 2.1 and only got to it now that's why Aven is ghosting me.

bodyguard!reader "dying" in the dreamscape to protect Aventurine

sort of a sequel to this but can be read as a separate work as well, the main thing you need to know is that reader was originally an assassin sent by Duke Inferno but they've changed their mind and stayed by Aven's side

notes - gn!reader, angst, unestablished relationship, no beta

You both knew the trip to Penacony would be difficult. You, in particular, knew that something big and very sinister is coming, judging by the way Aventurine danced around the subject, not giving you full information.

You may not know all the details of Aventurine's plan but you know him well enough to realize that he's planning on doing something extremely reckless and dangerous.

So you do your best to protect him. To shiels him from any possible danger, to keep him within your reach.

Of course Aventirune notices. How can he not notice when he already keeps his eye on you most of the time anyway. And just as you're trying to look out for him, he wants to looks out for you.

This mission already could be considered suicidal and he doesn't want you to be caught in this. Better to keep you in the dark, away from it.

Yet he can't help but selfishly enjoy your attention, your tenderness. You go out of your ways to make sure he's fine and he feels so undeserving of it. How can you be so kind when he's keeping so much from you?

You've seen him at his worst and you've stayed. You've proven so many times that you care for him not because it's just your job, not because of his money or status but because it's him.

He still struggles to believe in it sometimes. When he feels doubtful , he rubs his cheek against your shoulder in a playful cat-like manner and watches your reaction. Amusement you're trying to hide. Adoration you can't hide.

How can he doubt you? You're the one who should be doubting him.

He wants to melt into you, to be even closer than the two of you already are, but how can he love you without putting you in danger? Without draining your luck, without cursing you?

Sometimes he sees the same struggles in your eyes. When you carefully trace his face with the tips of your gloved fingers, your gaze sometimes lowers and you pull your hand away, as if you're ashamed.

But of what, of what? The blood on your hands? He has it too!

He wants to tell you this, to hold you tight, to never ever let go. The wish is so primal that everyone else can see. The memokeeper giving him a knowing smile as soon as she sees you two together, the masked fool taunting him about the only one willing to listen to him being his loyal dog ("though, judging by the way you look at them, little peacock, you're the one on the leash here~" she says. It feels like even a lower blow than the comments about his past. At least he expected those, but being taunted about his obvious feelings for is new), mx. Stellaron asking you two to get a room with a deadpun expression.

The worst one is the doctor though. Asking Aventurine to focus on the mission, then, in a softer tone, suggesting to tell you more about the plan. "It's foolish to keep it from your most trusted person, gambler. In the end, it may hurt them even more than your obsessive concerns".

If Ratio of all people gives you relationship advice you're doing soooo bad.

Yet Aventurine can't bring himself to listen to his words. He wants you safe and well, and he's sure (he's not sure) he's doing the right thing.

And yet he's wrong. He can't shield you, he can't. One of the richest people in the IPC, one of the Ten Stonehearts, the blessed one, yet he can't protect the one he loves no matter how much he tries. He's cursed, doomed, isn't he?

Damned Duke Inferno. He's dead, annihilated, and yet, somehow, one of his wretched dogs, his sneaky little assassin, finds you two in the depths of the memory zone. Such dedication to the cause!

There are two gunshots. Inferno's little rat and you strike at the same time. Them, aiming at Aventurine, and you, aiming at them. Only one bullet reaches it's target though.

It all happens so fast. You react immediately, covering Aventurine with your body. You move instinctively at the same second you shoot.

When their bullet hits you, you don't even feel it. Maybe because it's still a dreamland? The pain just won't come even though your back feels like it's on fire. You don't understand it yet but your body already starts disappearing.

All you can focus on is Aventurine's wide shocked eyes. His beautiful, beautiful eyes.

You smile weakly at him. That's all he can see before you're gone. He doesn't even have time to reach out to you, to hold you. As if he ever had the privilege of holding his loved ones in their final moments.

You just poof into the blue bubbles.

He rushes into the real world, in your room, praying to any deity that may here for you to be alive and well. It was a dream, not a real world. You can't die in a dream, not really. You weren't even killed by the memory zone meme, surely you're fine!

