#make it even more painful why don't you!!!

[anotherdayforchaosfay]

Also, many people aren't sizing nor wearing their bras properly.

If you use one with hooks, use the loosest setting unless it's too loose. Use the next set of hooks. The reason there are usually several sets at different lengths is to address the fact bras loosen.

Put your straps on. If the only way they stay on is having them so short they leave bruises, they don't fit. I have extremely narrow shoulders, which means racer back style (like sports bras) are the only type that stay on. There are special gadgets for this!!! Pic at the bottom. You lengthen the straps, slip the gadget on with the straps, tighten as necessary, and voila, they stay.

Lean forward and and scoop all the breast tissue into the bra. That also means going around the ribcage. Scoop it in, and yes, sports bras too. You may discover you're wearing a bra that's waaaaay too small. I thought I was an A-cup. Nope! I'm a B-cup.

I'm a C-cup for about a week each month, because of my period. It's fucking painful to even breathe because any movement makes the pain shoot up. I have an extremely supportive sports bras for this. The boobs will not move, and it's wonderful.

Big titties can and do develop yeast infections beneath them. If you have a red itchy rash there, see a doctor. You likely have a yeast infection. The same treatment for jock itch and foot fungus treats the boon infection. It's a spray-on powder, and awesome. To prevent the infection in the future, wipe the sweat off periodically.

Some breasts are denser and therefore heavier. My breasts are extremely dense, and mammograms require nearly 3x the pressure to get a clear picture. I leave with massive bruising.

Fun fact: breast cancer doesn't care about gender. Unless you've had surgery to remove all breast tissue, including your nipples, you can develop breast cancer. Do your weekly breast exam.

Breasts are full of fat. It's why very thin people tend to have small titties, and fat people have big titties. Not 100% of people are built like thos though. I know someone beanpole thin with E-cups (she wears a proper corset because of pain bras cause), and another who's fat with virtually no titties. When I gain weight, I went from 100lbs and no titties at all to 180lbs and B-cup boobs.

When losing weight, the first thing to go are the boobs. There's nothing you can do to prevent this.

Please, wear a bra when exercising. Heavy boobs, regardless of size, can suffer painful tears. Wear a bra. Sports bras are ideal for this.

If bras leave bruising, look into getting a properly fitted corset. The weight of your breasts will spread evenly to your hips/waist, and not on your shoulders. A properly fitted corset will not make it difficult to move or breathe. I know because I used to have one and wore it to the point it fell apart (two years of near daily wear).

Boobs are not inherently sexual. They make baby food. They serve the purpose if feeding babies. Some cultures find it weird that other cultures sexualize boobs.

Stretch marks on boobs is 100% normal. Big boobs weigh more and thus stretch the skin. If anyone shames you for having stretch marks, tell them to fuck off. Their opinion is bullshit.

Things about boobs that everyone should know

Because I just keep finding out people don't know these things!

Most boobs "sag."

Actually, on that note: very very few people have the stereotypically perfect breasts that are round and perky and don't touch your ribcage/belly. Here is an entire gallery of non-sexualized, perfectly normal breasts. Here is another one, but in one image. There's an incredible range of size and shape!

Also related: very few people fit those molded foam-cup bras. Because very few people have a boob that shape. "Then why are those kinds of bras everywhere??" Because they're cheap to make and they hide your nipples.

Your "armpit fat" is probably not armpit fat. It is probably your tail of spence, and you have lymph nodes there. Some people have a bigger or smaller tail of spence, and it has very little to do with how fat you are or how big your boobs are. (Some bras can press on it or pinch it uncomfortably, like balconettes.)

When you lie on your back, your boobs will go into your armpits. That is true of EVERYONE WITH BOOBS, with the exception of some implants. Boobs are squishy! This also means that like, lying on your side will cause them to flop over. If that's uncomfortable when you're trying to sleep, there is such a thing as "sleep bras."

Lots of people's boobs get bigger and/or painful before their period starts. Some people gain an entire cup size every month.

Whether or not you wear bras has no effect on "sagging." The one "study" on this that was written about everywhere extremely badly done. The one exception: If you do the kind of exercise that has you jumping around/jogging a lot, and you don't wear a supportive-enough bra, it's possible you can injure the cooper's ligaments. But also: that would hurt, a lot.

Bras also have no effect on whether you get breast cancer.

Everyone has one boob that's bigger than the other. It's just a matter of degree.

The size of your boobs has nothing to do with whether or not you've had sex???? I'm stunned that there are people that believe this, but I've heard multiple people say they had relatives who absolutely believed this--refused to buy teenagers the correct size bra because "only sluts wear D-cups," or insisted a thirteen-year-old was "fast" because of breast growth during puberty...good lord.

It's possible for AMAB people to breast-feed--they have the same mammary glands AFAB people do! Some hormonal issues can cause people (both AFAB and AMAB) who haven't given birth to lactate, but also there's a few cases where transgender women have been given the same hormones that AFAB people's bodies make during pregnancy/lactation, and voila! Breast milk!

(I very intentionally didn't go into bra sizing with this post, but yes, if you hate your bras, you are probably wearing the wrong size and/or style for you. That's a much more finicky topic though, so I'm just going to point out that the letter doesn't mean anything about boob size by itself, D isn't big, and Victoria's Secret's "fittings" are garbage. For more info, go to the subreddit for r/abrathatfits, or try their size calculator.)

[leftoverghosts]

'til death

art donaldson x cheating wife reader. mentioned you x pat.

"I don’t think I could survive seeing you with someone else."

warnings: nsfw!!! some curse words. use of she/her for reader. no use of y/n. dom art. smut. art is a munch. finger in butt. cheating reader. more gross than i usually write. not beta read.

nori says: please!! please!! read my warnings! xoxo. i have a few more asks to get through for my xmas game! but besides those (and ones pending from sof) i am closing it!! thank you so much for playing!!! here is a little gift of what i would have selected!

word count: 1,400~

"Tennis Legend Art Donaldson’s Wife Seen Kissing Mysterious Man."

The title elicits a scoff from you, while Art's teary eyes gaze at you as if you've castrated him.

Yes, you kissed Patrick. Yes, things went further than just a kiss. But for some asinine, no-name fucking blogger on Instagram to refer to you as "Art Donaldson's wife" is the real travesty here. That's libel, that's slander.

Your knee throbs with pain.

"Why didn’t you tell me Patrick was in town?" Art weeps, and you drag your eyes back to his face before cringing.

Martyr, martyr, martyr. It’s his favorite role. You want him to be angry, to be calculating like he used to be. You want him to manipulate his way back into your good graces.

"Art," you sigh, "ask me what you really want to know."

“Did you fuck him?” He asks it almost as soon as you finish speaking.

"Twice." You shrug, wanting to wound, longing for the real him to shred through the flesh of the docile facade he's hiding behind and fight with you.

He sucks in a breath, fingers drumming against the table before he...smirks?

"I don’t think I could survive seeing you with someone else. Especially not him.”

“You’re barely surviving as is, Art. Sometimes I feel like if it weren't for your blinking, I wouldn't be able to tell the difference between you and a doll. I have to sit you here, change your expression there. Fuck. Who are you?"

He blinks at you. "I am who you made me."

"I want you to be who you used to be."

"If I change, will that make you stop seeing Patrick?"

You pause, confused. "Patrick doesn’t matter to me. He's not the man I chose to marry. But when I'm with him, I can pretend it's the real you again. I like the familiarity of it, like we're back in that hotel room and he fucking listens. Having to explain this is beneath me.”

"Mhmm," Art takes a moment to process your words before getting up and walking around the table to stand beside you. He hovers over you, waiting for you to face him, and when you do, his hand is in your hair, yanking.

Art pulls you out of the chair with little effort. It crashes to the ground with a loud clatter before he kicks it aside. He steps behind you, needing even less effort to press the side of your face against the table's wood grain. His hand grips the back of your neck, firmly holding you in place.

"You don't just want me to listen, you want me to fucking snap, don't you baby? It's not like you to work backwards.” he sneers. “And if anything is beneath you, it’s still sneaking off with Patrick Zweig in your thirties. He’s ranked two hundred,” your skirt is pushed up to your hips, “and seventy fucking fifth.”

Art rarely curses, but you've pushed him over the edge and caused him to reveal that he's been keeping track of Patrick's rank.

This was what you wanted all along.

You start to complain when he rips your expensive pantyhose, but Art silences you with two quick slaps on your ass and rips enough of your underwear to have access to you.

“Shut the fuck up. You’ll use my Amex to buy new ones anyway.” He lets go of your neck and swipes his pointer and middle finger across your wet center like a credit card, squeezing your labia and working at your clit. You can't see his smirk but you can feel it. “Don’t you have any self worth? Or are you that bored with the life I bankroll for you?”

When you don’t answer, he pauses, peering down at you as he restrains himself. His expression is tinged with fear when your eyes meet, as if questioning whether he’s gone too far. Consent has always been important to him; even after five years of marriage, he never touches you without asking for permission.

“I’m okay, Art. You’re doing well.” You reassure him, not lifting up from the table, but turned on by how quickly the apprehension in his eyes transforms into lust.

"Okay." He nods and drops to his knees, "open your legs for me, baby." You oblige eagerly, yearning for his touch. His strong hands grip your soft flesh, spreading you open before him. Your heart races with anticipation as you feel his hot breath against your most intimate area. He teases you with a long, slow lick, his tongue warm and wet as it glides from your clit to your asshole.

A moan escapes your lips as he begins to work you over with his mouth. Art points his tongue and probes at your ass, prodding and swirling around the rim. He alternates between flicking his tongue rapidly across your hole and pressing it inside you, wiggling it deeper.

You're drunk on the vulgar slurping sounds as he laps at you, greedy and insatiable. He sucks and nibbles at your rim, taking you apart piece by piece.

He pulls back to spit thick gobs of saliva over your fluttering hole, the crude act making you clench and shiver. Rivulets run down your crack and over your thighs. He dives back in, sealing his mouth over your entrance and sucking hard, his tongue writhing against your walls.

You cry out and push your ass back into his face, desperate for more. Art’s hands grip your hips as he tongue-fucks your hole with abandon, plunging in and out, swirling around your rim. He devours your ass like a man who has been starved for days, moaning with pure bliss at the taste of you.

Your thighs begin to tremble, overwhelmed by the unrelenting pleasure and his grip is hard enough to bruise as he feasts on you, giving both your holes the attention they crave. He knows just how to please you, taking care of your every need before indulging in his own desires.

You would laugh at how even in his dominant role, he still prioritizes your pleasure first, but the sensations are too exquisite to do anything but feel.

Art works you over with his tongue, bringing you to a shuddering climax before standing and shifting his sweatpants down to free his throbbing erection. He fucks into you and one hand grips your ass cheek while his thumb circles and probes your puckered entrance, slipping inside to the first knuckle.

"Does Patrick fuck you like this?" Art pants heavily as he thrusts into your slick heat. "You think he could afford a woman like you? The jewelry you're wearing right now costs more than that piece of shit's entire car. And he thinks he can put his hands on what belongs to me? Fucking tell me."

"No, never!" You babble incoherently, grasping at the table for purchase as the dual stimulation threatens to overwhelm you. The sensations aren’t new, but this tension is. "I only keep him around because I miss you so much, Art. It's always been you."

“Lying. Fucking. Whore.” he grits out, each word punctuated by a sharp snap of his hips and a twist of his thumb buried in your ass. "You miss someone you were trying to get rid of? But you'll never be rid of me. 'Til death do us part, say it!"

“Til’ death, baby.” You eagerly agree, tears flowing from your eyes pool on the table under your cheek. It feels like a baptism, like you’re coming back to your religion.

“Cum for me. Slut.” He dribbles a little more spit down onto his thumb and quickens the pace of thrusting it in and out of your asshole, matching the rhythm of his cock inside your pussy. “Show me what you did for him in that cheap hotel room.”

He's always vocal during sex, but the degrading words are hitting you in all the right places. Your legs start to tremble and you tighten around him, signs that you're close to orgasm. Just as you think you're about to come, he pulls away, stroking himself until he finishes and ejaculates all over your backside and legs.

“What the hell, Art?” You whine, turning to glare at him. But he shoves the same thumb into your mouth and when you recoil, he laughs. His expression is deadly serious.

"If I catch you with Patrick again, I'll divorce you. Don't test me."

[altxrrmelancholy]

Mediate

Tags: Bf!Yunho, reader and Seonghwa have an argument, spanking, threesome kinda, oral(f receiving), Yunho... mediating.?

Banner can be found here..

Of course, Yunho wasn't taking this all that seriously, but he had had enough of you and his best friend arguing all the time that he had to do something. He wasn't even sure why you two didn't like each other, and he was fine with it. That was until the fight almost turned physical with you almost slapping Seonghwa and him pulling on your hair. Your shrill scream is what eventually got him out of his bed as he had previously decided to ignore your raised voices.

And even as he has both of you seated on his bed, with him in front of you with his arms crossed, even if you could see the obvious unimpressed look on his face, the two of you were still arguing over each other on his bed.

"-wouldn't even be arguing with you if you just weren't here all the time-"

"My presence always bothers you, why shouldn't I care what you think-"

"Your presence bothers me?! I couldn't care less about you-"

"You know you think you're better than everyone that you can say anything you want-"

"I in fact think that I am better than everyone-"

"Why don't you leave anytime I come over, Mr. I can't stand being in the presence of other people because I'm a deity-"

"Why are YOU always here-"

"If you two don't shut the hell up, the both of you are gonna end up outside. I'm not joking."