Yet you're not. You're not here, not anywhere in the hotel. You're truly gone.

He feels everything and nothing at the same time.

Of course, of course, of course he wasn't able to protect you!

How lucky he is, he has avoided death once again! His beloved died to protect him but he has survived! He's so blessed, truly, so blessed!

He finds himself on his knees, on the verge of hysterical laughter. The only thing you left behind is a small red earring he has gifted. And he clatches it so tightly his hand bleeds. Perhaps the pain is the only thing keeping him sane at this moment.

It feels like a cruel joke. It doesn't feel real, it shouldn't be real.

Wait... That's it! It isn't real. It's impossible to die in a dream! It was his theory all along, after all. It must be true. You just can't be dead, you can't, not you too.

His plan hasn't changed, he tells Ratio when he comes to check on Aventurine. He just needs to reach the real Penacony. To reach it and to find you there. You're strong and brave and so wonderful. You're out there somewhere, he just needs to help you to get back to the real world.

He holds into that idea like a madman. It doesn't matter how dangerous it is. It never did, to be honest. But now it's like he can't focus on anything else.

He hasn't feel so despaired in years. He just needs to find you, everything else is meaningless.

So when it's time for the final act, he gets on stage, fears not and doesn't look back.

He still holds his hand behind his back though. Clutching your earrings for dear life.

[happyk44]

Thinking about Percy who ties his personhood and identity/sense of self to the relationships he has (Sally's son, Grover's bestie, Annabeth's boyfriend) because it's easy and aligning himself to them provides a clear picture of who he's supposed to be. But often where he ends up short with this is in his concept of Nico's protector, because it's not mutual. At least not in his perception of it. Aside from the beginning of TTC, Nico does not see Percy as his defender the way Percy does.

On one hand, it provides a relief because it gives him space and leeway to develop a relationship with Nico outside of preconceived notions, but on the other hand, it denies him the framework he's used to having for developing relationships with other people. Nico sees himself on more equal footing with Percy, and while Percy would never deny Nico his strength and power, his capabilities are often ignored in order for Percy to showcase himself in the role of Nico's protector. I can see this kind of dynamic providing a stressor for both of them. Nico doesn't want to be denied his agency and will get frustrated with Percy for assuming less of him, where Percy will get frustrated with Nico for not stepping back and keeping himself safe the way he thinks Nico should.

Nico is more informed in certain situations than Percy, especially when coming across mythical figures. So while Percy would be content to listen to him and allow him to present a strategy, I think he'd become agitated at the idea of Nico being a participant in that strategy. To which Nico would become agitated at Percy's dismissal of him. He would see this as Percy not trusting him, where Percy would see his refusal to stay in the background as a direct defiance to Percy's assumed role in his life.

When it comes to Percy tying his sense of self to the people he cares about, he doesn't tend to notice he's doing it. Sort of seeing himself in the framework of "Who am I? Oh, I'm Sally Jackson's son" versus "Who am I? Im Percy Jackson". It's not odd or abnormal to him, so he can't see it, and thereby he's not able to verbalize or explain his behaviour with Nico in a satisfactory manner.

Not to mention, I think Nico calling him out on his behaviour is a stressor in and of itself, so his mood spikes and instead of trying to analyze why he's acting like this or focus on Nico's words, he just doubles down on it instead and/or splits. And then they fight and argue and Percy just thinks "this fucking little shit" the whole time, annoyed and pissed with Nico. Then, when Percy settles down by himself a few hours later, he's suddenly swamped with intense depression and misery for failing Nico over and over again.

Despite this, he still can't analyze himself. He just sees himself as a failure undeserving of being someone's protector, much less Nico's. He notices the intensity of his emotions, notices the sudden shift in mood, but it's so normal to him and so overwhelming, he can't wonder about the why. Not to mention, wondering about the why requires introspection that Percy despises because looking inwards just shows he doesn't really know the answer to "who am I?" He's Percy Jackson, sure. Sally Jackson's son, Grover Underwood's best friend, Annabeth Chase's boyfriend. Two time saviour of the world. Child of the ocean.