The two of you looked at Yunho. You didn't even have the guts to say anything because unlike both of your voices, Yunho's was frighteningly low and deep. Yunho turned around and locked the door while the two of you just kept staring at him, waiting to see what he would do. You looked up at him and decided to be the bigger person, mostly because you wanted to one-up Seonghwa.

"Yuyu, I'm sorry-"

"Shut up."

You gasped at your boyfriend as you heard Seonghwa snicker at you from beside you.

"Stand up." He suddenly commanded. Yunho never talked to you like this, but you felt the need to at least listen to him since you angered him. As you took your time standing up, Yunho got a chair from his desk and dragged it across the room, right in front of Seonghwa. He jumped a little as he watched Yunho sit a meter in front of him, his narrowed eyes on him.

He then looked at you and motioned for you to come towards him. You hesitated. "Yunho?"

"Lie down." But he was gesturing to his lap. You looked at Seonghwa and he was staring at Yunho in confusion too. "Don't make me drag you, y/n."

He felt his patience thinning and suddenly stood. You widened your eyes as you saw him approach you.

"W-wait, Yunho- aaah!" And you were in the air. He sat on the chair and adjusted you such that you were laid across him, your ass in the air. The skirt you were wearing slid up and you were aware of the air hitting your thighs. "Yunho-"

Smack! You couldn't even register what happened. All you felt was a sharp pain on your ass. And then another and another. Your boyfriend was spanking you, right in front of Seonghwa.

He had never done this, even when you were alone.

You didn't know what to say.

Seonghwa meanwhile was flabbergasted, for lack of a better word. His mouth hung open as he stared at the red forming on your thighs. A scream left your mouth every time you were spanked. Seonghwa didn't know how to feel.

"Yunho? Look, I g-get it. I'm sorry-"

"Shut up, Hwa."

Oh boy.

.

.

The more Seonghwa moaned, the more you could feel yourself getting wetter. You were pretty much still on Yunho's lap, but you were leaning on his chest while the other male worked on eating you out on his knees. He hadn't even hesitated when your boyfriend told him to get on his knees. He pretty much lunged at you when he was given the green light.

You could feel the vibrations from his moans through your entire body as he dragged his tongue from your slit all the way to your clit, sucking it in his mouth between his teeth. He pushed his face closer to you, his nails buried on your thighs leaving indents on them. Your head was thrown back on to Yunho's shoulder with a whine. Your boyfriend himself was busy fondling your nipples with his long fingers. He released a groan right by your ear.

"You two don't wanna say anything to each other?" Seonghwa turned red and pushed his face even further into you drawing out a long moan from you. He sped up, sucking even harder. You pulled on his long hair and trapped his head between your thighs as you climaxed, a soft whine accompanied by your orgasm. Yunho grabbed your face and began to kiss you as you like after cumming. Your ass had been moving over Yunho's hard cock and he had been aching for you ever since he heard you moan.

Seonghwa was still red, panting softly all while lying across your thigh with his eyes closed as he heard you and your boyfriend make out. How was he supposed to navigate this situation.

"Are you okay, sexy?" Yunho murmured on your lips. All you could do was nod as you didn't know what would come out if you spoke.

"You two thought you would argue with each other with no consequences, since you thought you were grown, huh?" His voice was low and deep and you felt yourself getting turned on again.

"Hwa?" Seonghwa absentmindedly humed.

"Get on the bed." And his eyes snapped open. Your eyes were still closed as you didn't want to look him in the eye. How were you supposed to talk to him now?

Seonghwa shakily got on the bed and sat upright. Yunho smirked as he saw that he was also hard. He stood and slowly carried you over to Seonghwa, his hands on your thighs that were still wide open. He couldn't help but stare at your wrecked form thinking, he did that. He had just made you cum.

Shit. He just made his best friend's girlfriend cum.

Yunho put you on top of him, face to face. You both could barely even hold eye contact and you faced away from him, Seonghwa turning red as he could feel your bare self sit on his hard on

Yunho began taking Seonghwa's pants off and you could feel him panicking. His breathing suddenly sped up. "Y-yunho, come on man."

"I can't keep telling you to shut up,Hwa. Besides the girl you were arguing with is right on top of you. Might as well get on with it."

He succeeded in getting off his pants and underwear, revealing his dick. They never really saw each other naked, and Seonghwa was getting so flustered that he thought he could explode. He also couldn't reach and stop him from taking off his pants because he would have to get you off of him, and he didn't want you to get off him to make Yunho mad.

You were suddenly pushed to Seonghwa's chest and he was quick to shift his hands to your waist as he fell back to the bed. You felt Yunho's dick at your entrance and you started panicking.

"Yunho-"

"I didn't say you could talk to me, sweetheart."

And you felt him enter you.

[kiryoutann]

warning(s): MDNI, sexual contents, mental breakdown, ANGST.

Watching Simon hold another woman the same way he used to hold you. Anyone?

Summoning what little courage is left, you stand up and begin retracing their invisible footprints, making your way towards the backdoor. As you pushed it open, you were greeted by the sight of a dark, empty alley, with your ragged breath as the only sound.

But when you reached the other end of the alley, the silence faded away as hushed whispers and soft sounds filled the air. Alarms went off in the back of your head—it only meant one thing—but you ignored it. Instead, you slowed your steps, hiding behind the crumbling brick wall, and peeked around the corner.

There they were. Simon and the woman, locked in a deep, passionate kiss. His body pressed against hers as she wrapped her legs around his waist in a way that made your stomach churn. The hands you knew so well cupped her jaw like he did to you as he dragged his lips down her exposed neck. Just like he did to you.

A strangled sound escaped your mouth; you covered it to prevent another. You felt your eyes burning, yet you couldn’t tear your gaze away from the show. Spare me, your heart begged, yet you let your ears continue to listen to them.

The sound of a zipper being lowered cuts through the air. Simon lifted her dress, and you watched in morbid fascination as he snapped his hips forward. She lets out a loud moan. Your head throbbed, the pulsing pain matching the rapid beating of your heart. The burn inside you was almost unbearable, and you felt your breath shortening, vision blurring as you grew lightheaded.

You couldn’t bear to watch anymore. With shaking limbs, you walk away from them. The acid reaches your throat—the next second, you're hunched over, vomiting onto the cold, hard concrete.

And suddenly, everything feels like a fever dream—a repetitive loop that leaves you feeling both light and heavy. You exist, but you don't really exist; you're breathing, but you're not really breathing. The cobblestones stare back at you, their edges thickened, spreading like black blood. Beside them, your hands are shaking, and when you turn them over, you realize they’ve always been this way—open, fingers stretched to their maximum.

Like they're grasping for something out of reach.

Here you are.

Surrounded by unfamiliar buildings in an even more unfamiliar city. Yet, the hollowing abyss within you is anything but a stranger. In truth, it's probably all you've truly known throughout your entire life before you dared to believe you could become something beyond this yawning emptiness—the chasm where every ounce of love and all the things you've held dear have been mercilessly flushed away.

When you sob again, you choke. Gravel scrapes your skin as you kneel down,  resembling a devout soul pleading to the heavens. It isn't devotion that drives your supplications, but rather fear—and perhaps that's why your fervid entreaties never find an answer.

“Why did you let that man walk away?”

Change the prophecy, change the prophecy, you beg. Make him love me, let him love me.

(But, is it his love you truly seek, or simply the proof that it brings?

Or is it a bit of both?)

Surrounded by unfamiliar buildings in an even more unfamiliar city, you taste the saltiness of your own tears on your lips. Release me. Release me from this pain—from this curse. Make him love me. Prove me right, prove herwrong. All these demands, and yet, the voracious pain continues to spread like an all-consuming malady.

It gave you an open eye.

How pathetic you must’ve looked—like a crumpled, wretched thing, curled on the dirty sidewalk while Simon was still there in the alley, digging his fingers into the hips of another woman. You could almost feel it—the phantom of his touch, the sounds he used to make. You knew he would kiss her just as he had kissed you—he would make her feel good, the way he had always made you feel.

And you knew—you just knew—that she would fall for him, just as you had.

But this time, he would love her back.

Because she wasn’t you.

[sneak peek of chapter 12 of "A MAN'S HEART IS TRULY A WRETCHED, WRETCHED THING.". FULL VERSION OUT NOW.]

[the-moogle-of-your-nightmares]

FUCKING GOOD POST. THANK YOU.

addendum: 'not caring about [group's] hurt feelings' does not mean '[group] is open season to hurt, and is owed no support, compassion, or understanding for pain that they feel, nor preventing or alleviating that pain.'

it means people do not have the right to hold themselves hostage against you being treated the way you, as a person, have the right to be treated.

a cishet parent might feel deep, genuine confusion and grief over their child coming out as trans. a white woman might feel deep, genuine distress, hurt, and fear over being told she's being racist. an estranged parent might feel like they're being murdered by their child setting boundaries or going no-contact. a partner might become suicidal over being broken up with.

all of these people have hurt feelings, and you do not owe it to them to spare those feelings by letting them walk all over you. you do not owe it to them to feel guilt if you don't, and you should be supported in that. you are allowed to slam the car door on that motherfucker's hand if they try to use it to keep you from escaping or locking them out until help arrives. that is what 'not caring about hurt feelings' means.

and guess what? guess the fuck what? people from privileged groups are not the only ones who do this. they're just more likely to have the direct support of larger systems to get away with it. it is in fact an INFAMOUS thing for queer abusers to use potentially facing harsher consequences than non-queers, or the idea that their victims are traitors making the community look bad if they tell anyone, or the idea that it's queerphobic to criticize or have boundaries against them to begin with, as a shield to get away with it.

i cannot describe to you the utter fucking dread i feel whenever a queer person behaves in a predatory way toward me or the people around me, unless they are in one of a few very specific groups who are in my experience near universally fair game. (holy shit the way people treat allegations toward transmascs, jesus fucking christ, not even beginning to mention QPOC.) and this is because i KNOW people will instantly swarm out of the woodwork to defend the queer abuser/predator tooth and nail, with every single last trick and line in the book to discredit, gaslight, and silence victims, and ultimately publicly tear them to little wet shreds as a queerphobe. this has happened over and over and over and over again with multiple demographics, just in my own experience.

and it's made me feel guilty for exposing my own abuse at the hands of people who are in those fair-game demographics people will happily hunt for sport. i've been abused by misogynistic, fuck-you-got-mine transmascs who blatantly saw me as a woman the moment they were in the same room as me after having medically transitioned themselves, and who leaned into being disgusting pieces of shit toward women and people they perceived as such to validate their own genders. they fell square in the middle of SO many nasty stereotypes about transmascs and i fucking hate that that is hanging over the story of my abuse when i tell it.

(funnily enough: they were both big fans of the attitude talked about above. 🙃)

anyway yeah, the conversation absolutely doesn't end there--for one thing, people like to try to make up excuses for why they're the ones whose rights as a person are being violated by not being allowed to haul someone's arm into the car door to crush it. but it has to start there. and you should be awfully leery of anyone who tries to position a group of people's hands as acceptable to crush in a car door at any time someone happens to feel like it.

genuine question: why is it so hard for people to shift their language from "i hate cishets" to "i hate queerphobes".

same amount of syllables. and then you don't have to sit there and go "well DUH we don't mean 'all' cishets we don't mean the GOOD ones." like you don't have to add an asterisk, here. just say what you mean. like forreal, just... say what you. mean. if you have to CLARIFY that you don't mean a certain part of that group then why are you saying it to begin with? why are you over complicating it and skirting around it like you're scared of making your own point?

are you really that attached to the conflict between queerphobic cishet people and queers that you have to reinforce it from your own side? are you really that attached to needing to hate something that you take it out on people who haven't hurt you. i've been hurt by many, many women- would you excuse me for saying i hate all women because of that? of course not. women can also be abusive, but that doesn't give me the right to hate womanhood.

it is so easy to shift the verbiage and have it actually mean what you say. unless you truly do mean that you hate the concept of cis heterosexuality, then i don't know what to tell you, but we don't do that here in the queer community. we don't hate people for their gender and sexuality. this is not the place for you if you want to shit on people for their identities.

[chrystal-ink]

Shadvent calendar Day 24

Shadow x GN Reader

Mistletoe

Shadow was never one for PDA. in fact you two barley held hands whenever other people were around if he could help it. however, tonight the cocktails were flowing and the spirit of Christmas was in the air.

The two of you had managed to miss each other all night. getting wrapped up in conversations with other people, giving out gifts, and avoiding the mistletoe hung ever so delicately in the living room for all to see. You were consciously avoiding it knowing that Shadow did not want to kiss in front of a room full of his closest friends, coworkers, acquaintances, and sonic.

Still he looked so nice in his tux and you knew that he had been eyeing you all night. but attraction or not you were going to respect his boundaries, you would just have to make up for it later.

Shadow on the other hand was craving the touch of your lips right about now. Denied their rightful place upon his earlier in the evening his distain for witnesses was thrown to the wind. You looked incredible tonight and the world needed to know that you were taken, that your lips were for his and his alone.

unfortunately he was caught up in a meaningless conversation with one of his coworker's and he could not get out of it. he had to do something and quick. signaling to Rouge he requested her to get him out of there.