But who the fuck is he outside of other people?

Who he is when he's alone?

[holllandtrash]

muse | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x singer!reader

after stepping back from music following a bad break up and a label drop, y/n returns and is on the search for a new muse, you just never thought you'd find it in italy sabrina carpenter faceclaim - a lot of reading with this one im so sorry

there is a spotify playlist to go along with this au if you're wanting to listen to the songs used/mentioned throughout, listen here (i suggest it bc the lyrics of some songs are important hehe)

yourusername

liked by kendalljenner, sofiacarson and 571,392 others

yourusername thanks for letting me take some time away♡ new things are coming, stay tuned

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sofiacarson we missed u

dovecameron welcome back b❤️❤️

ynismygf SHES BLONDE AND WE'RE GETTING NEW MUSIC? im screaming

happy4u if we get a break up album im gna use it as an excuse to break up w my boyfriend

yourusername added to their story

yourusername

liked by zendaya, sofiacarson and 612,201 others

yourusername lately

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zendaya 🔥🔥🔥🔥

ynfanclub girl drop the album

yourusername girl its been 2 weeks i dont have an album

yourusername

liked by dovecameron, scuderiaferrari and 412,049 others

yourusername when in italy...drop a new song for the first time in 8 months

view all 6,302 commens

dovecameron okay girly pop off

ynfanclub I THOUGHT WE WEREN'T GETTING A BREAK UP ALBUM

yourusername ITS JUST ONE SONG ynfanclub IM SCREAMING

ynismommy italy is good for her, i support this

yourusername added to their story

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, zendaya and 653,092 others

tagged: scuderiaferrari

yourusername these last few days have been incredible, thank you italy for being so welcoming and thank you scuderia ferrari for allowing me to sing a few old songs on stage to celebrate your old company

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scuderiaferrari anytime 🫡🫡

charles_leclerc see you in the paddock?

yourusername what is a paddock formulayn charles is flirting with her and she has no idea

dovecameron shes baaaack👀👀 we except an album soon

yourusername hehe

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, zendaya and 731,029 others

yourusername new music may come sooner than we thought

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goldenyn SHE FOUND A MUSE SHES BACK TO WRITING

formulayn i bet you ANYTHING its charles, y/n probably took one look at him and was like yep i could write 10 songs about you no problem

yourbestfriend the flowers...👀 girl call me

yourusername added to their story

paddockupdates

liked by formulayesterday, yourusername and 104,102 others

paddockupdates Y/N L/N sporting an all red attire at Circuit of the Americas!! Guess that week in Italy really did turn her into a Ferrari Fan

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yourusername i love sports

liked by charles_leclerc

charr16 love to see her at the races but also..bestie...we need more music

formulayn Y/N is at a race i repeat, y/n iS AT THE RACE

charles_leclerc 📍circuit of the americas

liked by yourusername, scuderiaferrari and 541,850 others

charles_leclerc P1 and Fastest Lap 👊🏁 What an incredible race❤️

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scuderiaferrari ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

yourusername gooooo charles !!

formulayn girl just say you love him its okay we all do

teamcharles maybe y/n is the teams good luck charm, she should go to more races

yourusername i agree

charles_leclerc added to their story

yourusername

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yourusername woman of the hour ep...drops friday

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formulayn im really reading into the whole red theme a bit too much

leclerrspaddock same

dovecameron i've been waiting for this one

charles_leclerc can't wait

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yourusername

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yourusername happy woman of the hour release day ♡ thank you to the fans who have been so patient and supportive throughout my entire break (and my return to the studio) thank you to my friends for deleting numbers and blocking the pages i couldn't bring myself to and thank you to my muse❤️ i can't wait to write more songs about you in the future

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charles_leclerc this is my favourite album

sofiacarson ❤️❤️❤️❤️

formulayn IS THAT CHARLES IN THE LAST PIC i can't breath

scuderiaferrari already added to our garage playlist🫡

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charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, scuderiaferrari and 650,920 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc woman of the hour