Luckily they had been working together for so long that she understood immediately what he was trying to communicate. Not wasting a moment Rouge swooped into the conversation ending it with grace.

"What do you need Hon?"

"I need to get over to Y/N, I have a matter that needs addressing"

"Is this about those lips you've been staring at all night?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business bat, but yes."

"Fine, I'll help you, but you have to do it over there." She pointed to the mistletoe hanging in the center of the room.

"What? Why?"

"Why? well you two have been together for so long and yet I've never seen the two of you give each other more than a peck. I just want to make sure you're doing it right, for Y/N's sake."

"You are a pain you know that right?"

"Just looking out for you doll."

Shadow weighed his options for a moment, if he tried to make his way across the room he was sure to run into more people and have to engage in more meaningless conversations. it would take at least an hour to get to you, and even then he would have to wait for your conversation to end before he could even attempt to kiss you.

Still to kiss in a crowd was one thing, to do it with everyone watching was another.

He gritted his teeth it wasn't like him to shy away from anything and he wasn't about to start now. He needed your lips and fast so reluctantly he agreed.

"You wont regret this, I promise." Rouge responded happy her little negotiation worked. She took out her phone and texted everyone her plan, all they had to do was get you under that mistletoe by any means necessary.

❄️

You were mid conversation with Amy when her phone went off.

"That's weird who could be texting you right now? everyone we know is here."

"Don't worry about it, it's nothing." she reassured quickly putting her phone away. "Say, why don't we look for some more of those delicious crab puffs I think I saw some over there."

"umm okay, I guess we could."

But before you could actually turn to go the opposite direction Sonic interrupted your conversation.

"Hey Y/N How's it goin? Say, is that cocktail for me? Thanks!" He took your drink and bolted across the room before you even had the chance to react.

"Hey!" you whined before following after him, it was a confined space and with all the people there he couldn't have gotten too far.

You followed him almost to the center of the room before he stopped turning back to you your drink still in his hands.

"What's the big idea? you can't just do that at a party."

"I had it under control Sonic" Amy called finally catching up to the both of you.

"Yah, but I was faster."

"What's going on you two?"

"You'll see." sonic replied "Sorry about this" He gave you a gentle push. Stumbling backward you almost fell thankfully, a pair of hands steadied you before you could reach the floor.

"Hey." shadow looked down at you giving you a handsome smirk.

"Shadow? thanks, but how did you-"

"Everyone! looks like we have our first two lovebirds under the mistletoe!" Rouge announced "Why don't you give them a round of applause?"

You looked up and saw the offending branch right above where you and Shadow were standing.

"Oh no, we don't have to if you don't want. I know you don't really like this stuff." you apologized.

"Don't be ridiculous, It's tradition." Shadow said grabbing you by the chin. "And besides with the way you look tonight I want everyone here to know you're mine."

And with that he kissed you it was passionate, full of love and devotion. he was getting the touch he so craved and he didn't care who saw it.

Once your lips had parted and crowed died down a little you looked into his crimson eyes and smiled.

"You know, you could have just asked for a kiss my love."

"Yes, but I wanted to make this one special."

You giggled placing your hands on his chest.

"Well then love, You accomplished your mission"

You gave him another kiss each of you smiling against the other's lips before rejoining the party hand in hand.

[1425fivefive]

omorashi and maxiel or maxcar plsplspls 🙏🙏

omorashi for maxcar! my first piss kink fic, tysm for trusting me!! also if you don't like piss play... pls don't perceive (for the kink prompt ask)

“Max, please, I can’t—” Oscar gasps when Max pushes in anyway, palm pressed against Oscar’s lower belly, right above his cock. Right over his horribly, painfully full bladder.

Oscar really should’ve gone before the race. Should’ve known that Max would do this, drag him into a supply closet and shove him up against the wall, tugging his race suit and fireproofs down just below his arse.

Max fucks in deep and grinds, making Oscar feel it, right as he presses firmly against Oscar’s bladder.

“Stop,” Oscar pants. “Stop, fuck, or I’ll—”

“What?” Max asks calmly, pressing a kiss to Oscar’s neck. “What’ll happen if I don’t stop?”

“I’ll—” Oscar breaks off on a groan when Max digs his thumb into Oscar’s lower belly, a tiny bit of liquid escaping Oscar’s cock. Oscar’s not sure whether it’s pre-come or piss and the thought’s obliteratingly hot, so hot that Oscar lets out a desperate whimper and arches his back, trying to take Max deeper.

Max groans, fucking in hard, his other hand coming up to grab Oscar’s chin, turning his head to pull him in for a wet kiss. Oscar moans into the kiss, breaking off on a frantic whine when a few more drops spill into his fireproofs.

“Max, please, you have to—” Oscar’s cock stings, tears pricking in his eyes. “Fuck Max, you can’t—you’re gonna make me piss myself.”

Max lets out a loud moan, dragging his hand down to squeeze Oscar’s achingly hard cock.

“No, don’t,” Oscar begs, throbbing in Max’s hand. “Don’t do that, please.”

“Why not?” Max asks, nosing at Oscar’s cheek. “You liked it last time.”

Oscar whimpers at the reminder, squeezing his eyes shut. They’d fucked in Max’s hotel room and Oscar hadn’t pissed before, had sort of liked feeling desperate and achey, the edge of pain and embarrassment. He hadn’t meant to, like, actually piss. Just sort of liked getting fucked while he felt desperate, the adrenaline and shame of knowing he might be too overwhelmed to hold it.

But Max had shoved Oscar onto his hands and knees and fucked him deep and slow, brought Oscar to the edge over and over again until Oscar was sobbing on his cock. When Max pulled Oscar up by his hair and wrapped a hand around Oscar’s throat, other hand splayed over Oscar’s stomach, Oscar cried and begged Max to stop, begged Max to let Oscar go to the toilet and take a piss.

Max had gone silent behind him and Oscar panicked, thought he’d grossed Max out enough that Max would kick him out. But Max groaned, long and low, and said, “Fuck, Oscar, do you think—you can, if you want, on me—like this.”

“No, I can—I can hold it,” Oscar whimpered.

And he’d really thought he could. He’d been right on the edge of coming, sure that he’d make it, when Max fucked in and pressed hard against Oscar’s lower belly. A stream of piss shot out of Oscar’s cock and Oscar sobbed, reaching down to grab his cock like he could stop it.

“M’sorry,” Oscar cried, squeezing his cock, trying to stop it even as piss dribbled around his fingers. “Fuck, Max, I can’t—”

But Max just moaned, tugging Oscar’s fingers away from his cock, chin hooked over Oscar’s shoulder. “Let me watch,” Max ordered, voice low.

Oscar sobbed but he let Max watch him piss himself, liquid running down his thighs and onto the sheets, Max fucking him steadily, little spurts of piss shooting out with each thrust of Max’s hips. He felt embarrassed, scared, desperately turned on. Everything all at once and he didn’t want it to stop, wanted Max to keep fucking the piss out of him, forcing him to humiliate himself.

“M’sorry,” Oscar whimpered. “M’sorry, m’sorry, m’sorry.”

But Max didn’t say anything, just wrapped his fingers around Oscar’s wet cock and stroked him, kept stroking him until Oscar was coming with a desperate whine, his cock and balls aching and sore. He felt emptied out, drained, delirious, and Max shoved him down onto the bed, shoved him into his own mess, fucked him hard until Max came with a deep groan, biting hard into Oscar’s shoulder.

Max hadn’t been weird about it after, had just shrugged and said, “We’ll leave a big tip.” He’d given Oscar a delighted little grin, eyes crinkling, and added, “Worth it, of course.”

That’s the thing about Max. The thing that keeps Oscar coming back time and time again. Max sort of seems to like being gross, seems to like that Oscar’s gross, too. Just looks confused whenever Oscar gets all shy and ashamed about what he likes in bed.

But as much as Oscar wants Max to make him piss himself, they’re in a supply closet in the middle of the fucking paddock. Oscar has a team debrief after this and he’d prefer not to have to walk into McLaren wearing a piss-soaked race suit.

In the end, he shoves Max off him and pushes Max back against the wall, sinks to his knees and sucks Max off until Max is coming in his mouth. Oscar can’t help but notice that Max looks disappointed.

Sure enough, as Oscar’s climbing to his feet, Max frowns at him and says, “You didn’t piss.”

Oscar barks out a laugh. “Yep, keen eye.”

“You will tonight though, yes?” Max asks, staring in that focused way of his that always makes Oscar feel slightly off-balance. “Come to my hotel room? I ordered this latex sheet online that we can put on the bed.” Max mimes spreading a sheet over the bed and tucking in the corners.

“You did research,” Oscar says, looking at Max with what he’s sure is a stunned expression.

Max shrugs. “Of course. I enjoyed it last time. If you didn’t—”

“No,” Oscar says quickly. “No, I—I liked it.”

Max grins. “Okay, then. You will come to my hotel room.”

Oscar nods, dazed. He’s not sure why Max buying a latex sheet feels so romantic, but it does, and Oscar can’t help but lean in and press a quick kiss to Max’s lips. Max moans, deepening the kiss. Oscar lets him. He still desperately needs to piss, but he reckons he can hold it. And well, if he can’t—he’s pretty sure they both sort of like that.

[nellielsss]

⋆꙳•❅‧₊⋆☃︎‧ Cԋɾιʂƚɱαʂ αƚ ƚԋҽ Fυʂԋιɠυɾσʂ!

Summary: It's Christmas-time at the Fushiguro household! Although not all the members of the house have the best impression of the holiday, everything is still merry and bright--no thanks to your grump of a husband and even more grump of a son... Ft: Toji Fushiguro & Megumi Fushiguro (reader is Mamaguro) Note: I am so incredibly sorry for going missing for months!! College A. Kicked my ass majorly, and B. made me extremely depressed, but we're back! ... for now. CW: light religious imagery, nothing too major! Pure fluff (I'm way too tired to do smutmas...)

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆ Toji never truly gave two shits about Christmas. The Zen'in Clan was anything but merry and bright, and until you and Megumi came into his life, he saw no reason to celebrate the holiday--that, and it was technically a christian holiday, and god knows Toji wasn't no saint who deserved presents.

Those were the two reasons he gave when it came to not celebrating Christmas, but there was a deeper, more painful reason that he wasn't fond of sharing...

Christmas reminded him of everything he didn't have.

He didn't have a loving family, he didn't have a warm home to decorate for Christmas, and he never had enough money to even buy gifts to begin with. He never had more than $100 in his checking account until he got a wife and a kid, even with all the money he earned from being a highly paid assassin. He also hasn't seen his family since he was 18 and was free of their legal guardianship, so suffice to say: he didn't give two shits about Christmas.

And that was where you came in!

Christmas was probably one of the best holidays in the whole entire world for you. It was fun and bright, always full of love and laughter and general excitement for you. Even if not every Christmas was great, you still did the best you could year round.

When Toji saw you decorating the giant tree that you'd (miraculously) set up all by yourself in the living room, he nearly spit out his drink. What the hell was an 8-foot pine tree doing in his living room? But when he saw the joy and excitement on your face, and Megumi's little hands playing with the ornaments you were going to put up, he bit his tongue.

Eh, sure, why not? Let the wife have her fun. Happy wife, happy life. What he didn't expect was for the antics to ramp up with every passing year.

Each year, the decorations would become bigger and better. There were more ornaments on the trees, more candles lit, more nutcrackers, more garland--more everything. It was like Hallmark came and threw up in your home and left. He knew he was in too deep when you swapped out the bedsheets for Christmas sheets.

He couldn't lie; he was also starting to go all out himself, at least on the presents. He found himself hitting up his handler, Shiu, for more jobs so that he could get Megumi and his little wife the stuff that they deserved. He'd never been showered in anything but hatred and disgust his entire life, and he'd be damned if his son went through the same shit he did.

Which is what led to Christmas morning, when said wife and said son were opening what they got.

"Look what Santa got you!" you chirped, handing a box to little 5-year old Megumi, who was trying to keep his best nonchalant grimace on his face (don't mind him--he's just going through an angsty teen phase).

"You don't have to say it was Santa, mom, I know it was you and dad," he answered while opening it.

That made you deadpan and go "ehh?" while looking at Toji. "Did that little punk from your homeroom say something to you again? Is he putting these ideas in your head?"

"Nah," he answered, opening up the stack of books that he was currently into. "It's hard not to confuse reindeers for dad's heavy footsteps, but I know reindeers wouldn't survive the Tokyo traffic."

"Hey, watch it, punk," Toji grumbled, reaching out to rub his knuckles into Megumi's head, making him whine and fuss.

Despite your son knowing that Santa Claus is, in fact, his mom and his dad, the little scene made you smile and laugh. You even reached out to take a photo of the little interaction between the two of them and save it for later. "Just hurry up and unwrap your presents, Toji. Let's see if daddy ended up with coal, hmm?" You teased, handing him a box with a smile on your pretty face.

"Yeah, I wonder what Santa got me," Toji said jokingly. His big hands effortlessly ripped off the pretty wrapping paper you so carefully wrapped, and he was met with the name "Rolex" staring back at him. His smile dropped for a second in shock, and he touched the wooden box as if it didn't truly exist. "Babe, you didn't have to-"

"Now I know you've got simple tastes, and I know you're a simple guy, but try it on! I'm sure you'll love it. Besides, I got a raise at work," you encouraged with a wink.

Toji opened the wooden box to see a beautiful silver Rolex watch with a green dial--perfectly matching his green eyes.

He was speechless for a second, earning a proud smile from your part. "I outdid myself, didn't I?" you giggled proudly.

"This is... I've never had somethin' like this before," he said, taking the watch out of the box. "Thank you so much, babe--this means so much to me."

"It's no problem- oof!" He cut you off by wrapping his big arms around your waist and pulling you in, all but squeezing you to death. He then put a kiss on your face and let go of you slightly. "It's n-no problem, really... although... those hugs of yours will give me problems."

Toji simply chuckled and handed you a box as well. "Now it's my turn to spoil my pretty wife," he retorted with a confident grin on his face.

His ogre of a dad calling his princess of a mom his 'pretty wife' earned a sideways grimace from Megumi while he flipped through his books, but he didn't say anything.

"I wonder what Santa got me," you wondered, mimicking his earlier words. You eagerly unwrapped the bow, took off the wrapping paper, and the words "Louis Vuitton" stuck out to you. "Toji, this is..."

"Yup," he said with a cheeky grin, puffing his chest out proudly. "Saw you eyein' this bag like it was your last meal, figured that meant you wanted it."

You slid the top off the box and gasped in excitement and childlike wonder. 6 years into your marriage, and you were still the same girly and excitable woman he first met. "Oh my god, a rainbow Louis!" You held it up with both hands and eyed it like it was, in fact, your last meal.

It was a black multicolor Louis Vuitton Alma bag, complete with a Hello Kitty keychain (that he took the liberty of picking out for you). "Oh, Toji!" You threw your arms around his neck and all but tackled him off the couch, and you pressed kisses all over his stubbled face. "Thank you, thank you, thank you! I love it so much!"

Toji grinned from ear-to-ear and simply patted you on the back while chuckling deeply. "Hey, only the best for my girl."

While you pressed kisses all over his face and hugged him tightly, Megumi looked over and grimaced once again. "Get a room, you two. And get off my mom, you ogre."

"Aw, shut yer trap, ya little grinch," Toji reached out and pulled his son into the hug, both arms wrapped around his beloveds. "I'll be damned if someone interrupts my time with either of you."

Despite Megumi's growing complaints and whines about wanting to be let go, you couldn't stop yourself from smiling and hugging Megumi as well. "Is my little Gumi mad about getting some hugs?" You asked the little boy, making him sigh dramatically and give up. He begrudgingly hugged the both of you, and he couldn't lie--getting a hug like this wasn't so bad. Not that the little sea urchin would ever admit that, of course. He had a reputation to uphold.

Looking up from his hug and loosening his grip on the both of you, he looked around at everything in the room, at the life he built for himself. He had a cozy home, presents under the tree, a beautiful wife and an amazing son. Toji truly was a simple man at heart, because this was all he needed.

"This is all a man needs to be happy," he muttered to himself with a slight smile decorating his face.

Christmas might've been rough for Toji growing up, but those days were behind him. Now, he had his loving family, and that was all a man needed to be happy.

© nellielsss on tumblr - get your own shit bitches | ca. 12/26/2024

[30somethingautisticteacher]

Christmas Reconciliation

In case anyone was wondering how Buck and Tommy's Christmas is going today 😆🥰

****

The warm glow of Christmas morning filled Maddie and Chim's living room. Buck sank into the couch, surrounded by the aftermath of gift-opening chaos, crumpled wrapping paper littering the floor

Jee Yun sat cross-legged on the floor, completely absorbed in her new toys.

"Hey, little brother. You doing ok?" Maddie asked, her voice soft with sisterly concern.

"Oh uh yeah. It's Christmas. Why wouldn't I be?" Buck responded, his smile not quite reaching his eyes.

"Buck," Maddie said in a warning tone. "You're staring at that phone awfully hard. What's up?"

"Connor sent me a Christmas text with a picture of him, Kameron, and Simon," Buck said, holding out his phone and showing the image to Maddie.

"Wow, he really does look a lot like you," Maddie observed, taking in the details of the photograph.

"Yeah, he does," Buck agreed. His voice softened, tinged with a deep, aching sadness. "I guess I'm just feeling jealous. I want that. I want to be a Dad on Christmas morning. I want to make Christmas breakfast and wear matching Christmas pajamas."

He paused, his eyes distant. "I saw that future. I could see it as clear as day. Me and Tommy snuggled up on the couch with two kids, drinking hot cocoa and watching a fire burn in the fireplace. And now? My future is just a blank slate."

"Maybe that's a good thing?" Maddie offered gently. "Full of possibilities."

"I don't want possibilities," Buck said, his voice trembling with raw emotion. "I want Tommy."

"Oh, Buck," Maddie said, pulling him into a hug.

She caught Chimney's eyes over Buck's head and nodded.

Buck let himself be held by his sister for a few more minutes before standing and taking a deep breath. "Okay, that's enough of that. It's time to ice my cinnamon rolls." He headed to the kitchen and fell into his chosen form of distraction. His focus was so complete he nearly missed the knock on the door.

"Hey, Buck?" Chim called out, a hint of something suspiciously like excitement in his voice. "I think Santa had one more gift for you today."

Buck wiped his hands on a dish towel, a puzzled look crossing his face as he walked toward the door.

"Tommy," Buck whispered.

"Merry Christmas, Evan. Can we talk?"

Buck nodded, unable to form words. Tommy looked worn and tired but still devastatingly handsome. Buck's heart skipped a beat as he looked into those deep blue eyes.

"Why don't you two go have a chat on the patio?" Maddie said.

"Thanks, Maddie," Tommy replied. He and Buck walked through the house and out the back door, the weight of unspoken words hanging between them.

"Why are you here, Tommy?" Buck asked, the words coming out more harshly than he meant for them to.

"I miss you," Tommy whispered.

"What?" Buck said, confusion and hope warring in his voice.

"I miss you, Evan. I miss you. I miss you so damn much that it hurts. I'm not sleeping, I'm barely eating. My captain even temporarily pulled me from air support because he said I'm not safe to fly in this condition." Tommy took in a deep, ragged breath. "I am so sorry that I broke us."

"Then why? Why did you do it? Why did you leave me? I wanted it all with you. I was willing to give you everything, and you just walked away," Buck said, his voice a mixture of pain and desperation.

"You don't know me, Evan. Not really," Tommy said, vulnerability seeping through his defensive words.

"And whose fault is that?" Buck challenged. "I want to know you. All of you. Not just the shiny cool guy that you let the world see. I want it all. And there were times that you trusted me enough to show me glimpses."

"I'm a mess," Tommy murmured.

"Hello! Have you met me?" Buck replied, a hint of humor breaking through the tension. "I don't care about that. You were my mess. We were each other's messes."

"Do you think there's any chance-" Tommy trailed off, leaving the possibility hanging between them.

"You're it for me, Tommy, and I'm sorry if that scares you, but it's true. I love you, and you are my endgame. Do you think maybe you can try to see me as yours?" Buck said, his eyes filling with tears.

"Oh, baby," Tommy said, gently wiping away the tears as they began to spill down Buck's cheeks. "I love you too, and I am never letting you go again."

They kissed gently at first, but then with more heat, pouring out everything they had been holding back.

"Ahem," The two men broke apart as Chimney appeared in the doorway, a knowing smile on his face.

"Now that that's all settled. How about some Christmas breakfast?"

They grinned as Buck grabbed Tommy's hand intertwining their fingers, and steered him inside.

They still had lots of work to do to repair the cracks in their relationship, but it was a start. And Buck knew that they were just going to get stronger because they were in love - messy, complicated, beautiful love, actually.

[screamingviridianforest]

Continuation of this

Read more bc its long

Days passed without you spotting a hair of Ghost. You knew he was on base, no missions had been assigned. He was just avoiding you, that was the only explanation.

You started putting on healthy weight again under the gaze of the 141 and medical. Every meal of your's was enriched and you got extra snacks, which wasn't anything to complain about. You didn't mind the attention - not really - but it felt empty.

It all comes to a head when you get assigned to a mission with the very man avoiding you. It was tense, despite just being an intel retrieval. The place was crawling with hostiles so you couldn't let your guard down.

"Door on your right corporal, get in there," Ghost's voice is tinny in the comms. You don't like it. It sounds nothing like him. "Wait for the hostiles to pass."

You breathe out an affirmative and slip into the room, taking the moment to recenter yourself. You could hear the footsteps as they stomped by, the talking in a language you didn't know.

What you didn't expect was them to suddenly walk into the room where you were hiding.

"Oi!"

Your eyes go wide, but your body moves, knives drawn in the blink of an eye. The first two hit the targets, deep in the enemy's throat. The last one just barely misses, which gives the enemy just enough time to land a lucky shot.

Pain flares through your abdomen, and you force through it, grabbing another knife to bury in the man's head. Your vision blurs for a moment.

"Corporal, are you okay?" Ghost's voice sound worried, which is odd.

"Fine, Lieutenant. Got caught in the abdomen, graze," you reported dutifully, even though it wasn't a graze. The bullet was deep in your abdomen, which helped to slow the bleeding.

You just had to last long enough to grab the intel. You needed to show him that you were strong enough to do this.

Ghost's guidance helps get you through the rest of the building, and you secure the intel. Your vision was starting to swim and it was difficult to focus on anything.

"Heading to evac now, Lieutenant," you state, already going.

~

Ghost's first thought when he sees you is that you look like shit. His second thought is concern. You had said that the gunshot was a graze, it was not a graze. Blood was caked into your uniform.

He rushes forward, catching you when you stumble. Doubt creeps into his mind, he couldn't even protect you when you were under his watch.

The want to scold you builds but Ghost holds it back, more focused on addressing the wound itself. He packs it full of guaze, flinching at every sound of pain you create. The want to soothe you, to try and help through more than just action is there but he has no words.

When you finally get into the evac vehicle, you nod on and off. You wanted to question Ghost, make him explain why he was so hard, and then suddenly backed off, but you didn't have the energy. Ghost was just silently staring at you.

"I wanted to protect you," is what he finally says. It isn't a comfort, but it helps to explain. "To help you grow stronger so you could also protect yourself."

It's hard to focus on his words. Your head swimming from the pain and blood loss. Ghost knew you would eventually nod off and most likely attribute this to a dream. Maybe after he could explain it better than he was again.

"But you hurt me, pushing me like that," you finally murmur, voice slurring. "I thought I wasn't good enough, that you didn't like me."

Ghost sighs, "I regret how I pushed you."

It's no apology, but it's an admission of guilt. It's enough for you to take comfort in to nod off again.

~

Waking up in a hospital is a scene that you're getting far too used to. Pain im your gut radiates out but its sting is dulled by morphine.

Ghost is sat off to the side, only his plain balaclava on his face. He wasn't Ghost, he was Simon.

"I don't forgive you."

Your throat is scratchy from dryness, it hurts to force the words out.

"I know. I don't expect you to."

Several moments of silence pass, only interrupted by the beat of medical machines.

"You remind me of an old friend," Ghost finally pushes the words out. "I couldn't protect him. I want to protect you."

"I didn't want this fucked-up notion of protection," you push it out. "It hurt, believing I could never be good enough, then for you to just ignore me the one time I failed? That leaves a mark, Ghost."

"I didn't-"

"But you did."

Ghost searches for the words. The ones to convince you. He wants to show you how much you mean to him, but he doesn't know how.

"Let me start this over, please, luv?" Ghost all but pleads, "let me show you proper how much you mean to me- to Simon, not Ghost."

You pause.

"You get one chance, Simon. Hurt me again and I leave for good."

The smile that makes his eyes crinkle would probably be prettier than the softest may flower.

[thezombieprostitute]

Second Chances

A/N: Written for @the-slumberparty's December Daze Challenge.

Prompt: the car broke down and the snow is getting deep

A/N2: A follow up to Everyone Leaves.

Warnings: Alcoholism, Angst. Please let me know if I missed any!

"Merry Christmas to me," you sarcastically grumble as your car fails to start up.

It's been the year from hell. You've been hounded by the loan sharks that call themselves banks, asking after your student loans. Your dad's health got so much worse, which is why you're stuck in the hospital parking lot. Oh, and your increasingly distant boyfriend refused to change his ways and you had to leave him.

Part of you had hoped he'd stop you. Apologize. Anything, really, to show he actually cared about you. But clearly that was asking too much of Curtis "always alone" Everett. Then again, considering he got fired soon after for showing up to work drunk, maybe it was for the best that you parted ways. You had enough on your plate without taking care of him as well.

You try the engine one more time and still get nothing. You want to take some time to just cry but the snow is piling up and you can't stay at the hospital. Sighing you call for a tow truck. You'll use the time between the call and the truck's arrival to let your tears out.

When the tow truck pulls up you quickly wipe away your tears. You're sure whoever is driving has seen plenty of people crying in frustration, if not outright raging, but you still don't want your own tears to be seen. You step out to greet the driver and you both stop in your tracks. It's Curtis.

Curtis looks at you, his face contorted into an expression of pain, sadness. He looks like he wants to say something but is scared to. You're sure you don't look any better. You both start and stop a few times before you shake your head and point to your car. "Engine won't start" is all you say but Curtis nods, and gets to work.