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yourusername thank you for being my muse❤️

charles_leclerc anytime

pierregasly does this mean we get tickets to her concert

yourusername only if charles wins the wdc

formulayn so they met that first week in italy and fell in love and have just been secretly dating this whole time...cool cool cool cool cool🥹

goldenyn im glad she put her energy into charles instead of a break up album🥺🥺 y/n deserves to be happy

scuderiaferrari mom and dad

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masterlist here

[martialartslover7]

Headcanon time: Am I the only one who feels like, Jiraiya should have left this little compensation gift for Tsunade, before heading off to fight Pain? Dying in the process, while still leaving a remainder of his legacy behind? Making up for lost time, and allowing the two to heal together, after years of fearful denial and trauma?

I get that the Naruto series is practically infamous for how poorly the female characters were handled, but honestly, this one time, where one woman in the series would end up pregnant, where I would wholeheartedly SUPPORT it, would be Tsunade. Think about it, after the war, after fighting Madara, she practically returned to the same solitude lifestyle she had, before encountering Naruto. She didn't change for the better, in fact, she regressed completely. She returned to living without any purpose, going back to gambling and getting senselessly drunk, practically every day.

Look, I get it, by the time Kakashi becomes Hokage, she might have just retired and wanted to be left alone, but is this really all there is to it? Just regressing back to negative habits, because, screw you? I dunno, man, this is that one time where, if she DID end up having a child to take care of, it might have elevated her character, instead of "putting her down", because it would mean: She has a purpose for living. And it would mean, her love for Jiraiya wasn't a "curse", like how it was with her previous lover, Dan. Jiraiya's love for her, saved her life, in the end. He turned out to be that one guy, that, even post-mortum, still managed to have a positive influence on her. And the child is a daily reminder, of how closely intertwined the two were, in spite of the trauma. That just sounds so beautiful, and far more conclusive to Tsunade as a character, than what happened in the actual story. Plus, she and Kurenai could have become besties and connect over the difficulties with pregnancy.

And yeah, I hear you calling: BuT tSuNaDe Is ToO oLd To GeT pReGgErS! Listen, the Strength of a Hundred Seal kept her entire appearance and body about twenty years younger, if that also applies to her organs and her uterus, that isn't a dead topic. Plus, we all know how much of a horny perv Jiraiya is, he couldn't have just left it at just one time, and then never again. Especially since, this is Tsunade we are talking about here, the one woman, he had always held so dear. And I can only imagine, the moment the dam breaks between the two, it would get... SPICY.

It wouldn't even come close to all these sex worker ladies that Jiraiya had probably slept with, while thinking about Tsunade, since he would always go for those, who KIND OF resemble her. But I will bet, in spite of his attitude, I doubt he would have even minded to see Tsunade all wrinkly and old. His love for her was genuine and deep-rooted, I doubt he would have had any problems with her getting "saggy". She would have been THE golden exception, to most of his "rules" on what he finds attractive, because to him, everything about her, is attractive, not just the looks.

But another point to consider, just imagine, IMAGINE, the look on Naruto's face, the moment he learns that part of his father figure will continue to live on, inside Tsunade. That all his sacrifices were never in vain, and he finally got over himself to tell her the truth, resulting in the birth of their child, the one to carry on both of their legacies. Naruto would have cherished this baby, just imagine him tearfully cradling it in his arms, swearing to protect it, the same way his mom swore to him, when he was still a newborn. Oh god, my heart...

...it would also be a nice callback to how Kushina held Naruto, right after birth.

Plus, it would have given Naruto, much like when Shikamaru revealed to him, how Kurenai bore the child of her and Asuma before he died, a much bigger motivation to fight Madara, Obito, and later, Sasuke. The stakes would have become way higher then, if that were the case, since, this isn't anyone's child, it's Jiraiya's and Tsunade's child. Two people, who have played major roles in Naruto's life, being his foster parents, if you will. And he would have fought way harder to defend the past, the present and the future, while facing Sasuke. I mean, sure, it's doubtful if Sasuke would have ever had the guts to truly go through with this, since he couldn't even bring himself to kill either Naruto or Sakura, no matter how hard he tried, so, if he couldn't do that, then everything would be out of the question. But you get the point.