As he starts hooking up your car he points to the cab of his truck. "It's nice and warm in there. You go ahead and settle in, keep warm?" You nod with a little "thanks" and head into the passenger side of the truck.

Settling in, you didn't realize how cold you'd been. It seems like your shivers were both from crying and the cold. The truck is delightfully warm and you let yourself relax a little. You're genuinely happy Curtis seems to have landed on his feet. If anything, you're surprised he was so expressive with you. He was never the type to really show what he was feeling, just locking it up behind his stoic facade.

When he climbs into the driver's side you do your best to clam up. He was the one who pushed you away, he can put in the work to try to draw you back. If that's what he even wants. And if he doesn't, well, it's on him, not you.

"Do you want me to drop you off at your place before or after taking the car to garage?" he asks. His voice is shakier than you've ever heard it.

"Probably after," you reply. "Make sure the garage has my details and contact info."

He nods. "Just gotta be careful. The snow's getting worse and I don't want you stranded there."

"I understand. But you know I like my records and receipts."

He nods and sets to driving.

The drive is quiet but the tension in the air is heavy. You want to say something, anything, but you hold firm. He drove the wedge between you, he can be the one to remove it.

When you get to the garage Curtis helps you out of the truck and introduces you to his new buddy, Edgar, before going to the back room.

You and Edgar get to talking, he's a nice kid. Lots of energy and a warm smile. You wonder allowed how he and Curtis became friends.

"Oh, we met in AA," Edgar tells you. "I'm actually his sponsor."

"He's in AA? I knew he was drunk at work once, I didn't think that was worth signing up to Alcoholics Anonymous."

Edgar hesitates, "it's not my place to tell you the whole story, but he ended up in the hospital."

Your hand flies to your mouth as you gasp. Sure, Curtis wasn't one to turn up a drink when you were together, but to go that far? "Well, I'm glad he's got you to help him out," you nod.

"Do you mind me asking how you know him?"

"We used to date."

Edgar's eyes widen at that. "You're the one who got away!"

You give him a pained expression as you hear Curtis growl from the doorway, "now's not the time, Edgar."

"Sure thing, old man," Edgar rolls his eyes, making you smile. "Let's go ahead and get your information so you can get home before the roads get too messed up to drive."

When you get the paperwork taken care of Curtis steps up, "can I drive you home? I'd...I'd feel better if...if you took my truck and not some dinky uber or lyft car."

Your heart clenches. You can see he's trying so you agree. Plus, he's not wrong about his truck being safer. He opens the passenger door for you and helps you get in before climbing into the driver's seat.

After a few minutes, Curtis breaks the tension. "I'm guessing your dad's not doing too well?"

"Nope," you shake your head. "The cold seems to just make things worse." Curtis nods.

The rest of your trip is spent in silence.

When Curtis pulls up to your building you're ready jump out of the truck to escape the tension. But when you go to unbuckle he says, "can we talk?"

"Yes." That's all you'll give him, if only to protect yourself.

"I'm sorry," he starts. "I'm sorry for everything. For how I treated you. I...I thought I was protecting myself by keeping distant. But when you left I...it hurt so much more than I ever could've expected."

You look at him and see tears forming in his eyes.

"I... I genuinely thought it was just how things work," he continues. "But you left, when I drove you away, I couldn't...I just ended up drinking until I blacked out. Next thing I know I'm in the hospital. No job. No friends." He lets out a sob. "I knew, laying there in that bed, that if I hadn't...if I'd treated you better, I wouldn't be so alone and miserable."

Tears are now streaming from your own eyes.

"I've been getting help since then. Been trying to change for the better." He turns to face you, "I've hurt you and I'll never ask you to take me back. But is there any chance, any at all, that you'd let me back into your life? Even just as a friend?"

You sit for a few minutes, but you don't leave and Curtis starts to hope.

When you finally speak you tell him, "the best apology is changed behavior. And you have definitely changed. For the better."

Curtis's breath hitches.

You continue, "you hurt me more than I think you know. But you've clearly been doing some introspection, getting some help, and that speaks volumes to your willingness to make amends. You've got a long road to redemption with me, but you've made some good strides."

Taking his hand in yours you look him in the eyes, "we can start again as friends."

Curtis's shoulders sag as he starts crying tears of relief. You can't help yourself and wrap him in a hug, letting your own tears fall freely. He's repeatedly whispering "thank you," and "I'll do better. I promise."

When you break the hug, he doesn't fight you but you know it's because he's being respectful rather than a sign of his disinterest. You open the passenger door and turn back to him with a soft smile, "Merry Christmas, Curtis."

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @irishhappiness; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly; @thiquefunlover63

Also tagging @brandycranby as she was the one sent the original ask.

[quirkyfries]

Ruin ramble because writing his pov is interesting

Do you ever notice that Ruin gets really self depreciative about himself sometimes? (Maybe not quite self depreciative, but highlighting things about himself.) Implying vulnerability in a way that can almost come off as a joke if it weren't for his tone of voice. He says he hasn't been safe in a long time, it would be nice to sleep for once, wouldn't his death be hilarious? It comes off as a cry for help, but he states it as fact, he's convinced it won't change.

He's very stubborn about what he's done. He had nothing left to lose. No, there was absolutely no other way he could've gone about destroying the creator, he'd spent years considering his options. Yes, Solar was collateral, unfortunate. Those lives were a necessary sacrifice. He had to do it. There was no other way.

To him, he chose the lesser amount of people in the trolley problem. That was the morally correct thing to do in the circumstances he was given, lives would have been taken either way. He had to do it. (He could've walked away from the lever that switched the rails, but that would be the self serving option, wouldn't it? To move on?)

The most interesting part about it to me is, why does Ruin keep on going? All he's known is pain and suffering in some shape or another, he had nothing to live for after his goal was completed. All he'd ever known was bad, bad, bad, vindictive release, a little bit more bad, and then nothing. He was ready to die, he didn't know where to go.

Then came along this new dimension, one he'd apparently accidentally created through his actions. For someone who has nothing to gain or lose, wouldn't this be a nice chance of pace? To look forward to something nice that was more or less your responsibility in a weird way, to cultivate something good for once after a life of bad? To be able to take the place of your abuser, break that cycle? This new dimension is his reason to keep going, he will see this one good thing through if he can help it. Even if he isn't particularly liked by his migrated peers.

But he still isn't secure. There are enemies he'd made, the insurmountable weight of lives on his shoulders, and a new uncertain freedom of identity. (Granted, he still has to lie to some people to get by. I more mean his own Creator, the Virus act, and Nexus + Dark Sun here. Ruin having to strike deals and bargain for his life and act against his own morals to survive. But those are gone. When had Ruin last acted like himself, truly? He had barely been able to define himself as an Eclipse before everything bad happened.)

Does Ruin hate himself? I don't know, he's very adamant about hating what he had to do, but would do it again. He believes he was right, he's even defensive about it to several people, but there is still something that's bothering him. Does he hate himself for pressing the red button? Dunno. Maybe subconsciously. He's clearly meant to parallel Puppet with how he is now, they're the same words in different font. Ruin pulled the lever to kill the smaller amount of strangers to save the greater amount of strangers. Puppet was inside the train that killed everyone she knew. She wants to repent, Ruin hasn't shown much interest in it. Does a selfless act require repentance?

I like to think he has a bit of a dissociation issue, he compartmentalizes things if you squint, a possible coping mechanism of something called cognitive dissonance (a disturbance that happens when your actions do not align with your morals/values.) He was right for what he did. What he did was bad. What he did was necessary. He deserves his fate. He doesn't like pain. There's some contradicting statements there, he'd have to separate some things into neat little boxes in order for it to make sense in his head, so he didn't torture himself thinking about what that said about himself and his values. What he did was right and necessary. What he did was bad and he deserves his fate. He doesn't like pain. Still contradictory a bit, but a little more organized. If he focused on the positive box more than the negative box, he can feel better about himself, but he's painfully aware of the negative box' existence. Maybe he avoids looking at the negative box at all times and ignores the contents, but what's inside is so over accumulated that it can't help but be constantly present and occasionally overflow in those matter-of-fact cries for help. A lotta PTSD can fit in this bad boy (pats ruin on the head)

Does that make sense? I don't know, I feel like a therapist trying to write from his point of view. What is wrong with this little british guy.

[lost-romantique]

I am trying desperately to figure out why parts of this fandom WANT a Stolas/Blitz/Vassago love triangle.

First of all, I thought we as a society have agreed that the love triangle trope is one of the worst romance tropes out there and that we’re all ready to retire it.

Second of all, it would be such a fundamental betrayal of both Stolas’s and Blitz’s character journeys for that to happen. Stolas would roll back his progress in making choices for himself and owning up to his mistakes, and Blitz would have every dooming fear he had about love validated and he’d shut down again.

Even if it’s just coming from the perspective of loving Stolas and thinking he can do better than Blitz, making Stolas even CONSIDER something romantic with Vassago, after everything he and Blitz went through, would be such an audacious display of character assassination.

And even if you don’t care about the characters, with all the other conflict going on, throwing a love triangle in there would just make the story bloated and irritating.

No matter how you look at it, adding a love triangle would be a dooming decision for the show.

I could understand the sentiment of Stolas and Vassago being a possible thing if we're referring to Apology Tour Blitz.

Back in Apology Tour, Blitz in no way was ready for a relationship and no matter how hard he tried to put that mask down, he wasn't able to open up completely without looking pained.

However, Sinsmas Blitz is genuinely the very best version of Blitz there is (so far).

Attentive

Caring

Fun-loving

Caretaker

Protective

Patient

Happy Cuddly Lizard 🦎

Suave and Romantic

And this version of Blitz is only able to exist because of the intensive character growth he went through in Apology Tour, Ghostfuckers, and Mastermind.

But the main reason why this Blitz is able to exist right now is because he has completely opened up his heart and soul to Stolas, and knows that without a doubt that he is genuinely loved by him (Stolas), Millie, Moxxie, and Loona.

Of course, Blitz has some more character growth to do, but right now, he's at much more healthier mindset than he ever was, and that's a miracle.

Stolas, right now, needs help and assistance and has some growing to do. And Blitz sees that and knows that. There is no better person to care for Stolas right now than Sinsmas Blitz.

I know Stolas is confused, lost, depressed, and is in desperate need of his antidepressants; but he is going to be fine as long as he is able to grow and adjust to his new way of life.

Right now, the man is now dealing with the fallout of every wrong thing he has ever done in the course of the series in genuinely the most fucked up way possible. Actions have consequences, and Stolas is now learning the gravity of that.

But I'm going to be blunt, the man made his bed, and now he only has Blitz. They don't owe each other a relationship, but if Blitz is giving 110% of his love and devotion to Stolas, and Stolas repays him by literally going, "I am now magically in love with Vassago who I have never had a fucking conversation with once in the entirety of two seasons."

That is going to ruin Stolas' character for a lot of people, and that is going to break Blitz in a way I fear he won't ever be able to recover.

Also, these guys are endgame. You can't get anymore endgame than the gayest- cheesiest Disney duet in the universe.

[post-apocalyptic-fantasy-au]

Tango started sneezing about twenty minutes after leaving the lab. By the time they reached the city's outskirts, six hours later, he was a sniffling mess, eyes burning and nose running, throat tight. Every part of his skin not covered in scales was covered in rashes. On top of that, his legs felt like jelly, there was a sharp pain tearing his sides open, every step hurt his feet and his lungs felt like they were on fire.

"Maybe we should stop for a bit," Torchy suggested, concerned. The little dragon was flying around Tango's head since his touch irritated Tango's skin even more.

"We should... get somewhere less... open... first." Tango was gasping, every breath a struggle.

But he refused to stop. It was just allergies and a lack of exercise, it would all calm down once his body got used to being outside the lab's sterile walls. The best thing to do was to keep pushing, keep, walking, force his body to adapt. He would survive allergies, he would survive being unfit. He wasn't sure he would survive what wandered around out here, beyond the city limits, where laws barely applied and civilisation ended.

Sometimes, when the scientists in the lab worked late, they'd come into Tango's room at night and he'd light a little fire in the middle and they'd sit around telling scary stories. He was told it was a human tradition older than time. Far too often, those stories included werewolves who refused to abide by the palace's laws, vampires who were so consumed by their bloodlust they'd lost all their humanity, human-born sirens who had forsaken community in favour of luring travellers away from their paths.

Cub had once sworn up and down that a garden faerie had tried to gouge out his eyes, killing every plant in a ten-foot radius in the process, and to this day he still didn't know how he'd escaped intact.

Doc had then scoffed and claimed it was all hearsay, but the tale had stuck with Tango. He was rather fond of his eyes, and preferred not to risk losing them.

"I can keep going," he said to Torchy. "I can... I'll be fine."

They had barely walked another hour before Tango was forced to stop by his feet - which were dragging on the floor - hooking on a rock, sending him plummetting with a yelp.

"Tango!" Torchy gasped, swooping down to join him on the ground.

"I'm- I'm fine," Tango assured him, running a hand across Torchy's scales. "I'm fine."

Tango allowed himself twenty seconds of rest - he counted each one - before pushing himself back to his feet.

"Just a little further," he told himself.

He could see a small copse of trees in the distance. If he could just make it that far, he'd be fine. It was close. Just a little further.

When, after a few seconds, it became clear his feet weren't moving any time soon, he sighed and sank into a crouch, absently itching his arm.

"I'm fine," he whispered, staring at the trees, like repeating it will make it true.

He shook his head, shaking that thought out of it. He was fine. This was just a normal bodily reaction, and it would pass. It wasn't like he was dying or anything. He was fine. He just needed a few more seconds to rest. Then he'd be able to command his legs to move again, and he could keep going.

He was fine.

That was when he heard the voice: "Hello! What do we have here?"

Tango leapt to his feet, twisting around and staggering back and falling onto his butt as he yelled, "Hagagah!"

Hovering in front of him was a garden faerie with pink hair and eyes, and a dress made out of a brown leaf that seemed to be clinging to life by the fingertips - leaftips? The creature was a little more than three inches tall, his hair short and messy.

"What're you doing all the way out here?" he asked, flying a little closer to Tango's face.

Tango squeaked. "Please don't steal my eyes!"

"Steal your eyes?" the faerie chuckled. "Why would I do that?"

"I don't know!"

The creature laughed again. "I'm Zedaph. What are you?" He spoke the question slowly, drawing out each word.

"Don't you mean who?" Tango couldn't help but ask.

"Nope!" Zedaph flew a few laps around Tango, faster than he could follow. "I've never seen anything like you before!"

"I'm Tango."

"RIght. Aaand, what's a Tango?"

"Well, me, obviously!"

"Right! Of course, why didn't I think of that?" He was laughing again.

Zedaph's voice was strange, quiet and high-pitched and buzzy, and he spoke English like his mouth wasn't meant to ever have any of these sounds in it. And yet, every single sound came out clear and amost easy. Sure, he spoke slowly, drawing out most of his words, but he never faltered and stuttered, only paused and hesitated now and then.

"And this is-" Tango paused to sneeze. "-Torchy."

Torchy landed on Tango's head, peering at Zedaph through the flames. Zedaph grinnged at the little dragon.

"Very nice to meet ya, Torchy!"

"Of course it is," Torchy muttered, getting comfortable on his perch.

Zedaph's grin faded and his tiny features twisted into a frown as he looked at Tango.

"Hey, you don't look too good," he noted.

"I'm fine," Tango insisted again. Then immediately was wracked by a sneezing and coughing fit, barely managing to find time in between to breathe. When he emerged, his throat hurt more than ever, his eyes itched like they were full of powder and his chest burned. He leaned over his knees, which were pressed against his chest, and panted for breath.

"Yes, I can see that." Even when he was concerned, his voice seemed to carry a laugh, like he couldn't help but find a joke in every detail. "Hey, I think I know something that could help!"

And, before Tango could say a word, the little faerie flew off.

"Well, that was... weird," Tango said to Torchy, who merely grumbled. He'd been thrown off Tango's head during the coughing fit, and was instead curling up on the rock that had sent Tango crashing to the ground minutes ago. Tango poked him. "Don't get too - ACHOO - comfortable. We need to get moving again. Just cause this faerie didn't steal our eyes, doesn't mean the next one won't."

"He's fetching something!" Torchy protested, like he was settling down for any reason that wasn't bedtime. "We should wait for him!"

"He's probably fetching a swarm to pick us apart piece by piece. We can't just hang around here." He glanced up at the trees. They just had to make it to there.

"Just a little further," Tango pleaded.

"Give me ten minutes," Torchy insisted. Seconds later, he was fast asleep.

"Oh you-" Tango reached out to grab the dragon by his tail to shake him awake, but was interrupted by Zedaph's voice.

"Here we are!"

Tango looked up to see the faerie flying over, his wings struggling to lift both his own body weight, and the small glass vial he was clinging to.

The vial was a good inch taller than Zedaph, and filled with a dark purple liquid. Tango didn't know where he'd gotten it, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"What's this?" he asked instead, holding out a hand to let Zedaph drop the vial and land, giving his poor wings a rest.

"Medicine!" Zedaph looked proud of himself. "It should fix you right up!"

Tango frowned, looking at the liquid sceptically. "You want me to... drink it."

"No, I want you to pour it on your toes. Yes, I want you to drink it!"

Tango sighed, lifting the vial with his other hand so that Zedaph could stay where he was. He sniffed the medicine. It smelled... bad. Fake. Human.

He sighed. What did he have to lose, at this point? After only a second's hesitation, he downed the whole thing in one gulp, trying to get it out of his mouth as quickly as possible. Zedaph flew off his hand as his entire body jerked involuntarily at the taste of the stuff.

It tasted, somehow, even worse than it smelled. Like every piece of artificial food he'd been given over the centuries rolled into one disgusting mixture. Tango shuddered and hurried to pull a flask of water from his bag to wash away the taste, first rinsing his mouth and spitting out the water, than swallowing to clear his throat, as well.

"It's not that bad!" Zedaph protested in that strange, laughing voice of his.

"It definitely is that bad." Tango coughed. He didn't feel remotely different, better or otherwise. If anything, the swallowing had made his sore throat worse. "And it didn't even work!"

"Well, give it time!"

Tango huffed and started trying to get up again, but Zedaph flew right into his face.

"No, no, stay down until it kicks in!"

"I need to keep moving."

"We can keep moving in about twenty minutes. You might fall again if you get up now."

"I'll be fine."

"Tango."

Tango sighed. Closed his eyes. Took a deep breath that was sliced to pieces by another coughing fit. Wiped his runny nose. And leaned back onto his elbows.

Zedaph stayed with him, chatting away about something Tango paid no mind to. He was too busy trying to breath without coughing his guts up to listen to a word that was said.

Until finally, slowly, the pain lessened. His throat opened up entirely, all pain vanishing, and his nose dried up and stopped running. When he breathed, it was without the constant scratching he'd been dealing with all day, and he didn't even nearly cough.

Tango let out a jubilant, incredulous laugh. It had worked! It had really worked!

"That sounds promising." Zedaph flew back up to his face. "Feeling better?"

"Loads. How did you do that?"

"Secrets of the trade, my friend."

When Tango stood up, the only shakiness came from the exhaustion of walking for a full day. When he crouched down to wake Torchy, he didn't nearly collapse at all. Somehow, in twenty minutes, Zedaph had fixed him completely.

The faerie accompanied them when they started moving again, Torchy flapping along sleepily beside Tango's head.

The excitement was short-lived, however, because halfway to the trees, without any change in the weather, Tango was suddenly freezing. With shivering hands, he grabbed the coat that was still draped over the bag and pulled it on. Both Torchy and Zedaph watched him, confused.

Torchy settled on Tango's head, leaning forward so his face was upside down in Tango's vision. "Tango?"

Dragon's weren't built to be cold, and Tango was no exception. He could feel himself weakening by the second.

Zedaph went to land on Tango's hand, but quickly shot back up into the air.

"Holy moly! You're boiling!"

"N- no?" Tango frowned. "I'm freezing! Hence the coat, genius!"

He just had to make it to the trees. He could collapse there, when he wasn't so in the open. Just a little further.

"Maybe you should sit down," Zedaph suggested.

Tango shook his head, then stumbled, losing his balance. The whole world had tipped, leaning wildly to the right for a second.

"Maybe you should listen," Torchy told him, his claws clinging into Tango's scalp to stay on. He was still upside down.

"Just a little further," Tango muttered, his words slurring together. "Juss a lil-"

A figure appeared at the treeline, all the wrong shapes and sizes, built all wrong. It seemed to watch them, though it was impossible to tell properly from so far.

Zedaph spotted the figure at the same time as Tango, announced, "I'll go get help!" then zipped off at top speed towards the figure.

Tango took one step after him, then another, then went careening wildly forwards, just barely catching himself before he splatted. Torchy shrieked as he was flung off Tango's head, flinging out his wings to stay in the air.

Just a little further.

The next step had him falling to his knees. The world was still dancing circles around him, and now its corners were fading away to blackness.

He struggled to get back to his feet, but the best he could do was one foot before falling to the side as the world gave another sickening jolt. He stomach turned, and he leaned over and emptied its meagre contents onto the ground.

He was vaguely aware of someone calling his name, then two someones, as his vision faded completley to black.

The last thing he heard was a feminine voice gasping, "I'm sorey I took so long!"

Then everything stopped.

[nick-knackwrites]

💜 Levi Week Day 2 💜

Hello! This is my official debut 😮 and submission for Levi Week Day 2: Proposal @levievent

Pairing: Postwar!Levi x f!reader

Wk: 2.5k

No warnings - just fluff 💚

Your hands shake as the nurse leads you to a room tucked away on the far left end of the hallway. Deep breaths do little to quell your nerves as you consider the time and distance between you and the man waiting on the other side of the heavy wooden door. .

Eleven months. Eleven months and an entire war.

A lot has changed for you in that time and you weren't even involved in the struggle against Eren Yeager and his genocidal plan. You can't imagine how things have changed for Levi. How his feelings may have changed. The thought makes the knot in your stomach tighter, squeezing oppressively. Your own feelings certainly haven't changed an iota and you know they never will, regardless of the thoughts of the object of them.

Your mild panic is cut short when the nurse knocks and opens the door and you get a view of the man you love for the first time in eleven long months.

He is sitting in a wheelchair facing away from the door and toward the large window at the far side of the room. A tray loaded with a teapot and cups rests on a small table in front of and slightly to his right and you smile at the familiar sight of a cup of the steaming liquid in his hands.

“Mr. Ackerman? You have a visitor.” The nurse squeezes your shoulder before leaving the room.

In front of you, still staring out at the park across the street, Levi scoffs and you can perfectly imagine the eyeroll that you are sure accompanies it. “You can tell Onyonkapon that he doesn't have to babysit me. I can wipe my own ass just fine.”

You begin the slow walk around the bed to the empty armchair next to him. “Oh well that's good to hear. I'll be sure to pass the message along to Onyonkapon next time I see him.”

Levi's head snaps up and over at the sound of your voice and the eye that isn't covered in bandages widens. Your name escapes his mouth in a short, surprised breath. “I thought. . .”

“That I was Onyonkapon?” You tease.

His face twists, “That you were dead.”

“Oh.” You collapse into the chair less gracefully than you had hoped and look over at him, taking in just how much he had lost. Bandages plaster his face from his right eye across his lips and down to his chin. His left cheek bears scars and two fingers are missing from his right hand. His left knee is set in a cast. These physical maladies are disheartening enough to see on their own but you know that emotional and mental scars lie hidden under the surface too. Though there is something visual to those as well. His shoulders hang heavy and his eyes are dull and tired. You can't even begin to fathom the emotional pain and overwhelming loss he must be handling but you want to try to help him shoulder it. You take a deep breath, “Well of course I'm not dead. It would take more than a little rumbling to take me out. I was trained by Humanity's Strongest Soldier after all.”

Levi's eyebrows (well, the one you can see anyway) rise and he watches you from the corner of his eye. “Is that right?”

“Not trained-trained but you know, he taught me some self defense and stuff.”

His voice is deadpan, “And this self defense was meant to keep you safe from titans.”

“No, I think he knew that there wasn't much I could do if I ever faced a titan. That was his territory. That's why he left me behind - so he could take care of the titans and keep me out of their hands. But he taught me self defense to keep me safe from everything else while he was gone.”

Levi's eyes are fixed on a spot on the wall below the window and his jaw is tight as he asks, “And do you resent him? For leaving you behind?”

“I don't think I could resent him if I tried. Besides, he was Humanity's Strongest after all. I knew he could never fully be mine as long as humanity needed him. I understood and accepted that long before I realized I love him.”

The tips of his ears are pink now and you can almost see his pulse thrumming in his throat but he swallows hard and gives another of his infamous scoffs before saying, “Humanity's Strongest? What a ridiculous name. Man's gotta be an arrogant ass to use it.”

“Yeah I thought so too at first.” Levi finally glances toward you, more out of shock than anything else. His face softens as you continue, “But then I got to know him. I saw how deeply he cared about his fellow soldiers, how earnestly he wanted to help the world, and how soft and gentle he could be with those he loved. He was physically strong, yeah. His battle prowess was unmatched. But I think a lot of his true strength came from his grit and his compassion.”

“Yeah well.” Levi knocks an angry fist against his bad leg, “A lot of good all that physical strength did him. I hear he's pretty useless and pathetic now.”

“I haven't heard that at all. People still greatly admire him. And the man I knew didn't care what other people thought of him anyway. He was above it all.”

“He cares what one person thinks.” He looks directly at you for the first time and you feel your blood rush to your face, heart rate picking up. “He wanted to protect her and provide for her. But he was only ever good at being a weapon and now that he can't even do that, he's not sure what he can offer her.”

Dampness graces your cheeks and you realize that Levi's words had made you cry. You swallow thickly and speak through the tears slowly gliding down the contours of your face. “I'm sure he'll figure it out. And I'm sure she doesn't agree that he's useless or pathetic at all.”

“I just. . . . I worry that she deserves better. Better than a physically and emotionally beaten man.”

“Again I'm sure she disagrees. And deserve and want are two different things. And-” your voice breaks, nervous that your next statement is too presumptuous. “And if he feels so strongly for her, wouldn’t he think that she deserves to have what she wants? So, if she wants him, wouldn’t she deserve to have him?

“And if he's not good for her? If he’s a burden?”