And for NaruHina and SasuSaku fans: Yup. Both Naruto and Sakura would have probably had to take care of Tsunade's baby, since they were the closest to her, and it could have been an ideal training method for either of them, to grasp all about the stressful nature of raising a child, while still working as shinobi and in their respective fields of work. It would have mentally prepared either of them, for when Hinata and Sasuke finally decide to tie the knot with them, and build their own families. And to add another layer of pure sweetness: Kakashi and Anko would have gotten announced as the child's godparents, should something happen to Tsunade. Nuff' said.

I am sorry, despite Kakashi and Anko not looking like it, I think, both of them would be AWESOME godparents, or hell, even uncle and aunt. Both saw the worst of what life had to offer. Raising a child would be... child's play, by contrast. Just imagine Anko adorably doting on the baby in her crazy, unhinged, but very endearing way.

There you go, another headcanon of mine, spilled. What do you guys think? Lemme know. Peace.

[merakiui]

bestie if you EVER make a full length fic for the isekai leech twins protag who is engaged to azul you have to do me a solid and tag me! i want it soooo bad please lmk if there are any more crumbs

I think it would be fun to write! I'll be sure to tag you if I ever do! :D although rather than just a oneshot, I'd like to make it a series. Perhaps something small with just a few chapters. Aaaa but the more I think about it, the more exciting the plot can become.

✧ Mr. Leech hires Mama Rosehearts to be your personal tutor, in which you're then introduced to her highly intelligent son Riddle. The two of you become friends; you're just trying to network, but to Riddle you're the best thing ever and one of his first friends. The twins hate this development.

✧ Mama Ashengrotto dotes on you SO MUCH. It embarrasses Azul, but his mother can't help it. She just thinks you're so darling and so kind to her Azul, something she appreciates greatly. Originally Azul had no interest in you, so she was responsible for coordinating meetings for the two of you.

✧ Mama Leech is especially fond of you. You're her only daughter, so of course she's pleased to bond with you more. She likes having mother-daughter days with you, where the two of you can dress up and have breakfast or sit in the gardens and read together. No boys allowed. The twins tried to sneak into the last mother-daughter outing and were promptly sent away. T_T they try to spy and are always caught. While she's happy that her boys want to spend time with you, she also wants to have one-on-one time with you as well! You can come to her if you have any issues; she'll always listen, and sometimes she worries that her boys aren't being nice. She makes sure they treat you with kindness all the time.

✧ Papa Leech has a soft spot for you. He treats you as if you're his own daughter. Anything you want you'll have, whether it's a dress or a necklace or, strangely, brass knuckles???? He's not sure why you want them, but you tell him they look cool (the truth is that you're getting them so you can ultimately prepare for the bad ending should that ever happen LOL). He gets them, but he makes you promise to only ever use them for self-defense purposes. Floyd thinks it's so unfair that his father spoils you so much when you aren't even related by blood. >:/

✧ After your engagement to Azul, the twins have seemed much more invested in your life than they were before. They're also very handsy. You shake them off, but your scowl has yet to deter them. They just seem like you're annoying brothers to you, but the truth is they're trying to keep you from bonding with Azul. Azul didn't really care about this at first, but now he feels oddly annoyed and jealous whenever he sees the way they interact with you.

✧ Floyd acts like he doesn't like you, but he's so bad at hiding his very obvious affections for you. He gets flustered whenever his parents dress you up for nice events. You just look so pretty and sweet in your dress. He prevents anyone from getting too close to you at these social events by constantly hovering by your side. Somehow Azul always manages to steal you away when he's also in attendance at these events.

✧ Jade has a collection of items stowed away in an unlabeled box. They are things he's collected over the years and would like to give to you: a pretty stone, a bracelet, a charm, a hair accessory, dried flowers, etc. Though he's good at seeming indifferent and cool, he gets really flustered over the idea of presenting you these courtship gifts. So he pays attention to your tastes as they change throughout the years he's known you, and he buys or makes a little present for you for every year. <3

[stump-not-found]

A03 wrapped 2024

tagged by @tempusedax-rerum >:DDDDD

1.) Biggest surprise while writing this year?

how much people responded to bill cipher saying daddy . how people have interpreted ford's relationship to mabel in theseus' guide; i've really tried to write him as really caring for her so seeing that interpreted as him disliking her is so interesting haha

most of all tho i'm just surprised and very grateful that theseus has received any attention, it's been so so wonderful reading everyone's thoughts and seeing them engage with the fic . it really makes the entire process so gratifying, and i hope folks continue to enjoy where the story goes next :D

2.) How many WIPs do you have in your docs for next year?

i've got my erotic billford rom com Can of Snakes that's over 20k right now . it has banger titles such as "sad handjob" and "penicular sounding", so someday i'll be posting that . i think they can make it work

i also just started Weirdmageddon 2: Electric Boogaloo: Lost In New York, an AU where ford gets stan to help him finish the portal after kicking fidd's to the curb . stan and bill become besties, ford hates it, and bill isn't allowed to destroy new york until he tries a slice of 'za .

this is not accounting for the mountain of comic WIP's i have but that shit aint goin on ao3

3.) Favourite character to write this year?

ford for sure . you give me a character who's autistic in a way that isn't cute and it just means the world to me . i get to give him evil autism . the autism where we acknowledge growing up autistic is traumatizing and makes you not a nice person all the time . fuck i love him . i get to dump so much of my own shit on him its so funnnnnnn yay lalalala

there was a whole paragraph i wrote that was just describing the perfect eye angle to maintain when walking through a farmers market to avoid social scenario's, which i had to remove because it was just me rambling about my own social survival strategies . farmers markets are dangerous places

i also love writing him in the context of bill . what a fucking mess they are i hope they never get better . but together <3

4.) The character that gave you the most trouble this year?

honestly stanley pines . i feel like i soften him too much, and lean in to his more positive traits than his more negative ones . it's hard because i feel like folks don't talk about the fact he was homeless for like 10 years & also had a breaking bad style adventure in columbia

the other problem is that he IS a big softy so idk . but he should be bitchier god damn it . he should be talking about his cataracts

6.) Did you receive any gifts this year?

I DID YOU INSANE PEOPLE thank you all it make a me smile:

@stemmmm @ancharan @kronehaze @sillyhyperfixator @ezrathean0n

7.) Did you do any collaborative works this year?

i feel like all my writing is collaborative!! i spend hours talking fic stuff with my wife & brother and my stuff is all the better for it . would love to do more of that w/ other folks i love it talking and thinking and playing is so fun

8.) What do you listen to while writing?

i don't like listening to music when i write lol ...... i sit in the cold silence and type in a frantic spiral .

i listen to a lotta different things while i think of things to write tho . atm all i want in the world is to make a theseus animation to this song it's very hammercore :

9.) Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

oogh that's hard to choose . i'm just gonna share a bunch that make me laugh

from theseus' guide step six:

Dipper, clearly, doesn’t get it, and Ford acknowledges he is too young to understand a professional working relationship.

also from step six:

“Oh, sure, I can move on,” Stan grins, “To the other items on my list. A, the shack’s toilets all suck, and the seats keep raisin’ automatically. B, your handwriting sucks. C–”

from theseus' guide step three:

“You think you’re coming back anytime soon?” “No, 8-Ball, I don’t think I’m ‘ coming back ’ anytime soon.” Ford snides, though 8-Ball either doesn’t register that, or doesn’t care; hard to tell with the guy, “I’m sure you’re aware, but your boss wants to kill my family. And destroy my universe. ” 8-Ball sniffs. “Cool. Mind if I eat your leftovers then? Teeth keeps eyeing them.” Ford frowns, “You couldn’t have just brought them with you?” “Nah, man, I want to eat them.”

lots of lines from step eight but we ain't there yet

uuuuhhghhg who to send this chain mail along to uuuhgghgh

@beccadrawsstuff if u wannaaaa . anyone else feel free to pick this up as well i'm bad at this lol

[isolde-illustrates]

Fintan and Bronte Headcannons

Fintan:

He needs glasses ever since the ever blaze incident. Fintan is neither nearsighted nor farsighted; his vision was mutually messed up in both ways. Incidentally, his hearing has gotten sharper because of how much he focuses on using it.