Exasperation quickly replaces your sorrow over the words being said, “Will you please stop being so insulting? You're talking about my fiance, you know.”

A soft wheeze erupts from Levi's chest and his eyebrows disappear into his hairline. “I wasn't aware Humanity's Strongest Soldier was engaged.”

You feel your face flush and suddenly feel the urge to look away. You stare at his shoulder, avoiding his eyes. “Okay so he's not engaged yet but-”

“Not yet?” Amusement flushes his features and a spark lights in his eyes.

You take a deep breath. “No, because I haven't asked him to marry me yet.”

“But you plan to?”

“Yes.” Your voice is stronger and more certain than it has been this whole conversation and you are finally able to meet his eyes again.

A smile stretches across his marred lips. “Well you better get a move on then.”

Wordlessly you slide down to the floor and shift until you are kneeling directly in front of him. Your stomach flutters until you meet his gaze once more, unwavering and sure and so warm despite their cool coloring. You find that you can no longer feel nervous and the force of the joy that overtakes you causes the tears to spill from your eyes like a river. You ignore them and reach for Levi's right hand with both of your own. His brow furrows as he studies you but you ignore that too. “Levi, you are-”

“No.”

“No?” Your voice comes out smaller than you intended and your distress must be written all over your face because Levi immediately course-corrects.

“Not no to your proposal, just no to this.” He gestures broadly at you. “We're equals. We should be equals. I don't want you kneeling before me like you're somehow less than me.” The hand trapped between yours tugs upwards. “Just get up here. Please.”

You stand and begin to turn towards your previously abandoned chair but Levi has other plans. His hands grip your waist firmly and gently force you down onto his lap. In your surprise, you nearly smash your skull against his forehead but you catch yourself in time and settle carefully - so as not to press against his cast - with your hands on his shoulders and your legs splayed over either thigh. The position is intimate and cozy and eliminates almost all space between you and the loving gleam in his eyes. “Better,” he says and you were sure his voice is rougher than it had been. “Now, please do proceed.”

“Oh.” You know you need to say something but you can feel his fingers softly kneading into the small of your back, and feel his breath across your cheeks, and you are finding it incredibly difficult to string any kind of coherent thought together. “I. . . I had this whole speech prepared but I can't seem to remember any of it now.” A breathless laugh escapes you and Levi's eyes soften. His good hand moves to cup your face tenderly.

“I just really love you.” You finally manage to blurt out. “I love you more than I have words to express and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. And whatever comes after that.” it is like a dam burst and the words are falling from your mouth faster. “I know we've been separated for a while now but I never once stopped loving you and missing you and I can't bear the thought of missing you any longer. I don't care where we go or what we do - I just want to be with you. If you'll have me.” A nervous laugh slips between your suddenly dry lips when there is no immediate response. “I'm sorry this is so messy and backwards.” You’re rambling now. Nerves taking over. “I don't even have a ring to offer you and I -”

“I have one.”

“. . . Pardon?”

“Left breast pocket of my jacket on the hook by the door.”

Your mouth hangs open like a fish and you blink once, twice, three times before Levi sighs and says, “Are you deaf or just stupid?” The words are harsh but his tone is soft as is the look in his eye and the subtle upwards curve on the left corner of his mouth. “Left breast pocket. Uniform jacket. By the door.” He softly pats the side of your thigh, dangerously close to your rear, encouraging you to get a move on.

You do. Your legs are wobbling and your head is spinning but you manage to make your way over to his jacket where you plunge your hand into the indicated pocket to find two rings. When you pull them out you discover that they are nearly identical. Two perfect simple silver bands but one is thinner with a small diamond set in the center. They’re perfect and you spend so long looking at them that Levi eventually has to pull you back to reality.

“I can’t imagine you got lost in the folds of my jacket.”

You stumble back to him, dazed and so so in love, never taking your eyes off of the rings once. When you get close enough, Levi pulls you into his lap once more. You’re sure he’s looking at you, waiting for some kind of response but you can’t look away from the solid symbol of this incredible man’s love for you.

“How long?” You whisper it and worry for a moment that he won’t know what you mean.

But he does. Of course he does. “I bought them before the Scouts left for Marley. Before I. . . Before I left you.” There is heartbreak in his tone but you find that your own heart is soring.

“You knew even that far back?”

Levi sighs your name and gently cups your jaw once more. “I think, deep down, I knew from the moment I met you. I was just too stubborn and stupid to figure it out sooner. Part of my soul always craved you” He pauses, searching your eyes. “It’s part of the reason I left you behind. It was dangerous and I couldn’t bear the thought of you being harmed. I thought you’d be safer. I was wrong. Forgive me”

“Oh Levi,” You cup his jaw on the opposite side that his hand rests on your own face and press your forehead against his. “There is nothing to forgive.”

“You’re too good to me.” His voice is low and almost husky and it makes you shiver a little in his arms.

You smile, “Well, it seems I’ve finally found something I can best you in: Being good to you. For you are far too hard on yourself.”

“I’d be honored to spend the rest of my life losing to you.”

“You better put that ring on my finger then.”

You lean in to kiss him but he pulls back just enough to look in your eyes properly. “No can do.” He smirks at the outrage creeping on your face.”You never asked me, you see.”

You open your mouth to protest but he cuts you off. “You said wonderful, amazing things that I am going to dream about for the rest of my life, sure. But you never did actually ask the question. “

You roll your eyes and lean in once more, placing one hand on the curve where his neck meets his shoulder and the other on his injured cheek. “Levi Ackerman, you are the love of my life and the source of my joy. You are everything I ever wanted and I could never imagine that I would get to have you. I want to give my life to you and spend all of my days by your side. Will you please -”

You're cut off by Levi pressing his lips to yours. He kisses you fervently, almost desperately and you laugh into the kiss pulling away after several seconds. His lips follow you, dotting over your cheeks, nose, and jaw. “You didn’t let me finish!” You protest between your giggles.

Levi ceases his barrage of affection and holds your face between two hands. “Yes.” He says simply, and then he kisses you again, sending your heart racing and your mind melting.

You’re so lost in the softness of his lips and eager probing of his tongue that you don’t notice when he pulls one hand away from your face to pluck one abandoned ring off of your lap. You’re still too elated and dizzy from the deep kiss to notice when he grabs your left hand and slips the ring on your fourth finger but once you manage to pull yourself away from him after several long minutes, you realize that the weight now on your finger feels natural, comfortable, perfect. Absolutely perfect. Just like the man beneath you and the life you will build with him.

[hxnbi]

hi!! I love your writing :). I wanted to request an angst to fluff scenario where reader likes the boy and confesses to him but he turns her down, but then he later regrets it and comes back?? and they live happily ever after??? i don’t really have any specific preferences other than that but im such a sucker for rejecting and regretting/she falls first he falls harder scenarios!! im using her/she to refer to the reader rn but i dont have any preference, just not sure how else to write it haha id love if you could include suo, togame, and umemiya but totally up to you :).

hey so thanks sm for your request! i loved writing this and with these boys, tho umemiya's does end on a pretty angsty note with how i was initially drafting it. i hope thats okay ♡

confessions, rejections, and regrets

⸻ °♡⃘ . you confess to the boy you liked, only to be rejected. or so you think, as, unbeknownst to you, he was battling his own feelings, too afraid to admit his love, up until he finally finds the courage to stand before you once again. but this time, it was him who would be begging for your heart.

⸝⸝ 𑅛𑅫 Suo Hayato

Tears. All you could feel dripping from your face and down your cheeks was the salty aftermath of your own tears. And standing before you, the boy who had just rejected you.

"I'm sorry, I just don't see you in that light," Suo, with his hands firmly placed in front of the other, repeated, further breaking your heart into a million pieces.

Pitifully, you laughed—but little humour was found in the dreary quiet of your heart. "I know," you whispered, choking down the ache that was your confession to the person you'd grown to admire and love.

The pain lingered with every thought—that Suo was simply just too good for you, but so did your respect for him. Even if you tried your hardest to do so, you just couldn't find it in yourself to dislike him. 

Suo had always been kind, even as he rejected you.

That was part of why you liked him so much in the first place. Even if it hurt, you couldn't blame him for having such feelings about you that just weren't the same. You couldn't continue to be selfish.

"I know. Just, thank you, for hearing me out," you said, your voice becoming surprisingly steady, slowly accepting what you heard. "That's just the kind of person you are."

And then you walked away. You refused to let him see the fresh tears welling up in your eyes. You respected his choice. If he didn't reciprocate your feelings, you couldn't force it. It had to be mutual—or nothing at all.

Days turned into weeks, and though you still felt the ache of his rejection, like with most things, you had to move on and push forward. You treated Suo the same way you treated everyone else. Although, you couldn't deny that it was rather awkward after Suo saw you well up with tears dripping down your face like a waterfall. And it didn't help that you both were friends with the Furin first years, like Kiryu and Nirei, whom you were very close to.

So, time and time again, you would avoid Suo like the plague; all the while, he seemed to watch from afar, unsure of how to bridge the gap. You were always respectful, never bitter, never clinging. It was difficult, but you refused to let your emotions tarnish your friendship or make things awkward. 

Suo, however, found himself unable to stay away. He'd initially assumed your feelings for him were just surface-level, a kind of shallow attraction to his looks, but that couldn't have been further from the truth. He only realized this when he peeled back the layers of who you were—a kind, genuine individual so far removed from the superficial affection he had imagined. And as time passed, he began to notice more—the way you treated everyone around you with the same kindness and consideration.

But over time, Suo would see you purposely trying to hide from him, all the while pretending everything was okay and nothing changed. It was saddening, in a way, how your laughter grew quieter, your gaze avoiding his, and the fun and games you two once shared together seemed to slip through his fingers like grains of sand.

But you couldn't hide from Suo forever. 

"He just doesn't like me, Nirei.”

Taking a walk around the neighbourhood that evening, following his typical routine, Suo had unknowingly overheard you talking to Nirei. And unlike his straightforward character, he continued to hide behind the wall and listen, his heart aching with every word he caught from your lips.

"It’s not that I don’t care…" you said softly to Nirei, who had asked about what had happened between you and Suo. "He rejected me, and I have to respect that. You can't have a relationship if both sides don't feel the same."

"I see... B-But do you still like him?" Nirei finally asked, twiddling his own thumbs. 

You hesitated for a moment before answering, "I do."

That conversation was what really hit him hard. That you still liked him. That maybe... he wasn't too late to come around.

"Nirei, not knowing what to say to a person who seemingly still had feelings for one of his closest friends, winced, "He'll... he'll come around," not necessarily finding the right words, but you didn't appear to mind it. Rather, you were too distracted with your own feelings.

And Suo, hidden from view, felt his chest tighten. He wasn't sure why he'd been hiding in the first place, but suddenly, he couldn't bear to listen any longer. He shouldn't even be here, listening to your conversation and very obviously intruding on your privacy. 

But just before he could slip away, though, very conveniently, Sakura popped out from behind the corner. "The hell are you doing back here?" loud enough for both you and Nirei to hear and turn your heads to meet the noise—and Suo, right before your very eyes. 

Your eyes went wide in shock as you spotted Suo standing right there, seemingly who had heard everything.

"S-Suo, what are you—"

Back-and-forth looks were exchanged, and so too was the silence. Nirei and Sakura gave brief, knowing glances, and with a single look, Nirei left you two alone, much to your dismay and humiliation. 

You stood frozen, your mind racing with a thousand thoughts, none of which managed to form coherent words to say to the boy who had basically just heard you confess your feelings to him once again. Nervous and fidgeting, you finally let out a sigh. "Hayat– Suo, I'm really sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I promise that I'm not going to bother you anymore. I really—"

But your words and apologies were left on deaf ears—cut off mid-sentence before Suo suddenly reached for you, his hand gently pulling you toward him. Before you could even process what was happening, you found yourself wrapped in his arms, your head resting against his chest.

"I was wrong."

"…H-Huh?"

"I was so, so wrong," he muttered, grasping at the edge of your sleeve even tighter than just a second ago. "I thought you only liked me for shallow reasons, but... I've realized that I like you too. More than I ever let myself admit. And I apologize for making you wait."

You blinked, your brain going haywire, trying to comprehend every word that left his lips, but Suo only held you tighter, his chin resting on the top of your head. When you didn't answer, he went on—whether that was for your or his own reassurance that you wouldn't be the one rejecting him this time was unclear.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to see it, but I don't want to let this go," he murmured. "I don't want to lose you." He regretted every moment of him rejecting you since that day. And if you were to be the one rejecting him this time… 

Your breath hitched at the base of your throat, disbelief seeping into your every thought. Was he serious…? The boy who had rejected you, who had caused you so much heartache, was now confessing to the very feelings you had once longed to hear.

'You make it so unfair…' you muttered. 

Part of you wanted to reject him, to make him feel how you felt after he rejected you. But deep down, you knew you couldn't find it in yourself to throw away this chance. And neither could Suo.

"I… I still like you, too."

Your voice was hardly audible, but Suo heard it loud and clear. He pulled away just enough to meet your eyes, his expression soft and vulnerable. "Then let's start over."

Your lips trembled into a small smile. "Alright."

Suo leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, until Suo suddenly grabbed your hand, making you jump slightly. "Come on," he said, tugging you gently. "Let's go grab something to eat. I know of a good spot that just opened that serves your favourite food."