He refuses to wear his glasses despite having damage due to the bright burning light.

He also cannot smell anything except smoke faintly whenever he is near a fire. All of his nose hair has literally burnt off, so he gets a lot of sinus infections, too. The ice prison does not help at all, and he constantly has a runny nose (which he cannot stand).

Fintan sometimes walks into walls and somehow manages to pull it off so no one except the doctor who took care of him right after the incident knows how bad his vision is (the doctor was too afraid of fintan).

Everyone in the neverseen is waiting for him to admit that he can't see, but then Fintan does crazy stuff that makes them think that he actually has perfect vision and is just faking it.

Fintan does not wear shirts under his hoodies or vests because he can't stand the extra heat. (tw: scar) Fintan also hates whenever his chest is exposed because of a scar he has from the accident, so he always laces up whatever he is wearing really tight, or adds more buttons to his shirts and vests so that there are not any gaps that could show his scar if he bent forward.

His scar could have been healed, but he wanted to keep one of the scars from that day as a reminder of what happened. It's close to his heart, although the worst part is near his stomach. Bronte knows about this scar because he overheard Fintan yelling at the doctor for trying to heal that scar when Bronte was on his way to talk with Fintan about the Council.

He loves elegant clothing. That was the third thing he hated most about being kicked off the Council. Not only did he lose his ability and power, Fintan was no longer allowed to buy certain degrees of fancy clothes. As a result, he now knows how to sew very well. He still insisted on making someone else do the patchwork in the Neverseen while he was there. Alvar and Ruy normally ended up stuck with the work.

Fintan is killer in heels. He can wear those bright red kinky boots and run in them (unless there is a tree root that he does not see). Still, if the ground is visible to him, or if it is fairly level, then he will sprint in those boots. He would also kill song 6 of Kinky Boots. There is no denying it.

He and Vespera were besties and he started out borrowing Vespera's dresses, but then just went ahead and made his own. They are both fragil and frail creatures, so it definitely would have worked.

Fintan used to have hair down to his waist, but after it got burnt in the accident, he swore that he would never let it touch his shoulders again because that was the version of himself that died in the fire, the young pyrokinetic who thought that he had nothing to lose in a dangerous lesson. The only times his hair has gotten long again have been when he has been in prison, both in Exile and now ib the ice prison. In Exile, it was just past his shoulders. Fintan had cut it again, but his time in the ice prison has gotten his hair almost to his bicep.

Fintan has a thing for chickens. Besides tasting good (he can't help that he tried it when Atlantis had humans), chickens seem so trusting of him and recognize him. He had a couple at his house, and they helped with his gardening (fertilizer).

Bronte:

He has perfect vision, which annoys Fintan to the extreme, especially because Fintan sometimes has to listen to the voice before knowing who is nearby.

Bronte learned how to speak multiple human languages, which is how he was able to speak with Amy (I don't care what Shannon says about the languages being the same, why should English be the one that is exactly like the elven language and not Latin, Persian, etc).

He knows all of the human curse words that Sophie switches into when things are bad and does not call her out on it unless she forgets to switch and stays in Elvish (because he thinks it's funny when she apologies and immediately says a string of human curse words, mainly English and Spanish, but whatever she heard in a high school with the ability to hear human thoughts). She was fluent in those words before becoming a polyglot, and sometimes Bronte lets a word slip, forgetting that Sophie is there. It has become an inside joke for them.

Bronte loves layers. He will bundle himself up in longer capes and procede to almost trip on them.

He would not be caught dead in heels. (Bronte would have, however, been caught alive in heels if it was just around Fintan. Not anymore though, because he no longer trust him after the whole Neverseen thing. Bronte was the Charlie of the two, and Fintan was the Lola.)

Bronte started cutting his hair short because Fintan teased him. Originally, he and Finran both rocked the long hair. Bronte had a mullet that went to his shoulders. His cropped hair and short height reminds Fintan of a little chick (which makes sense as Fintan doesn't know if he wants to kill Bronte or keep him forever).