"W-Wait, Hayato, I thought you were on a diet?" you stammered, completely caught off guard by his change in behaviour. He had always been strict about his routine—always so disciplined, so focused. But now, he seemed different. Lighter, somehow. But that was Suo for you.

He smiled, softer this time, his eyes lovingly meeting yours. "I can't miss this opportunity to spend time with a special someone. You can't keep avoiding me forever," making your face flush crimson as his words sunk in.

⸝⸝ 𑅛𑅫 Togame Jo

Shit… he shouldn't have said that.

Togame's words had slipped out before he could stop them, and the second he did, he knew he had fucked up. He cursed from under his breath, his hands already reaching out toward you as your face crumpled with hurt.

You stood there, staring at him—processing every snide word that left Togame's mouth—your chest rising and falling as if you were struggling even to breathe. He didn't mean it. He knew he didn't mean it, and he was pretty sure you knew that, too. But the damage was done, and he could see it in your eyes, the way he could see the shimmering of unshed tears ready to drip down your flushed cheeks..

"I'm sorry," Togame said immediately, his voice softening as he pulled you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you like a protective barrier. He could feel you stiffen in his hold, your hands pushing weakly against his chest, but he wasn't about to let go, not on that horrible note. 

"Let go, Jo," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "You made your decision. You've... I've already said enough."

But Togame wasn't listening. Not with what he just had done and said that only left him with regrets. He couldn't take it anymore. Not the sadness in your voice, not the way you tried to pull away from him like he was a stranger. No, he wasn't letting you walk away like this, not after everything you had shared. And certainly not after everything he just spat at you.

"I didn't mean it, okay?" His words were rushed, almost desperate. Togame's grip on you only tightened with time, refusing to let go even an inch. "I was stupid. I-I'm sorry, I didn't know what I was saying, but I promise you, I'll fix this. I can't stand seeing you like this."

Your heart hurt at his words. You were utterly torn between wanting to believe him and protecting yourself from further hurt. After all, he had already said plenty… "You don't get just to say something like that and then take it back, Jo. It doesn't work like that..."

Togame's breath hitched as your words sliced the air and, in turn, his heart. His mind and body froze

That wasn't it. Not at all. He liked you. He loved you.

His rejection was but a projection of his own insecurities—that he wouldn’t be the right person for you.

But never did he think that he too didn’t want anyone else in your life, that it made his heart ache just thinking about it, the idea of someone else seeing your smile, hearing your laugh and holding the piece of your heart he so desperately longed for—that he previously had thrown away. 

He hated himself for it—hated that he’d let his fears dictate his actions, that he’d hurt the one person who made his world feel less empty.

But he couldn’t let this end here. Not like this.

"I know. But— fuck…" he said quietly, his voice breaking, cracking into incomprehensible pieces of a heartbroken sentence. His shoulders trembled as he finally loosened his rough grip on you. Although his hands still rested hesitantly on your shoulders. “I know I can’t undo what I said, but I need you to know... I was wrong. I’m so damn wrong, and I’m so sorry.”

Scrunching your face, you shook your head, gaze fixed on the ground as you tried to will away the tears that had long streamed down your face. “Why, Jo?”

Why. A simple explanation as to his stupid, idiotic, impulsive mistake was all that you wanted from him. 

His heart clenched at your words. Pure guilt tore him apart. He wished he could go back and rewind time to the moment before his insecurities took over. But he couldn’t. All he had now was this moment to make things right.

“Because I’m a coward!” 

His confession all tumbled out in a rush, unfiltered. “I’m a fucking coward.” Every word was a weight being lifted from his chest, all in hopes that you might understand might hear him out, even if it wouldn’t completely change things.  “I thought... I thought you deserved someone better. Someone who wouldn’t screw things up like I always do. Someone who could make you happy without dragging you into all my mess.”

Your eyes flickered up to meet his, for once, the honesty in his voice catching you heavily off guard. He appeared to be so unusually vulnerable, completely stripped of the bravado he usually wore like armour on his fists.

“But I can’t stop thinking about you,” he continued, his hands sliding down your arms as if needing a sense of reassurance that you were still with him and by his side and not a figment of his imagination. Hesitant but hopeful. “Every time I tried to push you away, it just made me want you more. And I was a complete idiot for thinking I could ever be okay without you.”

“Togame...”

“And I get it if you hate me for this,” he interrupted, all the words tumbling out of his mouth before he lost his nerve. “But I need you to know... I’m not asking for a second chanc—” he paused his sentence, before he could lose his resolve completely.“I love you. I’ve loved you all along, even when I was too scared to admit it.”

Your chest tightened. You oh-so-wanted to stay angry, to hold onto the pain, but his confession was undoing every wall you had tried to build.

“I'll do whatever it takes to make it up to you. Just... don't walk away from me. Please. Not like this."

“.....”

“...Do you mean that?” 

Your voice was hardly audible as you looked up at him.

“More than anything.” 

Togame cupped your smaller face in his callous hands, his thumb brushing away a stray tear that had escaped down your cheek, kissing the pain away.  “I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it to you if that’s what it takes.”

For the slightest moment, neither of you spoke. You could hardly hear a thing other than the sound of your breathing and the beat of his heart pressed tightly against yours. You felt his arms around you, warm and safe, and despite everything, a part of you wanted to stay right there, to believe that things could be okay. 

Then, slowly, you nodded, the smallest of smiles breaking through your tears. “I hate that you’re so good at making me believe you,” you said softly, for the first time all day, a small laugh escaped your lips. And it was heavenly. It was what he loved so much about you. 

Togame’s lips quirked up in a tentative grimace. “Does that mean… I get another shot?”

“Don’t make me regret it,” you murmured, but your voice was warm, filled with the hope that maybe—just maybe—this time things could be different. "I'm not going anywhere," you finally said. "But you have to mean it this time, Jo."

He nodded, his forehead resting against yours. "I do. I promise."

So, just like that, you let it go. Slowly, you relaxed in his arms, letting the weight of your sadness slip away, if only for a moment. Togame didn't let go, and neither did you.

And in that moment, wrapped in his arms, you allowed yourself to believe him. For now, that was enough.

⸝⸝ 𑅛𑅫 Umemiya Hajime

"But we can still be friends!" Umemiya's voice rang out, almost too cheerful for the conversation you'd just had. He flashed you that familiar smile, oblivious to how his words felt like a punch to your chest. 

"Oh! There's actually an event at Furin soon. I know you like a good barbecue. You should join us! It'll be fun!"

You stared at him, nonblinking, and for a brief second, you couldn't believe he was serious. How could he be so, casual? He must be playing you, right...? But no, that was just how Umemiya was, as you've found him for years.

You had just poured your entire heart into him, and in return, he offered you friendship—a friendship that you already had with him for years—as if it were a consolation prize. 

But your heart ached so much, desperate for any kind of connection to him, that even the slightest bit of attention, however hollow, felt like a lifeline. So you nodded, forcing a polite smile across your face. "Yeah... sure, I'll come."

And just like that, you became that of a shadow, a close friend who laughed at his jokes, stayed by his side when he needed someone, and cheered for him during the times when you both would play video games. You were nothing more than a mere member of his Furin family. All the times you would talk and laugh together with them were great,  and even the occasional late-night hangouts. But it wasn't enough. It was never fully enough. 

Staying close to Umemyia only made you want him more, and that fact haunted you. Being so close to him yet knowing you couldn't have him the way you wanted was agony. The more time you spent around him, the more you craved his attention, but not as a friend, no, but as something more. It gnawed at you, that longing, and with each passing day, it became harder and harder to pretend. 

It wasn't just unfair to you—it was unfair to him, too. He deserved someone who wouldn't secretly hope for something more, who wouldn't keep pushing the boundary between friendship and something deeper. You knew this arrangement couldn't go on, not without tearing you apart.

So, one night, after finally gathering the courage, you decided to put an end to it. But unbeknownst to you, Umemiya wasn't doing any better either. 

Before, he never considered you more than a friend—someone who'd been there through all the ups and downs, always supportive, always kind, always you.

He never questioned the ease with which he could talk to you or the way your laughter seemed to brighten the atmosphere of any room you were in. 

So when you finally confessed to him that very day—that your feelings toward him were more than what he thought—he hadn't thought much of it beyond friendship. He didn't think it was deeper than that… not until after he turned you down.

At first, Umemiya was convinced it was the right thing to do. He told himself he didn't feel the same way. But as the days passed, those same thoughts weighed differently on him. The way you still smiled at him, still treated him the same even after his rejection—it gnawed at him. 

He started seeing the little things he hadn't noticed before. The way you always knew exactly what to say to cheer him up after a bad day, the way your eyes lingered on him for just a second too long, the way your laugh sounded like it was just for him. 

And suddenly, it wasn't just about friendship anymore.

At night, alone with his thoughts, he realized he had been wrong. So, so wrong. The feelings he'd dismissed as just a fleeting affection had grown—almost insidiously—into something he couldn't ignore. It became a constant. An ache of longing to be near you, but this time, not just as a friend, but as someone who could hold you, kiss you, call you his own. 

So when you suddenly asked for him to, and you meet up together alone after the barbeque, Umemiya's heart jumped in his chest. This was it. This was his chance to fix everything and correct his mistake, to tell you the truth, to apologize for being so dense. He was ignorant, blatant even, to one of the dearest people in the world to him. 

Tonight, he was going to do it. He was going to make it up to you by apologizing and asking for forgiveness. He was excited, hopeful even, imagining the moment when he'd pour out his heart and beg for your forgiveness. You were kind, after all. You'd understand. You had to.

He could barely contain his nerves as he waited for you, replaying his apology speech over and over in his mind. 

But when you arrived, something felt off. But Umemyia merely brushed it off as mere nerves. But then you spoke.

"I can't do this anymore."

Your eyes met his, and for a moment, Umemiya's heart stopped. He forced a laugh, trying to shake off the unease creeping into his chest. "What do you mean? O-Oh! If you're talking about how Sakura was acting earlier, hah, he doesn't mean it! You know how he is, just messing around."

But you didn't smile. You didn't laugh. Your expression remained serious, and it made his stomach drop. No, it couldn't be, right?

"Umemiya, I can't do this anymore," you repeated once again, your voice breaking, trembling in a way he had never heard before. "I can't just act like nothing happened anymore. I thought that I could continue being your friend. I really tried. But... it hurts too much. Please, I—"

His heart clenched. No, no, no—this wasn't right. This wasn't how tonight was supposed to go. He was supposed to apologize, to tell you how he felt, to fix things. But now, seeing you like this, so hurt, it paralyzed him.

"Don't say it."

"Hajime, please. Don't make this any harder than it has to be."

No, he couldn't let you walk away. Not like this. Not when everything had finally clicked for him. Before he could stop himself, the words spilled out, desperate and unplanned.

"—BUT I LOVE YOU!!"

And he said it.

The moment those words escaped his lips, everything seemed to freeze, and the silence that followed was unbearable. He watched you, waiting for some sign, some reaction that would let him know he wasn't too late. But your eyes... they were filled with so much pain, it made his heart ache even more.

You didn't speak right away, and the longer the silence stretched, the more regret began to claw at him. Why hadn't he seen it sooner? Why did he wait until now, when you were standing here, on the verge of walking away, to realize how much you meant to him? His own foolishness, his blindness—it was too much to bear.

"Why now?" you finally asked. Your voice was soft, barely audible, as if you were afraid of the answer he was giving. It wasn't angry, but it wasn't hopeful either. It was aching, that desperate part of you. "Why... after everything?"

Umemiya couldn’t answer. He didn't have a good reason. He just knew that he loved you now, that he couldn't imagine his life without you in it. But he also knew that might not be enough.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his hands trembling at his sides. "I'm so sorry. I didn't realize... I didn't know until it was too late."

The tears in your eyes broke him. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. He thought he'd be able to fix things, to make everything right, but now it felt like everything was slipping through his fingers.

And much to his horror, you shook your head slowly, stepping back, the distance between you growing—both physically and emotionally. "It's not fair, Hajime. You can't just say that now... not after everything."

For the first time in his life, Umemiya Hajime didn’t know what to say. He stood there, stunned, the words he wanted to say lodged in his throat because, deep down, he already knew.

He didn’t have the right to ask for more when he had rejected the very thing he now realized he couldn’t live without. He had turned you away, convinced it was for the best, only to understand far too late just how much he had thrown away. His indecision—his cowardice—had led to this moment. And now, it wasn’t just his heart breaking; it was yours, too.

He opened his mouth, tried to reach for you, but his arms fell back to his sides. He couldn’t keep making excuses. He couldn’t selfishly try to pull you back, not when his own fickleness had caused you so much pain.

So he let it happen. Right before his very eyes, he watched you take another step back, your face etched with a hurt he knew he had no way of easing. And when you turned, it felt as though the entire world had slipped out of his grasp.

The streets around him blurred as he stared at the spot where you had just stood, his mind and body going through the realization that he might just never get the chance to fix this.

“Wait...” he whispered hoarsely, hand unconsciously reaching forward, but the word fell into the silence, unheard and unanswered.

And with that, you were gone, leaving him behind—alone, with but the cold remnants of his mistakes.

lol i also noticed how each just gets slowly more bittersweet to straight up angsty in umemiya's

©hxnbi. comments, reblogs and likes are always appreciated ♡